but dig the books

hufflepuffrenee  asked:

do you know about any books with lesbians with ocd?

I managed to dig up a few, there might be a few more but not where it’s explicitly addressed so if anyone knows any others please share with us!

         noah fence but i’m really not digging this new movie/book trend of having a disabled and/or terminally ill female lead suddenly potentialized by falling in love with some dude. please stop using physical ailments as fodder for young adult romance it’s really misleading for those actually in that position. 

lardo builds her own panels because it’s easier. ok, not at all. but it’s cheaper. she likes the managers down in the kotter shops; they’re helpful, organized, and let students work and learn and problem solve at their own pace, hands-on. 

sometimes she feels weird being one of the only painting students who builds her own panels, but it’s not like being hockey manager pays much. she’s got rent and groceries and god help her, oil paint to buy. her parents help, but samwell’s already expensive with scholarships and she’s heard her dad talk about loans and mortgage in hushed tones on the couch at night during winter break and she clicks out of buying a new pencil case. (ugh, but it’s ..adorable and the size…and on amazon prime)

she won’t call herself poor–lower end of comfortable, sure. sometimes she hears rans and holster call themselves poor college students and she kinda laughs because? they’re. not? really. they occasionally tutor for econ and intro bio and pay for her takeout sometimes, though she insists not. she checks her bank account and digs around her room for a her check book, god, rent is due soon. 

she fries an egg (bought in bulk when she was back at home) with spam (bulk tins) and spoons out a bowl of rice (fifty pound bag in the haus basement), takes out her bottle of soy sauce (tiny. her mom says that if anything, have good soy sauce). she doesn’t correct them; they’re her friends, but she doesn’t say anything, because…what’s her place to say. 

(her dad pays for gas. lardo doesn’t drive that much, but her dad pays for gas. it’s unspoken. whenever she comes home, her dad will take her car and when she’s back in samwell, the tank is full. her car’s old. she’s gonna say it now, it’s beat up. like, god, there are students at Samwell that are younger than her car.  but it runs and as she heads west for samwell, her dad reminds her to take the car back for him to look at sometime and not not fill the tank over there. she nods).

so larissa puts on a pair of goggles and uses the radial arm saw to slice through pieces of wood and waits patiently for her panels and stretchers to dry. it gives her a buzz, a rush to bring down the saw. she thinks about using plexiglass as a surface to paint on and panels that take up entire walls. she can’t tell if she likes painting on paper or canvas or metal or plastic or masonite or fabric best, it depends on the day. today, it’s freshly sanded masonite. she brushes off a fine layer of dust; the surface has just enough grit but she gives it another pass and rolls up her sleeves, stained with wood glue.

Image: Throughout his career, Prince played around with constructions of race, gender and sexuality. (Rico D'Rozario/Redferns via Getty Images)

The way Prince worked to dissolve categories is one of the central themes of Ben Greenman’s new book, Dig If You Will The Picture. Greenman says combining multiple, often conflicting identities was integral to Prince’s work – and race wasn’t the only way Prince stirred things up.

Prince Contained Multitudes, New Book Confirms

Witchy Writing Prompts!

keep track of your dreams. studying your dreams is a great way to dig deep into your subconscious. there are several books / online references that have detailed explanations of objects, imagery, or actions that may have appeared in your mind during slumber! 🌙

write about the witch you wish to be. this doesn’t just apply tobbaby witches. there is room for growth at any stage of your practice! how do you see yourself in a few weeks? months? years? describe what you want to learn the most. are there things you wish to change? specific areas for extra growth? write about how you want your practice to be in the future. 🔮

plan out your dream set-up. dreaming of supplies and gardens and herb collections is really such an exciting thing. don’t focus on the funds you need, or the funds you don’t have - just be honest, and lay out your wish list. this could include tools, plants, herbs, crystals, jars, cabinets, *anything* witchy that you find yourself lusting after. set a goal (but don’t stress yourself out! you don’t need a million supplies to practice witchcraft), and describe the things you would like the most // any altars you’d like to make // what objects you think would be most beneficial to your own unique craft. 🕯

start keeping track of your tarot or oracle spreads. which card did you get during your daily draw? what did you learn from a full-moon spread? having your experiences written out can be very helpful - start noticing patterns in your drawings. did you pull the same card three times in a month? did a past spread prove to be true? think about looking back on these descriptions years from now, and marveling at how accurate (or inaccurate) a reading turned out to be! ⏳💕

i want to give a shoutout to supportive fic readers!!! there are a lot of fics where i see some of the same people commenting and generally showering the writers with lov and posi vibes and support and just. big love to all of you. one of these days i’ll compile a list of all the usernames i see because y'all are such bright corners of this fandom and play a huge role in making writers feel more confident themselves. hugs

