mismatched pillow

Feral - part 1

Pairing: future alpha!Sam x omega!Reader

Word Count: 4,766

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon divergence, age difference (reader is 20, Sam is 31), canon violence (blood, physical injury)

Summary: set during and after 9x12 “Sharp Teeth” - When Sam gets bitten by a werewolf, it falls to you to keep him safe and under control.

Send a message or leave a comment! Feedback is much appreciated!

Sam was facing a difficult decision. Not that he wasn’t always facing difficult decisions, but this one was probably the hardest he’d ever had to make.

Garth was a werewolf. One of his best friends and a fellow hunter had been turned. He should have wanted to put the scrawny man down right there, and then put bullets in the rest of the pack, but he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because you were in the pack too, and if Sam killed everyone else, he would have no choice but to put you down too.

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i see a lot of persnickety characters who are consistently persnickety and all their shit is always neat and tidy and perfect, and not enough persnickety characters who are only persnickety about other people and not in a way that reflects competence at all whatsoever

they’ve got stacks of papers on their desk but if you try to leave anything there they get pissed because they have a system

their computer has twenty millions subfolders but they can’t actually remember what goes where so it’s significantly less practical than a messy desktop but they are still appalled by anyone with a ton of icons everywhere

they come over to your place and see the mess and you can sense the judgement and they refuse to sit on any of your furniture but you go over to their place and they have a chair full of clean laundry and stacks of books on the floor and mismatched pillows and blankets strewn about (which is different because it’s just disorganized it’s still fundamentally clean they don’t leave candy wrappers everywhere like some people) (except they actually have a bag full of wrappers sitting on the end table that they haven’t gotten around to throwing away but it’s in a bag that’s different)

Engraved pt. 13

<– Engraved 12 | Engraved 14 –>

Short: You’re a tattoo artist for a gang known as EXO who own a club down town. (read synopsis at masterpost)
Words: 7992 
Warnings: nothing???? maybe like a sexual innuendo, and fraud
Pairings: D.O. x Reader, slight Kai X Reader, slight Chen X Reader
A/N: Sorry for not updating in so long! I hope you guys like it, share this please. I want it to read 40 notes before I update the next one. thank you for reading!

AFF link

A week later
Kyungsoo pov

He found you in the bathroom, after he’d gotten up to find the bed empty next to him. Your bed. He’d come home at 3am from a job, you hadn’t asked. All you had done was open up the covers and welcomed him in, where he pulled your back against his chest and dozed off easily.
But now he followed you to the bathroom, bare feet, clad in boxers and a shirt. You were leaning over the sink splashing water in your face. He wasn’t sure whether he should reply, but the bunching of the muscles in your shoulders were clear under the top you were wearing. Your legs shaking, bare apart from shorts.
“Go back to bed.” You whispered, finding his eyes in the mirror. Yours were sleepy, but wide awake. He immediately knew. 

Originally posted by kyungsuhos

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Deranged: Part 5

Originally posted by taehyungifs

“Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.” -Stephen King

Warning: Will contain violence and tense situations in some chapters

Teaser  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 6

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@coldwarsaint tagged me in this post:

The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Tumblr Meme

Asking for America. And so I, not to bore you children, chose a few of the questions to answer for her: 

  1. What does their bedroom look like? 

I imagine that America has multiple houses and multiple rooms, but there’s one room that I always imagine for him. And it’s this room that’s covered in stars: star curtains over a window seat that’re always half open, the seat cluttered with old stuffed animals and mismatched throw pillows. He’s got mismatched pop culture sheets, comic book heroes and tmnts. From his ceiling there are multiple models of ships and airplanes that he’s made, hanging at various lengths. He’s got his xbox and tv set up across from his bed, dvds and games stacked at various heights around it. His whole room is a little bit of a mess. His walls are covered in glow in the dark stars and posters of all the movies, bands, and sports. At the end of his bed sit huge speakers. 

  1. Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

This question was interesting to me because, while I don’t think America has any illnesses that he was “born” with, those scars and wounds from battle– from the people in his nation– have left a definite mark. I’m sure he has multiple ever-fading scars. He probably has some trouble sleeping on certain stormy nights. And he shares looks with older nations that they can clearly understand…  

  1. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

This is a fun question! Honestly, probably anything. Depending on his mood. America is a terrible dynamic character. In a silly mood he’d make a paper airplane or sword or work on the origami that Japan is teaching him. In a more serious mood it’d be filled with math, science, and equations on whatever problem or technology he’s sorting out. I doubt he’d write any poetry or letters, but he might start doodling– drawing little comics.   

