then, we went home and ate the cupcakes

Bookshop Part 2 (Thorin X Bilbo)

Bilbo disliked Halloween. With passion.

It wasn’t the costumes or the candy or the fact that he had to make said candy, because bought candy looked cheap, or his neighbors’ superstitions or even complaints that a wealthy neighbor should put more effort into celebration the traditions, God damn those Sackville-Bagginses-

No; it was the endless knocking that started around six (young snotty brats and their overly concerned parents) and continued till ten, sometimes even eleven (annoying teenagers that wanted to brag they got some ‘queer’ candy). Then, of course, there was always the risk of waking up in a house wrapped in toilet paper – or, and that was the true horror – the stench of rotten eggs.

His house may have been the target of the latter more often than he would have liked to admit.

Those endless knockings, however, would drive him mad one day. He knew that for certainty.

So he placed a bucket outside his door and a note, asking politely that each kid will take one cupcake and leave the rest to the other kids. Not that he was expecting much, but he hoped the blue, lamp-like eyes he glued to the nearby window would make the children think he’s watching.

Also, he prepared three trays of sweets as an extra precaution.

And thus, with a nice book and a comforting fire and a steaming mug (spiced just a bit) prepared, he sank into his armchair and prayed that the night will pass without any incident.

It was also likely to snow, a fact which may deter the most mischievous teens. Probably.

Keep reading


this is pretty much both sort of a life story,, and a cars story

i was born in Virginia on June 25th, 2001

since that day, me and everyone in my family have been big NASCAR fans, one day (2006) my grandmother told me with absolute joy, (i remember seeing her watch the trailer) that they were making a racing movie, relating to NASCAR, i immediately lit up and had to see it, of course i was pretty young so i never saw it in theaters, but later that year i saw Cars (2006) for the very first time, i was hooked immediately, my family bought me all sorts of cars stuff, some of which i still have, whether it be a rug for the toy cars to drive on, or just all the die casts in general, i loved cars and everything about it, i stayed interested but never really got 100% excited till i was 10 years old, and i saw the trailer for Cars 2 come on TV, i was so PUMPED, and went to see it on my birthday, as it was released Jun 24th the day before my birthday, I remember seeing it with my cousins, we came home and ate cars 2 themed cupcakes, and cars 2 juicy juice, just seeing juicy juice to this day gives me so much nostalgia, although i didn’t really notice how.. off par the 2nd movie was from the first one until this year, i still loved it and still enjoy it to this day, then at the start of 9th grade (last year, early Sept) i thought i was so lucky, i’d never been happier, i had a girlfriend, and amazing friends.

 then finally, it all came crashing down on me, in my life i never considered nor thought of the idea of me being depressed one day, then things from earlier that year bit me in the ass, the girl i was dating at the time was severely disliked in our friend group, i made the mistake of taking part of a group chat involving hateful words to this girl, i don’t recall doing most of the hate, but i was still part of it, and it was wrong of me, eventually a girl in our friend group who hated me, (cause she was dating my cousin and she was jealous of the fact i knew him better then she did.) she told her everything, all about the group chat, and everything we had said, my girlfriend broke up with me, and all the people who were also part of the group chat, left me, and started harassing me online, due to them not wanting her to find out they had something to do with the chat I’d imagine. I. was. DESTROYED.

I finally had enough of their bullying, and my parents did as well, they took me out of public school and started home schooling me, (which i did better in home school this year then i ever did in public school.) 

but it didn’t help the situation.

it was all i could think about, i fell into a deep depression, found out i have generalized anxiety disorder, and even OCD, I also at one point had crippling depression. it was horrible. I considered taking my life several times, I’ve had chains of a ceiling fan wrapped around my neck more then times I’d like to admit.

…but then.

late last year, they unveiled the trailer for Cars 3, I was obviously instantly hooked. I couldn’t wait till it came out, then finally, after months of anti depressants (which im still on) anxiety pills i’ve been given to take when having an attack..

June 16th, 2017 finally arrived.

I went to see it opening day, early at 11:00 AM.

It was an amazing day.

Now I look forward to today, I’ve got several Cars 3 items, just because anything that even barely has a cars 3 logo on it, It makes me so happy.

(Goldfish, Juicy Juice, Pens, Posters, Die Casts, Books, Sticker Books, Notebooks, anything.)

and it makes me happy.