Clingy (Jughead x Reader)

Prompt: hello! love your blog! can i have a jughead x reader fic where the reader and jughead are dating and she overheard him telling someone (maybe like archie or betty) that she’s clingy and so she distances herself from him? lol idk if that makes sense but if you could write it that would be amazing! thank you!!!!

A/N: I love this prompt so much. I had so many different storylines come to mind but hopefully you enjoy this one! Requests are Welcome!!

Masterlist

– Clingy (Jughead x Reader) –

You were walking towards your locker when you saw them.

Jughead and Archie talking by Jug’s locker.

Your heart skips a beat when you see that he’s wearing your favorite sweater of his. The soft green one that goes oh so well with his eyes.

Stop at your locker then go say hi to your boyfriend and his best friend. Routine. Like clockwork. Only today is when things change.

Opening your locker, you hear Jug say something sounding like your name. Thinking he saw you, you move your head a little to smile at him only to find him and Archie frowning at each other. That’s weird.

You pull out your English book and shut your locker, shrugging it off.

As you start to get closer, you hear him.

“I don’t know Arch. Is she clingy? Are all girls like that?” He sighs and digs around his locker for his science book.

Were you being clingy? Your heart starts to tighten in your chest. Was it making Jughead uncomfortable?

“Nah. You know (Y/N) is just a touchy person.” Archie offers him a smile. Neither of them saw you standing in the hall by the water fountain.

Archie says something quieter so you couldn’t hear but Jughead responds.

“I know. we spend every day together. We do everything together. Sometimes I feel like she’s always there. I can’t concentrate on anything half the time. She’s a huge distraction.” He shuts his locker and turns to Arch.

Archie nods and pats his back, saying something else but you already turned to leave.

Feeling hurt, you decide not to stop and say hi to them. It would be too clingy.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

what about the stairs in the forests!!! and what doc were you watching and would you recommend?

ok so I DON’T BELIEVE IN THE STAIRS IN THE FORESTS! mainly because I’m A Search and Rescue Officer for the U.S. Forest Service, and I Have Some Stories to Tell a) is posted on /r/nosleep so it’s definitely made up, b) the op admits to knowing about David Paulides, and lbr knowing about = being influenced by, so it’s definitely made up, and c) if you read all the way through to the end it stops being even vaguely believable and starts reading like a WTNV transcript, and then he plugs his book, so it’s DEFINITELY MADE UP. however, it is an amazing (read: terrifying) thread, some of it is obviously based on truths/insider SAR knowledge which means a lot of it is probably uncomfortably close to actually being true, and it’s a good Gateway Read into MISSING PEOPLE IN NATIONAL PARKS CONSPIRACY THEORIES, which is where I live now. (plus, if you read this before getting into anything else it imbues every single missing persons case with an unsettling sense of Eldritch horror, which is why I had to turn on three overheads and unfocus my eyes all the way to the bathroom last night at 2am.) 

so yeah, after reading that /r/nosleep thing for the first time I drew a line under it and moved on until SOMEONE (ahem@roundtop) sent me a link to an article called How 1,600 People Went Missing from Our Public Lands Without a Trace (on a legit and sensible outdoorsy people website), like ‘haha, stairs in the forest!’ and I SWAN DIVED DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE. thus: the documentary-watching, staying up till 2am and spending all day today trying to find copies of David Paulides’ books for less than $80 inc. postage. 