  1. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Definitely superiority-complex. And I don’t even think he knows it. I think it’s something that’s so deeply ingrained he thinks that he doesn’t have one. Which is probably kinda terrible isn’t it? It’s not like Prussia, who constantly is reassuring everyone that he is indeed the best, and more like the assumption that nothing else could be as amazing by the virtue of America’s existence, if that makes sense. He means well, and he thinks that he’s being sweet. It’s a clear character flaw.   

  1. Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Both. He says something and then he does it. He feels the need to prove himself and his words through his deeds. But he’s also not one to keep quiet about what he feels or thinks. He really wants those around him to have faith in him. 

anonymous asked:

Are you excited about decorating your tarot room in the new home when you and the husband move.... And have you thought of how you want to decorate your home

Yes!!! 😭 It feels like him and I will never get there but I know that’s hog wash - we will!

I envision painted walls - like a red room or a deep purple. I want fairy lights all around the 4 walls and window and around my altar. I want my bookshelves with tarot books on display. Another bookshelf with my most used decks and the rest of my decks can stay in the drawers. I want a table in the center of the room where the filming and readings take place. A couch off to the side for meditation. Mismatched pillows and curtains. I want a bohemian feel. I want it quirky to reflect my personality. And a shit ton of crystals on display. My pretty babies will be all over the house.


A/N: And it continues! So this chapter touches a little on how magic works in this world, as well as building the friendship between Lucy and Natsu. Hopefully next chapter some plot will begin to build lol.

As I’ve said before, I am horrible when it comes to understanding what an appropriate chapter length is. I don’t think they’ll all be this long, but honestly I can’t make any guarantees. I guess we’ll be going on that adventure together :P.

Natsu Dragneel is just an ordinary 21 year old trying to get by on his craft’s business, keep his landlady off his ass, and grow his friendship with his new weird neighbor Lucy. Without revealing that he’s a witch. Or his cat can fly and talk. So maybe Natsu isn’t that normal. Things take a serious left turn for him when people from his past start showing up, and he and Lucy as well as some new -and old- friends travel across Fiore trying to find some answers. But the question is, will they be happy with what they find?

Wiccan!Natsu AU

Pairings: Nalu, Fairy Tail

Words: 5654

Rating: M

Part: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen,Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty One, Part Twenty Two, Part Twenty Three

Two days later Happy was still singing that annoying phrase, which Natsu refused to repeat. Instead he flopped onto his overworn couch, face buried in one of the mismatching pillows. The one he was currently trying to suffocate himself with was the nicer one, a pale red that had a button in the center and the fewest char marks. He turned his face to look at the statue perched on the work table stationed in the middle of the room. It was by far the most delicate thing he had ever created, and probably held one of the highest total work hours put into it.

The statue was another clay figure -Natsu’s specialty media- glazed over in a pearly white colour. Several thin bars rose along the edge of the circular base, all with a broken and jagged edges at the top and of descending size from the left. A thin band connected the larger bars parallel to the base, it too appearing to disintegrate halfway around. A small tree sapling sat in the center of the platform and branched out into several delicate arms as it passed the thin central bar. The main focus of the piece was not the crumbling cage however, but rather the three birds that seemed to have been freed. One sat with it’s wings closed and tail wrapped around the shortest bar that it was perched on, looking up at the other birds. The second was set in flight, wings spread within the cage and tail touching the floor -Natsu had decided to say fuck it and use the tail to hold the weight of the bird, lazy as it was- with it’s head turned towards the third and final bird. This one had posed the most trouble as Natsu wanted it to be the highest peak of the statue, which meant there was not going to be a lot of support for it’s weight. The small bird was looking down at the second, wings spread behind it’s back and tail feathers swallowing part of one branch limb. Natsu was rather proud of his design and way around gravity. Really, the world would be better without it. Probably not, if Natsu had a functioning brain to think with. Natsu really needed some sleep. Or coffee. His head hurt.

Natsu groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut. He then felt a light weight settle on the side of his head and small paws begin to knead on his temple. Letting out a soft sigh Natsu’s lips pulled into a faint smile. Happy really was the best friend he could ever ask for. Happy’s small ‘tch’ pulled him back from the much needed sleep he had been falling into, and he grunted in acknowledgment. He knew he had overdone it with Lucy’s present. Something of this much detail and finesse usually took Natsu at least three days, especially with the complication of the charms he had imbued the clay with.

