#especially if you’ve seen my previous short one shots on tumblr

[wolvesandshine]

Also just realised I should have probably mentioned this ages ago but feel free to give me any writing prompts to write (only for the marauders era as of now tho)

#feel free to request guys!! #especially if you’ve seen my previous short one shots on tumblr #regulus black #marauders era #jegulus #marauders era funny #marauders era textpost #harry potter #marauders #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #wolfstar #marylily #pandalily #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew

[luimagines]

This is my third time sending this ask because tumblr keeps saying it didn't go through- so if you've seen this already just ignore it but could you do a short headcanon list on how they would react if you held their hand- could be platonic or romantic whichever is easier to write

Masterlist

Sorry that Tumblr kept eating your asks. But this was first time I saw it so I'm glad you didn't give up.

Handholding headcanons!

I think I'll do a bit of both platonic and romantic just because I can.

Content under the cut!

Time

Platonic

It you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d be startled at first and almost pull his hand back on instinct.

He sees you and then he calms down even if he’s more confused than before.

He doesn’t know what the next course of action is and he doesn’t want to cause a scene or hurt your feelings by asking you to let him go. 

He will ask you to let go eventually though

So it’s best to make it short and sweet at first and probably get to point of catching his attention since you certainly have it now.

But if you happen to make a habit of just taking his hand out of the blue then he lets you hold on to him for as long as you need.

He grows resigned to it and just lets you get it out of your system until you move on to the next team member.

He does feel a little better in the idea that you trust him by the end of the day though.

Even if he’s not sure why you like hold his hand in particular, he doesn’t want to put any strain on your relationship especially since he’s let it go on for as long as he has.

Besides, the adventure won’t last forever, he tells himself, it’s not doing any harm either.

He takes on an father figure/ older brother approach when you hold his hand by now and just uses it to keep you in line with the boys or out of their natural crosshairs of chaos.

Romantic

If you were to hold his hand out of the blue, he wouldn’t hesitate to hold yours back, even giving a little squeeze to reassure himself of your presence.

He likes to hold your hand and walk by your side as quiet way to show you his affection both in private and in public.

He’s a man of little words but he never wants you to doubt his devotion to you.

He doesn’t outwardly react when you grab him.

But his heart never fails to swell in general contentment when you show, even in the little things that you want to be by his side.

After a few minutes of initial contact, he’d grin a little to himself and begin to swing your hands back and forth in time with your steps.

If the boys try to say anything then he’s quick to silence them with his a simple glance over his shoulder at them.

Not that he had to be angry or anything but the boys don’t want to potentially push him that far with their teasing...

The whole... poke the bear and run the hills when it moves sort of thing.... It’s a giant game of chicken that they lose every time.

He’d hold your hand forever if you’d let him, even if he knows he can’t feasibly do so and keep his image of stoic leader of the Heroes of Courage at the same time.

It helps ground him.

Wind

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d hold your back no problem.

It’s something his sister does a lot back home so it’s nice for him to have little reminder even if your hands are nothing like hers.

He’d take it in stride and swing them back and forth with no hesitation at all.

As long as it’s clear to him that you’re holding him out of want to be friendly, he takes turns with you throughout the journey for who grabs whos hand first.

If he at all gets the impression however, that it’s because the youngest and it’s to keep him close, he would yank his hands away from yours and stomp away from you with a few harsh words on his tongue about how he doesn’t need to be babied.

It depends on your status and previous encounters with him for this and how he thinks you view him.

Even if the negative encounter happens and he see later on that it wasn’t to hold him back, he’d grab your hand instead.

A silent memo that he’s ok with it and he’s sorry for pushing you away the first time.

He’s more inclined to grab onto a persons arm if he’s familiar with them instead of grabbing their hand but since you’ve grabbed onto his hand first, he’s willing to meet you where you stand for quiet affection.

But he likes the idea of holding hands as he travels, mostly because it reminds him that’s not alone on this adventure.

And if it helps him think that he’s got nothing to prove to the others when he allows himself a small comfort, that’s for him to know.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d instantly start blushing.

Full on- tomato red, all the way to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

He gets shy and quiet and laces his finger with yours but he has a trouble making eye contact.

Part of him wants to push you away because he immediately gets teased by the other boys but depending on your reaction- he either sticks his tongue out and squeezes your hand tighter or just starts swearing like the sailor he is for embarrassing you.

Because so help him, if they make you feel uncomfortable enough to let go of him first, then he’s going to prank all of them until they leave you alone.

He’s very quick to push aside his own discomfort at their words and instead fight for your honor.

Because it was clearly something you wanted to do but the others would have shot you down and made you feel self conscious and doubtful

And that won’t stand.

He thinks it’s one of the sweet things anyone would want from him.

A lot of Wind is loud and expressive and eye catching, so something small and quiet and mostly hidden catches him off guard.

It send his heart into a spiral and even when you’re not holding onto him, he can sometimes still feel your phantom touch.

He tries to compare the emotions of the thrill of holding his sword versus the thrill of holding your hand.

And... he begins to think that what he once thought was irreplaceable, can very quickly be put on the back burner if you’re willing to stay by his side.

Twilight

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d be startled at first and probably ask you out loud what you thought you were doing, but he’d be more amused about it- than say- Time or Legend.

He’d raise his eyebrow and let you hold onto him for a moment without grabbing you back as you explain yourself.

If you say you just felt like it then he’d just let you hold onto him without putting up much of a fight

All the kids from his village would more or less hang off of him so he’s pretty used to it. (Wind does it too so he’s accepted his fate)

If he gets the impression that you’re afraid or uncomfortable and that’s why you’ve reach out to him- then he’ll hold your hand back.

He’s has a strong grip and it’s warm and comforting with seasoned, robust calluses from years of farm work.

He’s not the kind of person to let go first in this situation and while gladly hold your hand to ground you and make sure you feel better about the situation no matter what is happening.

It’s his older brother instinct.

He won’t exactly be the most comfortable with it (he’d probably feel better if you let him wrap his arm around your shoulders instead) but he’d do it.

Mostly because he doesn’t like the reminiscent feeling of something latched onto his hand and/or wrist.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, this boy would get the giddiest and most boyish smile just smack dab on the middle of his face.

He doesn’t hesitate to hold your hand back even if that little phantom feeling returns.

The fact that you’re so quick to lace your fingers together helps change the way the little phantom feeling appears.

It changes from cold, unforgiving steel to warm gentle and caring fingers.

He tries to memorize how your hand feels in his whenever he has to chance.

He’d periodically squeeze your hand as you walk together or even if you’re just chilling and holding each other.

He likes to remind himself that you’re there and that you’re real.

He’s not the kind to talk about his partner excessively in public or be fond of PDA but he’ll hold your hand- keep you close- let the world know that you’re taken- and with him.

Admittedly, it’s a little possessive but if he were to be confronted about it (not that he gives off that vibe, it’s just the thoughts in his head) he’d blame the wolfish need to protect and claim the mate.

This poor boy is too self conscious and raised with country charm and manners to do anything else while in public.

Wild

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand of the blue then he’ll send a confident grin, take his hand out of yours and wrap his arm around your shoulders instead.

He’s a bit touchy with his personal space even if he has no problem invading your own.

You’d probably get a better reaction if you asked him first.

But if you’re closer friends with him, he’d actually be the one to grab to you

So it’s less likely that you’d be the one grabbing his hand and instead he’d be the one to drag along to whatever he plans on doing next.

Instead of grabbing his hand, it would be easier to get away with grabbing his arm or wrapping it with your own.

Or wrapping your own arm around his shoulders.

But grabbing his hand is a level of intimacy that he’s a little afraid to give to others.

Not to mention that he’s done a lot of fighting and still needs to fight at any moments notice, so he’s going to need his hands free.

He does appreciate it though, it’ll just a while (and more people than just you) for him to get used to it again.

Romantic

If you grabbed his hand out of the blue, you’re never getting it back.

Although he’s not all too comfortable with hand holding, you’re the exception and he doesn’t plan on letting you go any time soon.

He’d seek out your hand almost the entire time you’re together, just to hold onto you.

It helps ground him, lets him know that you’re there to support him whenever he might need it.

If he gets sucked into a memory, he likes to come back with your hand in his. 

It doesn’t happen all that often because it’s not something he’s told you but he always hopes you’re nearby.

One the occasion that you reach for his hand first, he’d still for a moment before relaxing completely, lacing your fingers together out of habit and smiling contently as you walk.

Wild is the kind of person that would hold your hand in his sleep, or while you sleep and is genuinely intrigued by the intricacy of your fingers.

He’d play with your hands constantly.

He finds it calming and relaxing.

Sky

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he grin and hold it back with a small swing between you two before returning his attention to where it was before.

Hand holding is natural up on Skyloft so it’s not worth paying much attention to between friends.

It’s a simple form of affection that is shared by all people so Sky is glad that you consider him a close enough friend to hold his hand.

He doesn’t pay much attention to it actually.

It’s a familiar feeling that reminds him of companionship and it helps stabilize the subconscious feeling of uncertainty.

If you do it first, it give Sky to ok to search out your hand when ever he feel like.

You’d typically be holding hands whenever you’re paired off together.

It may lead to a conversation between some other people (either in the group) or some town you’d be visiting about how you’re just friends

After the indicial conversation about how’s there nothing between you two, by some well meaning (or judgmental) individual, Sky will be a little more self aware about it.

But if you don’t mind it, then Sky won’t worry about it too much.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d get a bit red in the face and a little shy but he’d be the guy to pull your hand up and place a quick to your knuckles before any one notices.

Sky is so happy to be with you that holding your hand is a constant occurrence.

It’ll almost be as if you two are connected at the hip instead of your hands.

Because of this, no one questions who either of you would be paired off with when the group needs to split up.

Occasionally Sky or you will choose a different partner for the day or for the necessary occasion.

But it’s typically you two against the world.

Sky is very fond of hand kisses so expect a lot of those when you’re next to him.

He’s also inclined to play with your hands in whatever down time you may have.

When you grab Sky’s hand, he always pulls you a little closer to him.

He gets a little conflicted about holding your hand and wanting to hug you flush against himself but he really enjoys having you close

Warrior

Platonic

If you were grab his hand out of the blue, he’d stall and look at you and seeing that it’s just you, would smile back simple let it happen.

It’s not going to be a big deal to him if it’s you or any one else of the chain.

(Mask and Wind may have gotten him used to being clung to during the War- it’s the care taker in him)

He won’t mention it if you won’t.

There’s no reason to make it weird and sometimes people just need to be held.

That being said, he prefer it if you asked first- but he’s not going to make a fuss about it if you don’t... just common curtesy, you know?

He might actually forget that you’re holding hands for a time until you either let go or he need his hand back and has to take it away.

As long as there’s no immediate treats nearby, he’d hold you hand for as long as you need.

He might actually offer it to you if he sees that’s you’re afraid or upset during travel or spooky dungeon crawls.

One of the more chill people to hold hands with, seeing as he’s more or less been conditioned as an older brother to the point where he’s gotten used to it no matter the circumstance

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he would instantly lace your fingers together and would be grinning like a fool for the next hour or so.

He’s a bit hesitant with anything grandiose as romantic gestures (for reasons having to do with a crazy dark sorceress-) so something small and subtle just hits him right in his heart.

He’s going to want to be by your side all the time, hand holding or otherwise just so you’re with his line of sight.

Warrior won’t typically be the one to reach for your hand first

He’s shy and doesn’t want to over step any boundaries you may have by invading your personal space (kinda the opposite to Wild in this regard)

That being said, this is mostly when you’re both in public or among friends.

In private he’s a little less self conscious about how others might perceive him.

He definitely reach for you while he sleeps though so try to stay on the same side every night or he might just grab someone else from the group.

Instead of kissing your knuckles this guy is the kind of person to kiss your palm or the inside of your wrist if he’s feeling a little more bold than usual.

For all his bravado, Warrior is very self conscious about his actions and appearance because all eyes are typically on him- so you holding his hand without expecting anything else hits the bulls eye.

Hyrule

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d laugh and squeeze your hand a little bit before happily swinging it back and forth.

He won’t think much of it.

He’d also have no problems grabbing your own hand from time to time even if you don’t reach out to him first.

He’d grab your hand to drag you on whatever side adventure he feels like going on.

He’d hold your hand to keep you close when you’re alone in a dungeon together.

He’d hold you hand when he’s freaked out or when you’re freaked out.

He just likes holding the people he cares about close, whether it’s you or any member of the chain.

Like Sky, he doesn’t see an issue with it and has little to no issues with his personal space- it’s a pretty small bubble actually.

Hands are a special sort of connection for Hyrule because it’s where a lot of his magic flows out of. 

Since it’s a pivotal point of his perception of the world around him, he takes comfort in being able to read others by his touch alone and how they might be feeling at the time.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, Hyrule might not even notice it in the beginning.

He’d typically be holding onto you one way or another, and there’s always something going on right by his finger tips.

But by the time he notices that you’re holding hands, he’d smile and bashfully look at them for a minute or two before returning his attention to where it was prior.

It makes him happy in a fluttery sense that he can only compare to the moments when he takes flight in his fairy form.

He finds it warm and it flows all through his arm and chest and body- to where it feels like he’s been completely encompassed by a sense of safety and acceptance.

He would eventually find himself seeking your hand and your presence even if you’re no longer net to him for whatever reason.

He just begins to reach out next to him subconsciously expecting you to be there only for his heart to come crashing down when you’re not there.

Even if you’re not holding hands, he wants to have some connection to you.

An arm around your shoulders, around your waist, a hand playing with your hair, with the fringes of your clothes...

He might just hold onto the straps of your bags when you’re wearing them if you don’t want to hold his hand.

Hyrule doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his constant presence- but he’s clingy.

Four

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, Four would naturally be startled enough to ask what’s up.

If you say that you just wanted to hold his hand, he’d be little confused as to why did you choose him but he’s not going to make a scene over something as simple as hand holding.

Even if there’s a day where he doesn’t want it. 

Red does the same thing all the time when they’re split so you’ve got someone in your corner supporting you when it comes to spontaneous hand holding.

And the minish have never been shy about handholding anyway so they tend to grab and drag him around all the time as well.

It may not be the way he’d show his friendship but he supposes everyone is different and he likes being your friend.

It’s not a strict boundary that you’re crossing while you do this, so he lets it slide.

Like Legend, the more you do it though, the more he grows comfortable with it and grows to anticipate it and even prefer it when it comes to you.

He likes holding your hand as you travel when it gets to that point and he begins to search for your hand almost as much as you’d search for his.

It’s a quiet form of acceptance that Four appreciates from you and your friendship.

It’s not much but Four is the kind of person to enjoy the little things and he finds it to be a simple thing his overloaded brain can focus on on the louder days.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, this dude will be so happy. I’m talking instant pep in his step- borderline skipping down the trail you’re on.

He’s more likely to play with your hands than you are to play with his when you’re not traveling for the day.

His hands are covered with calluses and miniscule scars so he’s captivated by the lack of such on your own.

Four, like many others of the chain, tends to seek your hand out even when he’s asleep.

He’d rather hold your hand than put his arm around your waist.

He’d also be the kind of guy that fidgets a lot- so if you’re holding hands be aware that he’s going to squeeze your hand a lot, brush over your knuckles, your wrist and your palm

He’d give your fingers individual attention, pulling gently on your skin, bending them, gently twisting and watching them move

Four’s favorite time to hold your hand however is when it’s late at night, and everyone is quiet and on the cusp of sleep and maybe you’re asleep too, but it’s then when he’d play with your hand and gently brush his fingertips across your skin as he drifts off to sleep as well.

He’s very hands on

It’s very quiet and sweet, he loves it.

Legend

Platonic

If were to grab his hand out of the blue, he would definitely rip it out of your hold out of sheer awkwardness.

Especially near the beginning when you first join the group.

It would take you a few tries to get it to stick where he gives up on it.

Later on, once he’s grown used to it, he just lets you do what you want.

Whether that be play with his hand, just hold it or swing it around.

As long as you don’t try to play with or take off his rings he’s fine.