THIS DUDE DAVID PAULIDES. he was in law enforcement before, for some reason, deciding to become a ~*~cryptozoologist~*~ and certified gung-ho Bigfoot conspiracy theorist, and through that found out about how many people had disappeared without a trace from National Parks in the U.S., did 7,000 hours worth of digging, and wrote a bunch of books about it. his books are called Missing 411 and are about the ridiculous number of people who go missing in National Parks, the usually weird circumstances around their disappearances, the fact that when people are found (dead or alive) it’s often in places miles and miles and sometimes waaaaay higher up mountains than where they disappeared from, and all sorts of creepy crap to boot. like they can’t get bloodhounds to find a scent, or they find tiny children miles away from where they got lost, barefoot, without a scratch on the soles of their feet, human remains being found years later in places that were search dozens and dozens of times. not to mention the National Parks… People (? I really don’t know enough to be making this post) are aware of what’s happening but don’t keep a list of the people who’ve gone missing on their lands. 

(which is all part of why I’m A Search and Rescue Officer for the U.S. Forest Service is so freaky – enough of it (people being found miles away, kids being found up mountains, the people in charge being cagey about it all) sounds real that you can believe it was actually written by a SAR Officer. heebies!) 

it’s all real nightmare fuel, if you’re the sort of person who is absolutely terrified by all this Scary Forest Disappearing People Unexplainable Deaths stuff, i.e. me. luckily I can’t afford to buy any of them! phew! however, I haven’t let that stop me from a) SCARING MYSELF SHITLESS and b) BECOMING A TIN HATTER, and it shouldn’t stop you either: you can read loads of stuff over at /r/missing411, listen to one of his initial interviews (in which he talks about how he was approached by two park employees in plain clothes who were like ‘please investigate this, there’s SOMETHING going on and it’s so goddamn weird’) on Coast to Coast AM (which is, like, a paranormal radio station… I’m sorry), watch a bunch of Paulides’/CanAm Missing Project’s vids about disappearances on youtube, and listen to hours worth of interviews and late night spooky radio/podcast discussions with Paulides. 

the documentary I thought I was watching was Missing 411, which is based on his books and Kickstarted by the public in 2015, but it turns out that they’re apparently shopping it around at festivals so it’s not out yet. what I was actually watching (and quickly abandoned) was a weird supercut of all of David Paulides’ tv interviews and some cryptozoologist chatter about Bigfoot. Paulides, god love him, never ever SAYS Bigfoot in any of his books, and everything he presents is 100% factually accurate and extensively researched, but… I think we can safely say he thinks it’s Bigfoot. tbh, after reading about Jaryd Atadero I think it’s Bigfoot. I mean, goddamn. 

so, yeah. I’ve finished reading every search and rescue story on this blog (Hunt for the Death Valley Germans is LONG but awesome), I’ve got West of Memphis ready to watch after work tomorrow because I remembered how much I love that case and spooky true crime things, if you have any related LINKS or STUFF about This Shit then REBLOG THIS/MSG ME AND TELL ME, or if you have a copy of a Missing 411 book you wouldn’t mind mailing to me then LET ME KNOW, and in conclusion I can’t believe America is so fucking huge and unkind, goodnight.

Overdue

Prompt: “You’re overdue on this book and I want it so I’m tracking you the f**k down” from @nerds-are-cool.
Word Count: 1,300
Warning(s): Minor swearing.

⇢  A Sirius Black x Reader work set in the Marauders’ Era.


“Is the book available yet?”

Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean?”

You sighed, a slight frown on your face. “Yes. My Herbology essay is due in less than a week now.”

The aged Hogwarts librarian narrowed her eyes at you. She showed absolutely no sign of caring. “The only copy I have hasn’t been returned, I’m afraid.”

“May I know who still has it?” you questioned, frustrated.

For the past two weeks, you have been probing the library, scrounging for the book–or even something similar to it–to no avail. Now, whoever had it was at least two weeks overdue and the book was still not in your clutches.

In response, Madam Pince pulled out a thick file. “Magical Water Plants, Magical Water Plants,” she murmured as she flicked through the pages. “Here. Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean by Hadrian Whittle. Checked out by a Sirius Black about four weeks ago.”

Your cursed under your breath. The answer was so obvious, you shouldn’t have been surprised. “Sirius Black,” you muttered, internally groaning. “Why him?”

