three bookshelves

Forts And Chocolate Caramels//H.S. Imagine//

Hii! I just wanted to drop in and supply you guys with some best friend Harry, enjoy!

Originally posted by harryispink

You looked down at the grocery list in your cart with your lip in between your teeth. Popcorn, you thought to yourself, where is the popcorn? You were trying your best to shop for you and Harry’s movie night, but he was being absolutely no help. He always got bored in grocery stores, something you had grown to live with. You glanced down at Harry, sitting cross legged in the shopping cart, and couldn’t help but laugh. He was touching both ends of the cart and you imagined he must be uncomfortable.

“Harry? Do you see popcorn?” You questioned him.

“No, Rosebud, I don’t,” Harry replied absent mindedly.

“Well, first you would have to look, Harry. I mean maybe if you stopped making me push you and helped me this would go a bit faster.”

“Fine, fine. Stop the cart.” Harry stood up and stumbled his way out of the cart, banging his knee in the process, “Happy now?”

“Yes.” You smiled at Harry and playfully rolled your eyes.

“Hey! We had a deal, if I let you pick the movie this time you wouldn’t make me shop!”

“Yes, then I remembered that required pushing you and plans changed! Can you reach that soda, H?” You pointed to the diet coke on the top shelf and watched Harry reach up and grab it. He placed it in the cart and looked at you expectantly.

“What next? We have, soda, paper plates, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chips. What else do we need?”

“Well we need popcorn, that I for some reason can’t find, and caramels.”

“Ahh, right, can’t forget your caramels!”

“Shush, do you want me to get you some too?” You started to roll the cart down the aisle and look around for your favorite chocolates.

“Nope, I prefer gummy bears.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am positive.”

An hour later you and Harry had left the store and made your way back to your apartment. You unlocked your cherry red door and walked inside with your hands full of groceries. Harry closed the door behind you and grabbed two bags from your grasp. Setting them on the kitchen table, he started to look at your walls. Harry loved the walls of your apartment, they were absolutely covered in art. Most of it you had done yourself, you had just sold some to a gallery local to you and Harry was extremely excited. You had a few paintings on the wall of your bedroom inspired by Harry, some of them were based on candid photos you had taken of him. Some were him laughing, others were him cooking (or burning water) but some of your favorites were him smiling, putting his dimples on display.

“Wanna come pick out a movie, Haz?” You asked, going back and forth between standing on your tippy toes and standing flat.

“Sure,” Harry answered, his dimples popping out, “Would you be mad if I suggested The Notebook again?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “As an artist, your lack of creativity while picking movies insults me.”

“Oh, I see, you only love me when I help you make a fort.”

“Right, I’m glad you’ve caught on.”  This time, it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes, “Now come on, I wanna pick a movie as early as possible. You take forever to decide, and we don’t want to be here all night.” 

You grab Harry’s hand and tugged him along with you to your living room. Your apartment was small, but full of life, the color’s yellow and white made many appearances in your living space. Harry’s eyes fell on the huge book case that went from the floor to the ceiling. He remembered making it with you last spring. You had insisted you needed three bookshelves, but you absolutely couldn’t pay for them already put together. So, you and Harry had arranged the wood yourselves and painted it. One was yellow and stood in your bedroom, the other still had its original appearance and was in your living room. The last one had a place in your art room, it happened to be splatter painted. The bottom two rows were filled with movies, you had arranged them in order of your least favorite to favorite. You always said, ‘Always save the best for last, so if the worst upsets you, the best will make it all better again.’

You soon broke Harry out of his little memory, “I’m thinking Disney movies! How about Beauty and The Beast? I know how much you love the music in that one!” It was no surprise that Harry loved music, although he owned a bakery, he would always sing on his free time. You worked at a local café within walking distance from your house, so sometimes Harry would walk you home. You would paint, keeping what it was a surprise until its finished, and Harry would sing to you. If there was one thing that helped you fall asleep, or stop crying, or just break into a smile, it was Harrys voice.

“Whatever you want, petal. But, just so you know, I wouldn’t mind watching The Notebook after,” Harry cheekily mentioned.

You crouched down to grab the movies with a smile on your face, “Okay, goober, sounds like a plan. Go to the closet and grab a bunch of pillows and blankets please! We’re gonna make the best fort in the history of all forts.” Every time you and Harry had a movie night, you two would work together to make a comfy fort. And today was absolutely no exception.

Harry came back with his arms full of pillows and blankets and stumbled into the living room, placing them down on the couch.

“Perfect,” You exclaimed, “Now that’s get to work!” The next hour was filled with you and Harry strategically stacking pillows and draping blankets where they seemed to fit. With the aid of some chairs and the couch of course, you finished the fort. It looked sort of like patchwork from a bird’s eye view, but you have always loved things that didn’t make sense. You gave Harry a triumphant high five and admired your work.

“Snack time!” You said in a sing-songy voice, shaking your hips a little bit.

“Right,” Harry laughed, “I’ll pop the popcorn if you pour the soda.”

“Deal.” You gave Harry a fist bump and jumped into action, trying to avoid knocking the fort at all costs. Once you reached the kitchen, you strategically poured the soda, so it didn’t bubble over, and carried the cups to the coffee table. You went back to grab the bags of snacks you had bought earlier, and skillfully placed them into the fort. Behind you came Harry carrying a bowl of buttery popcorn. You witnessed him steal a few pieces and gently slapped his hand away from the bowl.

“I was just tasting it, love. Had to make sure it was safe for you to eat!” He mumbled in attempt to excuse himself.

“Excuses, excuses,” You whispered, shaking your head back and forth, “Can you be a spectacular best friend and put the movie in?”

“Well, considering you won’t let me get an early start on the popcorn, I guess I have nothing else to do.” You and Harry’s relationship consisted mostly of cheeky comments and sarcastic responses. Harry slid the circular movie disk into the slot and waited for it to begin working. Using the remote, he messed with the settings a bit and pressed play. The sun was setting, so Harry closed the curtains so make it as dark and possible. He crawled beside you in the fort, which was quite difficult due to his lanky arms and legs, and shuffled around to get comfortable. He obnoxiously opened a bag of chips, earning an amused look from you, and a quick ‘Sorry!’ made its way to you through the dark.

About ten minutes into the movie, your legs were draped across Harry’s and you were leaning back into a chair you had used to set things up. The light from the movie would illuminate your face every once and awhile, causing Harry’s heart to speed up a bit. He noticed you were eating those caramels you love so much, he could smell the chocolate from where he sat. His ring covered fingers appeared in front of you, shuffling into your bag of caramels.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get your hands out of my chocolate!” You shouted at your best friend.

“Just one!” He announced, feeling a sharp sting on his hand, most likely from you swatting it.

“You said you didn’t want any!”

“But, Rosebud, that was before I smelled them! Just one, I only want one!”

“Absolutely not Mr ‘I prefer gummy bears’,” You mocked in a deep British accent.

“Fine, fine. I have accepted defeat.”

Three hours later, you had finished watching both movies and were raiding your fridge looking for dinner. You turned to Harry with a depleted look on your face, “Yeah, um, I have no food, H.”

“How bout’ we call something in?” Harry suggested.

“Great Idea! I’m gonna go grab my phone, I’ll be right back!” Harry sat down in one of your kitchen chairs and let his eyes wonder around your apartment once more. He noticed your bag of caramels sitting about a foot away from him. Just sitting there, waiting to be eaten. Praying you wouldn’t notice later and cause a fuss, he slowly reached his hand in the bag, plucking one out. He popped it into his mouth a savored the combination of sweet and salty on his taste buds.

Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder, “I saw that Harold.”


