old shelves

  • 13 year old me: Should I cut my hair short? I don't want to look gay...
  • Present me: [Stands on a rooftop wearing a pride flag and a glitter bra with the Pride soundtrack playing behind me shouting through a megaphone] IN CASE SOMEONE MISSED IT I HAVE AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT -

force of habit. 12x10 coda. deancas. (ao3)

“Is this something we’re doing now?” Cas asks. “Being honest about how we feel?”

Dean looks up from his beer to find Cas staring at him, one eyebrow raised in a way that’s decidedly snarky. There’s something in the steadiness of Cas’ gaze, though, in the tilt of his head, that tells Dean it was an actual question and he expects an honest answer.

He had felt good earlier, after giving up the charade and admitting he wasn’t angry. It had felt nice to have things out in the open. He had relaxed, had told himself he could be honest and things would be all right, that he wouldn’t scare Cas off. He had wondered, for a few minutes, why he always felt the need to reign himself in, to bury his care and his concern under a facade. He had asked himself why he still bothered.

Dean sees, now, that he had just talked himself into becoming complacent. As soon as the words are out of Cas’ mouth, Dean’s heart suddenly starts doing double time. Ah, right, he thinks. That’s why. This is why he had changed the subject earlier, when Cas had made it clear he would die for them.

Dean still has limits that Cas seems uniquely excellent at pushing him to. He isn’t doing it on purpose, Dean thinks. It’s one of those human things he never quite got the hang of. Cas has always stood a little too close, stared a little too long. He’s always said things that unsettle Dean in a way he doesn’t quite understand, and this is no exception.

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anonymous asked:

would you please write some more supercorp? whenever you want! thank you!

alex lets her get away with moping for only four days before she strides into kara’s apartment, a sense of purpose dressed in leather. she shuts the door behind her and, instead of responding to what feels like an appropriately indignant “hey that’s my door, remember!”, alex just snaps her fingers and points kara to the couch.

she places her helmet on the kitchen island, taking a moment to steady herself as kara decides—of her own volition, not because alex is scary at all—to take a seat on her couch.

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The Library’s Ghost AU

When they were alive, Character A’s favorite place to hang out was in the library, so it only makes sense that Character A would continue to hang around there even after they had died. Character B works at the library and is highly skeptic of the ‘ghostly activity’ that everybody has been reporting – the cold spots are from the drafty building, the whispers are from the patrons, and the creaking is from the old book shelves, obviously. One night, while shelving books, Character B accidentally bumps into the ghostly form of Character A.

Away from home. Away from family. Sam felt alone as he unpacked his things into a foreign dorm room that he has no business living in. Putting old things on new shelves, going through everything. When he opened up a book that Dean used to read to him before bed, a piece of motel paper fluttered to the ground. At first, he thought it was nothing until his eyes stopped on a few pen marks:

‘Come home soon, Sammy. DW’

Creepypasta #1029: The Things That Live Under My House Just Found A Way In

Length: Super long

Last week, my wife Katie and I finally closed on our new house, which we’d purchased for a laughable fraction of what the place was really worth. In retrospect, the price should’ve been a red flag, but who can blame me for jumping on this deal? The place was a steal and was no more than a half hour from my downtown office. It was a decent sized two story home with 3 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, and a large but not unmanageably colossal backyard where I planned to install a swing set or a swimming pool when Ellie was old enough (she’s currently the most adorable four year old on the face of the earth, but I digress). Not to mention, we were separated from our neighbors by a good half-acre of woods on either side, so we had more than enough privacy. Anyway, the house wasn’t a mansion by any stretch of the imagination, but it was more than adequate for the purposes of raising a young family in.

Unfortunately, the collective high of buying our first home didn’t last long. By the end of the second or third night, we’d become aware of some bizarre things going on in and around the house. The first thing we noticed were these faint scratching noises coming from what sounded like inside the walls. We figured a squirrel or a small bird had likely found its way behind the drywall and gotten trapped, so we began scheming ways to get the poor thing out without wreaking havoc on the structure. But we had no idea what the hell we were doing and got absolutely nowhere. I was just about one step away from taking a sledgehammer to the living room wall when Katie smartly suggested to let animal control take a swing at things before I ended up bringing down the entire damn house.