Keep reading

My Top 10 Favorite Comics of All Time

Hi guys,

I’ve been getting asked a lot on and offline what are my favorite comic books? That’s a loaded question. I had to think about it. There are some great runs in comics. Some great story arcs. But I had to dig down and see what I really liked. What books have I read over and over and over. These are what I enjoyed the most, I’m not saying these are the greatest comic books ever, I’m just saying they appealed to me. So here are my top 10 favorite comics.




10. Identity Crisis
The DC Comics crisis events. Mostly just okay stories. Too much going on and not enough time to invest in any one character. But Identity Crisis stands out above the rest. Instead of a multiverse changing, massive story, Identity Crisis focuses on the mystery of who killed Sue Dibny. The wife of the Elongated Man. More and more of the heroes civilian loved ones are attacked and the heroes have a ticking clock to solve the mystery before another loved one is murdered. Written by Brad Meltzer this book focuses on the cost of living a double life. Highly recommended.



9. Young Avengers: volume 2
Not to be confused with Young Avengers volume 1. Volume 2 by Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie is nothing short of awesome. A multiverse hoping, teenage super hero daydream. It’s a really great story about teenage love, magic, pop references, LGB, and Loki. Lots and lots of Loki. So if you ship Wiccan and Hulkling, love Kate Bishop, and cannot get enough of America Chavez, you’ll want to read this book.



8. Superman American Alien
A lot of people have mixed opinions on this book, but I really enjoyed this unique take written by Max Landis. Focusing on the early years of Clark Kent, it felt more grounded in what Clark would actually be going through on his journey to becoming Superman. Each issue has a different artist which is fitting because each issue focuses on a different year in Clark’s child to teenager to young adult to man journey. It’s a mini series that should be pretty easy to find and I highly recommend it.



7. DC The New Frontier
A book paying tribute to the Silver Age of DC Comics. Focusing on the Macarthy era, A time where America couldn’t be less trusting, the story focuses on the super heroes once praised for their services, now find themselves ridden off as outlaws. Multiple perspectives from Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, Flash, etc, as they fight for truth, justice, and the American way, accumulating to the upcoming battle with “The Center.” Darwyn Cooke tells an amazing story that you all should check out.



6. Scott Pilgrim Vol 1 through 6
I cannot recommend these books from Bryan Lee O’ Malley enough. 6 graphic novels in total, focusing on Scott Pilgrim’s desire to date Ramona Flowers, his journey to defeat her 7 evil ex’s, and the challenge of being a responsible adult. This book is filled with post high school confusion, punk rock, video games, anime style action, and heart. If you liked the movie, I promise you, you’ll love the book.



5. Ultimate Comics Spider-Man volume 2
My favorite super hero is Spider-Man. In 2011 when they announced they would be making a new Spider-Man of color I was ecstatic. As a person of color it’s been great to have a Spider-Man that fills that need for minority characters. Obviously just having a minority character isn’t enough but Brian Michael Bendis’s run on Ultimate Comics Spider-Man makes you really love the character of Miles Morales. The story of what happens after Peter Parker dies and a new clueless Spider-Man must fill the void, is nothing short of great. It puts you in the shoes of a new character trying to figure out who he is, all while trying to keep the memory of Peter Parker alive. 



4. Paper Girls
If you like the show “Stranger Things,” you’ll love Paper Girls. Taking place in the 1980s, 4 middle school girls, on their morning paper route get caught up in the strangest day of their lives. To ninjas, dinosaurs, time travel, clones, to apple products, Brian K. Vaughan and Cliff Chiang hit you with a sci-fi nostalgia story that will keep you guessing where the next turn is.




3. Justice League International
The late 80′s had one of the greatest Justice League runs of all time. Keith Giffen and J.M. Dematteis pumped out some of the funniest and most entertaining comics to date. Focusing on the Justice League as a work place comedy, this massive run follows the adventures of a newly formed Justice League made up of mostly second string characters. The satisfaction of Batman punching out Guy Gardner, the comedy duo of Blue Beetle and Booster Gold, GNORT! If you want your super hero books to be fun and hilarious, this is the book for you. Starting in Justice League #1 through 6 and transitioning to Justice League International, then splitting between Justice League Europe and Justice League America.