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Mary was not far, asleep on the bed only a few feet away. Mary’s deep crimson hair was tosseled wildly around her face and shoulders, decorating her porcilyn skin much like a doll, especially in this moment since she hadn’t seen much sun this spring; her freckles still not quiet opaque. While laying on mismatched and uncased pillows and covered lazily with a christmas blanket perfectly out of season, curled up beneath an old studio loft bed crafted into a cozy hide-away she created the perfect scene in some hipster/indie movie inside Jasmine’s imagination. Jasmine couldn’t help but swoon over her. In fact, Jasmine didn’t want to do much else. Throughout her life, Jasmine had often felt voided, inside herself there was a constant lingering of nothingness; outside, there were many moments she felt unconsidered. In so many ways she felt as though something was missing in her life, so metaphorically and physically, she tried to fill those voids. Abusive boyfriends to abusing drugs, eating too much, to eating too little, she tried. Through her trials and errors, she unearthed many things within herself, she also discovered a lot about the world around her, and somethings about the beings who surrounded her. She knew only a few things about herself that solidified throughout her life. Many things change like seasons she would catch herself swaying opnions and favoritims. Humanistic trait to have. However, even though it was thought once that partners were too a seasonal transition, she realized the base function of previous companions. All of them individually helped her learn more about herself, and others. Comprehensively she learned to love herself, in wholeness, even the void she once refered to as “The ugly”. If not for everything in her life, she would not now have this. Again and again Jasmine would feel so overwhelmed with the feelings of releif, excitment, wholeness, and just pure joy she would begin to cry. There are many times she awes at Mary while she sleeps and Jasmine just cries silently, so thankful to the forces in her universe to gift her with such happiness. Truly, one if the best feelings she had ever felt, a feeling of ecstasy, without liberosis. People often say the phrase “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you”; I don’t know why they say it, I can absolutely wait, I want it to be slow.  

Haikyuu!! Pairings Bedrooms Pictures/Headcanons

Pictures and headcanons about what some of the Haikyuu!! pairings bedrooms would look like if they were living together. If a pairing you wanted to see isn’t here, request it and I will add it!

Okay, also, sorry that a majority of the pictures are of messy bedrooms - I just really love messy rooms. They’re comfy.

Anyway, please enjoy!

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anonymous asked:


Purple: 10 facts about my room

  1. It’s small
  2. Our bed is a mismatched nest of pillows and blankets
  3. We have a tapestry hanging  behind our bed 
  4. One wall is covered in drawings and pictures and anything else I feel like sticking up there 
  5. We have a bookshelf that is 100% full of books 
  6. I have a beautiful wooden desk and no one knows where it came from (I didn’t buy it, and it didn’t come from either of my parents.) 
  7. Our dog has his own toy box beneath our bedside table 
  8. I have a lucky spider (a fake one, made of beads and wire) hanging above my door to ward off bad energy. It scares my housemate.  
  9. I have a fake crow (originally a Halloween decoration) named Chainsaw that sits on a shelf
  10. Our lightbulbs burned out months ago, but I’m scared of being electrocuted and won’t change them. So our room is dark. 
Special Friends: Chapter 4

Submitted by: Panicattackkisses

Description:  When Stiles’ phone buzzed and lit up with the image of Lydia with two chopsticks in her mouth, he answered immediately.
“I thought I told you you can’t keep calling me up for meaningless, mind blowing sex, Lydia”.

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff, Romance

All Chapters

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“Hmm?” Clark yawned, stretched out his toes but remained mostly sleeping.

“Do you maybe want to get back down here?” Lois sounded slightly annoyed. That didn’t seem good. He cracked an eye open.

Oh. Okay. He was floating three feet above the bed. He could see how that might be a problem. Particularly when he’d taken the quilt with him. He yawned again.

“Heeey,” he said, waving down at her. She grabbed his pillow and threw it at him. He frowned as he caught it, and tucked it under his head with one arm, still floating. “I’m working on it.”

“Am I going to have to start bringing another blanket?” she asked, curling up on his sheets to stay warm.

“Nooo, you’re fine, it’s fine.” He yawned again as he drifted downward, holding the covers out so they’d land on her. “This is… no.”

