men from the uncle

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I’ve seen gifsets of this interview floating around tumblr.  Here’s the video they came from.


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Dreams Become Reality

Anonymous asked: Oh lovely Meg! Can i please request a SPN fic? TFW and Crowley get sent to an alternate universe where monsters don’t really exist(so Crowley and Cas are human). In this universe, Crowley is married to the reader, Sam &Dean’s sister, and they have kids. The whole apple pie life and Crowley realizes that’s exactly what he wants. When they return to reality, Crowley finds the reader and just plants one on her.

Here is your one-shot, lovely! I do not own Team Free Will or Crowley. They being to the creators of Supernatural. 

Warnings: Mentions of breastfeeding, if you consider that a trigger, mentions of blood. Fluff and it’s a bit long. 

Pairings: Crowley x fem!Winchester reader, Team Free Will. 

Originally posted by supernaturaldaily

“Uh guys? Where are we?” Sam asked, effectively cutting off the argument between Dean and Crowley. Castiel was already following Sam’s gaze up to the rather expansive house in front of them. “It appears as though we have been transported somewhere else,” Castiel said. He was right. A few moments before, the four of them had been in a warehouse trying to work out a deal. Now, they were standing outside the very lavish estate.

               "What does it bloody matter where we are? Between Wings and I, we should have enough power to get back.“ Castiel nodded in agreement. Crowley raised his hand to snap his fingers, but nothing happened. "Well come on, Crowley. What’s the hold up?” The King of Hell tried again, snapping his fingers to no avail.  "Castiel?“ Castiel’s brow was furrowed in confusion. "I appear to be powerless,” he said before wandering off a little ways. The Winchesters exchanged a glance.

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And Then Comes Baby In a Baby Carriage. (Part 2/2)

Pairings: Dean x Reader (Series Rewrite Setting)
Word Count: 12,041. 
Summery: You learn you’re pregnant with Dean Winchester’s baby. While the news is exciting, the months leading to your due date are anything but smooth for an expecting hunter. (Full description below.)
Warnings: Spoilers for season twelve! (Takes place during the timeline of “There’s Something about Mary” and “Who We Are.”) Mentions of child birth, threats against the reader, canon violence and death.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Originally posted by winchesterangstclub

Nobody asked for this…but I decided to write a second part to a little story that I wrote about over a month ago. (I wanted this up at Father’s Day and I should be working on my current episode rewrite and not this. But oops.) This also kind of goes as a season twelve finale rewrite. I had a bit of inspiration from this particular scene for the plot. I had an extreme amount of fun writing this, but it does contain a lot of spoilers, I’m afraid. And if pregnant type of stories aren’t your cup of tea, oh well. I hope you guys enjoy this! (I really did…and it comes with a very happy ending. ^_^)

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Of Bros and Babes

Here is a little Ron/Harry brOTP fic for your enjoyment. I love these two so much, and I just need more of their friendship (especially in their adult/after the war life) Special shout-out to @callieskye for her editing prowess!

Ron Weasley was enjoying one of his favorite things in the world- a Saturday morning lie in. This particular one did not qualify as his best because his lovely wife was not curled up next to him. She had left him early in order to help her mum shop for furniture. Apparently, muggle furniture was crafty and could only be got at oddly early hours of the day. He let out a sigh, missing Hermione but determined to rest-it had been a hell of a week. He and Harry had just wrapped up a rather nasty case; he didn’t know what had been worse: all the nights away from home or the entire day of paperwork they had to do when they got back.

He flexed his hand, still sore from the miles of parchment. Speaking of sore…Rolling over to stretch his back, Ron could not contain the grin that bunched his cheeks as he recalled exactly how said back had become sore. It never ceased to amaze him that she craved him every bit as much as he craved her. I hate being gone, but Merlin, how I love coming home!

Ron snuggled down into the warmth of the blankets-if he were really lucky this is exactly where Hermione would find him when she returned. Sleep was rapidly approaching when it was arrested by the shape of a great horned stag which spoke with Harry’s voice.

“Ron! Come quick! Need you! My place! Don’t tell Hermione!”

His response was automatic. With the swiftest and precision that made him one the corps most impressive young Aurors, Ron was dressed, wand in hand before he really had time to process the distress call.  Don’t tell Hermione?! Concern for his best mate trumped his confusion, so he Disapperated with a crack, landing directly on Harry’s doorstep.

Before he could even raise his fist to knock, the door was ripped open, revealing a completely disheveled Harry. His hair was unruly, even by Harry standards, his glasses were slightly askew, and his eyes were panicky in way that Ron had not seen in…well, ever to be perfectly honest.

“Thank God you’re here!” Harry peered around him suspiciously. “You didn’t bring Hermione did you?”

“No…she’s shopping with her mum…Harry, what in the bleeding hell is going on? You know I don’t keep secrets from Hermione!”

“I know…sorry…come in…I’ll…you’ll see.”

Ron followed him inside, mind racing to figure out what could be so wrong that he would want to keep Hermione in the dark. To his surprise they didn’t stop in the parlor but continued down the  hall, coming to a stop outside his nephew’s nursery.

“Is it James? Is something wrong with James?”

“No…yes…I don’t know…that’s why I needed you,”  Harry pushed open the door, apparently breaking the silencing charm he had cast minutes earlier. The baby’s cries were near deafening as the two crossed to his crib. “He won’t stop-I’ve tried everything-rocked him, fed him, changed him, took him outside, brought him inside, nothing works Ron!”

“Ok, ok…let’s sort this out..come on little guy-tell Uncle Ron what’s going on.”