2. New Avengers
This comic book run written by Brian Michael Bendis is what got me back into comics after an 8 year absence. 6 months after the Avengers disbanded due to the Scarlet Witch killing some of her fellow teammates, a massive prison break, orchestrated by Electro forces Spider-Woman, Luke Cage, Daredevil, Spider-Man, Iron Man, Captain America, and the Sentry to come together to put an end to the riot. The book follows the newly formed team on their mission to track down the 42 escaped prisoners, all while trying to solve the mystery who hired Electro and why? New Avengers also brought some of the best characters in Marvel including Wolverine, Ms. Marvel, Hawkeye, Doctor Strange, Iron Fist, Jessica Jones, and more, to join the team. The book became the center stage for Marvel Comics from 2005 until 2012 running through events like House of M, Civil War, Secret Invasion, all the way to Avengers vs X-Men. It’s a fun super hero book that really throws you into the world of Marvel Comics.



HONORABLE MENTIONS
Black Science
Sex Criminals
New Teen Titans (Marv Wolfman)
Batgirl and the Birds of Prey
Uncanny X-Force (Rick Remender run)
Batgirl: Year One




AND NUMBER ONE….




1. Saga
If you’re not reading Saga, you are missing out. A Romeo and Juliet story set in a sci-fi fantasy space adventure. In the middle of an intergalactic war, Alona and Marko leave their worlds behind to risk everything for the survival and protection of their newborn Hazel. Hunted by both sides of the war, the two travel across the stars and encountering creatures from all over the galaxy who either want to help them or want them dead. Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples take a story about the ups and downs of parenting and throws it into a cosmic and crazy story of awesomeness. Look out for Izabel, Prince Robot the IV, and Ghus. You will smile every time they are on the page.

