lunch bags

Reasons I would be a good member of Autumn Court: likes halloween the best, reads a lot, values learning new things over safety, researches for fun, is literally named leif

Reasons I would be a bad member of Autumn Court: is actually afraid of many things, morally opposed to using fear to my advantage, one time i accidentally actually scared someone and i felt so bad i cried

Reasons I would be a good member of Summer Court: 100% always ready to throw down 100% of the time, will drop everything to defend someone from a motherfucker, would 100% want to personally fistfight my Keeper

Reasons I would be a bad member of Summer Court: what is physical fitness

Reasons I would be a good member of Spring Court: cares about people a lot, bakes treats to share for special occasions, makes sure everyone is feeling okay and has a bagged lunch before adventuring 

Reasons I would be a bad member of Spring Court: hates physical contact, doesn’t really understand how romance works, occasionally kind of a douche

Reasons I would be a good member of Winter Court: respects the power of mourning and loss, collects secrets, likes quiet

Reasons I would be a bad member of Winter Court: WHAT WE NEED TO BRIGHTEN THIS PLACE UP IS SOME BALLOONS AND PUNS


Ten years, huh?

I started my blog shortly after Tumblr began.  I drew on my kids’ lunch bags for fun.  I took pictures of them because the kids threw them away.

My kids are a little too old for it now, but it was a lot of fun.  Now I post art projects of a non lunch-related nature.  

I learned a lot about drawing from this.  Look at that Squidward.  Ugh.

The Littlest Winchester - Little Runaway

Character(s): Dean Winchester

Warning: None

Word Count: 395

Request:  Hi! Can you do a Littlest Winchester where she runs away? In that cute little kid why where they put on their books, grab their teddy bear and leave?


   “What are you doing?” Curiously, Dean watches his daughter tuck several things into her backpack.

   “I’m running away.” She explains.

   “Are you? What for?”

   “I don’t know.”

   “Ah. You just feel like running away?”


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doubledirtychai  asked:

So I'm looking for a fic where Stiles moves to LA(?) with Scott, and meets Derek who is Scott's other BFF. But Derek hates Stiles. And all I can remember is Stiles putting notes in his and Scott's lunch bags.

@aquo found this one!

Originally posted by rhetthammersmithhorror

I See Your Face Before Me by jezziejay

(1/1 I 9,205 I Teen I Sterek)

While Stiles was studying in New York, Scott moved to LA and found a new co-bestie. Stiles can’t wait to meet him. The feeling, however, is far from mutual.

when did it begin?  when did she start to notice it?  is it because her mother is dead that they spoke that way?  dead and gone and a distant memory–brandon holding her dear in his heart but never speaking her name, father feeling freed.  pestering.  that’s what he’d called mother.  pestering lyarra and her wolf’s blood.  more wolf than woman if truth be told.  with a bite to his voice, as though a only a man could be a wolf…

“yes.  yes that’s a fine match, i think.”  that is all her father says.  he looks between ned and lyanna.  “a thoughtful one, ned.”  ned smiles.  he thirsts for father’s approval, and lyanna crosses her arms over her chest, wishing it were still flat because everyone looks at her differently now that it isn’t any longer.  or maybe she just notices that they do.  do they?  

“i haven’t even met him,” lyanna says hotly.  the wolf blood, like your mother.  gods be good what did i do to deserve the pair of you?  

“he’s my dearest friend, lya,” ned replies smiling at her.  “as close to a brother as i could have found in the vale, as dear as brandon or benjen, and as true.  he’ll make a fine husband to you, and a fine father to your children.”  

lyanna blinks, surprised.  ned’s words sting–she hadn’t been expecting…her crossed arms stiffen over her chest.  he speaks to me as if i am a woman–any woman, telling me what any woman would want to hear of her betrothed.  he doesn’t speak to me as though i’m me.

perhaps that is why he hadn’t understood.  he’s been gone too long, he won’t know…

so she hardens her words–hardens them the way she does for father, because father doesn’t listen to her either.  “robert will never keep to one bed.  and i hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the vale.”  ned had written that in some letter or other before he’d ridden north.  written it and spoken it, as if it did not matter.  how can this friend be truly true, be loyal and faithful to her if he wanders?  or will he speak coolly of her, the way father does when he deigns to mention mother?  

ned has the decency to flush now, but when he opens his mouth, he says, “none of that will matter, lyanna.  i promise.  it won’t stand in the way of your marriage, and what he has done before your betrothal won’t matter.  he will put it behind him, and it shan’t ever affect you, it will be the past.  he is a good man, and will love you as truly as any man has ever loved any woman, i promise it.”

lyanna did not smile.  lyanna glared.  “love is sweet, dearest ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature. and it won’t change robert’s.”

she turns back to her father, and opens her mouth to tell him she won’t do it, but before she can.

“you will marry him, lyanna.  it is your place.  it is who you were born to be, and i’ll hear no more on the matter.”

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peacefulboo  asked:

Luna x your choice, quiet me

[warning for descriptions of a panic attack]

Ginny still had nightmares. Luna suspected all of them did, but they very rarely talked about it. Ron would show up to Sunday lunch with bags under his eyes, Harry would hide away in Grimmauld Place, Hermione snapped more easily on less sleep, but none of them ever talked about it. So the first time Ginny snuck out of bed in the middle of the night, breathing shakily, Luna gave her five minutes before she followed. 

She found Ginny curled up on her sofa, the blanket Mrs Weasley had made her wrapped around her shoulders. Curled in on herself so tightly she could only be trying to hold herself in, her eyes were glassy. She was paler than any ghost Luna had ever seen.

“Ginny?” She knelt down in front of the sofa, slowly, like she did with frightened animals. She reached out and touched Ginny’s bare, scabby knee. Ginny startled, breath rushing out of her lungs. “Ginny, can you hear me?”

Ginny’s eyes were wild. Luna took her hand. 

“Ginny, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” 

Luna had never been so relieved to feel Ginny’s hand twist in hers, threading their fingers together and squeezing tight. The tears that had been threatening from the moment Ginny left the bedroom spilled over.

“Oh darling, darling,” she crooned. “You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re home.” 

Luna started breathing deeply, holding her breath, and releasing it slowly; over and over again until Ginny matched her breath for breath. 

“I’m so sorry Luna.” Ginny’s voice was quiet, tripping over words as they came up out of her mouth. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You should always wake me when you need me. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Togetherness.”

Ginny smiled, but her smile was not bright and bold like it usually was. It was wobbly. She pitched forward, falling into Luna, who caught her, though Ginny’s momentum nearly toppled them to the floor. 

Luna rearranged them so their backs were to the sofa, and they were curled into each other. She stroked Ginny’s hair, and talked about whatever came to mind, until Ginny’s breathing evened out and her snoring started up again. She kissed her hair, and then her forehead. 

“Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams.”