But in the three days before the specialist arrived, things took a sharp and unnerving downturn. The scratching got exponentially worse, and when things were quiet enough, we realized we could hear a distinct buzzing sound from underneath the floorboards, almost like there was a titanic beehive beneath the foundations of the house. 

As the hours turned into days, the buzzing got increasingly loud until you no longer had to strain to hear it. Then we noticed we could hear different scratchings from different parts of the wall simultaneously, and we realized we weren’t dealing with a single animal, but likely an infestation of some kind.

Things finally came to a head the morning the exterminator was scheduled to arrive. Katie and I woke up about an hour after dawn to the sound of Ellie screaming herself hoarse from her bedroom down the hall. My paternal instincts immediately kicked in and burned right through my early-morning grogginess, and before I knew what was happening I was bounding away towards her room. I threw open her door and immediately froze in my tracks.

What I saw there still scares the shit out of me - it was some kind of enormous hornet-like thing the size of a football, with a three and a half inch stinger jutting from its lower abdomen. Its hard to describe, but to put the damn thing’s sheer size into perspective, the flapping of its wings produced a sound that was as much like a small whooshing as it was identical to the insect-like buzz we’d been hearing.

In any case, I’d like to say I grit my teeth and charged the bastard with an upturned broom stick for threatening my baby girl, but that’s not the case - I instead slipped on my own sweat and fell on my ass out of sheer shock. Luckily for everyone, though, the bug didn’t seem too interested in taking on a full grown man, and it bolted back into the hole beneath the loose closet floor board the second it spotted me. 

Ellie was screaming uncontrollably the entire time, and a second or two later, Katie burst into the room, eyes wide with anxious confusion. I scrambled to my feet and ran to my daughter, hugging and kissing her and telling her the “mean bug” was gone and that she’d be okay, but it did little good. She continued to wail, and before long Katie began bombarding me with questions of her own.

“I don’t know, Kate,” I said as I picked the still whimpering Ellie up over my shoulder and started stroking her hair. “It was some sort of bug. Like a really, really huge one. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

We headed downstairs, plopped Ellie on the couch with a bowl of cereal and some cartoons, and headed into the kitchen to discuss the incident in harsh whispers.

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: Who Knew It Was So Hard To Write A Valentine's Card?

By @xoruffitup

7.7k words, G rated

Albus is desperate to find the right words to tell Scorpius how he feels about him. Meanwhile, Scorpius has all but given up on Albus ever returning his feelings. Surely Valentine’s Day is the perfect opportunity for them to figure it all out. 

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Sentimental

II pt 1 II pt 2 II pt 3 II pt 4 II  pt 5 II pt 6 II pt 7 (Final) II

Johnny x Reader

College!AU

Word Count: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst 

Teaser: You found yourself undeniably comfortable around him. He wasn’t as intimidating as you had thought, if anything he was probably a bigger loser than you and that drawn you to him even more. In the 20 minutes that you spent idly walking together you found yourself having more things in common with him than any of you other friends, and the feeling of having a new friend got you excited.’  

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Ferb A: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

Norman slammed the trunk of the car before looking around the Bates Motel parking lot. It was empty. Nothing but leaves scooting along the empty gravel space. His eyes shifted towards the office where he spent so many hours of the past five years of his life. Going through the mail, typing up the motel newsletter, making coffee every morning and all his manager duties. The many times he stood behind that counter and greeted his guests with a smile as they signed the guest book. How it felt to hand over that room key. He was somebody. This motel made him someone. From student to employee, to manager and to owner. This motel has seen it’s days long before the Bates moved in but, it saw it’s best days these past few years. They made this place into a home. Mother made this place a home and together they built this little paradise. The motel helped them just as much as they helped it.