He’s pretty tolerant of it afterwards but it can easily blamed on the notion tat he’s come to expect it from you and know that you wouldn’t have given up otherwise.

It’s almost like a kill them with kindness scenario but with personal space and simple affectionate gestures instead.

It helps when Hyrule catches wind of your spontaneous hand holding and joins the cause.

So Legend has his hands full most of the time when you travel.

Literally.

It’s a good thing he has to two of them.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, then he’d be a shy and stuttering mess for the entire time and even up to an hour after you’ve stopped holding onto him.

He’s a softly on the inside and he can’t help it.

But he also isn’t use to simple affection- especially since he’s on his own more often than not.

He wants to keep a loner attitude and how he doesn’t need anyone next to him. It’s why he’d shrug you off if you weren’t as close as you are.

But hand holding is a universal simple sign of ‘Hey, I want you next to me, I want to be next to you. And he doesn’t know how to properly articulate a response, let alone how to manage the emotions that come with it.

So he goes all red and blushy from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest but he holds your hand back with a soft smile and squeezes you gently.

It’s a shame he can’t quite look you in the eyes as it happens.

He gets really shy.

He’s under the impression that he shouldn’t quite enjoy it as much as he wants to... not if he’ll eventually lose it. Because he loses everything. And he’s not sure if he’s willing to suffer through the heart break afterwards even if it feel all soft and warm to hold you now.

It’s up to you to prove him otherwise and with enough time and patience, he’ll come around to accepting simple affection from more than just the friends around him.

He’ll fully allow himself to be encompassed by your relationship and what it means to love someone with his whole mind, body, heart and soul.

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #the lists are a bit short #but I'm hoping that the fact that I did platonic and romantic in one go would kind of negate their length #also for including al the boys in one go #this one was actually a little harder than i thought it was going to be #for some of them anyway #linked universe

[darlingpetao3]

Thank You For Ruining My Life: An Homage to Tom Cavanagh

“You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.”

The costume-clad woman had the courage of steel to say this to the then 53-year-old actor, Tom Cavanagh of The Flash, in front of a ballroom filled with a couple hundred people. This brave utterance was spoken during the 2016 Fan Expo Vancouver convention during a Flash question and answer period with actors Tom Cavanagh and Candice Patton. In its third season, the show was undoubtedly still hitting its stride in popularity, and the room was packed to hear these two speak.

The brave woman whose turn it was at the microphone was referring to Tom’s role as Ed Stevens on the NBC 2000 hit, Ed. I had not known of this show previously, but having now heard such a proclamation intrigued me. “You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.” That was a tempting notion, and as I continued to listen to this disarmingly charming and wittingly funny man steal the stage, Tom intrigued me even more. I’d watched him play three different versions of Harrison Wells on The Flash since the show’s premiere date, yet I hadn’t truly noticed him in a “life-ruining” way before.

Little did I know that Tom Cavanagh would not only eventually ruin my expectations for men as well, but he would change my life in other ways, too.

After the Q&A, I had this urge to buy a S.T.A.R. Labs T-shirt from one of the vendors at the convention. In my head, I thought I would purchase something so that I could have an excuse to talk to Mr. Cavanagh at his signing booth. Again, he intrigued me, and I wanted to experience more of his incredibly likeable personality. So, I dragged my friend with me to wait for what was maybe ten minutes in a queue. Shortly, I was paying the assistant for my autograph I would soon acquire. They wrote my name on a sticky note so that Tom would know how to sign a personalized message to me. And then, it was my turn.

His eyes sparkled when he turned his attention to me. I instantly had a feeling this was just the way he was naturally. Oh yeah, and I swear to God I’d never seen eyes that blue in my entire life. It genuinely stunned me.

“Hi!” he greeted me.

“Hi!” I responded, equally as thrilled. Tom admired the T-shirt I had brought and took note of my name on the piece of paper. I remember us joking together about the extremely lax security in and around S.T.A.R. Labs on the show, which prompted his message to me on the heather-grey cotton. He wrote my name, [followed by a heart!] and a very welcoming, ‘Come on by, just walk right in!’

I had official clearance from Harrison Wells himself.

I thanked him very much, leaving with my treasure folded over my arms. My friend and I walked towards the hall’s exit, and I couldn’t shake this feeling inside me. It felt strange—I couldn’t name it for the life of me. It felt like an odd fluttering with a simultaneous yet contradictory slightness of breath. My head was confused and would continue to be so for the rest of that weekend.

As I waited at my gate in the airport on that Sunday evening to head home, all I knew was that the moments at the con featuring Tom were the highlights of the weekend for me.

And that I was going to begin watching more of the other films and television shows he’d been in. What was the show the brave cosplaying woman had said ruined her expectations of men? Oh yeah, Ed.

Maybe I’ll start there…

***

Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad…

In my house, it’s never really Christmastime until Michael Bublé croons through the speakers of the wooden stereo system in the living room. It felt especially festive as it was now Christmas Eve—a month and some change since the con. It was late, possibly ten o’clock. I was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with my trusty laptop, a word document open. I was writing three holiday-song short stories featuring the new muse in my life, Harrison Wells. I wanted to be able to post them the next day, so my fingers were taptaptapping away.

I had written a handful of things before 2017, most of which had been Marvel-related, under my second, ‘rebirth’ pen name online. I was a little fish among all the grand and fabulous writers on Archive of Our Own, and in many ways, I still feel like that little fish. I was only just learning and feeling out the psyche of the Wells characters. Each one is so different. In my rewatch of the previous seasons of The Flash, I’d taken diligent notes, and as I’d later learn with each following rewatch, I would know them all—what they think, how they talk and behave—like the back of my hand. It was fun to suss out these guys, and I found that I was growing to love the act of writing even more.

One month later, in January, I would post all the stories I’d written thus far on Tumblr. I’d just created an account and, who knows? Maybe I’d get a wider range of readers on here, too.

Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

Wild horses couldn’t keep me from attending Fan Expo Vancouver 2017, especially when the big news dropped. Not only would Tom Cavanagh be attending again, but so would Carlos Valdes, Danielle Panabaker, Candice Patton, and the convention-elusive star of the show himself, Grant Gustin.

Before the moderator for the Flash cast’s Q&A panel could utter the final thanks to the actors at the end of the session, I bounded from my seat and sped down to the photo op booth where the cast would be taking “Team Up” photos with fans. ‘Sped down’ has to be the most appropriate couple of words because I indeed felt like a true Speedster dressed head to toe as the small screen’s adaptation of Jesse Quick, the angsty and brilliant daughter to Harrison Wells turned superhero.

After waiting in a queue that felt like ages, I was next to stand with Team Flash. As I took a step forward, all of the actors’ and actresses’ eyes—the people I spend time with every Tuesday evening—were on me. I heard a familiar voice approve of my costume. It was Danielle.

“Tremendous.”

Grant even joked that he thought for a second Violett Beane, the actress who plays Jesse Quick, had shown up to surprise them. “I was like, what’s Violett doing here?” he said.

I stood in the back row, happily sandwiched between Tom and Carlos. I dared to let my hands rest on their backs, and I couldn’t contain my joy. Shortly after, when I received my near-instant physical photograph of the moment, I saw Tom had pointed at me. In my mind, it felt as if in his gesture, he meant, hey, look at this cool person. Haha. I couldn’t be further from it.

I would go on to further be uncool in public as I later found myself virtually shaking and almost hyperventilating in line for a one-on-one photo op with Tom. The guy dressed as Kid Flash behind me gave me a few encouragements of the “it’ll be okay” variety. As my turn finally arrived, the lovely man of the hour greeted me with a bright smile in recognition of my Reverse Flash T-shirt (I had done a quick change before this photo op because I had worn a Flash T-shirt for a photo with Grant).

“Great shirt!”

The internet comes up with many hilarious and fitting words, but none such so than the term “Cavanarms.” One of the said Cavanarms found its way around my shoulder in such a casual way. My hand rested on his back, and I have told anyone who will listen about how soft his sweater was. What was approximately a five-second interaction will stay with me forever. And to this day, I will always regret how I’m standing beside him in the picture—there’s a distinguishable gap between us. I could have been closer—should have been!—but I like to use the fact that I felt as if I’d combust into flames if I were any closer to the man.

Maybe I’d have another chance to combust later again that day because, believe it or not, this fan hadn’t had enough of seeing Mr. Cavanagh in person. And since he was appearing at the con for this day only, there was no way I was going to squander any opportunities. Besides, there was still one final thing left on my convention docket: the autograph. In my mind, going to get his autograph was an excuse to get to talk to him and simply be in his presence for longer than five seconds. Here, take my money. I’m a sucker, and I’m proud of it. I saved all year for this kind of thing, and Fan Expo has always been my ultimate nerdy Treat Yoself Day.

Plus, this year I came equipped with a question for Tom (something for which I may have prepared a little too far in advance).

“Which of your characters would win in a lawyering battle: Ed or Miles?”

Miles was Tom’s latest character from his newly released project Darrow & Darrow, a fellow lawyer as Ed Stevens (remember, the man who ruins women’s expectations of men?), whom he portrayed almost two decades prior. What I loved about Tom when I got to ask him this was that he was silent for a moment following the question. He was genuinely putting thought into my question. As he pondered, Tom continued to autograph the photo of us together taken mere hours ago.

“Ed. He would wipe the floor with that other guy. Like, Miles is great, but Ed has a rapier-sharp mind, you know?”

I wholeheartedly agreed with his answer and felt relieved inside for some reason. We thanked each other (as politely as two Canadians can) before I left him to pay attention to the next lucky soul in line. I made the mistake of casting my eyes downward at the signed photo.

Tom had signed two little hearts over the I’s in my name. He really needed to stop adding hearts to my things, or I was just going to melt to the floor. In fact, I started to make these strange noises as I tried not to completely maul everyone in front of me while exiting. My friend ushered me as fast as physically possible on our way out of the main hall. One man took one look at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

No.

“Yep!”

The second I made it out of the herd, I broke out into open space. First came the minor hyperventilating. Then came the squealing followed by laughter. Top it off with various fangirlish comments of, “He’s so beautiful!”, “His eyes are so blue!” and “I love him!” and I was probably quite the sight to see (but at a convention, that’s considered normal!). My friend smiled on as she let me express everything that I had to keep inside until I had the right time to expel my emotions. I was on cloud nine. Ten, if at all possible.

The next day would be the con’s final day, which I would attend alone. My friend needed to catch the ferry in order to prepare for her courses the day after. I did a scan of the convention hall one final time in case there was something I missed purchasing. Afterwards, I sat on the cold hard flooring of the convention centre hallway for a bit of a break. I was wiped out. With my phone in hand, I smiled at the messages from this one Tumblr blogger who had been following my posted adventures at the con. I had seen and replied to many of her comments on my stories I’d written thus far, and I enjoyed her matching enthusiasm for Tom and The Flash in general. I felt her to be a kindred spirit. I had no idea then that I was chatting with one of my future best friends, L.

***

I spotted her.

She was wearing an identical shirt to the one I had on—a light grey T-shirt with a sequinned Spider-Man mask in the corner, which around it read, We met on the Web. A giddy me couldn’t wait for the short escalator ride to end. Her back was to me and facing the baggage claim, so here was my chance to surprise her instead.

I towered over my friend, E, and donned a low, authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, Miss, can you come with me?”

She squealed a greeting to me and I returned it as we hugged for the very first time after two and a half years of online friendship. We would still have about two hours to kill until our mutual Tumblr best friend, L, touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport from across the Pond.

Something I noticed was that E and I carried on talking during our wait like it was second nature, that we hung out like this all the time. Whereas when I met L in person for the first time the year previously, our first meeting was that of quiet, delighted shock, unknowing how to react to one another’s physical presence. It almost felt like a fantasy. The closest thing we’d ever gotten to this was visiting over video chats! I’m not sure what each of these different reactions in these separate meetings meant, but what I do know is that I’ve never had such strong female friendships such as these—so full of uplifting support and love for one another. They are the greatest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

And as a searching L eventually turned the corner to meet us in the Arrivals terminal, I caught sight of her Tom & Grant bandana tied around the handle to her carry-on bag. It was an item she had received in return for helping fund the short film produced in 2018 (I’d bought the ringtone). Seeing the accessory jolted me to remember that the former of the titular short was the reason for this long-awaited get-together holiday in the Windy City in the first place. Tom Cavanagh, unbeknownst to him, had just officially united three online friends, each from a different country, to spend six full days of in-person bonding and a whole lot of fun.

***

I should have been shelving books.

I should have been doing a lot of library-related tasks, but my head was elsewhere. Anywhere other than the small-town public library where I work. Instead, I sat on the carpeted floor of the Junior/Young Adult section with my phone in hand and a dreadful article title staring back at me.

“The Flash: Carlos Valdes and Tom Cavanagh to Exit after 7 Seasons.”

My world felt like it was falling apart.

Tom was leaving? There had been rumours and wonderings spreading around the fandom regarding whether he was leaving the show. With a storyline ending with a monumental sacrifice and a time-travelling man saying his farewells, it all seemed to point to the fact. I should have known… I could have rivalled Supergirl as being the Paragon of Hope after all the optimism I doled out to my followers and friends who would come to me worried Tom would exit the show. I would always give reasons to deny such a thing could happen, claiming that I’d believe when I saw it.

Well, there it was, and I definitely saw it.

One could feel the ripple effect over the internet of the shards of broken and riled-up hearts around the world.

Tom’s exit was on his terms, having not felt challenged by his character’s plotlines, as mentioned in a recent Entertainment Weekly article. As a viewer—and I am a viewer (Mike and Tom Eat Snacks, anyone?), it has been increasingly difficult to look past the missed shots made by story editors and showrunner, so understandably, the actor would want to seek something more exciting and meatier. That said, Tom has always shone on-screen and taken what he’s been given in stride. He turns unearthed material into diamonds and indeed shines on screen. Steals it, even! Tom easily makes the episodes he’s in better, and when he’s missing, you feel the loss. The few episodes of Season 7 without him only give us a tiny hint at how the show will be without him going forward. It much resembles when you might bring out your favourite jigsaw puzzle, only to find that the one piece you need to complete it isn’t there.

***

On a personal note, as I write this, I am roughly 20 followers away from reaching a milestone of 2,000. I have written well over 200 stories for The Flash alone (whether they be short or long, one-shots or chaptered), and goodness knows how many words I’ve generated altogether over the course of these many years with inspiration from the show and my favourite character. I’ve written and co-written novel-length stories, one monumental Wellsian story of which was done alongside L and E (almost solely done through alternating text messaging in the app, Line) that reached over 108,000 words and consisted of 42 chapters. And when I’m not writing for my blog, I’m also working on trying to accomplish my dream of becoming a published author. Just as I thought before I launched my Tumblr blog, I think again now: Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

I have watched virtually everything Tom has been in that I could get my hands on, both physically and electronically. Sure, a few titles are out of my reach and probably lost to the very early 90's forever, but from what I've seen through Tom's filmography is enough to know that he can do anything. He can play the romantic leading man that will make you fall head over heels for him or a deranged killer that will have you genuinely scared of him. That is talent. Tom always brings something new to the table from each role to the next, and (when he's not playing those psycho killers) you can't help but admire his craft.

Not only is his acting stellar, but from what we as fans have gathered on the man, Tom has got to be one of the kindest men in the business. His humour and sheer ridiculousness could get anyone through a tough time (we’ve seen plenty of bloopers and behind-the-scenes videos to prove this!). He has clearly bottled and stored an endless supply of Fountain of Youth™ and each year continues to wow us with his handsomeness. Tom is charming, dedicated, and yes, arguably holds the world record for Bluest Eyes.

In my eyes, Tom Cavanagh gave me the two best friends I could have ever asked for, as well as plenty more lovely friends I’ve continued to make online. (One day, I hope to meet him again so that I can tell him in person how because of him, I’ve met such very important people in my life). Through Tom, I have truly found my passion for writing, and in doing so, segued me to dare to dream of becoming a published novelist. I wholeheartedly believe all of this would not have happened if it weren’t for those first series of events that led me to meet Tom and love and admire him immensely. He is indisputable proof that there are indeed men like him out there. Indeed, he did ruin all of my future expectations of men. He ruined my life in the absolute best way and I am eternally grateful.