I look at everything Cars 3 in my room everyday, and yes, I cuddle my Cruz Ramirez plushy at night.

Then I got on here, Tumblr, not expecting to become popular, not even remotely. I just wanted to see what other cars fans like me did, and sure enough..

Here I am 100+ followers and hopefully growing..

I’m sorry this was so long, and yes, depressing, but I truly mean it when I say I love you guys, I don’t see myself as a good person, but you guys find ways to lift me up..

Thank you.

-Shane (dinoco-51)

Creepypasta #TWO-HUNDRED: Angel Eyes

“Anna! Wake up! My angel is here!”

“What?” I eased one eye open until I was squinting at my brother. I would have opened them farther, except I couldn’t. He was shining a damn flashlight in my face.

I shooed my little brother away that night, barely even bothering to look. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

My mother had always been… “abusive”, for lack of a better word. She would yell at us, demean us, there was never a shortage of nasty words. As far as verbal abuse goes, Mom was dead on. Physically is where the line gets blurry. She hit us, for sure. But the times she did were few and far between, and honestly didn’t really hurt us. Mom’s abuse was mostly mental.

The worst was the time Brian let the puppy out. He had just gotten the dog for his 7th birthday, we hadn’t even had a chance to name it yet. He said he “thought it would be a good idea to let the puppy go exploring”. The puppy was hit by a car almost instantly. Mom dragged Brian out to the curb and screamed at him to look at the dog, then threw him to the ground and left him sitting there, crying. She stormed upstairs and disappeared into her bedroom. Later, she came down dressed in her work clothes, ordered me to keep an eye on my brother, and informed me that she’d be working a double shift and wouldn’t be home until the early morning hours. Then she drove off without saying another word to Brian.

I went out to him and asked him to come inside, offering him an ice cream from the freezer. He stared at the dead dog for another minute, gently crying and holding his scraped knee. Wordlessly, he came inside.

I couldn’t get him to talk to me at all that night. He sat on the couch, blankly staring at the cartoons I had put on, and I eventually got bored watching him. I went to my room and talked on the phone with my friend Lisa for a good hour. By the time I came out, Brian wasn’t on the couch anymore. After a minute of panicking and searching the downstairs rooms for him, I heard his voice.

Listening carefully, I realized it came from outside the house. He was sitting on the curb, next to the dog, looking up and to his right, as if he were speaking to someone slightly taller than him. Relieved, but still angry, I went out to him.

“Brian! What do you think you’re doing???”

“Sorry… I saw… There was a lady next to the dog. She said she was an angel. She said she was helping him.”

“You can’t see angels. They aren’t re-… They’re invisible. They watch over us, but they’re air colored.”

“No they’re not. They’re white.”

“Yeah, but they’re invis… Ugh. Whatever. Just get inside, it’s time for bed.”

I got him in his pajamas, not bothering to make him brush his teeth or shower. I was only 13, I wasn’t about to force him to do anything. Brian and I shared a room, which I hated. So I went to sleep in Mom’s room until she got home. She got back at around 3am, and kicked me out of her bed. Sleepily, I snuck down the hall to our room, when I heard Brian’s voice.

“Is it beautiful there?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, and listened. I thought maybe he was using the phone, which he wasn’t allowed to do so late at night. I also realized the light was on, it was shining out from under the door.

“It sounds really nice. But the puppy is dead. He’s hurt really bad. How can he be happy? Won’t he be sad forever?”

He paused.

“Oh. I get it. I guess. Can you tell me more stories about heaven, though?”

I listened for another 5 minutes, but he didn’t say anything else. Eventually, the light turned off. I snuck into the room, quietly, to see that Brian was either already asleep or pretending to be.

Ignoring him, I crawled into bed and went to sleep.

The next morning, Brian had all sorts of stories to tell. He just wouldn’t stop talking the entire time we were getting ready for school.

“And there are these really pretty, tall flowers that are even bigger than me, and animals ALL over the place, because all animals end up there, even my puppy. Oh!! And my puppy! He isn’t hurting at all anymore!!! You don’t hurt when you go there, nothing ever hurts again, and-”

He was interrupted by Mom, who was coming down the stairs. “Jesus Fucking Christ, will you shut the hell up, kid? I swear to God, if you say one more word about Heaven I’m going to send your dumbass up there”.