“Is this going to be like that thing where Wendy had to tie the Lost Boys to their beds so they wouldn’t float off at night?”

It was a highly specific accusation. He tucked the blankets around her as he settled in next to her on the mattress.

“No, I don’t usually – I don’t think I usually…” He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. “Flying dream.”

Flying dream?” She was either incredulous or amused. She rolled conveniently onto her side, so he pulled her close against him, an arm around her waist and his knees tucked behind hers.

“Don’t say it like it’s weird,” he huffed, nuzzling against her hair. “People who can’t fly have flying dreams, too. This is facts.”

Lois chuckled, and he pressed his forehead against her back, listened to her heartbeat. It sounded like anyone else’s, but it wasn’t. It was hers. He wished he could pinpoint exactly what it was that made it hers. He’d like to be able to identify her just by the sound of her heart beating. He wasn’t convinced that was physically possible, but he’d like to. “You don’t hear people talk about walking dreams,” she pointed out.

“’s different.”


“It’s flying.” The light filtering through the bedroom window was artificial, billboards and streetlights. Moonlight mixed in there, somewhere, lost in neon. It landed yellow on the wall, tinted by the stained glass sunflowers he had hanging above his headboard, flower-shaped shadows.

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by LJ Michaels********************

Carol watched from the corner of their house as Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha re-entered Alexandria, downing walkers as they came. Seeing Daryl upright and slamming his knife into undead skulls, she heaved a sigh of relief, tears blurring her vision for a moment.

Rick suddenly shouted for help, and the trio sprinted in his direction, Abraham in the lead. Daryl spotted Carol and froze. She nodded the tiniest of nods, her head barely moving up and down. He returned the nod, and followed Sasha as she ran by. Carol noticed Daryl did not have his crossbow.

* * * * *

Aching and sore from being slammed to the floor by Morgan, Carol retreated inside. She secured the front door against any unwanted ‘visitors’ and trudged up her room. Just that morning, she had made her bed with its pale green comforter neatly pulled up to the mismatched pillows. It seemed a lifetime ago. She was asleep seconds after lying down, not having bothering to pull back the blankets.

Sometime later, she woke to murmuring voices, and realized Daryl’s was one of them. She opened her eyes to see him through her open bedroom door, seated across the hall.  Rosita was finishing up with a bandage on his left arm.

“Done yet?” Daryl groused in a low voice.

“This would have been easier in the infirmary…” Rosita began.

“Not sitting there when….” Daryl glanced toward Carol and stopped when he saw she was awake.

Rosita turned to Carol. “Hi. Feeling better?”

“Yes,” Carol replied, “Much.” She sat up carefully, her eyes not leaving Daryl.

Rosita looked back and forth between the two and smiled. “I‘ll be at the infirmary.”

“Thanks.” Daryl grunted, watching Carol. He got up and walked into the room, stopping with his hand on the doorknob.

“You’re back.”

“Seems so.”

“What happened to your bow?”

Daryl’s eyes darkened. “Stolen. Bike, too.”

“That how you got banged up?”

“Mm-hmm. How about you? Rosita said Morgan…”

“Yes. He’s got some questions to answer when we….”

“If I find him first,” Daryl growled,  “won’t be no questions asked.”

“I know,” she replied, nodding. “What about the walkers?”

“Nothing you need worry about. Told Rick I would keep an eye on you.”

She scoffed at him. “Stop.” She swung her legs out of the bed, getting ready to stand. She winced and let out an involuntary gasp of pain. Her back had tightened up while she rested. Daryl was at her side in an instant, helping her straighten up. One of his hands cupped her elbow, the other slid tentatively around her waist.

Carol’s hands went to his shoulders to steady herself, their eyes meeting briefly. A darker blue than hers, Daryl’s eyes were a turbulent storm of emotion. She knew how he felt, fighting to hold her own composure.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly. “Well…mostly okay.” Touching the bandage on his arm, she realized he was trembling slightly. Her hand went to the bandage on his temple, and her eyes met his again. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then his mouth.

Gently, Daryl kissed her back.

                                      * * * * Later  * * * * 

Standing together in the shower, Daryl stood holding Carol so the warm water ran down her injured back. As soon as the water hit her, she began to sob out the story of what happened with the Wolves, with Mika and Lizzie, even Karen and David. It seemed as if the shower was a safe place for her. Its warmth and sound a way to hide. He was glad she trusted him to ‘hide’ with her.