Memories- A Sirius Black Imagine (Part 8 of Alone Together)

A/N: Why hello there, long time no chat. I’m not even going to make excuses. I’m just apologizing. I figured I should post this now, otherwise I don’t think I’ll ever get it up. I’m sorry if it is shite, as I went for a more subtle approach. I’m also going to be doing an epilogue to the series, as soon as I come up with an idea for it lol. In the meantime, enjoy the last installment of Alone Together. It has been a wild ride, and I hope y’all like it. Warning: It is the longest thing I have written thus far for y’all. Thank you. :) 

Past Installments: Alone Together. (part 1) - Implementations. (part 2) - Routines. (part 3) - Replacements. (part 4) - Revelations. (part 5) - Walls Built. (part 6)  - Impenetrable. (part 7)

Originally posted by sensualkisses

It was three days later, during dinner in the Great Hall, when you got the letter. You didn’t think much of it at first, as the holidays were coming up and you thought it was probably a note from your mother confirming your plans for this break.

However, when you opened the note and recognized the swirling, neat cursive handwriting you furrowed your brows in confusion. You knew it was Sirius’ handwriting, as his upbringing forced him into countless penmanship classes throughout his childhood. He always had such perfect handwriting, something you remembered you were often jealous of.

Dear Y/N,

I know you don’t want to hear from me, you’ve made that apparent; but I need to see you. I want to apologize and explain everything. Meet me where you need me at 9 o’clock tonight.

Patiently waiting,


Keep reading

Meeting P4

Summary:  Peter and Y/N first meet and little did they know things were about to get a whole lot messy.

Requested: No

Word Count: 981


Warning(s)?: Swearing, kidnapping (if thats a warning idk) 

masterlist (x) requests (x) <—


Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 5  Part 6


Can someone please turn that annoying racket off? What is that incessant noise? And where the hell is it coming from? 

“Don’t move too much Sweetie” You heard an unfamiliar voice speak. You were so confused, how did you get here? Wherever here is. 

You started to blink open your eyes, adjusting to the harsh light that was pointed towards your face. Funny, my room light isn’t that bright. With a little restriction from your aching muscles you begin to sit up, it wasn’t till then you figured out where you were. The Hospital.

“What happened?" you asked the nurse who was beside you, putting a needle through into your iv bag. I can’t afford this, my family can’t afford this, this hospital visit is going to cost a fortune!

’‘Rest” The nurse says, gently placing her right hand onto your shoulder pushing you slightly so you were back to lying down. Within a matter of seconds you could feel drowsiness starting to consume you. Why am I so tired? 

“Can you please count back from ten with me?” You hear a distant voice speak. You were so confused. 

“What’s happening? Why am I so tired?” you spoke quietly, sleep begging to take over.

“I gave you a little something to help you sleep sweetie” What is with the pet names? You couldn’t help but to nod, letting sleep begin to consume you. You were almost asleep once you heard multiple footsteps enter the room. You didn’t bother paying attention after that seeing you were too tired and just needed rest like the nurse said.

“10…9…8…….7……….6…………………5……………………….4” You were out.

Unknown pov#

cleaning up the supplies around me, I remove the gloves from my hands and walk over to the basin to wash my hands. Hearing footsteps approaching, I quickly walk out to check the hallway, making sure they weren’t being followed. 

“So I trust she’s fast asleep?” The deep voice to my right spoke, I shake my head softly and let the two men walk into the room, closing the door shut behind them. 

“Like a baby”

Peter’s pov#

The explosion was huge! How could you not hear it from a mile away?! Fortunately all I was doing was studying in my room so I was quick to put on my suit followed by my mask, you can never forget the mask. 

“Hello Peter” Karen spoke to me inside my suit. 

“Hey Karen, I’m gonna need some help”

~at the scene

Webbing past the pedestrians I land harshly onto the ground. No time for stopping Parker. 

“Excuse me are you alright?” I asked the first person who walked out of the build- wait library? 

She shakes her head with a sad frown and fear in her eyes, her left arm cradled by her right. 

“AHHH!” I heard more screams from inside. Quickly putting a pat on the girls back I speed past her and into the smokey building. Dodging past the falling shelves and books I quickly make it to the librarian seeing she was the closest. I quickly grab her by her waist and shoot my web outside onto a building across the street, I wrap the other around end around her waist.

“Hold on and as soon as you land run” I spoke softly to her, trying not to scare her anymore then she already was. She just rapidly nods, letting me finish wrapping the web around her. As soon as I let her go she spins out of the building like an elastic band and lands safely against the building across which was padded with my web.

I quickly turn around and continue further into the falling building, How many people are here Karen? 

“Locating other victims now Peter” she replies, working her magic. While she finishes locating I follow the gps she’s shown me inside my mask, moving into the middle of the building. 

“There’s three, one beside the bookshelves on the left wing and two under one of the middle tables in the center” Karen speaks. Seriously without her I would be in trouble. I quickly glance up to the ceiling seeing it begin to crack. 

“Karen put a timer on for 5 minutes” I ask her politely keeping calm while I could feel my heart racing with adrenaline and fear.

“Why?” she asks. 

“That’s all the time I’ll have to get-” I was cut off by another loud scream. Karen doing as I asked, puts on the timer and I hear it begin to tick down. Okay Parker you can do this, left wing first. I shoot out a web and begin to climb over the fallen shelves, swinging towards the left wing.

“F-f-flash?” It couldn’t be, Y/N’S here? I halt for a second, momentarily forgetting my task.

“3:59” Karen speaks. Thank you Karen, I quickly shake my shoulders and run over to the person huddled in the corner sheltering themselves from bits of the falling roof. Quickly scooping them up into my arms I begin to swing back out to the front, gently placing the person onto the ground. They were shaking horribly almost like they have just seen a ghost. I quickly unwrap their arms from around my neck which was held in a death grip. 

“Are you alright? Can you move?” I ask panicked, making sure that they could safely leave without my assistance. They nod they’re head back softly still dazed. I reach down to pick them up, brushing them off slightly and crack a small joke to try and lighten the mood.

“Who knew the library would be where it’s lit” They softly smiled as I guided them to the front. Watching them walk out the door while walking backwards, the door just begins to crumble in. Shit.

“1:24” fuck!


A/N: I’m sorry that this series will be long but I like to build up some kind of story line! I feel it makes the imagines better in some way and when we get to the fluffy parts it seems to make them more adorable idk XD

Welcome to my crib. There’s my bed, my closet, my crying corner, ten empty water bottles, two bookshelves, three sketchbooks, and somewhere there’s a small fluffy demon called a cat. Don’t anger it. Anyway stay as long as- wait why are you leav-

artandshitposts  asked:



Everyone was born with a word-or just random letters- on their arm. For James Madison the word was Serendipity. But he came from a family of unmatched.  People who didn’t have soulmates who found their own love. So when he discovered his tattoo he tried to hide it from his family, but they found out. They wanted him to embrace the fact that he was destined to be with someone but he refused to. So at school he would always wear hoodies, change in the bathroom for gym, pretty much never show any skin. 

Then there was Thomas Jefferson. Everyone knew his word, Serendipity, and everyone figured that the person who had it had to go to a different school, because who in their right mind would hide from Thomas Jefferson? James had known that Thomas and him were soulmates for years now but he never spoke up about it. He knew all the torment Thomas and his friends put him through would end but it wasn’t worth it. 

Keep reading

crunchie-morris  asked:

I'm sorry to bug you, but do you happen to have any happy headcanons?? I'm feeling really anxious rn

Sami you are never a bug! Always feel free to come ask for things! Happy headcanons it is!