Mom made herself some coffee as Brian and I sat in silence. She poured it in a thermos and then pointed to the garage, gesturing for us to get in the car. We did.

As we drove to school, everyone was silent. Until Brian, very softly said “she says you’re not supposed to use God’s name like that”.

“What did you just say to me? God damn, kid.”

Brian exploded. “YOU CAN’T SAY GOD’S NAME LIKE THAT!!!”

Mom exploded right back, throwing the thermos over her shoulder at Brian. It smacked him right underneath the eye, and coffee poured out of it onto his shirt. It wasn’t hot enough to burn him, it was barely even lukewarm, but he screamed anyways.

“Shut the hell up!! You’re not fucking hurt!”

Brian pouted and quietly whimpered for the duration of the drive. We got to school, and he jumped out of the car.

“Wait,” Said Mom. She pulled his soccer jersey out of the trunk and handed it to him. As he changed out of his freshly-stained t-shirt, she said softly, “I’m sorry, Brian. But you shouldn’t talk to me like that.” He nodded at her, still teary-eyed, with a slight red mark on his cheek where the thermos had hit him. He ran off towards his class.

“Bye, Mom. Love you.” I said. She nodded back, a little teary eyed, herself.

I know Mom always felt bad when she exploded. She just got too angry sometimes. Still, if she could have just controlled her temper… Brian would still be here. But then again, if I had done a few things differently, Brian would be here, too.

When she picked us up after school that day, she was as nice as she could be. She bought Brian’s favorite chicken sandwich meal from the fast food place across town, and even went out of the way on the way home to get our favorite kind of cupcakes from this special bakery. Brian seemed happy enough, but he stayed silent as he ate, and as we all sat in the living room together watching his favorite movie, the one about the lost little clownfish.

Mom fell asleep on the couch, and Brian whispered for me to come to the room with him. I went, and we sat on my bed.

“Anna. My angel says she can make it so I never have to hurt again.”

“Brian, don’t start this again…”

“Please, Anna! Listen!” he begged. “I don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t like when Mom gets mad. The angel says she can make it so Mom will never be mad again, and I’ll never get hurt again. And I want her to do it for you too. She says she can, she says you’re still innocent enough to go too.”

“And where are we going?”

His face lit up. “Someplace wonderful. And it’s not like we’ll never see Mom again. The angel promised.”

“It sounds like you’re talking about Heaven. We can’t just run away and go to Heaven, Brian. You have to die first.”

“Anna…” He said condescendingly. “Of COURSE we’re not gonna die. My angel said so.”

“Yeah? And how can you just trust everything she says?” I sarcastically started rattling off clichés. “You just know? You can feel it in your soul? You can see it in her eyes?”

“No”. He said matter-of-factly. “She doesn’t have eyes”.

I scoffed and rolled mine. “OK. That’s enough, Brian. Angels have eyes. Go to sleep.”

“Not these kinds of angels. Not the kinds in charge of showing us Heaven. They use their hearts to see, just like we’re supposed to.”

That rendered me speechless. He beamed at me, and said “I’m going tonight. I’ll wake you up when she gets here.”

He did wake me up that night, and I pushed him away, thinking he was just playing make-believe, and that he’d go to bed soon enough. But an hour later, I heard my mom scream, and the door slam.

I found Mom out by the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. There was a car up on the sidewalk, parked on top of our mailbox. And Brian was in the street, lying in the exact same spot his dog had been in.

I… I’m not going to describe it. I’m sure you’ve seen a squirrel in the street before, all stretched out and dirty, flattened in some spots and swollen in others, bleeding everywhere. Roadkill is bad enough to see. Well this… this was my brother.

A drunk driver had hit him. The driver was arrested, and my brother was buried, closed casket, two days later.

The preacher at his funeral talked about Heaven. He talked about how all little boys and girls go there. How they never suffer, they never hurt, they never feel pain. And he talked about how they are not truly dead, but they live on in our hearts, and have their new life in heaven.

I’m not sure what would have happened if I had gotten out of bed that night. I don’t know if I could have stopped him from going outside. I don’t know if I would have ended up splattered across that curb too. I just wish I could forget the whole thing. More than anything, I wish I could forget that blinding, white light that shone in my face when I peeked at Brian in the middle of the night. It had to have been a flashlight. It really couldn’t have been anything else. But whenever I look back at the memory, I can almost picture a pair of dark, red lips, a sliver of a nose… but no eyes.

