i miss my mommy.. :

What does Daddy/Mommy do when their Princess/Prince is sleeping?

• Goes back and re-reads all of our messages
• Looks at all the cute pictures we have saved from our Love bugs wishing they were sleeping right next to us
• Thinks about hugging/holding/cuddling Kitten, watching their favorite Disney movies/tv shows
• Remembers all the time spent with the Little One and replays the memories over and over again
• Listens to music that reminds us of our Angel
• Watch Disney movies/shows to put us in our daddy/mommy space and act like Baby is right there with you
• Cuddles stuffed animals/pillows, pretending it’s our Little Girl/Boy
• Read their favorite bed time stories, as if they were there
• Become a Lonely Daddy/Mommy without their Princess/Prince to protect them from the monsters. We need protection, too..
• Send them cute messages while they sleep so they have something to wake up to, knowing they were thought of/missed

Mommies/Daddies get lonely, too!! To all the littles who may be self concious about being needy.. we are needy, too! We always want your attention, even if we’re busy, we’re still thinking about you precious angels.

  • *Ravenclaw volunteering to babysit with Hufflepuff*
  • Child: I miss my mommy.
  • Ravenclaw: We'd all rather be with our mommies right now but, that's just life. It sucks, doesn't it?
  • Hufflepuff: I don't think you should talk to a child like that.
  • Ravenclaw: Well someone has to prepare them for the real world.
More Weird From The Land of Nina

A lot of people seemed to enjoy being genuinely creeped out by my mother’s experiences as regards the town of Bare Feet, Arizona. So I decided to share this, as well, because who doesn’t need a heaping helping of the creepiness that is my family history? 

Let me start by saying that although I’ve tagged this as “creepypasta” for the benefit of those on my dash who do not appreciate scary stories to tell in the dark, all sections involving me are true, and those for which I have only my family’s word are true to the best of my knowledge. I should further note that while I’m a hardnose skeptic about the vast majority of paranormal experiences–i.e., I don’t believe John Edward does anything but basic psychology, and 99.99999999999998% of the stuff on Ghost Hunters is bullshit made up for the camera–I have become that way due to my own unexplained experiences and those of my family, which during my teenage years increased to the point that the abnormal became practically commonplace. When I say that the story that follows is nonfiction, I mean that I trust the eyewitness accounts of those involved and truly believe that there is no explanation outside of the paranormal for the events described here.

We’ll begin in the Permanent Exhibit portion of the Washington, D.C. Holocaust Museum in the spring of 2002. The young Nina you’ll meet here is in eighth grade and is tagging along with her mother’s students on a field trip; I was being homeschooled due to my school’s inability to handle a student with autism, and her superiors allowed me to sit in on one or two classes daily as a way for me to transition back into a full classroom. In the Permanent Exhibit, there are large panels on the walls that describe different events leading up to the Holocaust–survivor accounts, the political landscape, photographs from the camps, etc. In front of one of these, my mother stopped and turned so pale I thought she might faint. I asked if she was okay, and she said “I need to leave this room. Now.”

I walked her into the next room, where there was a bench she could sit on, and asked what was wrong. She said, “Her name was Elisabeth. With an S. Nina, nobody spells Elizabeth with an S.”

We’ll leave these two on their bench in the museum and travel back to 1963 or so. At this point in time it’s not young Nina but young Cathy, still in footie pajamas and having a recurring dream. In the dream she wakes up in “her” bedroom, but it’s not actually her bedroom in her house on Fargo Street. She floats out of the room and down a long hall. On one side is a kitchen with a half-wall, a style that young Cathy had never seen, and on the other a living room. Through the kitchen, and so into the backyard: a jumble of rusted cars and tools, and a large trench full of used rubber tires. She turns to someone in the dream who she can’t actually see, and says, “I’ve been here before.” Then she wakes up. According to my mother, she has the dream no less than a dozen times in the course of about four months–possibly more–and the dream recurs until she’s about six. Then it suddenly stops.

It’s a house she’s never seen outside of this dream, but ten years later she runs away and, in Arizona, finds someone who asks if she’s met Mary Janini. The answer, of course, is no–she doesn’t know a soul in Arizona. And so the man she meets takes her to Mary Janini’s house. Mary lets runaways stay in her home as long as they don’t bring the police along with them or steal her food. Standing in the driveway, my mom says, “I’ve been here before.” When her companion says “you said you didn’t know her,” teenage Cathy explains that she doesn’t–then describes the house in full detail and says she’s seen it in a dream. So much of her story I’ve heard before–when I’ve woken up with strange dreams that later come true, this story is my mother’s way of comforting me and reminding me I’m not the only one who “remembers backward.” What follows this is new to me.

