A collection of all my fandoms and other things ^_^
Reblogged from khaleesimaka  114 notes
SoMa "You mean to tell me, you've read all these books?"

fullmetalgrigori:

He can’t look them in the eye when they come, with their boxes and their tape and their complete and utter disregard for the things they touch. Soul wants to shout at them, wants to scream and yell and kick them all out and slam the door behind them.

But he can’t. 

He’s known for a while that he can’t stay here. It’s too big now, and rent’s too high, and…it’s driving him crazy. Everything, literally everything in the apartment has something extra attached to it. He can’t look at the scratch on the coffee table without remembering the time when he was thirteen and still trying to master single-blade manifestation (he’d summoned one a little too long and ended up gouging the wood of the brand new coffee table). That was when he first learned what a hardback spine felt like against a skull. 

Speaking of…he ducks into her room, stares up at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line one wall. “Separate these,” he tells one of the packers. “They’re mine.”

The man looks at him in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you’ve read all these books?”

"No," Soul says. "But I’m working on it." 

And he is, little by little. Soul had never been one for reading, but he had also never been one to give up. The Scarlet Letter gives him a headache and Catch-22 is downright tedious, but To Kill a Mockingbird is unexpectedly good and The Catcher in the Rye strikes a chord in him that makes him think he understands why these books line her walls. 

Now they’ll line his. 

He hears them moving around in the apartment behind him, shoving things into boxes without any thought for who they belong to. But it’s alright. Soul has his own box tucked into the corner of his room, separated from all the others. It’s not labeled because there isn’t a word in the English language that can label what lies inside. But he knows what it contains, and that’s all he needs. 

In the end, there are five new boxes added to his pile. They’re heavy and they’re unwieldy, but Soul carries all five of them down the stairs with nary a word. 

It’s cold in his new apartment. It’s cold and it’s small and it smells a little like paint. He hates it, but he can’t go back to the one place he wants to be, because it’ll kill him. 

After the last box hits the floor with a thud, Soul kneels down and peels off the tape. Colorful dust jackets greet him, and for a moment, he falters. He’s going to read every single one of them, yes, but sometimes it’s hard when he can remember a different pair of hands holding them. 

He plucks one from the top and flips through it at random. Neat, tiny lettering lines the margins, pointing out phrases and lines that had particularly struck the reader. Soul skims over them, drinking in her words like a struggling alcoholic.

The last line is underlined: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

Underneath it, Maka had penned, Need to maintain balance? Shouldn’t let yourself get swept away, but can’t fight forever.

He finds himself agreeing with her words, but it is so hard to follow them. Flipping the book shut, he turns it over to read the title: The Great Gatsby.

Newest book in hand, he slumps onto his bed, ignoring the creak of the naked mattress beneath him. He begins to read, and as he reads, her voice echoes in his mind, reading out her notes and accompanying him as he dives into the pages. 

Her notes are her life, packed between paper and carrying the precious weight of her words, her thoughts, her ideas. She’s pressed between the pages of her books, like a flower preserved long past the day it was plucked. 

In these pages, she lives a little longer. 

It’s not enough. 

Reblogged from the-lady-swan  595,622 notes

honchcrow:

Reasons why im a bad friend:

• i get too attached

• i will complain about all my problems to you

i will snap at you by accident one day, causing you to hate me

i need to be reassured periodically CONSTANTLY that you dont think im annoying

• i am annoying

• im boring

• i dont know how to keep the conversation going

• i get emotional after midnight and will probably tell you something that could make you think differently of me

Reblogged from chronaasymmetry  2,175 notes

forgivingmemory:

dettsu:

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You’re on the phone with your boyfriend he’s upset

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He’s going off about something that you said

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He doesn’t get your humor like I do

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I’m in the room it’s a typical Tuesday night

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I’m listening to the kinda music he doesn’t like

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He’ll never know your story like I do

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He wears mainstream, I wear plain fleece

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He’s at the club and I’m watching TV

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Dreaming ‘bout the day that when you wake up and find

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That what your looking for has been here the whole time

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If you could see that I’m the one who understands you

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Been here all along so why can’t you see

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You belong with me, you belong with me

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Walking the streets with you and your tight-fit jeans

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I can’t help thinkin’ this is how it ought to be

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Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself 

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Hey isn’t this easy

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And you’ve got a smile that could light up the whole town

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I haven’t seen it in a while since he’s brought you down

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You say you’re fine, I know you better than that

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Whatcha doing with a guy like that?

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He wears mainstream, I wear plain fleece

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He’s at the club and I’m watching TV

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Dreaming ‘bout the day that when you wake up and find

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That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

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If you could see that I’m the one who understands you

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Been here all along so why can’t you see

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You belong with me

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Standin’ by and waitin’ at your backdoor

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All this time how could you not have known, baby

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You belong with me

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You belong with me

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