Norman reached up to place his hand on his chest where his Manager pin use to sit. He would always trace the letters with his finger and feel so proud of himself. He remembered his first day. Norman Bates was so excited he wanted to make such a great impression. He had a sense of real responsibility. He wasn’t sure how many different blazer combos he went through. He had to look the part right? It was representing this motel and his mother. When he didn’t feel the pin there he felt this sort of emptiness fill his chest. His eyes skimmed down the line of room. Each one held it’s own story. Each one had a customer that Norman would never forget. Gunner and his band of stoners, the spooky man in Room 9, the lovely family who had the puppies, Annika Johnson, Alex Romero, Marion… He could go on. They were gone and they wouldn’t think of this place ever again.

The sun was slowly making its way down the sky threatening to disappear at any moment. Norman could hear the soft song of birds as he walked across the driveway. Entering the office he looked around a few times. The smell of coffee and freshly sharpened pencils lingered. It was nice. His hand moved along the front desk and over the guest book that hadn’t been touched in many weeks. He remembered the last person to sign it and she would always have a spot in his brain. Moving his way into the back office he let out a heavy sigh. He remembered when this place was filled with boxes upon boxes of dusty old files and old photos and newspaper articles. Norman had completely gone through all of them and turned those dusty boxes into a few simple little files. That contained the history of this place along with those old photos that new sat in the filing cabinet.

Turning his head he smirked a little when he saw that old picture on the wall. The peep hole behind it had been filled in and now it was just a regular old picture. He dropped his head as visions of what he’s seen on the other side of that wall popped into his mind. He got that chill as he flipped off the light and made his way back to the front office. Reaching out he hit that switch and the Bates Motel light flickered on. The low hum of it’s lights was all he could hear as he stepped out into that still evening air. A deep breath left his lungs as he watched the sign bring life to this place once more. Closing his eyes he could still hear the sounds of his guests. Cars pulling in and out of the drive. Dylan sitting over there in that empty chair enjoying an evening beer. The sounds of children laughing and the TV’s turning on just loud enough he could slightly hear it from his post behind the desk.

“It’s such a nice place you have here.”
“We’ve been driving for hours so glad we found you.”
“You’re really cleaning this place up kid.”
“Our stay was wonderful.”
“I’m going to give you a good review on Yelp!”
“Thank you Norman Bates.”

It all made him smile till he opened his eyes and it was just him. Norman made his way up towards the long set of steps that reached all the way up to that damn old house on the hill. The windows lit up looking alive as he climbed those steps. God how many times did he run up these stairs? If these damn steps could talk. The time him and Dylan had to carry Mother’s mattress all the down to the dumpster. He stopped and looked at the faint stain where Shelby bled out all over the place. That time Dylan slipped on the frost and nearly broke his neck. That time Norman gave Emma a piggyback ride all the way up because she was having a bad day with her breathing. The fights that went on, on these stairs. The hugs that happened. The stories that were told. How many times he sat there on that step and just had his Norman thinking time.

“She can’t do this! She can’t leave me!”
“Norman let her go!”

Climbing that last step as he crossed the porch he reached out and opened that front door. The moment he closed it he was met with complete silence. This house has never been that quiet. There was this twist in his stomach and he had to take a moment to get a grip. Norman looked to his left into the living room. That old fireplace and that couch where he spent many evenings watching TV or reading or doing his homework. Norman stepped further into the room and his hand moved along the back of the couch. Feeling the material against his skin he gave a small smile. The room was dim except for a small light on the side table in the corner. The walls that were filled with photos were now taken down. Removed. Norman looked at that piano sitting in the corner and for a split second he thought he could hear it play.

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that time Mother forced him to sing Mr. Sandman with her. Their many duets and he couldn’t count how many times he sat there with her as she played. Trying to teach him here and there but he could only manage to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star just right. She was the piano player in this family. Reaching out he debated hitting a key and decided against it. The last sound that piano would make was the last song Mother ever played. Instead he moved his hand to the left and turned the light off. Norman walked down the short hall into the kitchen.