She’s at Mary Janini’s for only a few days before meeting my dad–teenage Wayne. She travels from Mary’s to Wayne’s, where she’s greeted graciously by his mother and offered a room. And in that room, she has another dream:

A little girl, standing in a gray place, holding out a yellow ribbon. Her hair is long and dark and tightly curled. She doesn’t speak English, but in the dream, my mother understands her perfectly: “Miss, can you put my ribbon in my hair? I asked my Mommy but they took her away and she died before she could.” Behind the girl, a tombstone with birth and death dates six years apart. Teenage Cathy is horrified for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, and wakes up.

Then she starts screaming. Wayne’s mother comes running down the hall and tries to open the door, only to find it locked. She gets the key and opens it, because my mom is still in the bed, still screaming. Finally they get words out of the mess: “Get it out, get it out, whose is it? Whose is it, is that yours?”

Hanging from the locked doorknob was a yellow ribbon. My grandmother swore she’d never seen it before and, indeed, thought it belonged to my mom. My mom has never worn anything in her hair–she hates hairbands. They never discovered to whom the ribbon belonged; my Aunt Jan wasn’t living in the house at the time, and was the only other woman in the family, but both my dad and my grandmother, before her Alzheimer’s started getting bad, are and were willing to swear they’d seen the ribbon as my mother described it.

And now we’ll return to the museum, in 2002. I’m sitting with my mother on a bench, remember the bench? I give her some water as she tells me the story of the girl with the yellow ribbon, and how the tombstone in her dream said Elisabeth–a spelling she’d never seen anywhere else, until today.

There’s a picture in the Permanent Exhibit in Washington, DC. It’s of a little girl with a star on her chest and no smile on her face. The label on the picture gives her first name as Elisabeth. She died in a camp as a child during the Holocaust. As far as we know, there is no connection between her and my family.

There’s a light-colored ribbon tied crookedly in her hair, and not an adult in sight.

“Troop Leader” Epilogue

Summary: How will your father handle the fact that James Buchanan Barnes is the one mending your broken heart?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Fluff central, Dad!Bucky

Word Count: 944

A/N: This is the end! I will move anyone from the series tags to my permanent if they send me an ask! I have a few series ideas that i will write out summaries for and have you guys choose! 

Troop Leader Masterlist


Originally posted by andcrcassian

Seven Years Later

“Babe, please just five more minutes.”

“Nu uh, Mommy. Today’s the first day of troop meetings! Daddy said he would meet us there!” your little six-year-old shouted at you.

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Weekend At Happy’s

Paring: Tony Stark & Child!Reader

Tags: female reader, child reader, set during and after Captain America: Civil War, childhood, divorce, feels, angst, fluff. 

Summary: You’re the child of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, and everyone is away doing adult things without you. All you want is someone to play dolls with.

Word Count: 1,717

Current Date: 2017-07-12


Originally posted by iwantcupcakes


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Suicide Note

Dear anyone who is reading this,

I’ve….been contemplating this one for a good while now. I beganwriting this at 8:30 pm on February 11th, 2015.

I should probably introduce myself for anyone who doesn’t knowme. My name is Zander Nicholas Mahaffey (at birth, Sandra Nicole.) I am a boy, even if the word doesn’t see me as one. But I know in my heart I am a boy. I’m 15 years old, I love the internet, I’m an anime weeb, I love video games too. I dislike math a lot, I love to read and draw and sing. My favorite drink is Coca Cola and my favorite foods are crème puffs. I’m short (5'2) and I hate that. My favorite anime is Katekyo Hitman Reborn! And my favorite video game is The World Ends With You. I live in the state of Georgia, in a metro-Atlanta city called Austell. Right next to a hospital. The phone reception is terrible here. I’m a panromantic-asexual and yeah I think that’s an okay introduction.