I am very much looking forward to what Tom will do next. I think it’s rather needless to say that I will follow him in his career, as he has gained a devoted fan for life. He represents so much to me and so much of it I have gained since meeting him that fateful day, when I thought to myself, Maybe I should buy this T-shirt and get this guy to sign it. Wherever Tom goes in life, I’ll be here to cheer him on.

I have a pretty good feeling plenty of others will, too.

#i don't exactly want to tag this with his name #but this is a personal essay of sorts regarding tom cavanagh's effect on my life #if you decide to read I hope you enjoy it!

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (5/5)

YAS.

I got it done.

My pornstar!Rhett and College!Student!Link fic is DONE.

...it was supposed to be a short ficlet thing (hahahahahaha - cries) Still, it's done - so I hope you enjoy it @peachworthy! It was all for you!

If you want to read the previous part on tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

OR

You can read it ALL here on AO3 Link!

Dating a porn star is not what Link expected.

Not that Link ever expected to be dating a porn star, but the point remains – dating one is not like he thinks one would envision it. To be fair, this is probably because he’s not just dating any porn star, he’s dating Rhett and Rhett is far more to him than just a porn star. In fact, he was his roommate and secret crush long before Link even recognized him by his profession.

But now, having watched one of Rhett’s films, seeing him in action (full porno sex action), Link can confirm that that is indeed what he is. But that doesn’t really matter to Link. Nothing does, but how sweet Rhett is. How doting and romantic and kind of the best boyfriend anyone could ever have and it sort of boggles the mind that he is Link’s boyfriend.

But he is and their relationship is moving along quite amicably. Nights spent watching movies together, going grocery shopping, sharing chaste kisses and the occasionally more heated ones and it’s not all that different from how it was when they were just friends minus the addition of said kissing.

However, it’s more than a few weeks in, and it’s clear to Link that sex is an issue. Or not so much an issue as a nonentity. Neither of them have pushed farther than the classic over-the-clothes action and Link isn’t sure if it’s him or Rhett or both and it finally reaches a point where one of them has to speak up, so he decides to brave the field, “So, um, Rhett?”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks and he’s a little distracted, making dinner for them as he is. Still, Link sees no reason why this discussion can’t be casual, so he shoots for that as he asks, “You…? Ah, you think we’re ever gonna-? Gonna, um, have sex?”

The last comes out so horribly awkward and Link is rubbing at the back of his neck and somehow feeling like a heel in all of this. But communication is important in a relationship and he figures it’s better to speak now then forever hold his peace or whatever. Rhett looks up from the skillet he’s working over, eyebrows raised high, “Why? You don’t want to?”

“No!” Link rejoints quickly, “No, I definitely want to! I just…? I noticed we, uh…haven’t? Yet? So, I-I wasn’t sure-?”

So, you want to talk about it, but you can’t string anything coherent together? His thoughts hiss, but Rhett seems understanding as he removes the skillet from the heat and clicks off the stove. While their food cools, he carefully removes his oven mitts and shrugs, “Well, I mean…I’ll confess, I’m a little…apprehensive to kick things off.”

Link perks up at this and Rhett shoots him a lopsided grin, “Mean, you’ve seen one of my films now. Before you, when I’d get in a relationship, when people found out about what I did – I guess you could say they broke down into two types. First type expected me to be some god of carnality, y’know? Like, the best bang they’d ever have in their lives.”

He runs a hand through his thick hair, tossing it, which Link now recognizes as a nervous tic on his part, “And it’s not really like that. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m a good lover. I don’t see myself as horrible in bed or anything, but what I’ve found is that a lot of those types of partners had these overblown expectations of me. Like I’d get them off in a second or that I’d ruin them for others or, I dunno, give ‘em orgasms every five seconds and I-?”

Rhett trails off, looking at a loss for words, but Link gets it, “They couldn’t sperate the fantasy from the reality.”

He gets a snap of fingers at that, Rhett looking pleased, “Exactly! Even though people say they understand that porn is fake and that a lot of it is exaggerated, for some reason, if they’re with a person who does it for a living, they expect something…I don’t know, revolutionary.”

Link nods and Rhett starts plating up their food, avoiding Link’s eyes as he speaks, “And I guess I just-? I don’t want you to be one of those types of people.”

Link’s heart stings a little at the thought – or more, at the idea that Rhett had had that thought. Rhett takes the plates towards their kitchen table, eyes still downcast and cheeks clearly red as he murmurs, “I don’t think you are. Truth be told, I know you’re better than that. But…I really like you, Link. And I don’t want to lose you because-!”

Link takes the plates from Rhett and sets them down, he then tips Rhett’s face up by his chin and kisses him tenderly, looking into his eyes as he speaks, “You won’t.”

Rhett doesn’t look convinced, so Link kisses him again, then wraps his arms around his neck, tugging him close, “You said there were two types?”

“Ahhhh, yeeaaah,” Rhett draws out, looking at little sheepish even as his arms settle around Link’s waist, “The other type is the one I’ll admit I’m a bit more worried you might fall into.”

Link’s eyebrows rise, asking for him to continue more than words can. Rhett does; but resumes not looking at him while he does so, “The other type are…intimidated.”

Link lets out a snort that speaks volumes, clearly saying there’s no way Rhett ‘intimidates’ him but that doesn’t stop him, “No, seriously – they think because of what I do, how many films I’ve made and how many partners I’ve worked with, that I’ll be hard to please or that they’ve got to do something extraordinary to stand out.”

“Well, I mean…I’m already extraordinary, so-?” Link teases and Rhett rolls his eyes, starting to edge away, but Link lets out a little abortive ‘Hey!’ before dragging him back over and kissing him. This time they kiss for a while, Rhett’s fingers hooking into the beltloops of Link’s jeans and dragging him closer. It’s right on that edge of sweet and sexy and, after a while, Link manages to draw in a rather audible breath, enough to murmur, “No, I get what you’re sayin’…”

Link puts space between them, knowing that now’s not the time to just jump into bed considering Rhett’s concerns. Especially in light of their legitimacy, which he confirms as he takes his seat at the table, “Look, I’ve thought about all of that. Everything you’ve worried about or your old flames thought, I’ve run ‘em through my noggin and I gotta say, all of it did trip me up. At first. But then, I had an epiphany!”

“Really?” Rhett asks with a very incredulous tone as he takes his own seat. Link’s already started digging into his meal, looking smug even as he answers with an agreeable, muffled hum – mouth full of food. Once swallowed, he grins and gestures at Rhett with his fork, “And my thought was, we just gotta get on an even playing field.”

Rhett looks a little stumped by that, blinking rapidly, “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Link says cheekily, “We’re making a movie.”

+

“You…sure about this?” Rhett looks at the Go-Pro set up in front of his bed with a mixture of uncertainty and dread. Link doesn’t mind the first, but is bothered by the second, even as he adjusts the camera, “Absolutely.”

“I don’t know, man…”

Link looks through the view finder. The lightning is just right, but he adjusts the angle some. He wants to make sure he gets a good, wide shot of the bedroom – especially the bed. That’s where the magic is going to happen. Just thinking of it, a whole maelstrom of butterflies churn through his central nervous system. Still, he’s nothing if not determined.

Some would call it stubborn. He prefers determined.

Regardless, Link looks to Rhett, “Look, this is just for us. Alright? Nobody gets to see this lil’ gem but you and me. It’s,” he looks into the distance, thoughtful, “It’s a Link and Rhett production!”

This gets a laugh, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Considering my extensive filmography, shouldn’t I be the headliner? Shouldn’t it be a Rhett and Link production?”

The name flip causes Link to make a face and drags another chuckle out of Rhett, “Take it you can’t handle that?”

“Well…I am the one in school studying film…”

“Okay, but I’m the star attraction here.”

“Are you?” Link asks with a devilish grin, even as he goes about adjusting various throw pillows and things, as if to perfectly set the scene for what is about to take place, “How do you know I won’t upstage you?”

The sound of disbelief that emerges from Rhett causes Link to make another face, “Seriously. You haven’t had all of this yet,” he gestures to his whole body, “Might just be I’m the one that ruins you for anyone else. That I just-! Just blow your mind so much sexually that you can’t get enough of me!”

Rhett is all smiles, enjoying Link’s boastful side more than he probably should. But it’s hard not to. It’s so endearing and, oddly, attractive and Link knows it as he claps his hands together and a couple ‘alright’s’ leave him in rapid, nervous succession because, well, it’s showtime.

And showtime means sex time.

Sex time…with Rhett.

Link is going to have sex with him and okay, okay, okay…

“You alright, buddy?” Rhett asks seriously and Link realizes his ‘alright’s’ have switched over to nervous ‘okay’s’ and he’s sort of a rambling, shaky mess. He looks at Rhett and oh gosh, the man is too attractive by half. Link needs to get back in charge of this situation. As such, he draws in a deep breath through his nose and nods to himself, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?’ Rhett returns softly, looking worried as he speculatively eyes the camera and then the bed again, ‘Cause I remember my first time filming and I was a mess.”

This draws Link’s attention, “Yeah?”

Rhett nods, “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, yeah, sex is pretty matter of fact, but knowing how to go about it and with a bunch of people watching…”

“Okay, but,” Link walks over to Rhett and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, before taking one of his hands and giving it a squeeze, “No one’s watching but you and me.”

“True,” Rhett confirms softly, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous.”

“Are you?” Link asks and Rhett grins, “What? Nervous?”

At Link’s nod Rhett laughs, squeezing Link’s hand back, “You bet your sweet bippy I am!”

“Great! Then we’re on the same page!” Link beams and then draws back his hand and goes over towards the dresser, grabbing a folder he brought with him when he brought in his filming set up, “Speaking of pages…”

He draws out one and Rhett looks over it before letting out a loud boom of laughter, “You wrote a script?!”

Link shrugs, “Just a couple of words…”

“I see,” Rhett giggles and flips through it, reading quick snippets of the ridiculous prose, “And you said ‘Movement’ had bad dialogue.”

“What’s wrong with the dialogue?” Link asks with distinct affront and Rhett waves the pages at him, as he coos dramatically, “‘Ohhh Daddy Link, you’re so big’?”

Link snatches back the pages and tosses them to the side, “You just wait!”

“Uh huh,” Rhett is still giggling but Link looks serious, “You’ll be saying that and more!”

“Oh, I will?” Rhett wheezes and he wasn’t aware this was going to be so much fun. To be honest, neither was Link, who looks a little sheepish even as he reaches for Rhett, “C’mere…”

Rhett does and they kiss for a while. Nice, warm, comfortable kisses until Link sneaks in just the slightest nip of teeth along Rhett’s bottom lip. The tiny sting draws Rhett up short, makes his breath catch and Link draws back to look at him, blue eyes heavy lidded as he hums, “I’m gonna push record now.”

Rhett can only manage a nod and Link pushes a button on the Go Pro. They resume kissing and Rhett can’t help but let out a whimper as Link…pushes him backwards. The push isn’t terribly forceful, but it’s enough that Rhett finds himself backing up towards the bed. He feels the tap of the mattress against the back of his knees and at Link’s next nudge, he falls back against it.

Link clambers over top of him and their lips have hardly broken contact the entire time. Link’s frame is slighter than Rhett’s, but not any less substantial, and Rhett groans, finding he rather likes it beneath the other man. More so when Link leverages himself up a little…higher. Somehow Rhett finds he feels…small. Something he’s never really ever felt before and the sensation shoots straight to his dick, more so when Link husks, “You ready to learn a new form?”

That was actually something Rhett remembers seeing in the script Link wrote. It was a haphazard line tossed in amongst the sillier remarks he’d picked out, but hearing it now, he shudders, “I…?”

“C’mon,” Link whispers against his neck, which he peppers with little sucking kisses, “Gotta master some other…movements…”

The last is said with a level of severity that Link’s surprised he manages, but also – hearing it – he can’t help but laugh at himself. Okay, so, his dialogue isn’t all that great. To be fair, he wrote it more for fun than anything.

And as kind of a segue into how Rhett should be prepared for him, not the other way around. Link supposes it was his approach to avoiding nerves – an air of bravado that would sustain him through any potential worries.

After all, Rhett’s not wrong. Rhett is experienced, he’s done a lot – in comparison, Link’s sexual history is dismal. Still, Link’s sure he can provide something the previous lovers didn’t and he, heart in his throat, asks, “Tell me, baby…you ever bottom?”

It was, in fact, a question he asked in his script but, also, one Link wanted to ask for real. Considering his stature, Link’s pretty sure Rhett hasn’t. And with Rhett’s answering groan of desire, the question is confirmed, albeit the core of it still unanswered. Link whispers, “…you want to?”

“Fuck,” Rhett manages in such a breathy way that Link feels his balls tighten, more so when he can feel Rhett’s whole body nod beneath him, “Yeah…”

“You want to?” Link asks again, wanting Rhett to be absolutely clear about what he’s agreeing to, even as Rhett’s head starts rapidly bobbing more and more, “Yes, yes…yes, I want to, Link.”

“Link?” he asks and it’s a clear tease, one met with Rhett groaning again, this time not from pleasure, so much as amused aggravation, “I’m not calling you Daddy, Link.”

“Mmm, not yet,” Link purrs into his chest even as he eases up enough to draw Rhett’s shirt up and over his head. Rhett, not to be outdone, grabs the bottom hem of Link’s shirt and, working together, the two ease it up and over Link’s head. Now shirtless, the two resume kissing and moving against one another, hips lewdly grinding even with their jeans on and Link absent mindedly wishes they’d worn something simpler to remove.

But the feeling of his denim clad erection rubbing roughly against Rhett’s does create a magnificent friction that draws a curse from him, his skin breaking out in a light sheen of sweat as they continue undulating. Rhett’s fingers, which had once more gripped to Link’s belt loops, now dive beneath the back of his waistband, dipping beneath his underwear and gripping his ass firmly and Link grunts his name approvingly.

If Link learned one thing from watching Rhett in that film, it’s that the man has amazing hands. Big palms, long fingers, and Jesus – his grip. He’s latched on and breathing heavily and the sounds of those pants in Link’s ear is better than any music he’s ever heard.

Another thing he learned from the film – cheesy music is not needed. Just the sounds of two people together, seeking pleasure, is more than enough to get the fires going. Although frankly, Link was on fire the moment his lips met Rhett’s. And it’s a fire that only stokes higher as he eases up, pulls back and Rhett goes with him.

Link’s legs are on either side of Rhett’s, practically putting him in Rhett’s lap and Rhett curls up, his mouth aimed at Link’s dusky nipples. He claims first the left, then the right, licking and nibbling at the sensitive tips and Link’s head falls back, Adam’s apple bobbing on a low groan because, yes.

He’s always had such a sensitive chest. It was a source of embarrassment for him once. That his nipples were such an erogenous zone. But now, with Rhett feasting there, he’s more than okay with it. Okay with Rhett’s hands having left his ass to grip at his bare back, to hold him still while he feasts on his chest.

Rhett’s teeth scratching through swaths of chest hair with abandon as they trail down as far as they can go before arching back up, searching out Link’s mouth and Link kisses him again, his hands tangling in the back of Rhett’s long hair, fingers ensnaring themselves deep within the mass of curls and tugging just so. Rhett whimpers at it, hips jutting upwards and Link feels himself bounce some, smirks into their kiss as he murmurs, “Tryin’ ta take me for a ride?”

His accent comes out thick, a sweet southern drawl and Rhett’s eyes are glossy green as he puts up again and Link’s own hips answer – a dirty dance beginning as they rock against one another. And while the simulation of the actual sex act is pleasing enough it’s just – not the real thing and that’s what Link wants.

He wants it, but not like this – not this time and he lets out a whine even as he forces himself up and off, forces himself to pull away and stand – his hands shaking as they remove his jeans. And while Rhett is still lying there on the bed – looking like some kind of sexual Adonis – Link can just make out the slightest sliver of insecurity in his eyes.