And I know that my poetry usually makes no sense, it’s a thing called love that compels us to keep reading. Would you care to know why my favorite color is red? I used to have a friend named Kevin and it was his favorite color. He was the flamboyant and most colorful of us in the group. Popular with the ladies and loyal to his friends. I was the one in the backseat laughing to their thoughts when I really had none of my own. Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing so much. Maybe that’s why I love the color red. He painted his room red once, I remember things changing right around then. The drugs were getting a little heavier even with his teenage youth, the drugs will rip right through you. Painkillers will kill your emotions, you don’t want to feel a thing. I can relate to Kevin, I fucking love painkillers too. I shut myself off from everyone, but occasionally I enjoy the company. I’m awkward and my thoughts are kinda dim, so I always liked being around him. Are you familiar with the literary term foil? A foil is a character who contrasts with another character in order to highlight particular qualities of the other character. I feel like he was like that for me. I always saw myself as a little too blue, I wanted to be something worth loving, I wanted to be a little more like him, I want to kiss life into everything, I wanted to live, I wanted to be more than a shadow of a group of peers that did drugs and listened to melancholy and nostalgic techno after school hours. I don’t know how he’s doing or what he’s up to. The last thing I heard was he’s into needles now. Rumors plague this tiny town, we were raised from imperfections and we grew up to taste cigarettes that numb our gums. He had the kind of laugh that made you want to be his friend. It’s funny though, none of my friends initially liked me. Until they got to know me, empty and hollow, a sponge– the one who listened to the problems, never really any of my own. I get lost in my thoughts, I know. My poetry is scattered, I know. I don’t convey structure or rhymes, I don’t hide in between the rules. My words are more scribbles than they are truly masterpieces. Would you like to know why I write? I used to know someone that said the shoreline was like a bed and naps were always possible– she waited there everyday for inspiration. She would tell me the tiny stories inside of her head that had nowhere to go, it’s funny. I never really listened to her, I just enjoyed the company of love and to be loved. Love, what is it? When I wrote my first poem for her, I didn’t know where it came from or why I wanted to write it. I just knew that I had to write it. It had to be done. I had to read it to her. Let me tell you, if your first poem was a love poem, it was probably the most cringe thing you’ve ever created. Ever. Period. But still, I loved it. It was bad, but it had feelings. You always miss the feeling more than you do the person and that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever had to realize. It really shouldn’t be, but it is. You never really understand your mistakes until it’s just you. You only want them back when you’re alone. It’s been so long, I don’t keep track of the days anymore. Hell, she’s married now. I shouldn’t be writing this. She’s going to read it anyway. It doesn’t matter at this point. I guess she left poetry inside of these palms for good measure, she loved attention. A lot of it. The more, the better. Maybe I stopped paying attention. Maybe I got too comfortable. Maybe that’s why I love writing poetry, in a way it just means that I still love her. Lost kids who didn’t know how to love, another foil. You know, I never really liked to read books until I met her. She had a smile made from your doggy eared books, you know, your favorite line you always had to reread or quote during a conversation. She had the kind of laugh that made you want to get in on the joke even though you were the one telling it. I loved that laugh almost as much as I loved Kevin’s. I don’t talk to these two anymore, I don’t remember much about the memories, only the feelings that they left. You can’t find loyalty amongst pill users, they always use. Trust me, I know. I’ve been swearing off painkillers for months. You won’t find a love like that again because every relationship is unique in its own way. You can’t recreate the old flames with your new ones. You need to move on. I haven’t really lived life. Maybe you’re just like me. Maybe you’re stuck at a job that you don’t like and maybe life just doesn’t make much sense. So you blackhole more drugs to ease the disaster that is you. Nothing hurts, you just don’t want to remember anything that might hurt– right? It really shouldn’t be, but it is. I listen to music more often than I converse with people. Music influences my soul in a way that people cannot. I just turned 24, but I’m still a little confused about who I am. Does any 24 year old have their shit figured out? Do you ever feel like your dreams and aspirations are slowly dying? I’ve always felt like an old man. I’m boring and I don’t dance too much, the only thing good about me is my writing. It’s the only thing I’m half decent at, but I hate that too. I don’t answer anonymous questions anymore because I feel like my thoughts aren’t good enough. How can I help you if I can’t even help myself? Red rose petal poetry pressed onto the stove kind of writing– it really shouldn’t hurt, but it does. I’ll always miss the days when things were simpler. I didn’t care as much. I didn’t smoke as much. I didn’t think as much. It was just simple. No hard facts, just some stupid kids getting high behind a dark house and running into ghosts in every room. No broken hearts, just some teenagers who wanted to figure love out with a knife in hand waiting to hug each other. I’ll pry the knife real slow and we’ll call it love kind of love, ain’t it love? I love you doesn’t even sound right anymore, so I’ll say nothing. I miss my old friends, but we’ve changed so much– I wonder if they’ll even recognize me. My life is insignificant and minuscule, but we must all seek to find our purpose, to bring meaning to the clutter, and to add more fire to the chaos that is life. I don’t want to die angry, I want to die with a smile. You don’t get to do anything twice, you don’t get to correct your mistakes– so make enough for your self-reflection drunk nights. You don’t get to unlove people, so pick the right ones to fall in love with– don’t worry, you won’t need to remember all of their names, just the feelings. You don’t get to unfriend people, they’ll always be a part of you. A part of who you are. A part of who you will come to be. I keep slipping into the darkest parts of my mind and call it a life. I’ve been reading this book and it told me to dig deep. Why do I write? Why do I enjoy the burn of love? Over a few thousand poems, but 99.9 percent are indeed about love. Why do you want this kind of life? Well, darling– These words are as much yours as they are mine.
—  zero point one

I am done searching for salvation.
Walking from church to 
abandoned church,
port-a-potty pews 
and gas stations sanctuaries

aren’t we all wanderers? 
my soul and the soles 
of my feet are tired-
rest for the wicked, rest for the sinners,
rest for those God has forgotten


if I still prayed I would beg
to have never taken a bite
in the first place,
to have never looked for a savior 
in people who also needed saving


and like all other’s who stop looking for redemption 
I am now another empty sanctuary
on someone’s road to salvation,
letting vagrants in
to reminisce in what was once holy

—  church pew poetry || O.L.
7

So my dad is an antiquarian and he mostly collects super old books about medicine and science, but because my mom loved horses he also has a small collection of horse books (modern as well as old) and sometimes when I dig through it I find gems like these! This book is called “concours hippographique” and the drawings are from Piet Klaasse. Absolutely stunning stuff.

When the secondhand embarrassment is so strong you have to close your computer, leave your room, book a flight to a deserted island, dig a hole in the sand, and bury yourself. Only then will you find peace.

anonymous asked:

BELLARKE + MEMORY LOSS

this could go in a number of angsty directions but I think we all need a little healing from the last episode. hope you like, anon!