I don’t know why I’m writing this now, it just feels like a good time. I’ve kept holding off from doing this since it’s probably gonna be long. It’s surreal right? And if I publish this (or don’t delete it from my queue, I should say) then that means I’m dead. Most likely medication overdose, that’s the main way I’ve thought of. Ugh. Xanax tastes so disgusting, honestly. But you know, when everything is calm and you want to be dead I guess taste doesn’t really matter. Man it is going to suck ass if I end up surviving. I would have had to taste all that nasty ass medicine for nothing. Either way I guess I should write why I wanted to be dead in the first place.

I..I just wanted to escape. An okay amount of my friends know I have issues with my mother, at least heard me complain about her a good bit of times. A few know what really is going on.

My mother is physically disabled. She has seizures and strokes and a hurt ankle and a bad knee and she is morbidly obese, the list goes on. She has anxiety. In fact she takes xanax for the anxiety. That’s where I got it from. I’m sure she can just get more.

But even with her disabilities….she hurts me. Not physically, no she doesn’t have the capability to do that. But emotionally and mentally. I try, I try so hard sometimes. I’m not a perfect human, okk??? I MAKE MISTAKES. A lot of mistakes. And I get yelled at. I get yelled at and it hurts so bad. It hurts so bad for your “mom” to tell you she’s going to kill herself over her cheating ex boyfriend. It hurts so much for her to accuse you of doing sexual things to people for money. It hurts so much for her to accuse you of stealing money from her, only to find out she had just misplaced it and doesn’t even apologize. It hurts so much to have a panic attack and her say “stop acting retarded”. It hurts so much for her to mention the man that raped you, even though she knows it makes you angry and sad. It hurts so much for her to yell at you till you cry, for you to be sobbing, tears pouring down your face, and then ask you why are you crying. MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP FUCKING YELLING AT ME, THEN.

It hurts so much to hate your mother. It hurts so much for your mother to act so two faced. It hurts for you to actually have a nice time, to talk and smile and laugh together, and then it all does back to hell, and the illusion shatters, and you remember about all the horrible things she still does. It hurts to not know what it’s like to have a “mommy”, to know what a mothers love is, to feel cared for by a maternal figure.

To my mother, one of us was gonna die and I guess it is gonna be me. I hope you’re life from here on is MISERABLE. I hope you realize how MUCH YOU NEEDED ME AND TREATED ME LIKE GARBAGE.  I want you to BEG FOR ME TO COME BACK, FOR MY FORGIVENESS. But I won’t. I want you dead. I wanted you to DIE FOR SO LONG, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HATED THAT?? WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME, YOU ARE MY MOM!! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME AND MAKE ME FEEL BETTER, NOT MAKE ME KILL MYSELF!!!!!! You’re a two faced pathetic excuse for a parent. You may be my mother but you are not my mom. I certainly won’t miss you. Goodbye forever, you abusive piece of shit.



I guess that’s why I love my friends so much. To anyone who has been motherly to me, or dubbed themselves “my mom”. That means so much. Because I don’t know what that is like.

But I miss her. I miss my mommy. I miss the woman in the baby photographs I see of me and her together. It sounds selfish. I miss the mommy who starved herself for almost 2 weeks because we were so poor she didn’t have enough money for us to both eat. I miss her. I don’t know what happened. Or where that lady went. But I’ve just prayed, and prayed for her to come back and she never did. I just wanted my momma back.



I can’t blame all of my problems on her. A good bit of my anger and resentment comes from my rapist. Some of it comes from my “aunt” Twalia. She isn’t really my aunt but her and my mother are good friends and her and her two kids live with us. Twalia helps me with my mother and with our apartment, and for that I am thankful for.

But what I am not thankful for is her poor treatment of everyone in this household. Twalia also yells. It isn’t as bad as my mother, no only my mother can make me feel the worse but Twalia has come pretty close. She’s about as two faced as my mother. She makes horrible racist comments about the black people who live in my apartment complex. She is ableist, she calls her two mentally disabled children, Jennifer (19) and Charles (12) retarded, threatens to put them on medication. It’s terrible.

She has never laid a hand on me before. She better be glad she didn’t. I would love for an excuse to knock the rest of her teeth out. She is abusive to her children and me, and I wish she never came to live with us..