It hides well beneath the open lust, but it’s there. And even though he’s clad only in his underwear – a rather funny sight no doubt, given the way his stiff cock is making the material curve outwards – he asks gently, “You okay?”

Rhett nods and starts working off his own jeans and underwear, even as he breathes, “Just…look at you.”

“Me?” Link laughs lightly and Rhett nods, sitting up enough to pulls everything off. Once his cumbersome clothing is removed, he looks to Link again, his gaze full of wonder, “Yeah. I mean…you’re just-?”

Rhett licks his lips and swallows, his eyes darting away for a moment as he whispers, “You’re so…pretty.”

“Aw, shucks,” Link waves a hand before going to take his underwear off, “Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“I don’t,” Rhett intones with such severity that Link’s hands freeze on the elastic waistband of his underwear. Rhett’s looking at him now. Staring at him and Link feels all the tiny hairs on his body stand on end as Rhett speaks, “You’re…you’re beautiful, Link.”

Am I? Link wants to ask; but feels ridiculous at the prospect. He toys with repeating the sentiment – because (of course) Rhett is beautiful too. But there’s something about the way Rhett said it, about the way he’s looking at him, that keeps Link’s mouth closed. Keeps it closed as he finally removes his underwear and somehow that’s what breaks the serious tension between them, Rhett’s eyes going wide, “Oh.”

“What?” Link asks and he looks down and then back up again, confused.

“That’s…” Rhett runs a hand over his jaw, “That’s…a big dick.”

The shocked, delighted laugh that breaks out of Link is surprisingly loud but Rhett just sits up more, grinning, “No, I’m serious, man. You could make a lotta money in the biz with that thing.”

“I could?”

“Yeah. Big market in the big dick department.”

“…so what I wrote in the script was accurate?” Link waggles his eyebrows, shooting him a gloating look even as Rhett sighs in defeat, “Well-? Yeah? Yeah, I guess so…”

Link lets out a little ‘woo hoo!’ and it’s hard for Rhett not to chuck a pillow at him and call this whole thing off. Not that he ever would, smiling as he is. Smiling and chewing on his bottom lip as words rumble out from deep within his chest, “But do you know how to use it?”

Link goes over towards the nearby dresser and, far more smoothly than he even imagined, he draws out a tiny bottle of lube. He quickly coats one hand before tossing the bottle near Rhett and, making sure to keep eye contact, he takes a good grip on himself. His words come out in a pleasured hiss as he strokes himself, his length growing wet and slick, “You’re about to find out.”

The visible shudder that moves though Rhett makes Link have to tighten his hold, because it wouldn’t do to cum from just that. It’s hard though. Not to lose himself at the mere sight of Rhett’s sheer arousal. Still, he manages as his eyelids grow heavy, his voice thick with emotion as he murmurs, “Go one then, Rhett. Get ready.”

“…ready?”

Link nods and his chin juts towards the direction where he tossed the lube, the tiny bottle resting against Rhett’s left hipbone, “Ready for Daddy’s big dick.”

A strangled sound erupts from Rhett and Link knows it’s not a laugh. It’s something much more lascivious as Rhett takes the bottle and begins to coat his fingers. He lies back and parts his legs and Link just keeps talking, “That’s it. That’s a good boy. Draw your knees up…”

“Fuck, Link…” Rhett openly moans and does as instructed. He pulls his knees up and it makes himself more compact, smaller, and he arches his hips, makes sure to put himself on full display as his fingers drop to his entrance. He eases one finger in past the tight ring of muscle, then another, and Link keeps speaking, even as he continues to jack himself (the sound of his hand on his flesh bordering on obscene) as he speaks, “That’s it. Get yourself nice and open for me.”

“Link…”

“You’re so tiny, baby. Gotta make room for me.”

The tight mewl of pleasure that leaves Rhett at that, the way his hard cock stirs against his belly, the wet tip smearing the skin there as he does as Link asks, makes it difficult for Link to continue. He’s panting now and there’s not enough air and he needs to get in. He needs to take Rhett before he loses himself to all the sensory stimulation going on around him.

He kneels on the bed, making the mattress dip and Rhett’s fingers lose their rhythm. He slowly withdraws his fingers, a noise of discontentment leaving him but Link just shushes him, kisses him, before he grabs the nearby throw pillows.

They work together to adjust them beneath the curve of Rhett’s spine, making it more comfortable for him to lift his legs higher, the tops of his thighs pressing back lightly against his body. Link doesn’t want Rhett turned into a pretzel for them to fuck properly, for them to face one another – that won’t look good on camera.

Link’s not one of those driven by the sight of two lumped up forms – bodies a heaving, tangled mass while they work away at one another. Same goes for up close, zoomed in shots of their bodies making a connection. While pleasing in the moment and certainly something he likes to see in the throes of passion, it’s never been something he’s enjoyed in adult films.

Granted, it’s not like he can zoom in with the camera now, so that’s not something he has to worry about exactly, but the fact remains – the two things are not something he wants captured on film. He wants their movie to fulfill his tastes. In reflection, he should have asked for Rhett’s tastes as well, what he would have liked to see, but then he feels fingers pinch at one of his nipples and yelps.

“What was that for?!”

“You’re distracted,” Rhett hisses, squirming beneath him, “Distracted instead of fuckin’ me!”

“I was thinking…” Link looks to the camera and then to Rhett and then back again. Rhett’s head knocks back against the bed on a sigh, “Link, please don’t go all directorial on me now...”

Link lets out a pleased little chuckle, “Lil’ impatient?”

“Ain’t nothing little about me.”

“I beg to differ,” Link growls and he kisses Rhett, buries his hands in all his glorious hair and then – thankfully – he pulls back enough to take a good hold of himself, to direct himself in. Rhett chokes out a sound that is the perfect cross between pain and pleasure and Link glows, “Yeah, see that? You’re so small and tight, sweetheart. I don’t even know if you can fit all of me.”

The cords on Rhett’s neck stand out as he tosses his head back, whimpering as Link spears him open, as he cries, “Jesus, Link.”

“Yes?” Link asks in a strained voice, but one that is light with enjoyment. Because he knows. He knows that – if anything – there’s nothing little about him. And Rhett is recognizing that now. Recognizing that Link is big and thick and filling him up quite nicely. His body is doing its best to stretch, to be accommodating, but it’s hard.

As hard as Rhett’s own dick, which he reaches for, giving it one swift, firm stroke before Link lets out a snarl of disapproval. He snatches back Rhett’s hand, presses it hard back against the mattress with a light, chastising ‘nuh-uh-uh’ and Rhett lets out a tight whine because no. He needs more, he has to have it, and then Link moves.

And this is very much the definition of movement.

Link’s hips work like a well-oiled machine, his length beginning a steady pistoning in and out, and Rhett’s hands can’t help themselves, fleeing to Link’s ass, needing to hold on to something – anything. He grabs it hard – fingers digging in and pressing him down, pressing him deeper, and Link answers with a curse, Rhett’s name following after as he picks up the pace and it’s clear neither of them is going to last long.

Their lips lock and unlock in filthy, wet kisses – their damp foreheads pressing together now and then when they have to draw back for air and just breathe. But they share oxygen between the pants, the bed beneath the shaking slightly – shaking like their limbs and Link’s mouth moves to Rhett’s ear, brushing against it as he whispers, “That’s it. That’s my good boy.”

Rhett sobs and Link kisses his earlobe, gasping, “You going to cum from my big dick alone? You going to do that for Daddy?”

Another tight sound winds its way out of Rhett’s throat and his body is growing rigid even as it trembles and Link can feel him squeezing around him, can feel how close he is. The pressure is fantastic, yet link can’t help himself, can’t help but kiss Rhett’s cheek, can’t help but meet his eyes as he asks, “Tell me…”

“Yesssss,” Rhett hisses and Link presses for it, “Yes, what?”

“Yes!” Rhett pants, his head nodding, “Yes, Da-!”

He doesn’t finish saying it. The word ‘Daddy’ gets lost, becoming a pure, jubilant shout as his body breaks apart, his climax washing over him like a warm, sweet cascade. The feel of it – of Rhett breaking apart beneath him – the sight of him losing control – sends Link over and he cums harder than he ever has.

His body loses complete control, snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight and he knows he goes a little crazy – his body jack hammering away with the kind of force he would normally abhor, but – what can he do? Rhett feels so perfect around him.

Link’s lost – swept up in the storm of Rhett’s release and his own and Link can feel starkly hot, wet spurts against his stomach and his own body is going much the same within Rhett. The collide against one another, again and again, until all the stings of pleasure are wrung out of each of them. They end up a sweaty heap until Link rolls off and looks up at the ceiling, eyes wide, “Wow.”

The word comes out winded. Impressed. Rhett responds much the same. They both stare up at the ceiling and Link knows the camera is still recording, but he could honestly care less. He feels weightless, buoyant, and just as he thinks he might float up and out of his body. Rhett sighs, “I need a new job.”

Link frowns, eyebrows knitting together, and he turns to Rhett, confused, “What?”

Rhett doesn’t look at him, eyes still glues upwards, as he exhales, “Need a new job, man.”

“…why?”

Rhett turns to him and his green gaze is unbelievably soft, “Told you. I said I’d always planned on getting out when I met someone.”

Link doesn’t speak, he just waits. Waits for Rhett to make him one of the happiest men on planet earth, as he says, “And I met you.”

“Yeah?” Link asks shyly, uncertainly and at Rhett’s nod, he smiles, licking his lips, “You saying you like me?”

“Shit, bo, “Rhett laughs, “think it’s pretty obvious I do more’n just like you.”

“Oh?” Link’s heart twirls up inside him and truthfully? This? This is even better than the world shattering sex they just had. More so when Rhett rolls to one side and, looking deep into Link’s eyes, confesses, “Yeah. I love you, Link.”

I love you, Link.

Link rolls on to his side, kisses Rhett, and – finally – gets to say something he’s been thinking for a very long time, “I love you too.”

+

The film they made is raw, messy, and the best film Rhett thinks he’s ever made.

Link points out it didn’t win any awards, but Rhett boasts that Link IS the reward and honestly, Link will take that. He’ll take that and then some. Rhett drops out of the business; Link continues with school – they transition fully from roommates to friends to lovers and both recognize that this movement in their lives is far better than any other kind of movement.

Because it’s one they’re sharing together.

#rhink #my writing #peachworthy #oh my sweet peach

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Nine: Group Therapy

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A familiar drink brings back steamy memories for Shane (by popular demand), a ghost from the past picks a fight with the present, and the future hangs in the balance for our heroes.

Behind on the drama? It’s cool. I gotchu.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, violence, smut, alcohol consumption, more feels than you can shake a stick at.

Author’s Note: Guys. Listen guys. I know this chapter is a tad late…not that I have deadlines, I just know y’all want more sooner than I can always get it to you. It’s also, though, a bit longer than most of the previous installments have been. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think it’s my favorite chapter so far…I definitely cried the most writing it…you’ll see why…I’m not sorry. Initially, for some reason, it was hard to stay focused. (I blame my own emotions and feelings clouding my ambitions. Can’t let that happen anymore. Even though the same factors apply. I’ve gotta keep my head in it!) I’m actually pretty sad that there won’t be very much more of this story…they’ve been such good friends to me. I may just have to find a way to keep them going in follow-up drabbles. I don’t know. But I’m open to suggestions.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

It wasn’t top on Shane’s list of things she wanted to do tonight, but it had been ages since she’d gone out with her friends. It wasn’t totally because she’d been seeing Sy. But more recently, he had become the most prevalent reason she ended up bowing out. Because she had plans with him, or she needed to do things that she hadn’t gotten or wouldn’t get done because of plans with him unless she skipped out. They were bad excuses, but those of an introvert weren’t usually top-shelf, anyway.

It was Heather, the other secretary Marsha and her husband Alec, some of her fellow PTs Cory and Juan, and both OTs, Olivia and Miranda there at Cade’s that night. And Shane and Sy, of course. They were sitting at two tables close together, and after dinner, the guys got up to play darts while the ladies ordered a round of shots.

Heather both requested and paid for the tray of tiny glasses full of dark liquor. Shane knew the aroma all too well. Those were full of Jack Daniels. And she got tingly just thinking about the spirit, especially now.

“Let’s drink the first round to Shane.” She passed them around and held one up. “For landing captain sexy pants over there, and for being happier than I’ve seen her in actual years.” Heather clinked to the middled with the other girls as they completed the toast with cheery responses of “to Shane!” With intermittent whoops and cat-calls. She felt funny saluting herself, so she said nothing, silently dedicating her own drink to the guy she wasn’t expecting, wasn’t even asking for, but who’d been gifted to her, by God Himself, it seemed. Whoever or whatever or why ever, she was grateful for him.