Ron scooped the red-faced infant up in his arms and began to bounce him gently-the crying quieted a bit but did not cease.

“Reckon he’s sick?”

“Took his temperature-nothing. Scanned him-nothing.”

“Has he ever done this before?”

“Cry? Yes, Ron, babies DO cry.”

“I know that you git-I mean non-stop like this.”

“Not that I know of…I mean Ginny is usually with him…or your mum.”

“Where is Ginny by the way?”

“Had a meeting with the Harpies about coming back to training.”

Apparently the little one did not like to discuss his mother’s career, for at that  moment he let out the wail of a de-potted Mandrake. Harry’s nerves were obviously beyond shot, and Ron was doing his best to maintain his head for strategy.

“Today’s the first time it’s just been me…ya know?”

Everything began to click into place; Ginny had left James with Harry for the first time, and obviously, it was not going well.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to tell Hermione.”

“Yeah…she might tell Ginny and I…”

“Say no more mate…we got this…two of us have faced much nastier demons than this little guy…even if he does look like you.”

“I was thinking the really scary parts of him are ALL Weasley.”

“All part of my evil plan.”

“How’s that?”

“Throwing you and Ginny together at such a young age-just wanted you to end up with a kid that was half Weasley-best payback really.”

“Payback? For what?”

“It’s a right long list,” he nodded down at the wriggling infant, “and I don’t have the time for details: giant chess game, giant spiders, giant giants…I could go on.”

“Giant Arse! Here I thought you did all that ‘cause you love me.”

“Oh, I do, I love all my brothers but that doesn’t mean,” James’ cry drowned out the verbal spar- eliciting concerned looks from both men. Ron sifted quickly though all the “uncle” knowledge he had accumulated in the last five years.

“Fed him?”

“Course I did-not an idiot!”

“Dja burp him?”

“Uh-no.”

“Well, that gives us something to try at least.”

Ron popped the unhappy baby up on his shoulder, patting his back the way he’d seen his mum do when she worked her grandmother magic on a fussy Weasley baby. When James screamed bloody murder, Harry all but decided to floo him to St. Mungos, embarrassing press be damned. At precisely that moment, the little lad went stiff as a board, letting fly a belch that would have made Hagrid proud.

“Little sprog may look like you, but he’s definitely got his mum’s burp.”

“Another part of your plan?”

“Precisely.”

Harry reached for the newly calmed babe, but Ron shook his head, “Look mate, no offense, but you look like something Crookshanks hacked up-go get a shower-I’ll keep an eye on him until you get done. That way when Ginn gets home she’ll think you’re a pro.”

“Good idea-you sure?”

“‘Course! Besides, James needs a little quality time with his favorite, and most handsome, uncle.”

“Oh! I didn’t know Charlie came in from Romania!”

“Twat! Get outta here before I change my mind and call Ginny!”

“Ok,” Harry held up his hands in mock surrender, backing out of the nursery, “And Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving my sorry arse…as usual.”

“Hard habit to break, but I reckon you’ve saved mine just as much-now go on-you smell a bit ripe!”

Alone with his newest nephew, Ron made his way over to the rocker, settling down and adjusting James in the crook of his arm so that he could see his tiny face.

“Feeling better? Good. Just so you know, don’t plan on this being a regular thing. You’re a great kid and all, and your parents are two of my favorite people in the world-don’t tell them I said that-but Saturday mornings are for sleeping, alright? I mean, I know one day your Aunt Mione and I will have little ones of our own to wake us up, but that’s a while off, you know? Not that I would mind it not being a while off, it’s just…I’ve got some things to do first, to be ready.  I would feel more comfortable if we had a bigger place and a few more galleons in the bank, ya know? Not that I think it’s all about money, but I just don’t want Mione to have to worry the way my mum did. And I want my kids to not have to worry about wearing trainers that are too tight or robes that are too short. Mione says I’ll spoil them rotten, our kids, but I won’t. I want them to work and be appreciative, but…it’s hard to explain.”

The infant cooed contentedly in his arms, giving his uncle a brilliant yawn. Ron looked through the open door of the nursery and listened intently; he could hear the water running in the ensuite down the hall.

“Sleepy? I understand. Now, what I’m about to do is to remain our little secret, ya hear?” Ron began to hum, ever so softly, picking up the melody of a song that his mother had sung to him as a child. “This is one of your mum’s favorites.” His voice was soft and warm as he sang gently:

                               Babbity Rabbity there on your stump

                               Babbity Rabbity why don’t you jump

                                               down through the valley

                                               under the trees

                                               over the river

                                               fast as the breeze

Even before the song had ended, little James Sirius Potter was fast asleep; his uncle Ron followed close behind. In the bedroom Harry Potter smiled as he listened at the magical baby monitor; as satisfying as it would be to tease his best friend later, he figured keeping that little secret was the least that he could do.

4/5 Stars.

Damn, Mary-Louise Parker can WRITE. In this unique debut, she writes a series of letters to the men who have shaped her life—from her grandfather and her uncle to an oyster picker and a goat, the letters are deeply human, clever, and poetic in nature.

In some ways, the structure works against her, especially if you’re the kind of reader who requires cohesion and linear narrative. It took me some time to become accustomed to it, but I found that once I just let myself go and immersed myself in what she was doing, it became quite poignant and powerful.

While I read this as I would read a novel (large chunks at a time in a few different sittings), it also lends itself to being read slowly over time—perhaps one letter each night before going to sleep.

If you enjoy lyrical prose, I think you’ll appreciate this. It’s the kind of book that everyone can connect with in one way or another, and it leaves you feeling sort of hopeful and good about humanity.