I can’t remember any eyes.

Credits to: Rebecca Mendex (Bex)

anonymous asked:

Hi, hello! I have a younger sister who is 13. At a size 22, she's pretty big for her age. She's also gorgeous and smart and very creative but she never saw any of that. I'm sure you remember what 13 feels like... everyone wants to be popular, they want to be asked to the little school dances, have a boyfriend... and the girls who don't "achieve" these things are treated pretty horribly. My sister became the token "fat friend" in a group of really vicious little girls. All of them are super thin

and fit that classic all american girl look. They get asked to dances and have new boyfriends every week. They made my sister feel like she was lucky to get to sit with them and basically do everything they told her to do. They encouraged her not to eat and would actually NOT LET HER EAT at their sleepovers because they said they wanted to make her “skinny” and “normal”. Her self-esteem dropped terribly, she started being depressed, and then she told my mom she didn’t want to wear anything other than maxi dresses because one of her friends told her she looked “really fat and ugly” in jeans and shorts. This was at the beginning of the school year. Around March, we started noticing a change in her. It was really small stuff like she would come home and tell us that she had stood up for herself. Or that she had ate a cupcake in front of her friends at the slumber party because it made her feel good (regardless of the fact that her friends called her fat). Then she asked a boy to the dance because she was “tired of waiting on some idiot to get the hint”. Last night we had a girls’ night out (me, her and my mom) and we went shopping. There isn’t much options available for her and she used to cry about having to go to Catherine’s because her friends said they were “old lady clothes” (some of them kinda are but…) but she was actually excited to go shopping. She looked at my mom and said “I want some shorts.” My mom was kind of hesitant about it because she never wants to wear shorts and everything in Catherines is super expensive so buying something she won’t wear is impractical. My mom brought this up and my sister goes “I’m over that. I’m not friends with those girls anymore because they aren’t really my friends. I like myself and if they don’t like me, it’s not my problem.” It’s a huge change in attitude, you know? She enjoyed shopping last night and bought shorts and tank tops and stuff that a kid should wear… not maxi dresses. On the way home we asked her what had changed her mind about all of this… and she told us that she had contacted this “REALLY AWESOME” person on tumblr about her body issues and this “REALLY AWESOME” person had given her a lot of advice. When we got home, she went upstairs and brought out this binder of papers she had printed off… and they were all conversations between you and her. We read through them and my mom (and me) cried like big babies. You are truly a REALLY AWESOME (haha) person. I don’t think you’ll ever understand the impact you had on her and I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for every piece of advice you’ve given her and for checking in on her. For telling her that she doesn’t have to fit some perfect mold to be happy. I like it because she’s been on other tumblrs where people have encouraged her to be thin and then there’s some that encouraged her to be fat. You told her to be happy where she’s at. If she gains, love it. If she loses, love it. There needs to be more of you and less thinspo in the world. I have no idea what half the stuff you post is about but you are most def my follow forever and I will ride into battle for you at a moments notice. Thank you. Truly and sincerely.

I’m not crying. YOU’RE CRYING.

I’m 100% positive I know who your sister is and you’re right- she is an incredibly smart and creative and gorgeous girl.

I seriously don’t know what to say. Like, I’m tearing up and there’s this lump in my throat and I’m so damn proud of her for buying a stupid pair of shorts because it’s such a huge deal to go from “I hate my body” to “Imma show my legs”.

My goal has always been to let everyone know that they are fine where they are. If your body is hard and trim, love it. If your body is soft and jiggly, love it. If you want to change something about yourself… then do it but know that you don’t have to hate where you are right now on your way to where you want to be. I love myself at the size I am now. If I gain weight, I’ll love myself then, too. If I miraculously became a size 2, I’d still love me. This body I’m in is nothing more than vessel for all the bits and pieces that make me who I am. It doesn’t matter what weight I am- 100 pounds or 1000 pounds- I’m still Amanda. And that’s really important for people to understand. If you want to lose weight, go for it. If you want to gain or maintain, go for it. Just know that if a number on a scale is the only thing that makes you happy, then something isn’t right. Numbers are not who you are.

This got real rambly and I apologize. Thank you so much for your kind words, they have really made my entire day. (And I really do adore your little sister!)