  • Jack got a pet lizard when he was nineteen. he adopted it from the science lab. actually, he stole it from the science lab and never got caught. the lizard’s name is Palio and Jack loves him.
  • when Romeo laughs too hard, he gets the hiccups. you know you made a good joke when Romeo is hiccupping.
  • every winter, the whole group has a huge holiday party. the Jacobs siblings bring traditional Jewish food, Race cooks Italian, Crutchie brings cookies, and they all exchange gifts. every year the gifts have a different theme, and they all pick out of a hat to decide who gets for who. one year the theme was names, and everyone got something related to their name. Spot got polka dots, Romeo got a ton of chocolate, Jack got a cowboy hat. Davey got his real present from Katherine, which was a history of dentistry (Mouth) that Davey actually thought was interesting, and then he got an anonymous present that was a million of those things that look like lips and you blow into them and they hum
  • Spot loves reading YA books, and gets really into them. He and Les will spend hours talking about the latest Rick Riordan book or Harry Potter theories
  • Davey and Sarah are the most supportive pair of twins ever to exist. Davey helps Sarah with her homework when she needs it, Sarah makes Davey breakfast when he wakes up late, they both defend each other from bullies, and they’re best friends
  • Jack loves splatter painting, and sometimes he’ll hang up old sheets to cover an entire room and he and Crutchie will put on old clothes and have a paint fight
  • they have movies nights all together at least once a month in college. every person gets a chance to pick like once every year and a half, and a lot of thought goes into each person’s choice, unless the movie night falls during the yearly prank war, in which case the person who picks picks a movie that’s hated by a lot of the group. 
  • the prank war ranges from dumb (stealing all of Race’s clothes and hanging up rolls of ducktape in his closet) to great (Kat made homemade “peanut butter cups” because they’re Jack’s favorite, but instead of peanut butter she used fish paste)
  • if you mess with one of them, you mess with all of them, and if one person is sad, everyone is doing their best to help. for some people, like Crutchie or Spot, helping often means leaving them alone for a while, but for others, like Jack or Romeo, it means being there and supporting them, and every person helps every other person
  • Crutchie has so many succulents it causes problems. he has like three backless bookshelves in front of and around his dorm window, and every shelf has at least sixteen pots of succulents. he knows every plant’s name and talks to them.
  • Jack periodically dyes his hair random colors for like a week at a time. one time he got it dyed hot pink with ice blue tips, and everyone called him cotton candy for the few weeks it lasted, but he loved it. (it looked ridiculous he’s a fashion disaster)

anonymous asked:

what does each member's room look like

This is so interesting! I really like this ask omgomg okay!
I had /so/ much fun writing this tbh.

                                              Pein/Pain’s Bedroom

• Is actually pretty simplistic, like those all white ones you see on Tumblr from time to time and wonder if they’re just boring or if that’s a room they never use or..?

• His desk is his room though is another story. It’s a huge mess and has clothes hanging from the chair. old coffee mugs lying all around it, pins, papers, pens and pencils all around. It’s a huge mess and he does clean it! It just never stays clean for long.

• He actually has a lot of windows in his bedroom and prefers the foot of the bed to face towards a window that way, when he wakes up he can see outside. The base is somewhere nice and sunny and bright, much different from his home at the base now so it’s nice scenery to wake up to. 

                                                 Konan’s Bedroom

• Her room is actually the opposite of Pein’s. She has stuff everywhere, posters littering her walls, a makeup vanity littered in lipsticks and makeup stains, clothes draped on a chair, figurines on every surface and books piled up on a bookshelf. She has wayyy too many books and she doesn’t want to get rid of a single one of them.

• She has her own drawer dedicated to snacks because she doesn’t want to leave her room and get a headache from dealing with the /boys/ (aka Deidara, Kisame and Hidan misbehaving as usual). Some haven’t seen her leave her room for days on end. 

• Her room gets the most spiders and silverfish, which pisses her off to no end. You’ll know when a silverfish is in her room when you hear her curse worse than Hidan and then the girliest scream ever comes from it moments later. 

                                                 Itachi’s Bedroom

• Has a few plants he takes care of, a nightstand, a bed, a dresser.. It looks kinda simplistic yet put together and have a homey feel. Konan may or may not have gotten her book addiction from him though, he has three bookshelves in his room filled to the brim with books, encyclopedias, textbooks, research books, history books, etc.

• He never gets any spider or any unwanted creature in his room. Nobody knows how he does it, but they just never seem to go to his room.

• His room smells kinda like cinnamon apple, sandalwood, and vanilla all mixed together. It’s a very nice, spicy smell and it helps him relax. 

• He burns incense often, so when someone goes into his room their face just gets slammed with an array of smoke and Dragon’s Blood incense.

                                               Kisame’s Bedrooom

• Has a medium aquarium next to his bed, a big one incorporated inside of the wall and a small one on his desk. The one in the wall is a tropical saltwater aquarium with seahorses, yellow eel gobies, clownfish, sorpion dragonettes, purple firefish and some sunrise dottybacks. The small tank on his desk is actually a handmade tank with three small moon jellyfish that he watches while he sleeps. The medium tank next to his bed is a tropical freshwater tank with some red fire guppies, neon tetras, glass fish, mollies, two black mystery snails and a ghost shrimp. He treats them all like his own children.

• His room always has this kinda beachy smell, probably because of the constant saltwater he changes and filters and such. He always winds up spilling it but it never bothers him. Let’s just hope his s/o doesn’t mind it too much. 

• Because he’s such a big guy, his bed takes up the rest of his room for the most part, but he’s content with it. He has his tanks, a desk, a closet, a space for Samehada, and a bed, it’s all he really needs.

                                                 Sasori’s Bedroom 

• Once he became a full puppet, he got rid of his bed for some extra desk space. His room has a desk from one end of a wall to the other on two different walls. It’s more than enough desk space, you would think, but it’s never enough for him. 

• His room looks like a nightmare kinda. Puppet parts all over. Poison bottles, antidotes, wooden limbs, an extra head for his own body, multiple different puppet bodies hanging from the ceiling. Don’t go in alone or at night, you’ll regret it or just get the worst scare of your life.

• If he knows his s/o is coming in and is kinda scared of his room, he’ll clean it up but other than that, his room stays the way it’s always been. If he needs a rest, he actually lies on the floor since he can’t feel the discomfort anyway. 

                                                Deidara’s Bedroom

• The most aesthetically pleasing bedroom of all the Akatsuki. All the colours have a matching palette, red, black, grey and white. Black curtains, all red walls, white ceiling, dark wooden floors, white, grey and black bed, small red rug right near his bed and his furniture is all black and white too. 

• Mostly art supplies in his room aside from the necessities and a few snack bags he has lying around. Clay all over the place in its own designated bag. He has multiple colours and he even has a draw board on his desk that he uses to draw out new plans for new pieces of art. 

• He actually has a few piece of clay art hanging around in his room, despite his view on art being a short lasting life, the first few pieces of art he made with his Kekkei Genkai were the few he could see as everlasting. This always sparks a heated argument with Sasori when he goes to Deidara’s room to grab him for a mission or if leader calls him. 

                                                Kakuzu’s Bedroom

• The blandest looking room you could ever imagine. Basic looking walls, a basic floor, his bed has black comforter with white sheets, dark cherry wood furniture. There’s a ceiling fan and if it’s really hot, a fan for his bedside dresser to be on him at night. He can’t have an a/c because he gets air conditioning congestion very easily. It’s kinda boring but it feels really homey at the same time, which is weird for Kakuzu.

• One of his weird ticks is that he always has to have a candle lit, even when he’s not around. He’ll light one and leave it lit until it burns out, then light another and another. He has to have a scent in his room, but he prefers more down to earth tones like sandy beaches, burning wood, pumpkins and apples (but not the fruity or spicy scented ones), etc. 

• He has a few jars on a shelf with coins in them, organised by certain coins in each jar as he saves up.

• He has a special collection of money that is discontinued that he has in a small pouch under his bed where nobody can find it. He hopes he’ll land big with it one day but he realistically knows he wont. 

                                                  Hidan’s Bedroom

• Unlike Kakauzu, Hidan has his room so cold that there’s actually frost on the windows in the summer! Hell, he even has the a/c on in the Winter. He loves it cold. 

• Because he’s restricted to carry out his rituals in his room, he has the floors a polished and waxed over wood so that the blood doesn’t stick. He’s becoming the king of removing blood from wood because of it. He has the walls red so that if there is any blood he missed after cleaning, it just kinda blends in. 

• Has a shelf with books he has written in about Jashinism and the prayers he has learned and made along the way to Lord Jashin. He actually has really good handwriting!

• He actually has a plant he takes meticulous care of, a Venus Flytrap. He had Zetsu get it for him when he learned about it on a mission one day. The plant’s so big that he actually has the pot resting on the floor now. Of course, in Hidan fashion, the pot has a Jashinism symbol painted on it. 

• He stole money from Kakuzu to get a coffee maker for his room, so his room actually smells of coffee most of the time. He has a hard time sleeping so he constantly drinks the stuff.