Daryl couldn’t seem to stop touching her face, her hair, her shoulders as she poured out the story. Hoping it was reassuring her that he was not going anywhere. He could think of no other action to take. Her face was against his neck, and he could feel her lips brushing his skin during bursts of speech. As stunned as he was to learn about Mika and Lizzie, Daryl understood it was the only way. Carol stopped suddenly, panting hard against him.

“Water’s going to get cold soon,” he murmured in her ear.

She nodded against him, and Daryl pulled back to see her face. She looked exhausted and relieved at the same time.

Carol met his eyes then. “Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him. Daryl shivered though the water was still warm. Carol reached behind herself and turned off the shower. Neither of them moved for a towel.

“Carol….” he began, and paused, his hands still restless on her body. “The things you did, the things that happened…it…it had to go that way, or none of us would be here. None. After Terminus, you said we were lucky, but if not for you…” He shook his head, water dripping from his hair.

Carol reached to smooth the stray drops away on his broad chest. Looking into his eyes, her hands stilled.  “I love you,” she said, surprising even herself.

Daryl’s eyes widened and his breathing picked up. “I…me…me, too…” He sighed shakily, lowering his forehead to hers.

“I couldn’t say that until now, but I do. I have…for a long time.”

Beyond words, Daryl could only nod. After a moment, he whispered, “Yeah…. yeah.” He kissed her, pulling her as close as he dared.

                                * * * *  Much Later  * * * *

Daryl woke in the pre-dawn, a minimal amount of light filtering through the curtains. He opened his eyes, remembering the night, and smiled. They had had to take things slow and careful, but it had been sweet and wonderful. Carol was on her stomach next to him, her face turned away. Even in the low light, he could see the dark bruises on her back, and he scowled. Morgan was definitely going to pay.

He reached out to touch her back, not wanting to cause any discomfort. He settled on a spot above her waist. Carol immediately took a deep breath, and turned her head to look at him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.“

Carol only blinked at him slowly, her eyes beginning to smile before her mouth. She said nothing, only stared at his face.

After a moment, Daryl began to squirm. “What?”

“It’s like I’m seeing you…for the first time again.”

Daryl‘s brows knitted but he smiled. “That supposed to make sense to me?”

Carol turned on her side, carefully, and reached a hand to his neck. She tugged him toward her and he laid down, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Being here with you…like this…it’s almost like starting over.”

Daryl shook his head. “No.“


“It is starting over.”


someone requested all the grumps in a giant bed so i did it but i didn’t post it on tumblr until now because i was insecure about it BUT the one who wrote the prompt liked it so here you go