She downed the full measure of whiskey, feeling the familiar pleasant burn down her throat and reminisced about the last time she’d had the drink.

~~~~~~

“No you’re cheating!” She slurred at Sy’s kitchen table.

“Not how I see it!” He smirked, that crooked grin mixing with the alcohol in her already impaired system making a heady and dangerous concoction.

“You’re delib’rately using my PT career against me!” They we’re playing “Never Have I Ever.” And he’d just used “never have I ever measured somebody up with a big protractor.”

“Hey, you’ve been trying to get me with ‘never have I army this, and never have I army that.’ And you just can’t and now you’re mad about it.”

“Ugh, I’m not mad, I just…don’t like cheating okay. Fair play. I’m a Hufflepuff, through and through!”

“As a Gryffindor, I resent your implication against my honor! And I say, drink twice.” They’d run out of mixer, and were down to the straight liquor. She was fine with it. She loved the sweet, oaky burn of Number 7 as she held small swallows on her tongue. Relished the burn of it on the tender skin of her lips like a rough kiss. She took two shots at his insistence.

“Never have I ever…fired a gun!” And they both drank because she had chosen a “never” that she “had ever” on purpose. She liked feeling this way with Sy. She liked being able to abandon her control and feel safe in so doing. Knowing that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Including herself.

His eyes began to glimmer in a way that she could always tell meant he was thinking something particularly salacious. Which typically meant something good was about to happen.

“Never have I ever…fooled around in a kitchen.” He waited a beat, then slowly stood, taking a long stride to stand directly in front of Shane, towering over her as she sat limp from drinking and more than ready for whatever he was planning. The kiss he gave her was almost instantly hungry, devouring, consuming. A wild fire that would spread throughout the forest of her. He pulled a stool out from under the table near her, barely having to break the contact and sat down in front of her on it. She leaned into him now, the boneless feeling now overtaken by her craving for him. She tugged at his casual blue tank top that stunned her because of the way it matched his eyes so well. She needed him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, mostly bare in the shorts she'd chosen for tonight, simply for their comfort, and not because they provided any sort of easy access. Not on a conscious level, anyway, she told herself.

His grip was tightening but the pain of the pressure didn't matter. His thumbs and fingers were rupturing tiny blood vessels and she registered the pain and the fact that she would have bruises in the shape of his claiming grip but all that really mattered was that he was there. Near. Present. And touching her.  

His hands moved, sliding up her legs, their trajectory shifting inward, their aim to open her up to him.

She was nothing short of willing.

He reached down to the seat between her legs and pulled her closer to him. Yes, she thought. He's too far away. Even though she could smell the whiskey on his breath even as she tasted it, still sweet on her own tongue. He laid a gentle hand on her left cheek, an almost chaste gesture, that snaked into something entirely different as it descended, brushing her neck, between her breasts, and over her abdomen, tumultuous from his touch and the drink.

He made it finally to her apex, easily brushing aside the fabric of her shorts, and teasing her there over her underwear with a soft, measured touch. She threw her arms around his neck, a wordless plea for him to go on. But her body was at odds with her mind.

“Sy, I wanna go slow.” She meant she didn’t want to end up in his bed tonight. Well, not that she didn't want to…

"Don't worry, sunshine. I'll take it real slow." he assured her, pretending to misunderstand her meaning as he teased her over her panties. She couldn't have spoken to correct him even if his lips hadn't taken an urgent hold on hers. His firm but frustrating touch was leaving her speechless and breathless.

Finally, he moved her undergarment aside to touch her, skin to skin. To pull a sweet, euphoric moan from her with just his fingers. He had been right about taking his time. It took him ages to find that space inside her that brought her to her pinnacle, but he made the wait enjoyable, all the same. She had a feeling he could have gone right to it, if he’d wanted to, but since she’d asked for it…

He grinned and chuckled into her mouth a bit as he toyed with her. He finally spoke,

“Hot damn, girl, you should have told me you needed me this bad.” He added a second finger to his game of search and destroy.

She could only grasp at his bare shoulders and the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. He quickened, then slowed in sweet torture until her cries of his name became over loud for his neighborhood. The last build up, he added his thumb , brushing it against her aching center.

It hit her in waves of bliss as every muscle in her body responded to his localized, expert touch. Her vision blurred and for a second she could see the electricity flowing through air and matter and into her. Since when did THAT happen to her when she came?

“Sy!” She whimpered, a plea for him to stop but also to never stop.

“I know, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve gotcha. Go on and let it out.” And she barely realized another climax had been building in her before she was falling headlong into it again, just as intense as the first one. He slowed, gently soothing her body after its small death, rubbing her neck and shoulder on the right side with his free hand.

He took his right hand away from her heat, brought it up to his mouth, and tasted her on his fingers. He poured them both another shot of whiskey, they threw them back, and once she had caught her breath from it all, she said,

“I don’t know the score, but I think you’ve won.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, she felt too sober to handle the bombardment of questions coming from her coworkers, no matter how pure their intentions.

“So are you guys a couple, like officially?”

“Have you met each other’s folks?”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

“What is he like in bed!?”

“I bet he’s an absolute fiend!”

“Nah, guys ya think that about are always so vanilla.”

“How big is he!?”

All of these questions seemed to come at one time, or at least before she could answer the previous ones, and it made her head spin.

“Listen, girls. I’m gonna go get myself a strong drink, and when I come back, I’ll answer one question at a time, so figure out the order in which you’ll be asking, and a punishment system for interrupting. Fair?” The hens all nodded their beaks in agreement as she stood to go to the bar. She reminded herself to add a disclaimer when she got back to the table about having veto power over questions she felt weren’t appropriate.

As she stood at the bar waiting for her turn with the bartender, she tensed as she heard an all too familiar voice say her name.

“Shane Benton.” He said in a charming tenor that she now found obnoxiously boyish.

“Elliott Thomas. What misdeed did I do in a past life to end up back in the same room with you?” He ignored her jibe.

“You look well.” He said, surveying her as if he intended to make a purchase.

“Okay.” She would not give credence to half assed, insincere compliments.

“Who’s the guy you’re with tonight?”

“That couldn’t be any less your business.”

“You’ll always be my business, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when we were together.”

“Come on, tell me where ya met this meat head.”

“Back off, Elliott.”

“Come on. He’s in a plaid shirt. He looks like he’s trying to cosplay the Brawny man. How quick does he pick you up?” He raised his eyebrows, driving home his attempt at double entendre.

The rage came suddenly, without warning, and manifested in a firm slap from her right hand to his left cheek. It landed solidly enough for him to have to stretch his jaw and feel it, as if making sure it was still there.

"Well, still got some spunk. Good to know. Not so fast--" he grabbed her wrist as she stepped away from the bar, but she was saved the trouble of getting out of it with her favorite self-defense maneuver, by the solid wall of red plaid and denim topped with his favorite black Chiefs hat. Sy had apparently noticed her altercation at the bar and elected to step in.

"What's goin' on here?" he asked, not brusquely, but so coolly that it was almost friendly. Elliott let go of Shane's wrist immediately and threw his hands up.

"No trouble here, man. Just a little friendly conversation between two former lovers." he said, oozing pure, stinking hubris.

"Oh, you're Elliott. Nice to meet you, man." Sy reached out to shake the man's hand. "I've actually been wanting to thank you."

Elliott looked confused. So was Shane. This guy had broken her heart. What was Sy intent on thanking him for?

"I wanted to thank you for fucking up so bad with this kind, beautiful woman, this graceful and forgiving saint, that she couldn't stand the sight of you any longer. Who knows. If you hadn't been such a dick, she may not have been free to be with me today." all of this, Sy said with Elliott's hand still in his. Shaking it. Apparently not too firmly. Until Sy leaned in very closely and whispered something to Elliott that made him go several shades of puce, and grimace, pulling his hand away, which Sy eventually relinquished.

After Elliott had tucked his tail and ran away, Shane found herself in a far less merry temperament than she'd come in with. She and Sy decided to leave. They said their goodbyes, Shane promising more answers as soon as she could. And they left, her arm around his waist, and his around her shoulder.

About halfway to Sy's truck, Shane heard a solid ping near her ear and the shattering of glass on the pavement nearby, followed by a low growl from deep in Sy's chest. They halted in their stride, Shane turning quickly around, Sy turning more slowly and intentionally in the direction of his would be attacker.

Elliot stood beside the brick exterior of the bar with three other men, none of them within 50 pounds of Sy, and hardly a match for him…individually…but together, she was concerned. She would absolutely try to help fight these guys, but she couldn't take out more than one with the potential weapons she had on her person that she could inventory off hand. Plus, if she had to fight Elliott…he'd get into her head…she knew it. Thank God she didn't know the other guys. She'd hope to get one of them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Sy said, back to his polite self, not worried about potentially getting into a street fight in which they were outnumbered two to one.

"Just thought you'd like to tell my buddies here what you said to me in there. I mean, I gave them the gist, but I think they'd like to hear it from you." Elliott puffed.

"Ah, somebody can't keep a secret." Sy sigh scolded him, wagging his finger at him as if he was a misbehaved child. "I was gonna let it all go as long as you left us alone. Did you mention that to them before you got them into a whole mess o' trouble?"

"Tell them, you fuckin' coward."

"Big talk from a guy who had to make it four to one before he confronted me." Sy accused.

"Four to two." Shane squared her shoulders, standing next to Sy, and attempting to make herself look more formidable, which was next to impossible given the fact that the man beside her was a massive army captain and she was just…herself. But she'd be damned if she stood by and let Sy take all of this on when it was all because of her. Plus, she didn't want him to reinjure himself.

"How about you jump in if I need ya, sunshine." He whispered to her. She didn't move or reply. "But ya know, since ya asked so nicely, I will oblige. I told this piss-ant friend of yours after he physically accosted this lovely lady here, in no uncertain terms that if he EVER touched MY GIRLFRIEND again, he'd be begging for death for hours before I had mercy on him and put him out of his misery and that his body would never be found." He eyed each of the men before him, his fiery gaze a physical force upon them, letting his promise to Elliott sink in. "Now if y'all wanna defend a man who would put hands on a woman, and then proceed to physically assault a United States Army veteran like myself, I can come up with similar guarantees for all of ya. And carry them out here tonight. But y'all look like ya've got a lot o' shit ya still wanna get done in this life with limbs and dicks intact. So I would encourage all of you fine gentlemen to walk away from this situation."

Two of the men, surrendered, claiming Elliott hadn't mentioned that he'd hurt Shane or that Sy was a vet. One of the men asked to shake his hand and thanked him for his service. The smallest member of Elliott's group, however, remained with him. Shane thought she recognized him after getting a better look. He'd been at a few events she'd been to with Elliott's friend group. She thought his name was Kyle. Clearly he was one of Elliott's oldest and most loyal friends. He still looked skeptical. Unsure that the two of them alone could take Sy. Shane thought he was right to be worried.

"Come on, Kyle!" Elliott summoned his friend to the fight.

"I dunno, man. He's a soldier and I mean…look at him. Look at us!"

"You pussy." Elliott walked up to Sy.

"You don't want to do this, friend." Sy warned.

"I'm not your friend, asshole. You stole my girlfriend." he swung wildly at the larger man, but missed. He was unsteady, Shane could see now, from excessive drink. She hadn't noticed inside.

Sy remained still for one punch that landed weakly on his jaw, barely displacing it. "Are you done, there, Mayweather? We even? Now that you got to hit me?"

"We are not done. Not until one of us is on the ground." Elliott insisted.

"Fair enough." Sy socked him with a jab straight to the nose, knocking him dizzily to the hard asphalt of the parking lot. Kyle came up to him to drag Elliott to a nearby car as his head lolled forward like a rag doll.

"I'll get him to the ER. Explain to them what happened. You guys get home safe. And thanks for not killing him. Or me." Kyle said as he opened his passenger door. Sy helped heave Elliott's comatose form into the seat and shook Kyle's hand.

Shane's eyes were still wide at the entire chain of events. Her adrenaline supercharged from her readiness to fight alongside her man. Which, she was both relieved and disappointed that she didn't have to do. But there was another thing on her mind. She had been mentally replaying what Sy had said to Elliott played over and over for more reasons than his chivalrous and heroic conduct.

When they were in the car and headed to her house, Shane asked him about it.

"So…you called me your girlfriend tonight." she looked at him.

"Shit, Shane, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to ask ya for days to make things official, and I just haven't found the right time. I was gonna ask you over drinks tonight in front of all your friends, but then that asshole fucked it all up. I even have a gift for you." he fished around in his pocket for a small, flat box, and handed it to her. She flipped up the spring loaded lid of the black velvet box, and inside, on a tiny pillow of black satin was a silver necklace with a silver charm. An "S" in an elaborate script with a small emerald set in the lower hook of the letter. "And if you don't want to make it official, you can still keep the necklace, because the 'S' can be for 'Shane,' and the stone can just be an emerald, and ya don't have to think about it like it's my birthstone, and I--"

"Sy, hush. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, officially. I've been dying to say it myself. And I love the necklace. It's perfect."

"Really? You mean it? All of it?" she'd never seen him so desperate. She had no idea why he thought she might not be serious. But she did have an idea of how to prove it.

"Stay with me tonight, Sy."

"It's still early yet, babe. I'll have plenty of time--"

"No, I mean, I want you. Tonight." How could she be more clear than that?

"Oh, you mean…but I thought you wanted to wait until my treatments were over?" He asked, as if he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"When you were on the phone with my boss that day, you said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Something that's gnawed at my will and resolve ever since. You said that life was too short, and you didn't want to wait to be happy when you could be happy now." she was verging on tears. "Well, I'm tired of waiting too, Sy. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I don't see the point in ignoring what we really want anymore. Because the fact is, Sy…the fact has been for a while now," she laughed at her own foolishness for stifling and ignoring it all this time, "I love you. And I think I have from the moment you first called me ma'am." She was fully crying now, and the tears had broken through down his cheeks, as well.

He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of his truck, still running, headlights blazing into her yard. He jogged around the front, but Shane, being uninjured had caught up to him without the benefit of a head start. He caught her up in his arms as if she'd stay there forever. They sobbed tears of joy and relief as they kissed each other with abandon, silhouettes against the footlights and exhaust courtesy of the Ford Motor Company, the PowerStroke engine roaring a soundtrack for this moment as it idled.

"I love you, Shane. From the moment you found me dreading therapy all alone that first day and cheered me up instantly. I knew." he brush the tears and hairs away from her face and held it, scrutinizing her features in the high-beams as if he intended to draw her from memory.

"I didn't know you were dreading it." she laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

"I was. A lot. Never had a lot of luck, especially recently, with PT. Until you."

She smiled, and looked at the truck, a third party to their romantic moment now more obvious to her.

"You're wasting gas."

"Hang the gas. I'm wasting time with you. You wanna go inside?" he asked. She nodded.

"You go get your purse. I'll be right around."

Sy shut off the truck and took his keys out, locking the vehicle from the fob after his arm was back around Shane and they were walking up her front porch steps.

Up Next: Chapter 10- Myofascial Release

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #syverson smut #sigh for sy #Smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

[chlouais]

hi yon it’s me tumblr is dumb and is only letting me send from my main but i’d actually die if you did #41 “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!” for davenzi!!!! i love you!!!!!!!

dear noah, i love you so much and i love that you only said ‘it’s me’ and not ‘it’s me noah’. especially since you CHANGED YOUR FREAKING URL but anyway. i absolutely should be working on a final right now so this is truly gonna be a short boy. i love you and i hope you enjoy. here we fuckin GO

41. “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!”

It had, quite frankly, been a long ass day.

They had both woken up earlier than usual that morning, very much against their wills. David had classes all morning and Matteo came by to pick him up afterward, having taken the morning shift at work. David talked about his classes (“Honestly the backlighting was garbage, I can’t believe they let that scene end up in the final production,”) and Matteo told him stories about some of his more awkward or funny interactions with customers (“And this poor girl runs over to get her drink and immediately knocks it over while trying to pick it up, I felt so bad,”). They met Matteo’s mom for lunch, which was wonderful as always despite the lethargy setting in. Matteo had somehow ripped up one of his gloves the previous week (“This is just what happens on the job, David.” “Honey, you work at a cafe.”), so after lunch they went into a shop to find him new gloves. Matteo was whiny by nature, but David swore it got ten times worse when his hands were cold. He’d been enjoying being Matteo’s knight in shining armor every time he tucked one of Matteo’s hands into his pocket for warmth, but it was December and David wasn’t always with Matteo. Gloves were needed. David, on a whim, grabbed something extra as they were leaving, paying for it surreptitiously while Matteo shuffled and kicked his feet around while standing by the door. He was incredibly zoned out–David could see the tired indifference on his face after a busy morning of serving customers. David pulled the tag off Matteo’s new gloves as they walked outside and pulled them onto his hands, kissing each of his palms. When he looked up Matteo’s eyes were still tired, but they were warm and fond. They knew they needed food for the apartment so they forced themselves to go grocery shopping before going home, trying and largely failing to remember what they needed in their tired state. It had reached the part of the day when they were yearning to sit down and not think about anything for a couple minutes. And now it was only 16h–and they had made it back to the apartment, that was an accomplishment–but they were exhausted. They unpacked groceries in silence, moving in a heavy, methodical way. Matteo walked over and planted his forehead on David’s back while David put the last few things away in the cupboard. He stashed away two boxes of tea. Why did they buy tea?