Dishes use to stack high in the sink and on the table. Piles of old newspaper stacked on one of the chairs. The counter wasn’t cleaned. The stove was a mess with pots and pans littered all over it. The fridge was empty and the floor hadn’t been swept. Norman let this place go and he was ashamed of that. That’s why he took it upon himself this morning to clean every inch of this kitchen. Just how she wanted it. Just how she left it. He could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the smell of pot roast in the oven. The table was set and decorated with fresh flowers. He could hear that hum as Mother moved along the room. This was her work space. This was her happy place. It made Norman smile before he turned to head down into the basement.

The basement flooded with light with that flip of the switch. Norman’s steps echoed as he climbed down those old wood steps. Looking around the place was pretty dusty but Norman didn’t touch too much down here. Just his work space and new repaired furnace on those chilled evenings and the freezer. Looking over his work station everything was cleaned up. A faint dust rested upon the table’s surface where his taxidermy equipment use to sit. Boxes of old junk filled the shelves and after all these years Norman never touched any of it. Opening the freezer it was now warm as it had been shutoff. None of the freezers worked anymore and there was still that old yellow caution taped strung here and there. That sickening crime scene tape that only made his stomach burn. There was still some of his creations hiding down here. They would be left behind.

Just as Norman was about to leave he stopped seeing a dusty book just under the step. Curious he reached down and pulled it from it’s hiding spot. Blowing the dust off the cover it was that old taxidermy book Mother had gotten him years ago. He wondered where it had gone. He felt his heart swell as he exited the basement and turned the lights off one last time before shutting the door. He walked past the laundry room that was all cleaned out. Passing the kitchen he set the book down on the table before going upstairs. He was met with the memories of all those fights they had. The stomping of steps met his ears and the shouting echoed around the house.

“Norman please!”

“I don’t trust you anymore and that changes everything!”

“Stop it Norman.”

“The game was we were devoted to each other. That no one could ever come between us. We loved each other more than anyone could love another person.”

Norman could hear it all. The crying and the slam of the door. These doors slammed a lot in this house. The stomping of steps and the anger that would fill the upstairs. Norman was met with his bedroom door wide open. Standing in the doorway he skimmed as everything looked to be in place. Bed was made. The desk was cleaned off. The bookcase was empty. He could still hear the pitter-patter of Juno’s paws as she ran through the house. How many times was Norman confined to that bed? After one of his blackouts or being sick or after being stuck in a box for a few days. The room still faintly smelled like books and laundry cleaner. Norman looked at the door connecting the two bedrooms. This door still didn’t shut or lock right ever since he broke it that one day.

Despite the upstairs having so many horrible moments it had it’s good. Norman turned off the light and shut the door. Walking by the bathroom that smelled of bleach he went to Dylan’s old room. It was kinda how Dylan left it except Norman did go in and straighten things up. Few things on the walls. Mainly pictures of cars and hunting photos and girls. Random football and gun magazines on the floor. He left behind a couple shirts and a hat or two. Norman gathered up the left behind trash and tossed it into the bin near the door. It had that Dylan musk mixed with dust lingering in the air. Dylan…

“I’m a man now not her little boy and I wanna be a good man. I trust your judgment if you think this is the right thing to do. You’re my brother, you know? I wanna be there for you. We’re a family and we love each other we’ll work through it.”

“Get her back, Dylan! Get her back!”
“Calm down! You have to!! She’s coming back!”
“She’s not gonna come back! She hates me! She hates me Dylan and it’s all your fault!”

“Please, Norman.. Everything I’ve built with Mom, it’ll, it’ll all be destroyed.”

“You wouldn’t actually hurt anybody though, would you Norman?”

Norman stood in the doorway of Mother’s room. The last room in the house he wanted to be. The light near the window was on and there was this welcoming glow to it. Hands in his pockets he stepped further into the room. This warm air wrapped around him and he could smell her perfume. Norman closed his eyes and got lost for a moment. He could feel her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly. Pulling him in for a hug as she kissed his cheek. He could feel her warm embrace as she ran her hand through his hair. That smile on her face. A smile that was burned into his mind. That bright beautiful smile of a woman who was finally happy and finally at peace with the craziness around her. A woman who overcome everything life thrown her way. She was a warrior and she was his hero.