                                                 Zetsu’s Bedroom

• Plants and small underwater aquariums everywhere. A lot of the aquariums actually have plant tops that incorporate into them, like betta fish tanks with plants growing from the top into the water to feed the fish. Marimo moss balls in their own aquarium and he has an aquarium of just coral and a few fish. 

• His room has a light latte brown walls and the floor is a light brown wood. it gives it a grounded feel to it. He has a bed, closet, and a dresser, but every other piece of furniture is used to hold up his plants and aquariums. 

• He does have one or two books on the human body and such, for when he helps “Madara” and such. It’s kind of a hobby to read them now though. 

• Doesn’t spend all too much time in his room, he only really goes to it to take care of his plants and fish. 

                                              Tobi/Obito’s Bedroom

• Has a photo of Rin inside of his bedside dresser. It’s just a photo of his team, but with her and him cut out. It reminds him daily of his goal and he looks at it every morning when he wakes up with the sunrise, Rin’s favourite. 

• Does have a few hobby items that he was able to keep with him from his younger days, like his trading cards and such. He still really loves trading cards and actually collects them in binders. He has the binders stacked in the corner of his room next to a box with a bookshelf. He’s gonna build the bookshelf one day, he swears.

• A desk with a few notebooks. He writes down his plans and actually has a planner to stay organised. He’s bad at staying organised day by day so he carries it around with him. He has little doodles in the notebooks and in the planner.

• Has a guitar and actually can play really well! He only does when he knows everyone in the base is gone so he isn’t interrupted or listened to. On occasions he’ll sing too, and he has a great singing voice, he remembers Rin complimenting him on it and he gets confident when he does sing, even now, because of that compliment.

100 Reasons Why - 04

BTS 방탄소년단 - Soulmate!AU

Warnings -  polyamorous relationships, swearing, smut

Summary - Love is a powerful thing. Let it settle under your skin and in your bones. Let it live, let it breathe. Do not beat it down and know that your love doesn’t reach one person, but everyone around you.

Glossary - 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10

“Come here. Let me fix it.” Was a phrase that all too often left your lips. Hoseok is clumsy, accidentally bumping tables with his hips and slipping on floors in his socks. You’ve kissed away bruises, cuts, and bumps. It’s also forced you into buying band aids whenever you take trips to the grocery store and carry around antiseptic wipes. You find the wrappers in your pockets, the bottom of your purse and left in corners and under couch cousins.

So when Hoseok accidentally slams his face into a cabinet, you dig into the back pocket of your jeans and pull out a band aid and children’s Neosporin. You fall onto the couch, dragging Hoseok down with you. There’s a cut on his brow and his lip is beginning to bruise. He’s going to be whining about kisses for a week. “My Hoseok,” you coo, running the back of your hand across his cheek, “you need to pay attention to where you’re going.”

Hoseok pouts, “I was.”

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Inventing Family: Chapter 1

Based on a prompt.  This was intended to be a one shot, but it’s definitely going to end up being a multi-chapter.

Clarke straightened her back, flexing her shoulder’s towards each other and craning her neck to one side until she heard a slight pop.  She sighed in relief as the tension of a long day began to drain from her muscles.  She’d finished painting the bedrooms a week ago, and now that the walls were dry, they’d finally been able to assemble all the furniture that had been stacked in boxes for weeks.  Clarke knelt down, giving the last screw on the bookshelf she’d just put together a final turn for good measure.  She stepped back, smiling as she admired her handiwork.  One conversion crib, one toddler bed, shaped like a Jeep, one bunk bed over a futon, three bookshelves, three chests of drawers, two desks, two toy chests, one changing table.  Clarke inventoried everything they’d put together in her head, making sure that there was nothing they’d forgotten.

She ticked off a mentalist of all the new additions to the house.  Twelve packs of swivel cabinet and drawer locks, ten packs of corner protectors, six baby gates, five childproof door knobs, four baby monitors, three toilet seat lid locks, innumerable outlet covers, and one bath spout cover.  There were two new bikes and one big wheel sitting in the garage.  There were four piles children books that friends had given them, including a complete set of Harry Potter novels from Octavia, and a book of Greek mythology that Bellamy had snuck in.  There were five boxes of toys donated by neighbors, some of them store bought, others hand-me-down, but all in good condition.  There were seven packages of diapers and wipes, six bags of fresh socks and underwear, three of toiletries, and three of school supplies.  There was also a stack of brand new sheets and comforters in the living room, each set tailored to the tastes of their intended recipients.

Clarke placed her hands behind her head, weaving her fingers through her hair and letting out a long slow breath, she closed her eyes.  Surely, all of it amounted to a surplus or readiness.  Surely, it was more than they would possibly need, at least for their first few weeks.  She turned when she heard the sound of her wife’s feet creaking across the wooden floorboards.  “Should we have gotten them clothes?” Clarke asked.

Lexa sighed.  “No.”  She took a few more steps until she was directly behind Clarke.  Lexa wrapped her arms around her wife’s waist, burying her nose in the pile of loose, blonde tendrils that cascaded over Clark’s shoulder.  “We should wait.”  She inhaled the scents of honey and mint shampoo that wafted from the blonde’s hair and basked in the warmth that radiated of her soft skin.  “Every time I showed up at a new placement they always had new clothes waiting for me.  It was never things I liked, just what they thought I should wear.  That was always the first big disappointment for people; that I was a shy, awkward tomboy and not the darling little girl they’d been dreaming of.”

Clarke frowned, weaving her finger’s through Lexa’s and pulling her in closer.  It was strange for her to think of her wife as anything less than breathtaking and self-assured, let alone awkward, or shy.  In college, Lexa had been the girl that everyone had been terrified to talk to.  Exotic, and staggeringly beautiful, she had drifted easily through every social circle, universally respected for her wit and intelligence, and applauded for her natural confidence and candor.  Men had wanted her, girls had wanted to be her, and Clarke had been more than surprised when the statuesque brunette had approached her at a frat party and asked her if she wanted to dance.  A few hours later, Clarke found herself leaning in a little too close as she and Lexa talked on the porch.  A week later, they found themselves on an awkward first date.  That night had ended in a first kiss, shared underneath the dim glow of emergency-lights that illuminated the stands of the university’s soccer pitch.  One month later, Clarke would watch from the same spot, as Lexa scored the winning goal in what would become a run to the NCAA, Division 1, Women’s soccer championship.  More firsts would come soon after; their first drunken make-out under the bleachers after a particularly big game against State; the first time they met each other’s friends. The first night Clarke shared the tiny twin bed in Lexa’s dorm room the brunette finally told her about her childhood, being shuffled through the foster care system.  It wasn’t until they’d exchanged “I love you’s” for the first time that Clarke had finally brought Lexa with her to visit her father’s grave, at the tiny cemetery in Montclair.  That year had been full of firsts, as were the three years that followed it.  The day their college graduation finally came Lexa had knelt down in front of Clarke and asked her to be her last.

Clarke smiled as she twisted the simple wedding band on her left hand, breathing in the scent of bay rum and blackberry that always lingered on Lexa.  Life, since that night, on the frat house porch, had been a fairytale in all respects but one; that they still had no one to share in their over-abundance of love.  Children had always been part of their long-term plan.  Early on, they’d assumed they had all the time in the world to put off thinking about options and methods.  Five years, a bit of long distance, multiple graduate degrees, and one major move across the country later, and they agreed that it was finally time.  The decision made, they had begun the business of starting a family with energy and enthusiasm.

At the beginning of the process, decision-making had been easy, especially when it came to who would be getting pregnant.  Clarke was the obvious choice for two reasons.  First, her job as a nurse allowed her the flexibility to work part-time, and came with excellent maternity benefits.  Secondly, during her senior year of college, Lexa had been found to have moderate Mitral Valve Stenosis, a discovery that was made after Lexa fainted in the middle of the national quarter-finals.  The diagnosis had come with two warnings.  The first: That even if the condition were carefully monitored, continuing to play soccer at an elite level would never be safe.  The second: That prolonged, traumatic stress on the body, such as one would experience during pregnancy, had the potential to worsen the condition, causing severe complications, and even death.  Clarke had held Lexa’s hand and allowed her to cry into her should, as a cardiologist at Robert Wood Johnson University Hospital had explained the condition to them.