Matteo’s hands were cold, his brain helpfully reminded him. Which was not actually a sound reason to buy tea, especially when they already had tea at home. No more grocery shopping when we’re tired and don’t have a list, David made a mental note.

David grabbed the last item he had kept hidden and turned around, Matteo just barely lifting his head from David’s back enough to make it possible. Matteo let his head thunk back down onto David’s chest, deflating with a giant breath. David kissed the top of his head, pulling a dark red beanie from behind his back and tugging it over Matteo’s hair. Matteo’s head lifted. His eyes stayed closed but his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. David felt a small smile pull at his mouth with how puzzled and sleepy Matteo looked. He reached up a hand to pet the hat David had placed on him.

“A beanie?” he asked.

“To keep you warm.” David kissed his nose. “And so you’ll stop stealing mine.”

Matteo gave a smile that was a touch too soft to be a smirk. He let himself sink against David and rest his head on David’s shoulder.

“Can we take a nap?” came the muffled request from where Matteo’s mouth was pressed against his hoodie.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” David agreed immediately, only just realizing how his hand was stroking slowly up and down Matteo’s spine. David led Matteo to their room and got them both out of their jeans and down to their t-shirts–carefully removing the beanie and putting it on their dresser–before pulling the duvet over them snugly. Matteo was already trying to mold himself against David, despite the fact that David was still attempting to get them both settled. David huffed fondly and quickly got comfortable on his back so Matteo could drape himself over him. The sheets were cool but David knew they’d be warm soon; Matteo was like a fucking furnace when he slept. David let his head drop to the side so his nose was pressed into Matteo’s hair. He smelled like soap and like boy, like everything extraordinary that David loved and everything ordinary that held him steady. Matteo’s slow, relaxed breathing soon lulled David to sleep.

xxx

When David woke up, it was to Matteo’s warm breath puffing against his neck. Matteo was wrapped around him like an octopus and David was sweating, but he felt like a human being again. When he turned his head he could see on his bedside clock that it was only 17h 30, though it had been dark for hours. He sat up, ignoring sleepy whines coming from Matteo, and flicked on a lamp. The cool air once out from under the duvet felt like a kiss on his skin. He got up and went to turn on more lights. It was far too early to sleep for the night, but they would need light to do anything with the rest of their evening. David walked back into their room after turning on lights around the apartment to substitute for daylight.

“Baby,” David said softly. Matteo only hummed. “Matteo, you’ve gotta get up. You can’t go to bed for the night at 16h 30. You’ll mess up your sleep schedule even more than it is already.”

Matteo rolled away from David but David had already seen the signs that Matteo was starting to wake up. David leaned back down and pressed a few lingering kisses between Matteo’s shoulder blades. He traced his nose up the back of Matteo’s neck and placed another soft kiss there, inching closer so he could get to Matteo’s ear. Matteo’s eyes were still closed but David could see the grin on his face. David hummed softly into Matteo’s ear.

“What do you think about maybe getting up?” he hummed, kissing his ear gently. He heard the breath rush out of Matteo.

“I think I’d rather stay here,” he said, his voice low and scratchy. He cleared his throat.

David pressed himself close up against Matteo’s back, wrapping an arm around Matteo and skating his hand up Matteo’s chest. Matteo’s back arched a little and David smirked to himself. He let his nose trail down so he could place open-mouthed kisses along Matteo’s neck. Matteo’s breathing was steadily picking up. David’s hand drifted back down Matteo’s torso and paused at the strip of skin showing between his t-shirt and his boxers. He let his teeth scrape against Matteo’s neck on the next kiss and kept his touch feather light as his fingertips traced down Matteo’s thigh. Matteo let out a shaky exhale.

A thought popped into David’s mind. He grinned.

“That does sound nice,” he said, “but we really should get up.” He pushed himself away from Matteo, making sure to drag his hand over Matteo’s hip as he went. He kept his lips attached to Matteo’s neck, making him lean over Matteo on the bed, and when David got his feet on the ground he sucked on Matteo’s neck hard. Matteo’s mouth dropped open on a moan.

David abruptly pulled back and yanked the duvet off of Matteo and the bed entirely. Matteo’s moan rose sharply into a yelp and he jerked into a ball, seemingly involuntarily, and David cracked up laughing. Matteo shot a glare over his shoulder. David sat down on the edge of the bed and reached a hand out to lay on his shoulder.

Still chuckling, David said, “I’m sorry, baby, but it had to be done. I’m trying to help you maintain a normal sleep schedule.” Another wave of laughter overtook him.

Matteo rolled back to face David so suddenly that David almost jumped. He pointed an accusing finger at David. “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!” he yelled. David just lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he asked, trying to school his features into a serious expression. It wasn’t working.

Matteo struggled off the bed looking, quite frankly, like an idiot. David backed away as Matteo started thrashing around and didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“You don’t think I can take you?” Matteo challenged.

“Um… no?” David felt his eyebrows move up his forehead as his mouth pulled into a smirk. Matteo jumped up and shoved David’s shoulders with his hands.

“Come on! You and me, right now! I can take you!” Matteo was dancing on his feet, moving around agitatedly while David watched him, utterly puzzled.

“Matteo, no. Come on, baby, let’s go make dinner,” David coaxed, “and afterward we can come back in here and reconsider your thoughts about staying in bed.” David started to turn toward the door but Matteo used both his hands to push at David’s shoulder, still moving around like he was hyped for a fight.

“No!! We do this now! Thunderdome!! You’re going down!”

David couldn’t stop himself from doubling over laughing. “Are you serious?” He tried to restrain his laughter, “Mad Max?”

Matteo was grinning now, but it didn’t stop him from letting out a war cry of “TWO MEN ENTER, ONE MAN LEAVES!”

David was hit with laughter all over again and felt tears forming in his eyes. He tried to straighten up and control himself, feeling his stomach start to ache with laughter. “Okay, okay,” he wheezed, “Dinner time, baby.” He turned to walk to the door and heard Matteo yell, “No!” behind him.

Several things happened very quickly. David felt Matteo’s arms crush around him, as if to… tackle him? Bear-hug him? David figured Matteo hadn’t thought it through. David instinctively dropped down so he was a little hunched, twisting his body hard. Matteo, who had slammed into his back upon throwing his arms around David, was flung toward the door by the combined force of David’s movement and his momentum. David caught one of Matteo’s shoulders so he spun and his back hit the door, David following closely so his body pinned Matteo’s there. David heard Matteo’s shaky inhale next to his ear.

“Alright,” David said, right into Matteo’s ear. Calmly, smoothly. “Are you done?” David pulled back, keeping his face close to Matteo’s. Matteo’s head was tipped back, resting on the door, mouth parted and eyes fluttering open. David felt his mouth curl into a lazy smile when he saw Matteo’s dark gaze. Matteo’s hands flexed and clenched against the door where David had them pinned and his back strained to arch so he could press up against David. David shoved his body weight forward, forcing Matteo’s back against the wall. Matteo whined quietly and David lifted an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Matteo nodded while continuing to strain toward David, his eyes asking for a kiss.

“Great,” David said brightly, stepping back abruptly and watching Matteo scramble to stay upright against the door. “So, dinner?” David bit his lip to keep himself from laughing again. Matteo’s mouth dropped open, affronted but also quickly pulling up toward disbelieving laughter.

Matteo launched himself toward David, whose arms were already open to catch him and Matteo peppered his face in kisses. “Okay,” Matteo said, smiling and kissing him soundly on the mouth, “You win.” One, two, three more kisses. “But so do I.”

____________________

General Inspiration for the fic:

“honey just come to bed stop messing around”“U THINK I CAN’T TAKE U BRO”“baby please”“nO. we do this now!! we die like men!! thunderdome!! meet me in the costco parking lot you’re going down!!”“jesus christ”

#druck #davenzi #davenzi fic #prompt fill #fackin love u nog

[vertanimeni]

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (6/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy/Grounder OC

Word Count: 5,428

TW: Canon typical violence, violent flashback, healing/medicine.

A/N: Hi hi! After some convincing from my friends, I decided to post this series here :D I’ve already finished with season 1 and half of season 2, I’m just in the middle of re-writing and editing. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. I’ll be updating every other day at 12pm EST. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

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vi. irreconcilable.

“Everyone gather around!" Clarke summoned the camp to the platform where she and Bellamy stood. He prepared to explain the events leading up to the situation of having a grounder as a neighbor until Clarke spoke first. “With the help of two grounders, Lincoln and Kova, we attempted to make peace with one of their leaders.” Her words started low rumbles of whispers throughout the group. Clarke paused. Unsure of what to say next, she needed to come up with a reason for Kova’s stay without alarming them.

As if on cue, Bellamy spoke up. “Due to miscommunication, the meeting didn’t work out as we had hoped. I know this is difficult and, trust me, I understand why you’re all angry. We have a lot to talk about, especially after last night."

“But since Kova helped us, the grounders consider them as a traitor.” Clarke surprised herself with how flawlessly she came up with that excuse. “They were injured in the process and had no other place to go, so we brought them here.” The murmuring in the crowd increased and some people grew agitated. "Think of it this way." Clarke raised her hands up. "They could help us find a better water source and food, maybe even teach us about the land."

"How do we know this grounder won’t try to kill us while we’re asleep?” One shouted out, adding gas to the flaming panic within the group.

“Because they were injured. They can’t do much.”

“But if you all feel unsafe, we can have them hand over all their weapons and stash them away. By having them around, we can get valuable information in order to survive. And if the grounders come, we’ll have the upper hand with them. Are we good?”

The whispers cooled down after Bellamy’s reassurance. After all, he hated the grounders more so than anyone else in camp. If he had agreed to this, then there must have been a good reason. The muttering stopped and most of the camp were nodding their heads in agreement. There were a few who still despised the idea, but none objected.

“Great.” Clarke clapped her hands. “Now let's talk about the ship from last night.”

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Red bathed Mount Caocin. Kova found themselves in the middle of a mountain path, dried trees and leafless bushes lining the edges. They felt fabric rustle at the top of their head. They realized it was an all too familiar hooded cape tied securely across their shoulders. Panicking, they tried pulling at the end of the strings to no avail. They tried pulling the cape over their head but the string tightened underneath their jaw.

They gave up and took note of their surroundings. Other warriors ran up the path, paying no mind to Kova even when they stepped in their way. Yet deep in their gut, they knew these weren’t their warriors. Sloppy foot work, unbecoming of a warrior of Trikru, capes similar to Kova’s covered their entire faces and bodies, denying Kova even a glimpse of who they could be.

But the warriors had the Trikru insignia stitched into their capes. Who else could they belong to?

Thus, Kova followed their fellow warrios up to the edge of the path.

The Azgeda army stood at the foot of the mountain, holding their flag on a pole, a symbol of war, but none of them had any visible weapons. 'Why haven't they followed us up here yet?' Kova found themselves asking.

Strange clicking noises came from behind. They turned around to face their fellow warriors, only to find the wind blowing their capes to reveal the forbidden ancient weapons. Guns.

Shots rang out. Kova flinched and squeezed their eyes shut, bending over to protect themselves. But no pain arrived, and neither did the bone crunching bullets.

The Trikru warriors they had fought along with for years disappeared, and now there was only one person in front of them. The brother they love fell to his knees in front of them, collapsing into a puddle of rainwater and mud, his blood mixing with the elements below him.

Their arm hung in front of them, jaggedly, inhumanly, like a puppet on strings, with the pointer finger pressed against the trigger of the gun in their hand.

///

Eyes snapped open, only to flinch away with the afternoon sun streaking sunlight through the crack of the tent’s entrance. Kova recoiled, back pressing against a mattress, and rubbed their eyes with the back of their hands. Their heart pounded in their chest, body alight with adrenaline, yet they couldn’t recall the nightmare that had woken them up.

Maybe that was for the best.

Instead, they tried to remember how exactly they fell asleep in this unfamiliar, orange tent. From what they could recall, they didn’t necessarily “fall asleep,” rather they passed out from the pain shooting up their leg.

Ah. The recollection of last night brought a dull ache from their injury. The ache also returned a hazy memory of the invaders’ leader visiting in the middle of the night with Octavia to disinfect their wound. Slowly turning to lay on their side, they peered under the thin blanket to find bandages wrapped around their calf.

As well as bare skin. Someone had taken off their leather armor, boots, socks, pants, long sleeve shirt, and jacket, folding them neatly to the side, the mask on top. They had been left with their underclothes — a pair of biker shorts and an off-white tank top. “I’ll have to thank whoever did that later. It’s exhausting to take all of that off, even for me.”

They noticed there were important pieces missing from their collection. "Surprise surprise," Kova grumbled to themselves, sitting up on their elbows. "They took away my weapons. Did they have to take the holsters, though?"

They tossed the blanket off and hooked a foot against the side of the mattress to sit up. Grimacing at the new spark of pain, they swung their healthy leg over the bed, then carefully guided the other one to follow. They took a deep breath, preparing themselves to try to stand until—

"Kova?" The tent shifted as someone poked their head in. "You alright?"

They didn’t need to turn to know who it was. They kept their back towards the entrance. “Mn. You can come in if you’d like, Clarke.”

Last night, Clarke had only been focused on disinfecting their wound while Octavia and Raven undressed them. She hadn’t seen anything other than their leg, not even their face.

Which was why her breath hitched at the sight of their tattoos. She had heard of tattoos before, but the tradition was lost on the Ark. An intricate armband circled around just above their elbow. Above the band, there was a thin line of blank skin before a new tattoo began — the ink became trees of a forest, with mountains and valleys ascending up their biceps, and a sun peaked out between two peaks of a mountain.

It wasn’t just the tattoos that surprised her, either. Circular scars took up the skin of Kova’s shoulder blade, too numerous to count. Kova twisted from their seat in bed, their shirt shifting along with them, revealing even more circular scars, as well as five circular tattoos following down their cheek bone. At the base of their neck, they had another tattoo, the exact same one that Lincoln had on his chest.

Clarke only snapped out of her stare when she accidentally made eye contact. “Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts.” She felt her ears and cheeks heat up. “We brought you here two nights ago — you were knocked out the whole day yesterday.”

“Mn. Makes sense. I feel like I slept for a whole day.” Their voice came out in a low, raspy murmur.

“I need to check up on the cut.” She said, raising a medical kit up.

“Go ahead.”

She went around the bed and knelt in front of them, opening up the med kit. Clarke drew the old bandage off the skin and inspected the wound. She felt eyes following every move she made. “It doesn’t look infected.” She looked up at Kova, whose gaze had solely been focused on her face.

“You look tired.” Kova answered her questioning look. “I’m guessing you’ve told your camp about me?”

The heavy sigh Clarke released made her shoulders slump. She started wrapping a fresh bandage over their calf. “Yeah. Some weren’t happy, but I doubt there’ll be any problems. We had to lie, just so you know. I told them that because you helped us, your people marked you as a traitor and you couldn’t return home.” 

A bitter laugh filled the tent. “Not a lie.”

Confused, Clarke looked back up at them.

Unaware of the blue eyes fixed on them, Kova leaned back against their arms, their distant gaze boring into the fabric of the tent. “By now, my clan will have raided my tent, my home, everything. Once they know I’m not there, they’ll ask around if anyone has seen me in the past few days. I’ll be marked as a traitor by the time the sun rises tomorrow.”

Her throat felt tight. She swallowed thickly. “Why did you do it, then?”

“Hmm?”

“If you knew your people would outcast you,” Clarke began packing her med kit. “why did you help us?”

“I hope you’re not expecting my answer to be, ‘because it was the right thing to do.’” One glance towards the sky leader proved Kova’s suspicions right, judging by the way she looked away from them. They shook their head, a breathy laugh tumbling out of their mouth. “No, no, my reasoning is selfish. I already had issues with my clan long before you came down, but once you arrived, our relationship snapped. It was a matter of time, I suppose. I needed to get away from them.”

There were no pros to telling Clarke the full story. After all, she was the invaders’ leader first, Clarke second. If she knew Trikru would be after their head soon, she might try to trade Kova in for a peace treaty or something. At least this way, Clarke might feel guilt over Kova losing their clan and allow them to stay permanently, and Kova can help around camp or whatever. It’s a win-win.

“But,” Kova continued, “I would like to be clear about one thing. I may no longer be loyal to my clan, but that does not mean I will be loyal to you.”