“I love you, Norman.”
“I love you too, Mother.”

“You mean more to me than anyone in the world.”

The voices echoed in his head she was still there. Smiling brightly at him as she took his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. There was this bubble building up in his chest. This emotion was building and it was making it’s way into his throat. “Hey..” Her voice was soft and comforting. “You’re a good boy, Norman.” She bit her lip and thought for a second. Norman’s misty eyes were focused on her as she spoke so softly. “You’re everything. Everything to me Norman.” She leaned in and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “There’s a cord between our hearts.” Those memories of that night on the lake came flooding back to him at her words. He couldn’t form any of his own at the moment as tears fought to fall from his baby blue eyes. He suddenly didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of her. That familiar pull and power she had over him all these years was slowly creeping back into him. His hands grasped hers tightly and she gave him a sad smile. “It will be okay. Got it? YOU can do THIS.” Norman softly nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she playfully added. “Now get the hell outta here.”

Norman’s eyes flew open and frantically looked for her. The bed, the closet, near the window, behind him. She wasn’t there. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face. Taking a moment to collect himself. That warm embrace he had felt was gone. The smell of her perfume was no longer in the air. It just a still room that held so many memories that were now put to rest. Forcing himself he crossed the room and turned the light off. He took a second to brush his hand over freshly washed bedspread. The silence in the room was making his ears hurt. Looking over towards the closet where all her dress use to be.. You can do this Norman. With that Norman walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Making his way quickly down the stairs he dropped by the kitchen again. Reaching out and collecting the book he had set there. One last look around he gave a firm nod. As he headed for the front door he stopped suddenly. There it was. He could hear that old record player turn on as Bobby Darin faintly filled the house. There it was again. That pull. That desire to stay with her. His hand grasped the door handle and he got his grip again and walked out of that old house on the hill. Locking it up behind him he could still hear that old tune as he climbed down the stairs. The sun was nearly down casting the sky in this pinkish orange. He looked out at that parking lot, the Bates Motel sign lit high above. The For Sale sign stuck just below the No Vacancy sign. He would never see this again.

His heart pounded so hard in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Tossing the book in through the window.

“We came here to start over, I am starting over.”

“We’ve been through a lot and this is our chance to start over.”

Norman Bates looked up at that old house that had been his home as well as his prison for the past years. Piling in this damn car with whatever it could hold and moving to White Pine Bay was an adventure. A town full of weirdos who at first didn’t welcome the Mother and Son but then found them worthy to be apart of their community. Moving here and running this motel was a fight for survival, a fight for acceptance and a fight to succeed. Behind all this fighting was just a family trying to find their place in the world. Trying to start over and along the way only grew strong and bigger. Many had doubted them and they hit a lot of roadblocks. This wasn’t your average family. Just a confused, loving boy and his Mother trying to make a life for themselves. Sure this rundown motel and that old house might have seen it’s share of tears and blood and bodies but also laughter and undying love. This old house. This old motel. Was just a spot on the road but it was a dream. It was her dream.

“We own a motel, Norman Bates!”

A few tears fell from Norman’s eyes but he quickly brushed them away. Suddenly he couldn’t hear that old record player anymore. No longer could he feel the soul that had been dancing her heart away in that old house. For the first time in his life he was alone. Truly alone. Mother was gone. Giving the Bates Motel sign one last smile Norman climbed into his car and pulled out of that drive way, never looking back.

The End..


Dear Best Friend.
Friends are like flowers, they grow till they bloom, wilt a little in hot busy rooms. They like milky tea and skies baby blue. They like long walks on the beach and old books on shelves, new. They like journals and stories and speaking in French. They like bunting and summer and a canopy bench with a cat who will dribble and curse noses to itch. They like deep green and yellow and things hand stitched.
Friends are like flowers, they’re beautiful and strange, they hang out in fields drinking sunlight and rain. They arrive in bunches when you show signs of pain, friends are like flowers, such a lovely bouquet.