With that decision made, they moved on to others.  Clarke felt strongly about their children being related to both of them, and so it was agreed that Lexa would donate her eggs, while Clarke would provide surrogacy.  Clarke’s younger brother had already insisted that they consider him as a potential sperm donor, and so a call was placed.  Soon money was set aside, IVF specialists were consulted, and fertility charts were filled out with the utmost attention to detail.

But, that had been two years ago.  What had followed since was a tale of frustration, constant disappointment, and heartache.  From the very beginning, roadblocks had risen to meet them at every step in the process.  First, a doctor had discovered that Clarke had undiagnosed, stage one endometriosis which had caused her uterus to become retroverted.  Specialists had assured them that, though this did decrease the likelihood of Clarke becoming pregnant, it was hardly a reason to lose hope.

Then, there was Lexa’s reaction to the ovulation-inducing medications she had been given.  The first medicine had made her terribly nauseous, leaving her to sprint for the bathroom every other hour.  Another drug caused her vision to blur, giving her crippling migraine headaches.  By the time their doctor found a medication that didn’t riddle Lexa with side effects, she had missed nearly two weeks of work.

The treatment Clarke underwent before IVF was a similarly hideous experience.  The shots  Clarke was forced to give herself every night made her consistently moody and irritable.  Lexa had watched in horror as her typically sweet, stoic, and even-keeled wife became an emotionally labile, unpredictable basket-case.  Not having Clarke to act as the rock in the relationship was jarring to Lexa.  It unsettled her in a way she could never have predicted, but she did her best to weather her storm cloud of a wife with patience and understanding

With the first few challenges finally behind them, Lexa and Clarke breathed a little easier, confident that a successful IVF implantation would be the reward for all their hardship.  Two years, three failed IVF cycles, and nearly $40,000 later, the two women had come to understand that life never promised smooth sailing or paved an easy road to wish-fulfillment.

The experience had strained their relationship soundly, and driven both women to the brink of hopelessness.  In the end, though, Clarke had been the one to say “uncle,” her overwhelming emotions finally running over the day Lexa had come home to find her sitting on the bathroom floor, yet another negative pregnancy test clasped in hands.  “I don’t want to do this anymore.”  That was all she’d managed to get out before crawling into Lexa’s arms and bursting into tears.

Lexa had taken the incident in stride, saying nothing despite her conviction that, soon enough, Clarke would be ready to try again.  For Clarke however, the two years of disappointment had turned into night after night of lying awake, her mind racing with thoughts of other options.  

One morning over breakfast, Clarke finally gave voice to her machinations. “What if we adopted?”

Lexa had been frozen in utter silence between bites of turkey bacon.  “You want to adopt a baby?”

Clarke stared at her plate for a moment, pushing around the bits of scrambled egg and toast.  When she looked up at Lexa again, her expression was tight, as though she was holding a bomb that was about to go off.  “No.  I was thinking older children.  Fosters children, I mean.  I was thinking maybe a sibling group?”

Lexa nodded but didn’t say a word as she finished her coffee.  She carried her plate to the sink in a daze, washing it off as though Clarke hadn’t spoken at all.  Finally, she turned, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms.   She stared solemnly at the blonde, a stoic expression on her face.  “I think it’s a bad idea.”

Feelings expressed, Lexa kissed her wife’s cheek, and hurriedly grabbed her work bag, heading for the front door before Clarke had a chance to continue the conversation.  As she made her way out of the kitchen, she added a final thought for good measure. “I think we both just need a break.  Let’s give it a few months.  We can try again whenever you feel ready.”

A few weeks, a few curt conversations, and a few heated arguments later, and Lexa had begrudgingly agreed to start pursuing their options.  It was several more months before a caseworker had come to them with a file detailing a group of siblings who were considered “hard to place.”  The children were brothers, three to be exact, and with each page, Clarke had become more and more certain that these children were meant to be their children.

Lexa, on the other hand, had remained unconvinced.  Through informational sessions, instructional classes, piles of applications, and a half a dozen interviews, she’d humored her wife’s curiosity.  Now, with things on the verge of becoming a reality, Lexa could pretend to support Clarke’s plan no longer.  

When the fight finally came, it came hard, and long, and riding on a wave of all the thoughts and insecurities that Lexa had held behind clenched teeth for months on end.

“You can’t begin to imagine the situation some of these kids come from, Clarke! They’re heartbreaking, and what’s more, most of them are incredibly troubled because of it! Some of them are even dangerous!”

Clarke had stared Lexa down, resolute, and furious, and determined to get her point across.  “How can you say that? You were one of them, Lexa!”

“And I had problems, Clarke!”  Lexa’s eyes screwed shut as she clenched her jaw and ran her hand through her hair.  She inhaled slowly, giving herself time to think of the right way to say everything that was on her mind, determined not to lose her temper more than she already had.   “Clarke, you didn’t know me when I was a kid. I was angry, I was destructive, and occasionally, I was violent.  There are reasons that none of my adoptive placements ever worked out.  There’s a reason I ended up in a group home.  I’m sorry.  It is a sweet idea, and I love that you want to do this, but you don’t have a clue what you’d be getting us into!”

Clarke seethed at Lexa, turning on her heels a second later.  She slammed the kitchen door as she strode through the living room, her wife hot on her heels.  The argument continued as they made their way up the stairs, neither one willing to admit defeat.   Clarke turned as they entered their bedroom, surprising Lexa so much that the brunette skidded to a stop to avoid crashing into her.

“Stop talking to me like I’m naive!  I may not have grown up in the foster system, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to the realities of what these kids have experienced!  I’ve talked to the agency! I’ve had multiple interviews with their caseworker!  I’ve practically memorized their files!  I know what we’ll be dealing with!”

Lexa rolled her eyes, realizing a second too late that the gesture would probably become ammunition the next time Clarke accused her of being patronizing.  None-the-less, she was determined to be heard, bound to make Clarke realize how little she understood.

“Clarke, a caseworkers job is to find homes for the children they represent!  A lot of them omit information if they think it poses a risk to placing kids!  Some of them outright lie!  By the way, I read those files too!  Even if there isn’t anything that the caseworker isn’t disclosing to us, those kids still have a long and well-documented history of neglect and abuse!”

Lexa sighed in exasperation.  She dropped on the edge of their bed, letting her head fall into her hands to avoid her wife’s furious gaze.  “You can’t imagine what that kind of life does to kids.”

Lexa finally ventured a glance back up at Clarke, who stood with her arms wrapped protectively around her chest, her eyes red and glassy with tears that were threatening to spill over if she lost her resolve.  Lexa rose from the bed, making her way over to her wife cautiously.  She extended a tentative hand and, as gently as she could manage, used the pad of her thumb to wipe a stray tear from the corner of Clark’s eye.

“Baby, you grew up in a good home with two parents who loved you, so I know that part of you believes that if we give these boys unconditional love and support it will make everything better.  The problem is, it doesn’t work that way.”

Lexa pulled her wife a little closer, bowing her head slightly as she gazed into Clarke’s eyes and lowered her tone to a soothing hum.

“Clarke, the life these boys have had so far has been horrifying.  Kids from situations like that don’t just magically get better when you give them affection and a good home.”

Lexa pulled Clarke all the way in, wrapping her arms around her waist and allowing the blonde girl to rest her head on her shoulder.

“Besides Clarke, the oldest one has already had problems with aggression and getting into fights at his school.  That’s a bridge too far for me.  I’m not letting anyone into this house who might put you at risk.  I’m sorry, but I just won’t do it.”

Clarke bust into tears a second later convincing Lexa that that was the end of it.  She had been dead wrong.

Ultimately, Clarke had gotten her way, as she always seemed to.  Two months, a few setbacks, and a series of home visits later, and the boys were set to arrive in a matter of hours.