And her children, oh god her kids. They are possibly the most annoying brats on the face of the planet and I cannot stand them. Charles especially. I wish we never introduced him to the internet, he used to be such a good kid but not anymore. He’s an arrogant, homophobic, spoiled little brat who I wanna kick into a wall. Yeah, I would kick a 12 year old into a wall? Problematic? Maybe. I don’t give a damn. Besides, if you’re reading this I’M ALREADY DEAD WHAT USE IS IT. I get mad and he pisses me off. As for Jen well… she’s just annoying. But she get’s the short end of the stick between her and her brother and I try to stand up for her as much as I see fit (even though she doesn’t appreciate it. Or she’s never seemed like it.) Twalia, fuck you. You’re as a terrible a mother as my own and you don’t deserve the children you have. Jen, I don’t know what to say, you’re annoying as hell to me but I’ll probably miss you a bit. Charles, fuck off you little shithead. I can’t stand you and I hope you get put in your place one day.

That’s another thing, appreciation. Sure my mother will say “please” and “thank you” every once in a while but it isn’t enough. It isn’t. She would literally DIE without me. She wouldn’t be able to function without people taking care of her. But is she thankful??? Is she thankful that I have given up my childhood for her??? That I had to take on all these responsibilities??? She doesn’t seem like it. “Oh, when I was your age, I was running an entire household” Great mom. That’s you. That isn’t me.  The only one who ever seems to appreciate me is my grandmother.

Out of my entire family I love her the most. She’s a kick-ass grandma for one thing, she’s survived breast cancer (even though she lost one of her breasts..) for what? 22 years? She don’t take no shit from anybody. When I hug her, the combination of her laundry detergent and the perfume she wears makes me so happy, I love hugging her and smelling her (she smells good ok?). And she loves Harry Potter. That’s freaking A+. I’m going to miss her a lot. Meme, if you’re reading this, I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t fight this one out, but I love you and always will.

Other family okay….My dad. I love him…he’s…a bit annoying sometimes..He is also kind of an airhead, but he’s my dad. The amount of time’s I’ve wished I could live with him instead of my mom is plenty. Dad, I’m sorry but your “little girl” isn’t a little girl. I’m a boy, in my heart. And no, that doesn’t mean I want to play football. Also ask mother about John Hubbard. The truth about what he did to me. My mother never told him, or my Pepaw (grandad), or my Memaw (other grandmother). I don’t think that was right. He’s my dad, he has a right to know. Oh and for Memaw and Pepaw, I’m sorry that it turned out this way, I love you both. (Even though you, Pepaw are a racist, bigoted piece of shit and Memaw?? You didn’t really help much, sorry.) I’ll miss you guys too.

To my older half sister, Ashley, and Matthew as well. I’m sorry. Ashley, this may come as a shock to you, but our mother is a terrible person, to me at least. Be thankful she gave you up, be thankful you grew up loved and cared for. It’s a shame really. How much I envied you and despised you because you were able to escape life with our mother. I hated you, I hated that you got to have a nice, happy life with your adopted parents while I had to stay here and suffer. But I know that it was a dumb hatred, I see that now, I can’t blame you for being adopted. That just isn’t fair. I’m sorry I was wrong about you. I love you, and I’ll miss you.

To my brother, CJ. I can only hope I’m going to meet you. I was wrong about you as well. I resented you. I hated it, I felt abandoned by you. I felt like my big brother just left me to suffer with our mother. But you were a baby, you couldn’t stop from rolling on your side and suffocating in your crib. You had no control. I’m sorry, I love you, and I hope we can meet for the first time.


To Alyssa. Alyssa Handy. I have no idea where you are now, I haven’t seen you in 5 years. You probably will never get this message, but I couldn’t go on without thanking you. In 5th grade, when I was wheelchair bound, you were always there for me. You pushed me around, ate lunch with me, helped me to the bathroom, and best of all, you didn’t change how you acted towards me once I was in the wheelchair. You never pitied me (not to my knowledge) and you were my first real best friend I ever had. I know we had our scuffles but I will never forget everything you did for me, ever. I still think about your kindness even now. I’ll miss you.


To Ziazani, who I don’t even know if you’re going to get this message or not. You were the first person I ever dated. I’m sorry I stopped talking to you after we broke up, I would feel guilty every time that I did. I was a terrible significant other, and I’m sorry I could never reciprocate your feelings for me. I know this may not fix it, but I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.