Clarke is running as fast as she can. Through the dinner lines, past the bewildered workers. They do not understand her haste, but all that matters to Clarke is that Bellamy Blake is laying all the way across camp, drugged and injured, and she is not there with him.

She had waited all evening for him to wake up, and just as he was coming to consciousness, she’d been called away. An attack on the Eastern Front, they’d said. It looked as if armies were moving in. The moment she found out it was a false alarm, she’d turned around and booked it back.

Clarke feels the radio dig into her waist as she runs. She’d used it to speak to her mother just minutes ago, who had instructed her to keep Bellamy awake at all costs. Despite the heavy painkillers he’d been given for his concussion – potential concussion, Clarke reminds herself – it’s crucial to keep Bellamy conscious.

At last, Clarke bounds into the medbay. Miller catches her eye as she approaches. He’s standing next to the head of the bed, and Monty is perched at Bellamy’s feet.

“Is he awake?” Clarke asks, out of breath. The question is needless, she realizes. Bellamy’s eyes – though heavily lidded – are open.

Miller says, “He’s only responding to Monty’s voice.”

Bellamy does, in fact, appear to be blinking sluggishly at Monty. “Keep talking to him,” Clarke directs. “We have to keep him conscious.”

Monty gives a curt nod. To Bellamy, he says, “Can you hear me, Bellamy?” There is no response. “Bellamy, can you understand me?”

This time, Bellamy lets out a groan. Clarke bites her lips. God, she hopes he’s not in any pain. Please let him be okay.

Monty keeps his voice steady.  "Bellamy,” he says, “I need you to answer me. Can you hear me?“

One slow blink, then another. Then Bellamy opens his mouth. “Yes,” he croaks. 

All this time, Clarke realizes she’s been holding her breath. 

She’s not the only one relieved. She hears Miller sigh, sees Monty’s shoulders drop. He says, “Do you know who I am, Bellamy?”

Bellamy blinks again. “No.“ 

If Monty is surprised, he does not show it. In fact, he catches Clarke’s eyes, mouthing, “It’s the drugs. Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not,” Clarke mutters.

Monty asks Bellamy, "Do you know where you are?”

Bellamy squints his eyes. After a beat, they roll up to the ceiling, lids slowly beginning to droop. Clarke’s stomach clenches, because is he passing out again, oh God—but then he says, “Ship.”

Clarke looks at Miller. “Ship?” Miller mouths, eyebrows lifted.

“He is right,” Clarke mouths back, unsure why she feels so defensive.  

Monty continues, “Can you tell me your full name?”

“Bellamy Blake,” he answers.

"Good. How old are you, Bellamy?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Do you remembered what happened?”

Bellamy blinks. He once again looks up to the ceiling, his lids relaxing. With a start, Clarke realizes now he is losing consciousness. “He’s passing out!” she yells.

At her voice, however, Bellamy’s eyes open and snap to Clarke’s. She freezes at their scrutiny.

“Bellamy,” Monty’s voice is quiet, “Do you know who that is?”

His gaze lingers on her face, hard and unyielding. After what feels like a lifetime, his examination softens. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

"Can you tell me her name?”

“Clarke Griffin.”

“What do you know about her?”

Bellamy says, “Princess.”

Clarke is unable to stop the grin that forms on her face. Bellamy, too, is looking at her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

Clarke tests her voice on him. She asks, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

Clarke looks at the slight strain in his eyes, the way he holds his right arm. She crosses her arms. “Are you lying?”

A pause. “Yeah.”

She shakes her head. “You’re an idiot,” she informs him. Because he is. How stupid he was to go after that damn moose – falling off a tree in the process – just to ensure that their people would not starve this winter. Stupid, stupid hero.

Clarke knows she’ll have time to yell at him properly later. For now, she says, “Where does it hurt?”

“Shoulder,” he says.

A distant part of Clarke thanks the universe that it’s not his head. She peels back the blanket to peek at the joint. It’s bruised, but not deformed or swollen. “You’ll live,” she says. “I can’t give you more medication.”

“Okay,” he says.