Clarke tapped her foot nervously, rocking their bodies back and forth as she thought of all the work left before the boys arrived the next morning.  “We still need to get sheets on all of the beds, and put away all of the socks and underwear, and set out their school supplies.”

Lexa sighed,  “Baby…”

“And put away all the toiletries.”


“And double check all of the baby proofing one last time.”


Clarke turned in Lexa’s arms, her train of thought finally broken.  “What is it, Sweetheart?”

Lexa shook her head, smiling, amazed at how single-minded and determined her wife could be when she was intent on finishing something.

“Love, you’ve been up since 4 A.M. putting this stuff together.  Go to bed.  I can finish the rest.”

Clarke shook her head.  “Baby, I’m not letting you finish all this by yourself.”

Lexa kissed the blonde’s temple, resting their foreheads together as she began rubbing small circles on Clarke’s lower back.  “Clarke, it’s late.  You’re tired, and even though you aren’t going to admit it, I know you back is probably bothering you right now.”

Before she could lie, insisting that the injury from her collegiate track & field days wasn’t bothering her, Lexa rubbed precisely the right spot.  Clarke winced, giving herself away.

Lexa nodded.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  She smirked, reveling in the feeling of having won an argument before it had started.  “Go get in bed Clarke.  FInishing up the work won’t take me that long, I promise.”

Clarke nodded, accepting that her wife was right, in spite of her inclination to insist otherwise.  She pressed a chaste kiss to the Lexa’s lips and cupped the sides of her face.  “You’re incredible.  How did I get so lucky?”

Lexa smirked, “You wore that skimpy, black number to a frat party, and I had a thing for gorgeous blondes in skin-tight cocktail dresses.”

Clarke laughed, slapping the brunette’s arm.  “I changed my mind.  You’re the worst.”

Lexa chuckled, pointing to the door.  “You. Bed. Now.”

Clarke nodded, giving her wife one more kiss before heading down the hallway towards their bedroom.

Lexa waited until she was sure Clarke was gone before groaning and shoving her hands into her hair, allowing her stress and worry to bubble to the surface at last.  Save for the fact that Clarke was overflowing with joy and hope for the first time in two years; there was nothing about the situation that Lexa liked.  None-the-less, she had made a promise to give the arrangement a chance, and now there was nothing left to do but honor Clarke’s wishes and be as helpful as possible.

It took Lexa nearly an hour to finish the rest of the work.  The folding, sorting, and organizing was tedious, but it was a welcome distracting from her troubled thoughts.  When the final pair of socks was tuck away in a drawer, Lexa stood, surveying the tidy bedroom with satisfaction.  She frowned, realizing this would surely be the last time the room looked so clean and well-kept.  

Lexa was nothing if not a stickler for order. During her childhood, chaos and uncertainty had reigned over most of the aspects of her life, but a clean room and a commitment to personal organization; these had been the few vestiges of control she’d been allowed.  They’d become her only constants, and even now, Lexa couldn’t leave the house without knowing that the bed was made, and all the dishes in the sink were done.

It had been the one part of adjusting to life with Clarke that had been hard for Lexa.  Not that her wife was messy, or careless, but she didn’t understand Lexa’s deep need for certain things to be done in the immediate.  Clarke was all right with letting the bed go unmade on occasion, or leaving a dish in the sink if she was in a hurry, or allowing her shoes to sit askew by the front door instead of placing them neatly, side by side, against the wall.  Lexa did her best not to care, reminding herself that such habits were flaws of a most trivial nature and that it was only by virtue of her deep need for control that such molehills became mountains.

Her body was still racing with nervous energy.  Sure that she’d be unable to sleep, Lexa made her way into the hall and down the stairs.  She padded softly through the dark living room and into the kitchen, making her way over to the refrigerator.  The large white monolith hummed quietly, its doors pristine and white, unmarred by the photographs, report cards, and artwork that, in other homes, would be tacked on with alphabet magnets.  Lexa hated it.  She hated that the refrigerator’s lack of clutter boldly proclaimed, “This is a home without children.”  When they’d moved into the house two years earlier, Lexa has sworn that before long they’d be covering the refrigerator’s face in keepsakes, and ever since that first pregnancy test had come up negative, the machine had taunted her with its blankness.

As a little girl, the idea of having a family of her own had been Lexa’s raison d’être, her most feverishly longed for desire, and the one thing that had seemed categorically out of her reach.  That had all changed when she’d met Clarke.  Ever since that night, the idea of starting a family with the woman she loved had become Lexa’s holy grail.  It was the whole point of everything she’d worked for since college.  Lexa had bent over backward providing them with everything they would need to start a family.  They’d needed commitment, so Lexa had proposed.  They’d needed security, so Lexa had earned two advanced degrees and landed an incredible job.  They’d needed money, so Lexa had worked overtime and saved it.  They’d needed a home, so Lexa had bought one.  But, as it turned out, a family was the one thing she couldn’t provide.  After two years of fruitless attempts, dashed hopes and broken spirits, her inability to fix or change their situation ate away at her, eroding her hard-earned sense of control.

Lexa grunted at the fridge, yanking the door open and surveying its contents begrudgingly.  She eyed the single bottle of beer that Clarke had asked her to get rid of it days ago.  Clarke had been determined to have the house in perfect order for the boy’s arrival, and as far she was concerned, any amount of alcohol lying around, even a single bottle of beer, sent the wrong message.  Lexa fought with her conscience for a moment before giving into temptation.  She grabbed the beer, retreating with it out of the kitchen, past the living room, though the den and finally, into her office. The harried brunette collapsed heavily into the leather high-back behind her desk and swiveled around, propping her feet up as she popped the bottle open.  She leaned back, taking a long swig, and reveling in the peaceful quiet that consumed the house, a quiet she’d surely not be able to enjoy after tomorrow.

Lexa closed her eyes, unable to shake her sense of dread as she contemplated what was coming.  Suddenly, she was seized by a need to unburden herself.  She desperately wanted to admit to the feelings of guilt and hostility that had been building up since Clarke had finalized the trial placement with the boy’s caseworker.  Knowing full well that these were thoughts she could never admit to Clarke, Lexa reached for the phone and quickly dialed the one number she knew by heart.  The phone rang exactly three times before a stern, tired voice answered.

“It’s nearly midnight where you are, and I’m on the other side of the country, so I’m sure you can imagine how thrilled I am to be receiving a call at this hour.”

Despite the vinegar in the women’s tone, the voice on the other end of the phone filled Lexa with a sense of calm.  “Hi, Birdie.  I know it’s late.”

The voice huffed.  “Lexa, I’m 70 years old.  Late is the hour and a half when Sam and I watch The Nightly News. This isn’t late; it’s barbaric.”

Lexa bit her lip nervously.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t wake up Sam did I?”

On the other end of the phone, Birdie chuckled.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  That man could sleep through a mortar attack, and did, twice, in Vietnam.  Now, since this is the first time in two months you’ve seen fit to call me, I assume you’ve got a problem that needs talking about.”

Lexa smiled guiltily, comforted by how well her foster mother and former caseworker could read her, even over the phone.  “I know. I know. I’m sorry I haven’t called it’s just been…”

“Lexa, get to the point dear, it’s late.”  Birdie was nothing if not plain spoken, and no-nonsense.

“There’s a lot that I need to fill you in on, but basically, Clarke and I are going through with a trial placement for a sibling group who’s been living in foster care.  Clarke is excited about it, but I feel like the whole thing is a huge mistake.  I think she’s getting in over her head.  I’m worried that it’s going to be a disaster.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Lexa was sure Birdie had fallen asleep.  Finally, the receiver came to life again.

“First of all Lexa, there’s nothing to fill me in on.  You may not feel inspired call me more than once every other month, but your saint of a wife does a good job of checking in for the both of you.  As it happens, she’s been calling me quite a bit to talk about this very subject.  She sent me the boys files a few weeks ago.”

Lexa sat up, startled by the revelation that Clarke and Birdie had been so in touch.

“You and Clarke talk?”

“Frequently.  When you two moved across the country, I made her promise to call me as much as possible.”


“Because I knew you wouldn’t.  I needed someone to keep tabs on you for me.”