“Then, where does your loyalty lie?”

“My brother. And in conjunction, Octavia.”

“Octavia?”

“Mn. She’s my brother’s interest.”

Silence took over the tent.

“…interest?”

“Long story. Ask Octavia if you want to know. You don’t have to worry, though.”

“About what?”

“About me. Seeing as Octavia is part of your clan, my loyalty is as good as yours, even if it isn’t directly. I will not harm anyone here as long as they do not try to harm me. I can help with whatever you want me to help with.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind. And thank you.”

“For what?”

“You saved my life twice. Thank you.”

“…mn.” ‘I took responsibility.’

With that, Clarke made her way to exit the tent. Just as she placed her hand on the flap of the tent, Wells drew it open. They made eye contact but before he could say anything, she smiled ever so slightly and walked passed him. Ever since the incident with Charlotte, their relationship had gotten a lot better — Clarke apologized for how she treated him and blaming him for her father's death, and he forgave her immediately. But they still hadn't talked much. His eyes followed her until she left his sight, and he couldn’t stop the soft sigh that left his lips.

“You alright?” Came Kova’s voice from the inside of the tent.

Wells snapped out of his thoughts. He peeked into the tent and was greeted by Kova’s hunched back. “I should be asking you that.”

Ah. Truthfully, Kova though it was Clarke who sighed. They hadn’t expected this voice. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.” They responded, elbows on top of their knees, the palm of their hand against their forehead. “What do you want?”

“I have water. You want?”

“…mn. Come in.”

Wells stepped around the bed and held the cup of water out. “I figured you might get thirsty.”

Kova skeptically glanced between him and the metal cup in his hand. They didn’t know if anyone might have tampered with the drink. Bringing the cup up to their mouth, they sniffed around it for a moment before taking a small sip. It tasted simply like water and had no type of fragrance. Once Kova felt like it was in the clear, they chugged the drink down.

“Thank you for saving Clarke.” Wells’ voice was gentle.

As they returned the cup with a thanks, they caught a glimpse of his bandaged right hand. The pointer and middle fingers were missing just below the second knuckle. ‘Hmm. Interesting. What kind of camp is this?’ Instead of asking, Kova sent Wells a kinder look, one people rarely saw. “No problem.”

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Wells left not too long after, giving Kova some privacy to change into their clothes. They could hear the bustling of the camp outside their safe little tent, of people talking and laughing with one another, of branches colliding into a pile together, of thick trunks creaking together to form a wall, of water boiling above a crackling fire.

If Kova closed their eyes and ignored the pain in their leg, ignored the tired ache of their muscles, and pretended like the invaders’ were speaking Trigedasleng—

Mn. It felt like they were back at TonDC’s training camp.

They would even bet that the moment they stepped out of the tent, all eyes would be on them, and the invaders would start talking, just as the Trikruvians did back at camp.

Well. At least they wouldn’t talk about Mount Caocin.

(Jump out of the frying pan, fall into the fire.)

They relished in the feeling for just a moment before taking a deep breath and opening their eyes. There was no point in feeling homesick — Trikru was never their home, it hadn’t been in three years.

(Was it ever?)

They secured their clothes, tied their dreads back and the mask on (better safe than sorry) and stood at the flaps of the tent. Neither Wells nor Clarke mentioned anything about allowing them to leave their tent. Hell, stepping outside would be a whole lot easier if they had been told they were a prisoner. But they were neither prisoner nor guest. 

Kova dealt with this before. They handled the side looks of warriors and civilians alike. They had knives shoved in their back by the same warriors they considered friends and kept walking. They handled the glare of the Chief and the interrogation of the General.

They could handle a couple of kids watching them.

Taking a deep breath, they let their hand push through the curtain and ease it open. Rays of sunlight attacked their eyes. They shielded themselves from the light with the other hand and stepped across the threshold.

Only a few delinquents glanced at them, and from that group an even a lesser amount of them outright stared before they went back to work.

…huh. Alright. Kova had been expecting more backlash—

Something crashed into their right thigh. Startled, they looked down only to find a young girl stumbling back, eyes shut, rubbing her forehead. If Kova hadn’t been wearing the mask, the young girl would have seen the worried look they had.

Instead, the young girl looked back up to apologize only to make eye contact with a very tall stranger wearing an absolutely terrifying mask. She gasped, eyes widening in fear as she stepped back and tripped over her tiny feet. She squeezed her eyes tight as her world went sideways, thinking ‘oh no, Fox just washed my clothes yesterday!’ and prepared for the crash—

One warm hand delicately wrapped around her wrist while another pressed against her back, helping the young girl steady herself. The moment the stranger’s hands retreated, she hid her face behind her hands, both in embarrassment and fear. But then she heard a soft laugh, not of mockery, but of fondness, affection, warmth, and she couldn’t help but peek through her fingers, watching as the now crouched stranger tipped the mask over their head, away from her view.

“You alright?” The stranger tilted their head questioningly before reaching up and picking a few leaves caught up in the young girl’s curly locks. “Make sure to watch where you’re going. You bumped your head quite hard.” They smoothed the back of their finger across her forehead.

“I’m okay, it didn’t hurt me that much. Sorry.” She mumbled, looking down at her worn shoes.

“Apology accepted. I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“I scared you.” They reached back and untied the mask, letting it drop into their hand, making sure to keep the face away from her. “If I had known there were children here, I wouldn’t have worn it.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Is that so? How old are you then?”

“I’m seven.”

“Oh, I see, you grown grown. My apologies for calling you a child.” Kova looked down at their mask before offering it to the girl. “It’s pretty scary, right?”

Hesitantly, the young girl nodded, a small smile forming. “I’ve- I’ve never seen a mask like that before.”

“Mn. It’s my brothers. Do you want to see it? It’s less scary when there’s no one behind it.”

“Sure—!”

“Emmie!”

The young girl (’Emmie?’) snatched her hands back, startled, and whipped around.

Now that their little bubble had been popped, Kova realized the entire camp had been watching their every move like a hawk, as if they would hurt the child. Their set their jaw a little tighter than usual.

A pair of legs appeared at the corner of their eye, Emmie unwillingly behind them. Kova raised their gaze. The pair of legs belonged to a man, a familiar one at that. Ah. He had been there at the bridge, as back up—

Their eyes landed on a bandage plastered against his cheek. They were hit with an influx of memories and realized a lot more happened yesterday. Kova stood from their crouched position, face suddenly very serious.

Emmie didn’t like it. But before she could say anything, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and pull her away. She looked up and found the hand belonged to Fox. Just before Fox pulled her around the corner, Emmie yelled, “Pretty stranger, see you later!”

Kova didn’t have low self esteem, but while they didn’t see themselves as ugly, they wouldn’t have used the term ‘pretty,’ either. They were caught off guard for just a moment, but before Emmie was dragged around the corner, they managed to respond with, “Mn, see you.”

They turned their attention back to the man. Their eyes unconsciously landed on the bandage once more before darting away in guilt. “My apologies for yesterday. I—”

“Whatever.” The man cut them off, leaving them in shock. He continued, “Clarke wants a word with you. Go to the dropship. I heard you already know where it is, right Kova?”

Still in shock at being cut off and his foul tone, his implication went over their head. Their jaw tensed, forehead creasing. “I was trying to apologize.”

“Don’t care. Go to the dropship.”

Kova opened their mouth, but before they could get a word out, the man turned away, heading to the location in question. They had to take a deep breath, silently begging the Gods to provide them with all the patience possible. Just before they could take a single step, Bellamy spoke over his shoulder. “And from now on, keep the mask on and stay away from the kids.”

The mask, they can understand, but something malicious settled in their stomach at the last half of his sentence. Their hands clenched at their sides. “I would rather die than hurt a child.”

Bellamy stopped in his tracks. “Good thing you won’t have to do either, since you’ll be staying away from the children.”

He kept walking.

Instead of arguing, they followed his footsteps, tying the mask back on. They were more angry at the implication of what they would do to the children rather than the order itself. But then again, they would never let Lykrian, Artigas, or any of the other TonDC children near an invader.

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Once the two arrived, Kova couldn’t help but take note of the dropship’s design. After all, the last time they had been here, they were too busy with saving their brother to notice the harsh lighting, the seats along the walls, most taken out of place and leaving behind an imprint. Boxes were now stacked neatly in one of the corners, rather than haphazardly like they had been last time. Kova followed Bellamy to the back and found Clarke sitting at a table with six empty seats and a cup of what seemed to be tea.

While Kova stood by the entrance and bowed their head, waiting to be invited, Bellamy simply sauntered in and plopped himself in the chair across Clarke’s.

“Come in, sit.” Clarke patted the chair next to her.

“Mn.” Hesitantly, they pulled out the chair between her and Bellamy. She nodded, and they sat down, back rigid. “I was told you wanted to see me.”

“I wanted to go over what happened at the meeting before the grounders attacked.” 

Before Clarke could say anything further, Kova interrupted. “I believe you have it the wrong way — Trikru did not attack first.”

“Jasper said they were ready to shoot Clarke down.” Bellamy said, crossing his arms, sending him his best glare. “We were protecting ourselves.”

“Did you not have your sights set on the Lieutenant?” Kova questioned without sparing a glance towards him, preferring to stare straight at the wall. “Just as your back up had their finger on the trigger, Trikru, too, notched their arrows in preparation. That does not mean they would have attacked without prompt. I told you on the bridge that guns weren’t allowed,” they directed their words to Clarke, “the causalities on Trikru’s side far outweigh what you have here.”

Standing from his chair, Bellamy scoffed and walked away from the table to pace around the tent. Kova wondered if he did that a lot. By the way Clarke sent him a worried glance every minute or two, it seemed so.

“Speaking of unprovoked,” Clarke continued. “Anya said something along the lines that we had attacked Trikru unprovoked too many times to be considered unintentional. Do you know what she was talking about?”

“…A few come to mind.”

“A few?” Bellamy let out a bitter laugh. “A few? What kind of bullshit — we’ve been here for less than two weeks, what could we have possibly done to them—?”

“Shall we start from the beginning?” Kova’s sharp tone interrupted him with a chill he hadn’t felt by anyone before. With every point, they counted off a finger. “Crossing the forbidden river, almost alerting the Mountain’s fog, risking the lives of many hunters and living animals, and then—”

“When was that?”

“When you first landed. I believe you had sent out a scavenger team. You were there too, now that I recall.”

It took the two invaders to realize what they talked about.

“What, Jasper? When he swung over the river?”

“Mn. Across the river is a no access zone. We’re not sure why, but that area around Mount Weather triggers an acid fog from the forest and passes a good kilometer or two past the river. The day Jasper crossed was when the hunters and gatherers were out.”

Bellamy seemed to have pieced whatever pieces he had together, and his face contorted in anger. "Then were you the one who speared him?!”

Immediately, Kova shook their head. “I heard of the incident, but it was not me.”

Noting Bellamy’s face, Clarke diverted the subject. “What else did we do?”

“After you landed, you destroyed large portions of the forest, burned down the Srathme Springs and the village with it—”

“Anya mentioned that. I already explained that was an accident. We had to send fireworks up to save our people still stuck on the Ark.” There were not many ways of excusing yourself from a mass murder, intentional or not, and this was not one of them. It sounded more of an excuse than a reason. “Our people in space — on the Ark — were running out of oxygen. 300 people volunteered to sacrifice themselves so the others can have more time. We had a radio to contact them so they didn’t have to lower the population, but it, uh…” She sent another look near Bellamy's direction, one he didn't notice. “It didn’t work.”

Truthfully, Kova hadn’t been paying attention to her excuse, but the way her tone faltered and how Bellamy tensed caught their attention. “Oh? And why do you keep looking at him for?”

Bellamy snapped his head towards the two. Clarke looked away guiltily. Kova kept their face as neutral as possible as if they hadn't exposed the invaders' leader. "What, did you mess with the radio or something?”

Clarke stiffened. Bellamy looked away. Neither responded.

“Hmm. Interesting. Well. Either way, your radio would have been useless.”

That caught the invaders' attention. “Why?” Clarke asked.

Kova looked down, picking the dirt from under their nail casually. “I'm not sure what the exact science is behind it, but radios don’t work around these parts, specifically Trikru, Azgeda, and Sangedakru, but I think parts of Podakru, Ouskejonkru, and Boudalankru that are closer to us also have the same issue. Something about the lingering radiation.

“Regardless, people died at the Srathme Springs. The remaining villagers were relocated.” Kova continued. “The Springs had also been heavily damaged, which means no mining or mineral collection. With one move, you managed to kill both Trikru’s people and its economy, especially in its sword making and arts. Congrats.”

Bellamy placed both hands on the back of his head, restraining a groan.

Clarke swallowed thickly. “Anya also said something else. Something about the library?”

Kova stilled completely. They turned their head towards Clarke, blinking a few times with wide eyes. “What?”

“What?”

“What happened to the library?” Their fingers tensed against the wood of the table.

“She didn’t say it completely burned down, but it had been heavily damaged from the fire. Why?”

Kova leaned over the table, dropping their head into their hands. “I didn’t hear about that. Fuck.”

“Watch your fucking language.” Bellamy snapped.

Clarke ignored him, inching closer towards the grounder. “Why, is it important?”

They couldn’t bare to look at dead people walking. They let out a heavy sigh. “How badly did you need the peace treaty?”

Well. If that wasn't ominous, Clarke didn't know what was. “Pretty badly, we didn’t know there were people alive here. If we did, we would have been more careful.”

“Too late for that.” Kova muttered.

“Will you just tell us what’s going on?” Bellamy snapped again, fists clenching.

“The damaging of a major library, like the one at Srathme’s village, is considered as one of, if not the most heinous way of declaring war.” Kova shook their head, scrubbing their face with their hands. “I should have known. No wonder the Lieutenant and the General had been planning for war since. I though they were just preparing for the worst case scenario.”

“War? Over a library? Why is it so important?” Clarke asked.

“When the Foresakening happened, naturally most books perished from both radiation and age. The previous commander, Rha, tried to destroy the little remaining knowledge we had left under the guise of ‘moving on from our past.’ We all knew he wanted to paint his version of history instead of what really happened, and the elders wouldn’t have it. After his downfall, all books were ordered to be preserved and copied, but minor libraries simply carry the copies of the preserved books. Major libraries hold both the copies and the original texts. They are also the epicenters of the copiers.” Kova pulled away from their hands, leaning back in their chair. “Meaning, you messed up real bad.”

“What should we do?” Clarke asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Kova threw their hands in the air in frustration. “You won’t get whatever treaty you want — hell, I’m shocked they didn’t shoot you on site back at the bridge.”

“Clarke!”

The group turned in their seats. One of the invaders had interrupted, calling for the leader from outside the dropship. “Myles keeps vomiting, can you check in on him?”

“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute!” She called back. She stood, but just before she left, she tapped Bellamy’s shoulder. “You two talk. I’ll be back in a second.”

While the two nodded, the moment Clarke left, they fell into silence. Bellamy had sat back down, but refused to even acknowledge their presence.

“Name.”

Bellamy faced them with a confused look. “What?”

“You never told me your name.”

“…Bellamy. Octavia’s brother.”

“…mn.”

“…”

They fell back in silence.

Bellamy grew frustrated. “Well?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

“You know my name already. You said it before.”

They weren’t wrong, but wasn’t it polite to introduce yourself? Ooh, Bellamy almost cursed them out on the spot.

Suddenly, Kova started talking again. “Our current commander, Lexa. Her campaign was almost solely based on restoring the libraries. If she knows what happened, she won’t let you get off free.”

“We have guns, I’d like to see her try.” His tone full of arrogance, he couldn’t help but lean back comfortable in his chair.

“Do you think this is a joke?” Their words were almost as sharp as their glare. “Are you willing to kill more people than you already have?”

Bellamy stood up, knocking his chair back. Kova followed his actions, hands tensing by their sides.

“Hey.” His tone deepened in warning. He stepped closer to the grounder, although he couldn’t help but hesitate when they didn’t move back like he expected. “Watch your mouth.”

“You know, I don’t think I will.” That hesitation was all it took for Kova to take up the rest of the space between them, pressing the tip of their finger against his chest to push him back lightly. It was only when he forcibly took a small step back did Kova realize that they were a good few centimeters taller than him. Good. They could practically tower over him with the way they were acting. "At the bridge, you and your friends had the same job as those scouts did. Trikru’s scouts didn’t shoot first. But why are you and yours so adamant on villainizing my people?” They leaned in, anger flashing in their eyes. “They aren’t the ones who killed over — What did Clarke say before? 300 people?”

A hand wrapped around their wrist, and Kova found themselves being back into a table, the edge pressing against the back of their thighs. Their nostrils flared in anger, but before they could growl out a warning they suddenly found themselves far too close to his face, their breaths mingling with his. But that wasn't what shocked them.

No, what shocked them was his pale freckled face, one of malnutrition and stress than the lack of sun, his dark, hooded eyes, prominent bags and lines underneath that screamed exhaustion.

It was Kova's own face looking back at them.

One of grief, of remorse and regret.

Unconsciously, they backed up, nudging the table askew.