She looks at this boy, hurt and battered and lying about his pain, and the relief that floods her is unreal. “Glad you’re safe,” she murmurs.

The radio suddenly begins to beep. A crackle, then, “Clarke, we’ve got a situation on the Eastern Front. Confirmed movement towards the Ark, over.”

And just like that, her relief dissipates. She looks at Miller and Monty, seeing her own fear reflected in their eyes. 

“Go,” Monty says, “We got it here.”

Clarke nods. She knows she needs to leave, as much as her heart wants to stay. She says into the radio, “I’ll be right there, over.”

Clarke leans down beside Bellamy, locating his good hand to give it a squeeze. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t do more stupid things.”

To her surprise, Bellamy squeezes her hand back. “Okay,” he murmurs. His eyes are heavy, but he still holds the soft smile. “Love you.”

Clarke doesn’t know how long she stares at the boy. She only realizes his eyes have closed when her radio screeches, “We need you here ASAP, Clarke. Over.”

It’s Miller who speaks. “Clarke, we’ll get him awake. You need to go.”

Clarke thinks she nods, she thinks she replies to the radio, but her body is on autopilot. Her feet take her out of the medbay without much of her own input, her heart thrashing in her chest. In the cool night, despite the threat of attack impending just outside their borders, all Clarke can feel are her fingers, still warm from Bellamy’s grasp.

reginaphlanageadams  asked:

Piggybacking off of the last request about the Audrey Hepburn quote, could you possibly Write about this one? "Don't forget to smile, you're the prettiest when you do." I don't know who wrote it or if that's correct but I love it and could imagine Jughead using it to help Betty feel better after being teased by Cheryl or something like that. I love a good fluff piece. Love your writing and you!

Aww that’s beautiful! You got it!

***

Stupid Cheryl blossom and her stupid, perfect body, and perfect hair, and perfect face. Betty mumbled under her breath, slamming her gym locker shut and putting her flats back on her feet.

Of all days for Cheryl to be on a rampage, she had to choose today. Picking at everything Betty did, criticizing every aspect of Betty’s body and face. Normally she wouldn’t let it get to her, but today

It was her birthday.

She didn’t mind that no one remembered, it’s not like she mentioned it. Her birthday was always a touchy subject for her. On this day two years ago, Polly had been taken away, never to be seen again.

So yeah, she didn’t really talk about her birthday, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be treated like trash on it.

The day hadn’t started off great, her dad had gone away on business last night, which just left Betty and her mother alone in the house. Alice woke her up to tell her she overslept and was going to be late for school, the only reason she knew her mother remembered her birthday was the quick “happy birthday” she threw her before walking out the door.

Veronica didn’t know it was her birthday, Betty had never told her, so obviously she couldn’t count on that, and Archie well, he just forgot. It wasn’t his fault. He had a lot on his mind.

She knew she had to look nasty, her face a permanent frown, cut her some slack, if she wanted to be miserable she was gonna be miserable.

It was her birthday after all.

Walking through the halls, Betty ran her hand across the cold metal lockers, suddenly she spotted the familiar beanie of Jughead jones.

She smiled slightly, but even his presence couldn’t keep a smile on her face.

“Hey juggie.”

“Hey green eyes, what’s with the frown.”

She sighed leaning against the locker next to his.

“Just Cheryl being Cheryl, apparently my legs aren’t straight enough and my face isn’t pretty enough.”

He snorted ,drawing her attention to his,

“Yeah, you not being pretty enough, makes total sense.”

She smiled, smacking his shoulder

“Thanks juggie.”

“So Cheryl’s the reason for your grumpy mood?”

She nodded

“You sure it has nothing to do with today being your birthday?”

Her eyes snapped open, connecting with his.

“You remembered?”

He smiled at her, digging in his pockets before pulling out a folded up book with a little ribbon on it

“Happy birthday bets.”

Her eyes watered as she took the present from his hands.

It was an original, Holmes and Watson.

She instantly had her arms wrapped around him.

“Thank you juggie, you didn’t have to.”

He rested his hands on her hips, pulling away slightly.

“I like to see you smile.”

She beamed at him

“You always look the prettiest when you smile.”

Laughing, she pulled the book into her hands instantly digging into it. Smiling brighter than she had all day.