Lexa bit her lip again, groaning as she imagined the kinds of conversation the two women had probably been having.  Birdie understood her inside and out.  She was a human user’s manual with which to navigate all of Lexa’s emotional complexities, and that seemed like an unfair advantage for Clarke to have.

“So you know about everything that’s been going on?”

Birdie hummed.  “I do, and quite frankly, I’m a little surprised that it’s taken you so long to send this distress signal.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, taking another swig of the beer, careful not to let the sound of the swishing fluid be picked up by the receiver.

“Birdie, It’s not a distress signal.”

The sound of Birdie tutting filled the phone, making it clear that this statement was being summarily dismissed.  “Of course it is.  And don’t think I can’t hear the sound of you swigging on that beer right now, Alexandra.  No drunken phone call was ever anything but a distress signal.”

Lexa covered the phone’s mouthpiece and grimaced, knowing that she was about to be on the business end of a lecturer about inappropriate emotional outlets.  She brought the phone back to her ear as Birdie continued.

“Lexa, first of all, while I’ve never discouraged you from drinking, you know what my rule is when it comes to alcohol.”

The younger woman rolled her eyes, echoed Birdie as she repeated her saying for the hundredth time in Lexa’s life.  “Never drink to feel better.  Only drink to feel even better.”

Birdie hummed knowingly on the other end of the phone.  “That’s right.  I don’t like that your first inclination this evening was to turn to drinking. It demonstrates a weakness of character, and Sam and I didn’t raise you to use alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lexa groaned inwardly.  “I know, Birdie.”

Birdie continued, undeterred.  “Furthermore, there’s something that concerns me about how you referred to the situation with these boys.  You said that you thought ‘she’s was getting in over her head.’ She as in Clarke, not you.  To me, that indicates that you aren’t genuinely invested in taking in these boys.  Frankly, Lexa, if that is the case, then I think you might be better calling off the trial placement altogether.”

Lexa blew out the breath that she’d been holding, knowing that Birdie was right.  “Clarke would never forgive me.”

“Do you think that she’ll forgive if you sabotage this arrangement  with a closed mind and a selfish attitude?”

The statement landed like a slap in the face, though Lexa knew that this had probably been Birdies intention.  The woman was nothing if not precise with her words.  She had a way of forcing you to stare the truth right in the eyes and appraise yourself accordingly.  Lexa fought to come up with a response, but for the life of her, she was unable.  She hung her head, feeling a lump form in her throat as she waited for Birdie to finish her lecture.

“Lexa, I know how important starting a family with Clarke is to you, but the truth is, life doesn’t always give you the things you want. Even when it does, it doesn’t necessarily give them to you in the way you’d imagined.  The trick is learning not to look gift horses in the mouth.  When you get what you want, try to be thankful, regardless of the circumstances.

Lexa sighed, placing the beer bottle down on her desk and rubbing at her eyes, which were now wet with tears.  She tried not to let her emotions betray her as she spoke.  “Birdie…”  She paused, trying to collect herself.  “I wanted to give Clarke a real family, not this invented one.”

“What’s real?”

Lexa swallowed hard.  “Real is real. Real is baby pictures, and first birthday parties, and getting to watch your children take their first steps.  It’s getting tucked in at night and having people to teach you right from wrong, and knowing that there is someone in the stands when you score the winning goal in a big game.  It’s all the things that I didn’t have!”

“Didn’t you?”

Once again, Birdie’s words were precise, and Lexa realized the callousness of what she’d just said.

“Birdie, I’m sorry.  You know I love you and Sam, and I’ll never stop being grateful for the way you took me in and got me out that group home.  But it was still…”

“Still not the same as being adopted.”  Birdie finished the sentence for her.

A few moments of silence that passed as the two women allowed the statement to marinate in their collective consciences.  Lexa sighed, rolling the beer bottle between her fingers and thinking about all the ways in which Birdie and Sam had been no different than normal parents, and about all the way in which they had.  “Birdie, I don’t want Clarke’s experience with parenting to be the heartache that comes with having an emotionally damaged child who continually defies and rejected her.  You’ve seen their files. You know they are going to have all the same problems that I did, and maybe worse.”

“I do, and I believe that that puts you in a unique position to help these boys.”  Birdie sighed heavily, betraying how tired she was.  “Lexa, you can’t protect Clarke from the disappointment that comes with being a parent.  Even  biological children defy and reject their parents at certain points.”

Lexa could hear Sam coughing in the background, and Birdie paused again, likely to readjusting Sam’s nasal cannula, Lexa thought.

“Lexa, you may not have made life easy for Sam and me, but you did make it interesting, and you certainly made it fuller.  Besides, you weren’t difficult forever.  You adjusted.   Eventually, you even became enjoyable to be around.”

Lexa smiled despite herself.  “Remind me, how long did that take?”

Birdie laughed.  “Oh, the better part of half a decade, give or take.  The point is, tenacity will out.”

Lexa cringed slightly at Birdie’s final words.  It was a saying she’d frequently used in Lexa’s youth, and it always dug at Lexa’s nerves.  None-the-less, there was an undeniable wisdom to the statement, the idea that if you were willing to work at a problem indefinitely, eventually you would solve it.

“Tenacity will out,” Lexa repeated.

Birdie chuckled on the other end of the phone.  “All right dear, I think it’s time for you to get some sleep.  You have a big day ahead of you.”

Lexa closed her eyes, wishing that the call could last a little longer, but knowing that Birdie was right.  “Thank you, Birdie.”

“You’re welcome, Alexandra.  Now, go to bed.”

With that, the line clicked and went dead.  Lexa set her feet on the floor, and rose from the office chair, carefully placing the phone back in its cradle.  Before she exited the room, she grabbed the now empty beer bottle, reminding herself to dispose of it in the outside recycling bin, where it would be hidden from Clarke.

Lexa’s mind was still racing when she finally slipped into bed, careful not to disturb Clarke, who was fast asleep.  She was still unconvinced that taking the boys was a good idea, but Birdie had was probably right.  Perhaps, she was only being selfish because she hadn’t gotten exactly what she wanted in exactly the way she wanted.  Perhaps, she was in a unique position to help the boys.  Either way, the truth was that she would follow her wife to hell and back if it meant making her happy.  In the end, good idea or bad, Lexa would do her best to make things work, tenacity will out.

Lexa leaned over the mane of blonde hair fanned out over the pillows.  She pulled a few strand back, tucked it behind a soft pink ear, and placing a tender kiss to Clarke’s temple.  As she settled into the covers, the brunette reflected on how her wife’s boundless, unconditional love had changed her life.  Would the three boys arriving tomorrow come riddled with the fallout from acute childhood trauma?  Yes, they almost certainly would.  But, if anyone could love someone until all the broken pieces of them were healed, it was Clarke.

Just before she fell asleep, Lexa whispering a prayer into the darkness.

“Please, let this workout.  Please… For her.”

Leave Comments

anonymous asked:

The day housekeeper!Madara goes off to Ikea and comes back with five six-level bookshelves, three filing cabinets and a desk and just leaves them for Tobirama to find already assembled, with stacks of two-inch binders and little label stickers.

Aka the day Tobirama raids Madara’s cupboard of cleaning supplies and sets it on fire

anonymous asked:

hi! just wondering how you manage to read all of those books? like do you have a website? or do you just have extreme amounts of money you never talk about? love all your book recs btw!

I do not have extreme amounts of money nor a website! this is my website! hello! welcome! what I do have is lots of friends who also love books and serve as my personal little libraries, and some good luck/Canny Skills™. as much as I desperately want to Keep The Industry And Bookshops Alive by only buying all my books in hardback full price from Waterstones, that is just not realistic. none of us are fucking millionaires. and frankly, my dear, I love reading far too much to be so self-sacrificing. 

okay. here is how I get all my books: 

- aforementioned friends! find someone (or multiple someones) in your friends group who loves books as much as you do and set up some sort of Book Co-op. share and share alike. you spend half as much money if you’re lending books back and forth, especially if there’s a whole NETWORK of you! I’m slowly but surely borrowing books from every single person I work with. it’s great. (also works with online friends: friends send friends epubs!) 

- NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY! I went to my local library and got a new library card (after paying an outstanding 8-year-old fine of 6p) in 2014 and never looked back. if they don’t have something you want they can ask a different branch to send it over, or you can request something brand new and they’ll try to get it for you! you love books! they love books! it’s like browsing a weird, uncool Waterstones, except EVERYTHING’S FREE! 

- charity shops. charity. shops. I will not walk past a charity shop. every single charity shop in the UK has a bookshelf, and generally the books people give away to charity are the ones they got for Christmas and read once or didn’t bother to read at all, and those are generally ones people grabbed from the Buy One Get One Half Price table at Waterstones. in short: NEW/ISH AND POPULAR PAPERBACKS FOR LIKE A QUID. my last charity shop jaunt I brought home William Boyd’s Any Human Heart and Andrew Smith’s Stand-Off and spent about £3.50. I almost bought a pristine, untouched, mint condition copy of A Gathering of Shadows. for £2. CHARITY SHOPS!!!

- if you live in a city (or a big/trendy town), I can guarantee you have at least five secondhand bookshops. find them, take an afternoon, wander around. if you’re really lucky, everything’ll be alphabetised to make your life even easier. it might even be sorted… by genre. mmm. it’s also worth finding any local independent bookshops and popping in for a browse rather than defaulting to Waterstones when you need to buy something new – the books’ll definitely be pricier than a secondhand bookshop or charity shop (though not pricier than W’stones), but if you’re going to give anyone money for Brand New books it should be independent bookshops! 

- speaking of Waterstones, while working there I abused my seasonal staff privileges somewhat by signing up to as a bookseller. I don’t know if it’s possible to sign up to it without something to prove you work in a bookshop/in the industry, but if it is you TOTALLY SHOULD. (and/or try to cheat the system somehow. ahem.) publishers put books up on NG and you can request an epub to read and review. they don’t always give them to you – sometimes it’s a regional thing, or, as is probably the case with me, they check to see how many reviews you actually leave and they’re like On Your Bike, Missy – but a lot of the time they do! 

- if you’re an ebook person, you absolutely need to sign up to BookBub! they email you once a day with great ebook deals. on actually good books. there’s some questionable ones (ISN’T THERE ALWAYS?), but today there’s Ruth Rendell, Hilary Mantel, Sara Raash’s Snow Like Ashes, Anthony Doerr’s All The Light We Cannot See, John le Carré, Bernard Cornwell… i.e. good people and good books. I love my daily BookBub email! 

- Epic Reads, the YA social media bit of HarperCollins, does something called FIRST5 which is super cool – every week they send you the first 5 chapters of a YA book, one chapter every weekday morning. it’s the perfect try before you buy fandango, and they send you decent stuff, too. last week’s book was V. E. Schwab’s This Savage Song, which is awesommmeee. (if you’re in the US, they also do $1.99 YA ebook deals!) 

- is god’s gift to thrifty readers who love impulse buying books in the middle of the night. type in the book you want and it’ll literally give you a list of secondhand book websites that have copies and do a price comparison. (which can be misleading. my heart nearly exploded out of my chest when I saw that it had found me a copy of Sodomy and the Pirate Tradition for £1.17, but it neglected to mention the $63 postage.) 

- honestly ~*~SECONDHAND BOOK WEBSITES~*~ are the way, the truth and the light. is a great way to find a specific book you want (especially if it’s something a bit weird or out of print: see Sodomy and the Pirate Tradition for full details), but I tend to head straight to AbeBooks. also, while I think amazon is The Devil and I avoid buying directly from them where books are concerned, I’m a frequent flier at the amazon marketplace. I’m constantly buying ex-library books from random places I’ve never heard of in America. nobody wants them because they’re all stamped inside and thousands of people have groped them. BUT I WANT THEM. I WANT THEIR WEIRD HISTORY AND OLD BOOK SMELL. I WILL CHERISH THEM. find the book you want on amazon, click on where it says ‘x Used & New From £x.xx’ and boom. buy your copy of Six of Crows from Second City Books in Aurora, IL.

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT. books on books on books on books

Pshhhhh people who think Jason would be the troublemaker between him and Tim.
If those two had grown up together, Tim would be getting into scrape after scrape and not only get out of it, but get JASON in trouble.
Like can you imagine how many time outs Tim earned and Jason got them instead?? So like six year old Jason is in the corner all pouty and angry at Tim who booked it to the library. And Bruce feels SO bad because Jay won’t talk to him for HOURS after his time out (and when Bruce goes to read Jason a bedtime story he ignores him) and it just breaks Bruce’s heart (“Am I a bad father? I’m a bad father. I’m unworthy” “Master Bruce, one time out does not determine one’s parental worthiness”)
Meanwhile Tim has climbed three bookshelves, broke one vase and hid the evidence, and gone stair surfing with Dick.

So I’m up to three bookshelves…

I have one for adult fiction, classics and biographies, one for YA, middle grade, comics and nonfiction and the last one is romance… the problem is my romance shelf could EASILY take up two entire bookshelves. And the poor shelves are near collapsing at the weight. Does anybody have any creative ideas that doesn’t require another bookshelf?

Share ten facts about yourself

I was tagged by the lovely @curiousbecuriousblueram

1. I’ve been in the fandom since I was twelve, but my chronic illness acted up so badly I was absent for a year or two before getting into the fandom again. I never stopped reading and commenting on fanfiction, though! 

2. Consequently, I’m pretty sure there are at least 500+ anonymous comments by me floating around on 

3. I’m a musical nut like you wouldn’t believe. 

4. I hoard books. I’m serious here. I’ve got three bookshelves full and that’s just what’s in my room. My mom has the same habit- we have a HUGE room filled with bookcases that houses so many books we’ve started calling it the library by now. 

5. Even as a child I did this- there is evidence in the form of pictures. Me with all my picture books spread over my bed while me asleep on top of them. This is also the only instance of book abuse of any kind that can be found in our house. 

6. If I could take the nuts aisle in the grocery store home with me, I would. 

7. There’s food on display everywhere in the house because I’ve got ADD and my meds don’t let me feel my hunger. If I see it, I remember to eat. 

8. Animals, unless dogs, don’t tend to like me. Probably because I scare easily and they feel that. And chickens are freaking scary, okay?! But I do seem to be a butterfly perch in summer, so sometimes I do feel like a Disney Princess *grins*

9. I’m the Queen of Useless Facts.

10. Whenever I play my old music box, I feel like I’m five all over again and my little brother just gave it to me. 

I’m tagging @metronomeihear , @otaku-alert , @uselessvalshit , @adelmortescryche and @operaeagleicelynlacelett ! You don’t have to if you don’t want to!

anonymous asked:

hey please don't stop writing! i have really enjoyed reading the stuff you've posted to this blog and your writing blogs and i really want to see more of it. It is so unlike the other fantasy/genre stuff out there. Anyway I look forward to buying your book one day.

WWWAAAAA???!!! *drops everything in hands and trips spectacularly, knocking over three bookshelves in the process* I … >///< THANK YOU KIND STRANGER??? OK???? 8’’’]

also don’t worry, at least two of my irl friends have said they will personally punch me in the face if i stop writing, and…..i mean, they’d have to get on an airplane to do that. i can’t have them wasting their money on me (also, i’m vain. not the face guys ) idk if anything i write will be a “book” but, provided i don’t die in a freak accident, it will be something!!

okay but first things first: where does jess live?

is he still living with three smelly guys in a cramped room on locust street? or has he finally gotten his own apartment, a small walk up where the elevator is always out of service so he has to lug up massive amounts of books therefore, the arms. THE ARMS.

is he living back in the city in the lower east side again and has windows facing another brick wall – what a view – but at least he has three large bookshelves on one wall; two filled with book and one filled with records? does he bring girls back, willfully trying to move past that little surge he feels whenever he thinks of rory, thinking to himself “it’s been 10 years man move the fuck on.”

we know nothing; we know dean is popping out another kid and his sister is dating that guy from Sense8 but we know nothing about jess.