To Hector/King/Viridi, my first true crush (that I got to date anyway). Being in boyfriends with you made me so happy. I finally felt what it was to be on cloud nine. When you broke up with me, it hurt so bad. I know I shrugged it off, but I cried all that night and the night after that and the night after that and was sad for a good week. Then you started dating someone else and I resented you for that, because I still had feelings for you and I was bitter and angry to see you happy with someone who wasn’t me. But I finally realized it was just childish, and I needed to let you go, and I forgave. There’s no use in being bitter and angry. So I’m glad, I’m glad that we could stay friends, you are a really good friend. I loved you, and I still care about you a lot even now, and I’ll miss you.


To Aggie, the my current girlfriend and love of my life. I love you. I will never stop loving you. You make me so happy, so please don’t be too sad for long, sadness won’t bring me back and there’s no point anymore. I’m sorry, please don’t feel inadequate. Don’t feel like you failed me, you couldn’t “cure” me, you didn’t have the power to get me out of this house. You did make me laugh, and I felt like I had a reason to live. But I’m weak, I’m battered and bruised and I’m tired of fighting. It’s not your fault, I never really told you what was going on (not because I didn’t trust you) but because I didn’t feel like I was worth worrying over. I’m sorry Aggie, I love you, and if all goes well, I’ll watch over you and be your guardian angel. Guess we are really Narancia and Fugo, eh? I’ll miss you, so much.


To my home girl Gabbi and home girl Katie. My best friends. My aromates, moirails, platonic soul mates, whatever you want. I love you two so much you don’t understand. I could sit here and write about how much I love you but that would take too long and my fingers are getting tired from typing this. Don’t feel like failures because of this. I was in the wrong. You both told me everything, but I would hide and wear a mask and pretend I was ok. I had to be strong for you both. But I can’t be strong anymore. I can’t. I’m too worn out, if anyone if the failure, it’s me. I know we had plans to all live together and be happy and away from our families. But I just couldn’t do that. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry I never told you guys how I really felt. I’m so sorry. I love you two both till the world ends, and I’m not going to stop. I love you till time ends. I will miss you both so much.


I want to ask of you both (especially you, Gabby) is to make sure if there are any memorials for me I want you both to make sure my right name and pronouns are used. And I want you both to explain exactly why I killed myself. What my mother did, and I want her retribution. I want her to know she murdered her son. I want her to know that she is the reason I’m dead.


To all my friends on the internet, my Dangan Ronpa buddies, Lena, Hime (Love), Saku, Wednesday, Kari, Peeps, Nick, Cake, Toree, Bunni, Taelyn, I could never ask for better voice acting friends, I’ll miss you. My MMD/Vocaloid crew, Haru, Jomo, Walter, Taku, Izzy, Angeki, Simone, even though I suck at modeling you guys always made my day. To Ari, I’ve known you for a long time, since I started being on the internet. You mean so much to me, I’m sorry, I’ll miss you. To the (late, kinda) Meme Team, Zumi, Summer, Mitch, Morgan (formerly), Pixel, Rachel, Alex, Sam, Shae, Luke and Everyone else in the pedal group, being with you guys made my days so happy. I’m so sorry, I’ll miss you all.


To all my real life friends, To Jacob and Bella and Chris and Gus and Shelly and everyone else. To my teachers, to everyone. I’ll miss you.


Wow, five pages long. Almost 3,000 words. See I told you this would get long. I’ve never written anything for school that fast. Oh well. I suppose someone has read all this. I don’t know what to say now really. But…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough, that I gave up. But I just couldn’t, I couldn’t take it anymore. I am a hypocrite, I’ve talked many of people out of suicide before but yet here I am. Or, here I was.


I’m not noble, I’m not really trying to make this mean something huge. I’m just a coward who wanted to cut my strings and be free from my troubles. Here marks the end of Zander, a meme enthusiast and, friend? I guess.


I can’t say I’m not a little bit afraid of dying, but we all are. It’s the fear of the unknown. Perhaps there is another world waiting for me, perhaps I will be reborn into something, or maybe I’ll just stop existing. Maybe I would be a ghost that would be cool don’t you think? I have no clue, like with everything else in my life I’ll just wing it.


So this is the end? I’m over 3,000 words now. Time will go on, hopefully no one will be too bothered from me for too long. Just continue as you normally would be, that is what I want.

I’m selfish, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I only think about myself in this situation. I know there’s going to be people hurt and devastated by this. And I’m so, so, sorry about that. I don’t know what else to say. I’m just so tired, I’m so tired and I just want to go to sleep.


XOXO Goodbye to everyone,

Zander Nicholas Mahaffey