some cuddly grumps in a big ol’ bed, SFW

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Lily & James headcanons
  • they had a huge wedding that both their parents attended. The main goal was to ‘beat Petunia’s wedding’. James planned most of it only asking Lily for her opinions and she was always like ‘JaMES We don’t need to invite the entire Order to our weddING! Like there are a hundred people in the Order?!?!’ and he was just like- places finger on her lips, ‘shush love, this is going to be brilliant’ *sends out invitations* Lily *facepalms*. 
  • Almost five hundred people attended their wedding (which was held in the Potter mansions backyard) from old school mates that they had barely spoken to, the entire Order, the whole Hogwarts staff - James even invited Filch as a joke…he  didn’t come - their families, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents literally anyone they were related to be even the most distant form were invited - like his mother’s brother’s wife’s cousin’s daughter’s husband’s parents were invited.  
  • The wedding was a hit though. Not one word of the war was mentioned and there was wizard and muggle music alike - Lily, Marlene, Alice, Sirius, James, Remus and Peter shouted the lyrics to We Will Rock You by QUEEN. Everyone got hammered and everyone was loud and laughing. The cake was chocolate and Lily smashed James’ head into it and then laughed her head off. 
  • They moved into Godric’s Hollow immediately and Lily LOOVED it. Ever week she would come home from Diagon Alley or muggle London with something new for the house. She would come home with a lamp and be like it’s for our room and James would just be like ‘WHat? WE already have like three lamps in our room????!’ and she’d just shrug and say ‘fine we’ll put it in the living room’. Their bed was a mound of mismatching pillows and a patch quilt with crocheted blankets on top - James always complained that their bed was Satan’s den but Lily loooved it - she got cold easily. 
  • They bought a white kitten and named it Beatle. Remus could never get over the irony of naming a cat after a beatle like ???? Sirius would always terrorise the cat by shooting a laser-like light out of his wand and charming the light to move around the room. Peter would always sneak more milk into it’s bowl.
  • James carried Lily out of a battle in his arms (bridal style) when Dolohov hexed her so badly she couldn’t feel her legs for days. Lily spent endless nights waiting up at Godric’s Hollow for James to get back from a mission - he always did, no matter how bruised and bloodied he always came back.
  • On the last day of each month, no matter if it was a Sunday or a Thursday, dinner was at James and Lily’s. They’d set up a huge table in the garden and everyone would help to cook in their too-small kitchen and they’d carry everything out and make jokes and laugh. No one ever talked about the war on those nights.
  • Lily found out she was pregnant on a Tuesday. It was the morning and a sudden urge to vomit had woken her. Knowing she hadn’t eaten anything bad and not feeling particularly sick, just nauseas, she started doing the math. ‘JAMeS!’ ‘Yes, love’ ‘You got me pregnant in the middle of a bloody war’ ‘I-WHAT!?’ ‘Pregnant, love’ ‘as in-’ ‘yes as in we’re having a baby’ ‘but we’re in a war’ ‘i know’ they stood loooking at each other for eternity. Lily was pregnant. ‘I hope it has your eyes’ James grinned and Lily crashed into James, giving him the most bone crushing hug because she didn’t know whether to feel scared, anxious, excited, terrified, happy or all of the above.
  • Suddenly, Lily had around the clock care. She wasn’t allowed to go in missions anymore - she was more of a behind the scenes person, help forming plans and assigning missions to people. James caught on that she was giving him the least risky ones after a while. Someone would come past the house so often Lily thought there wasn’t a point to the front door anymore - they didn’t knock anyways. Marlene, Alice, Sirius, Remus, Peter and even people they’d gotten close to from the Order like Benjy, Dorcas, Emmeline, Fabian and Gideon, would pop in. The Potter’s house had basically become a second Headquarter’s whilst Lily was pregnant. Everyone loved the muffins and pastries and cakes Lily would cook and there was always a spare bedroom if anyone wanted to crash the night.
  • Harry was born on the evening of 31 June 1980 and Lily and James both cried tears of joy the first time they held their son in their arms. ‘Look what we made’ Lily had said to James, 
  • The birth of their son only increased the amount of visitors to their home. Everyone loooooved Harry. They would come and play with him and buy him toys - though when nappy time came he would often be passsed to Lily without hesitation.
  • The Potter house only closed to most visitors in January of 1981. Dumbledore had informed them that Voldemort was after Harry. They went into hiding immediately. The brilliant plan that Peter would become Secret Keeper - telling others it was Sirius as to distract Voldemort and send him on a goose chase.
  • James stopped going to missions and they stayed in the house. They managed to make their own fun. Lily and James would play all sorts of games ranging from hide and seek to wizard’s chess to UNO - ‘YOU BLOODY PRAT!’ Lily would scream waking the baby when James would draw 4 her three times in a row. Sirius brought them a TV one day and Lily and James got hooked to re-runs of Doctor Who and Lily started knitting the infamous scarves for them. Remus and Peter always brought Harry cute clothes to wear - mini leather jackets, bear onesies with a hoodie, reindeer ears - and they had fun dressing him up and taking photos of him.
  • ‘His first word is gonna be dada’ James insisted. ‘I carried him in my womb for nine months and then pushed him out of a very small hole in my body, his first word better be mama or I’m putting him back in there’. James turning to harry and being like ‘Say ‘mama’’.
  • Easter came around and they dressed Harry in a bunny onesie and all their friends came over and they ate in the garden and everything felt normal. Sirius made jokes, Remus helped Lily with the dishes, Marlene changed Harry’s diaper. 
  • It was Mid-July and Remus visited. Marlene McKinnon and her entire family had been murdered in their home. Lily couldn’t stop crying.
  • Then it was Harry’s birthday! James and Lily baked a cake and Bathilda Bagshot came over for tea. Presents for Harry arrived in the post - his favourite by far was the toy broomstick Sirius had sent. He knocked over Petunia’s vase within five minutes.
  • James would read Harry fairytales before bed every night and Harry always tried to take off James’ glasses. Lily suggested a sticking charm and James glared at her like, ‘this is your child woman, control him!’ as Harry waved James’ glasses around almost poking James’ eye out.
  • James and Harry were playing on the couch, James was shooting smoke out of his wand and the bubbling baby tried to catch it. Lily came in and asked, ‘what is dada doing to you bubba?’ Harry babbled at her and Lily laughed. ‘Come on, time for bed,’ lily said leaning down to pick up her little child. James said, ‘Horror movies, tonight?’ and lily smiled, “It is halloween after all. Set it up!” she said not knowing that at that very moment her life was becoming a horror show.
  • The door opened. James fell. Lily fell. Voldemort fell. Harry lived.
Slytherins are:

3 am all-nighters, baths with candles, dark alley sex, shots stolen from a stranger, the shared hookah, vulnerability, tears trying to be hidden, cold masks and colder words, playful teasing, messy bed hair, the scent before a storm, morning dew, lightning, comet showers, lioness-worthy fighting, self-preservation, politicians and scientists, powerful women, hedonism, silk covered bodies, the first smirk of a teenager, the first word of a baby, the first real I love you, deathbeds and coffins, luxury materials, thick blankets on a cold night, entangled limbs under the stars, mean words and soft eyes, soft plushies, thick mismatched socks, pillow fights at midnight, sneaking out with friends, breaking laws and getting away, road cross country trips, random flights to foreign countries, protests on streets, protecting those they love over themselves, loyalty as fierce as a hufflepuff, the smell of a house after baking, Christmas lights, baggy sweaters, rock music and teenage rebellion, rocky decisions, Cupid lips and dead eyes, the mural in a dilapidated building, sun kissed freckles, dimples on the back, a father or mothers 20 year old sweater, crocheted grandmother’s blankets, dirty fellatio’s in bathrooms, charms and ambiguities, the fine print in a contract, repressed memories, nonbinary genders, the calm before a storm, poets who stay awake for days, hearts bleeding on their sleeves, vulnerable teenagers with trembling lips, sharp bob cuts and wine red lips, the white noise of a fan, the cheers during a high school football game, the scream and laughter of a Halloween scary house, horror movies with your significant other, balls and Victorian dresses, last times, the delicate skin between fingers, a mothers soft touch, a ruffle of hair, dried paint in places it isn’t supposed to be, tangled hair from brushing it back with fingers, sunsets on an empty hill, tattoos of lyrics, crazy parties you regret the day after, pop punk, secret pleasures, decapitated teddy bears, messy rooms and messier lives, toasted baguettes and garlic tomatoes, drawling southern voices, chick flicks they deny liking (but watch when everyone else is asleep), books that make them cry for days, those perfect popular kids at the lunch table, the Mediterranean sea, murky swamps, crystal clear beaches, the hot sand under toes, sandcastles, banana boat rides, cellulite and not caring, summer nights, bonfires, s’mores, winter mornings, crisp fresh snow, tightly bundled clothing, knowing they may be jaded and hated but they’ll always have their family and loved friends

I Don’t Care, I’m Looking At You

For everyone who hates Clarke’s outfit. Esp. @cupcakesandtv, @ariadneskywalker and @quentanilien.

Summary: The clothes aren’t her.

Pretend they don’t immediately take off in the rover following Lincoln/Sinclair’s funeral. Post-312.

The morning after, the air in Arkadia is sharp and everyone remains on edge. Monty suggests they get a solid night of sleep before taking off to find Luna. Nobody really protests, not after the day they had.

Clarke finds herself in the abandoned med center, where there are a few cots with threadbare blankets strewn across them. She didn’t actually have her own quarters in Arkadia. Not since she left, not since she stayed in Polis, so this would have to do.

Looking down at her attire, she sighs. It’s clunky and heavy, not anything she wants to sleep in. Her fingers start working against the dozens of small clasps and hooks and metal bars that hold the grounder armor in place.

There’s a mirror on one wall, rusted and cracked, but she can see her reflection, nonetheless. Shrugging off the large coat, Clarke stares at herself in the simple black undershirt that remains. Swallowing hard, she begins to work her fingers through the last of the braids that still adorned her head, working her fingers gingerly through the knots that have worked their way into being.

She keeps staring, thinking that she’ll see herself. Thinking that she’ll see the Clarke she was four months ago, a year ago, before. Her breathing picks up, shallow and hoarse, her whole body erupts into anger.

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