“I already know what I’ve done. I have to live with it now, and I don’t need someone like you to remind me.” As much as Bellamy tried to seem threatening, he felt on the edge of falling apart.

Kova rarely stuttered, and while this wasn't a stutter, the hesitation behind their words made them uncomfortable. “You…feel guilt?”

His hand subtly relaxed around their wrist, loose fingers curling around their pulse point. Bellamy opened his mouth, but before he could answer, the sounds of footsteps entered the main area of the dropship. Bellamy stepped back and sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, and turned away.

The curtain's cutting off the main area to the small corner shifted. Kova attempted to lean casually against the table, crossing their arms. The area where his hand had been felt hot to the touch.

Clarke appeared. “Everything okay? I was worried you two would bite each others heads off.” She joked before returning to her place next to the table. While she continued to talk about the meeting, Kova was still reeling over what just happened. They absentmindedly rubbed their wrist a few times before snapping out of their stupor and joining the conversation.

When Kova glanced at Bellamy, he turned away.

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#bellamy x oc #bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake imagines #bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 #the 100 imagines #the night our stars aligned (and our breaths touched) #my writing #writeblr #wip fanfic

[neshabeingchildish]

Sharing His Space

I have to edit whenever I get up. Well, not so much edit as you know, the italics and ish that gets lost when you switch to Tumblr. Knocking out soon. @chenoahchantel @adorkable-blackgirl @kiddangers @henryhearts

Share a Lair 6

Max surfaced some time in the afternoon. Jasper and Henry were sitting at the island, eating plates of food whenever he walked into the kitchen and smirked to himself when he saw them. Charlotte’s face brightened up as soon as she saw him. That made him break out into a wide smile. “Morning, Charlotte!” 

“Morning? Try maybe three hours ago, Friend.” She laughed and he came over to where she was standing near the stove and leaned against the counter, “You cook?” He asked.

“Oh, no. I didn’t have time, but my Uncle Roscoe is ALWAYS concerned that if the whole family doesn’t have greens and black eyed peas that the year won’t go right. Despite the fact that he’s been cooking and eating this every year himself for ages and I haven’t seen him have a year that I thought went right in my entire life.”

“Can I have some?” Max asked.

“You ask for things nicely?” Henry asked.

“He asks Charlotte things nicely,” Jasper said. The two of them smiled at each other and she furrowed her eyebrows. What the heck did they mean by that? 

She ignored them and told Max, “Of course you can. There’s greens and black eyes peas that he gave me entire pots of. All I had to do was warm it on the stove. And also a whole meat pan of ribs, and I may have shot my shot with his cornbread recipe.”

Max grabbed a plate, “So, your family has like a FEAST for New Year’s Day?” 

“Kinda,” she said. He just smiled at her. 

Jasper watched them carefully and wondered, “Is there something going on here?” Max realized that he was standing extremely close to Charlotte, practically in her personal space and they were just smiling at each other. They both got some distance at Jasper’s question, and he said, “Nevermind.”

Max sat at the table and ate, then had seconds and thirds… Henry’s eyes were wide, “You can really put some food away, huh?”

“I’ve got superpowers,” was all that Max said. 

Charlotte, having been finished eating a while ago, but was still in an apron, now nursing a cup of tea sat down and said, “Right, your biology is a little bit different than ours. Like, your scans and vitals and stuff register differently, so of course, your metabolism and probably other functions would too. Plus, with the range of powers that you have, your natural internal processes are probably so different from ours that our estimations can’t really comprehend it!” She sounded so interested, but also, Max almost felt like she was speaking about some bizarre creature.

“I’m human. I have human functions, but yes… my genes do some things differently.”

“Yeah, I mean, yes - obviously you’re human, but you’re superhuman. It’s not exactly the same.”

“I mean… It’s not, but it is!” He said, kind of irritated. Something about the thought of her seeing him differently was troubling for him. Henry grabbed his empty plate and gave Max a weird look as he went to make another plate for himself.

Charlotte said, gently, but sternly, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Max. I’m trying to understand.” She shrugged her shoulders and left it alone. He obviously didn’t care to talk about this. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He wondered. “We got back here pretty late and you called me this morning.” Great. Subject change. She nodded.

“I got about 4 hours of sleep, no… 3.” She sipped her tea. “I’ll probably crash tonight as soon as my head touches my pillow.”

“I wore you out last night, I’m sure,” he said. Jasper choked on his food and Henry snorted laughter. Charlotte’s lip dropped. “Grow up. I only meant I kept her out all night, party hopping.”

“What else would he mean? Because everybody here knows that nothing else would have ever happened between us! I’m not… That girl.” He thought about last night’s little kiss… Actually, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. He’d been thinking about it from the time it happened, even through the dream portion of his sleep. He couldn’t believe that something that lasted so short in real time was having such a lengthy after effect. But also, she clearly didn’t want her friends to know that it even happened. 

He got up, collected his plate and tossed it in the sink. “Henry, don’t forget that you or Jasper have clean up duty for the next two months,” he said and retreated back into his chambers.

Charlotte asked, “You lose a bet or something?” 

Henry and Jasper both stammered over word vomit, avoiding admitting that they sold her out with house chores. She put her tea cup away, went to Max’s door, and pressed the button that she guessed worked like a doorbell. His voice came through the speaker, “Yes, Charlotte?”

“Hey… Are we okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. You seemed… different… than last night…”

He was quiet for a while and she wasn’t sure if the connection had ended, but he sighed and said, “I’m not the only one.”

She whispered, “Okay, sorry. I will loosen up more. Like last night… Well, maybe not like last night, but…”

He heard him chuckle, “Okay, Charlotte. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

.

Charlotte was more at home in the place than Henry felt lately. He was usually trying to be more mindful about the shared space, considering that he had to be the one to clean it up for now, while she just sort of chilled. She would straight up go into the shared spaces without checking in with Max anymore. She’d pretty much made herself at home. 

She even started to wander in wearing night clothes or bringing some to change into, at times. That started, she claimed at Max’s suggestion. 

It was the third weekend in January and she staggered out of the tower, exhausted beyond imagination and almost didn’t even notice that Max was outside. When she did, she yelped and startled him. “What is your problem?” He asked, with his hand over his chest.

“What’s yours? What in the world are you doing out here at this time of night?” She asked.

“I live here. I can be out here at whatever time of night I feel like it. What are you doing out here?”

“Getting ready to go home!” She said, a little snappy. “It’s the MLK Weekend and if I miss ANY of the festivities, my parents will have a long, civil rightsy  fit. So, I am about to try not to fall asleep as I head back to Swellview so that I can hopefully get a few winks of it before the parade tomorrow morning. Why are you outside of the tower, though?”

This was the best spot for testing out his experiments when he went outside, because the opening was larger than on the other side of the lair. But, he was more concerned about what she’d said before that. “Should you be driving, if you’re this tired? I mean… You could just crash here and meet your folks in the morning, right? Or at least take a nap or something before you go?”

“It sounds like you’re worried,” she said amused. 

“You’re the only thing that keeps my housemate and I from battling to his death,” he joked. “But, seriously, it’s dangerous, not just to yourself, but to others on the road.”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Captain Man and Kid Danger didn’t finish their assignment until a few minutes ago, and I can’t sleep in my day stench and old clothes. Gross.”

He sighed, frustrated, but forced a smile that she could see perfectly, even with just a few lanterns and the moonlight. “How about this? Tonight, I can lend you overnight clothes and my shower and stuff and the next time you come around, be sure to have a weekend bag, in case your shift goes too long.”

“Max, I could’ve inconvenienced Henry this way, but I’m not gonna do that to you.”

“It’s not an inconvenience. I’m gonna be way more inconvenienced by wondering if you and the other people on the road made it home safely when I should be testing out this awesome new hoverboard. And Henry? Don’t make me laugh. I feel like I can confidently assume that you wouldn’t be caught dead using his bath products.”

“He uses the same soap for everything.”

“There’s a special place for people like that,” Max said. 

She sighed. She really didn’t want to make that drive. “Well… if you’re offering, it’d be rude of me to decline, especially since you’ve made such valid points. But, first thing’s first, lets see what’s so special about this hoverboard.” 

Max LOVED when Charlotte was around for one of his inventions. She was one of the few people who he felt genuinely was curious, interested, and impressed by them from the moment she first heard about or saw them. He explained to her about the issues that previous hoverboards ran into and how he made this one with adjustments to those problems and also what he added to make it even better. She totally understood. Whenever he got on it to test it, it took off way faster than she expected and she gasped, but then laughed with excitement at how fluid he seemed on it, even when he did tricks and stuff. Like… WOW. She knew he was athletic, but dang… Ugh… He looked so cool doing stuff on that expert equipment. He pulled back in next to her, kicked an end of it as he leapt off and caught it and placed it under his arm. “I’m gonna be bringing this baby into battle with me. Can you imagine me fighting someone with the aid of this?” He was truly excited, and she was too.

“I can imagine it. I am imagining it, and I will download and save any Hero Tracks that capture it…” He put his free hand in the small of her back and walked her back towards the front entrance. 

That night, she realized that his provisions were DEFINITELY more reflective of his work than she would’ve imagined. When you first entered his chambers, there was a long hallway and she noticed that he was deactivating stuff as they walked it, casually speaking and flicking his fingers. So, the lead up must’ve had some great security. Then, they came to what looked like an elevator and he moved his fingers, like he was pressing a code, but of course, didn’t need to actually touch the keys to do so. She worried. Was this going to be like Ray’s elevator? Because she wasn’t sure her head could handle it. But, when it opened, he opened a trap door in the floor and said, “Okay… This slide is really intense. You want me to hang on to you?”

“What? Slide?” She laughed. He sat down and reached for her. “Dear God…” She didn’t know what to pray as she climbed onto his lap and he smiled mischievously before pushing them off with one hand and holding on to her with the other. She. Screamed. This… might have been WORSE than Ray’s elevator. It was like one of those super slides from a water park, but no water and a terrifying drop down. Whenever they came out on the other end, they were practically shot out of the tunnel and floated for a moment as the gravity level of the room accommodated their safety. Her screams should have woken up the entire neighborhood. His laughter was a little bit louder, though. Then, they were released onto a landing pad. He smiled at her as she caught her breath. 

“I… That was… Really fun!” She cackled and covered her face. “Oh my God. Is this how you always come home?”

“Usually I cross my arms across my chest like an X, slide down like a boss and control my own landing, but the slide sensed another body and tripped the gravity field control.” Now, she got up and looked around. She never thought that she would be here. He wasn’t a very open person and this was his most private space. It was very dark and mysterious, but also… not creepy, weird, or scary. More like… deep and tranquil. She explored, and to her pleasant surprise, he didn’t stop her. He let her meet his current venus fly trap, showed her a few gadgets that he was currently working on, and such, and warned her which things to be careful around, because they were either weapons in disguise or guarded possessions with safety systems attached or nearby. 

“How do you never accidentally set things off yourself?”

“Gifted, I guess,” he said, grabbing a onesie for her. “Here,” he said and tossed it to her.

“Why do you have a bunny onesie?” She asked, chuckling.

“I can’t wanna be cute and cuddly sometimes?” He gave her a washcloth and a drying towel and said, “Soap and stuff’s in there. Nothing hazardous. The one place that’s completely harmless.” 

Charlotte stepped in and asked out loud, “What did they give him the prefect’s bathroom?” She studied the bathtub… She wasn’t really a bath person, but the stuff that was there for a nice long soak might be good for her, and she could always get into the shower afterwards, which there was a little walkway with drains leading to. She went to look at the shower. It had what seemed to be music settings, steam settings, aromatherapy… This bathroom was like… she didn’t want to leave it, to be honest. Henry’s bathroom had your traditional two in one bath/shower and the tub wasn’t even half as big as Max’s. Also… while he just had a toilet, Max also had a bidet! She was gonna have to light a fire under Henry. He would have to work his chops off if he wanted to get some good funding. He probably couldn’t really catch up to Max, but he could maybe at least upgrade a little. “You okay? I don’t hear anything…” Max called from the other side of the door.

“I am fangirling over your amazing bathroom, if that’s okay?”

He laughed. “Carry on. Also… The bathtub has a hot tub setting. If you need it.”

“Oh my God, can I come work for you, instead?” She joked.

“I don’t need any staff, but if you just wanna use my bathroom sometimes, I can grant you an access code.”

And he did! She didn’t tell Henry and Jasper, because, well… it wasn’t their business. And whenever she got up in the morning, having slept in Max’s bed, he was asleep on the landing pad beneath his slide with a sleeping mask on. She wasn’t sure that morning how to get out of the place, so she unfortunately had to wake him up. He ripped off his sleeping mask, alert and practically ready to fight, until he saw her. “Oh… Hey… Morning.”

“Sorry. I don’t know how to get back to the surface.”

He pointed to a door that looked yet again like an elevator, but whenever she opened it, it was an escalator. Okay. She got on, thanked him and left. He dragged himself into bed and laid down. His pillow smelled like her hair. He couldn’t help but to smile about that. He hugged it close and kinda wished it was her. He could’ve possibly made a move last night, but… then she might have thought that he was only nice to her for that. He didn’t want to scare her or make her distrust him. Besides, it was cool kinda building a friendship with her. They didn’t HAVE to be more… Probably wouldn’t be. 

.

But, whatever they were, Henry knew that Charlotte had some type of… power in this house. Power that he didn’t seem to have. “Char… You think that you could get Max to agree to some more living room time?”

“I’m not his housemate, Hen. You are.”

“I know, but he likes you, though.”

Her face got warm, “What? No he doesn’t! I mean, we respect each other. We have a sort of rapport that we’ve managed to develop. But, that’s it. Besides, I told you which of those tower rooms you can make into a wonderful living room within your chambers.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have the SAL swag that is in our shared living room.”

“Technically… That stuff belongs to both of you, or it’d be in Max’s chambers. Believe me, his space is SUPER luxurious.”

“You’ve… been in there?” Henry asked, shocked. “This is what I mean! He let you into his chambers. He would never let me or Jasper in there… Maybe he does like you.”

“God, Henry, not everybody is like you. Some people can just be nice because you’re friends, colleagues, or kindred souls. You don’t have to like everybody that you’re nice to!”

“You’re acting so weird about this. Can you please just get me the living room for the last weekend of this month slash first weekend of next month for a videogame tournament?”

“Ohhhh… He’s having that here, with his friends. You can probably come.” She laughed and waved a hand, “You live here. Of course you can come!”

“His friends? He… Has friends?” Henry said.

“The guys from his high school band, Billy and Nora, and maybe Phoebe? I can’t remember who all was tagged in the post.”

“He… You were tagged in a post invited here, where I live, and I wasn’t even so much as spoken to about it?”

“I didn’t think to…”

“I have to try to get a new housemate,” Henry said, shaking his head.

“Henry…”

“No. I don’t care that in the past couple of weeks he’s become your buddy or whatever is happening there. I work hard too and he can’t treat me like an unwanted guest in my own lair that I share with him.”

“I’m just going to tell you that if you file for a transfer, it’s a lot of paperwork and they ask you to try a number of roomate reconciliation tasks and morale building before they determine that indeed you can’t live with the person that they placed you with. He can’t be that bad, Henry.”

“He is, though. He’s the absolute worst. I’d rather live with Ray.”

“Shameless lie, huh?”

“It felt differently before I actually said it.”

“Tell you what… I will talk to him and if he doesn’t care, then we start looking into some of the SAL reconciliation tasks.” Henry gave Charlotte a big hug, lifting her off of the ground and kissed her hard on the cheek. 

“You’re the best, Char!”

“Yeah, every time you need something,” she teased and gave him a shove. 

#Share a Lair #henry danger #the thundermans #crossover #crossover fanfic #Nesha Crossover #Thundanger #Thunderbolt

[icypantherwrites]

Just a quick request for some advice, I've noticed you seem to be very good at promoting your works, requesting feedback and actually getting some, and reposting on Tumblr and such. Now admittedly, you are an awesome author and I pretty much love everything you write, but I have to think your promotion abilities are part of what brings you hits, kudos, likes, and feedback. Do you have any advice on the best ways to promote my fanfiction, build a fanbase and short of begging, get more comments?

Self-promotion and marketing definitely are a large part of my fanbase. I’ve seen it go both ways; amazing writers and fics that don’t have much attention and not-so-great ones that have huge followings because of social media presence of the author. So while having quality stories is still a large part of it, so too is marketing.

My background is not actually in marketing but journalism, but I did run a number of social media pages and have always been a very big people-person and engager, which I’ve applied to pretty much all aspects of my life. One of my favorite slogans I’ve learned from retail (and marketing) is you can’t sell what’s not out. i.e., if you don’t present your product you can’t expect to have any customers (or in this case readers).

In my case, I’m a very prolific author, meaning I have a lot of stories under my name and I’ve been fortunate that a couple of those have become bigger name ones in this fandom for extra exposure. The more you have, obviously the more you will “sell” and therefore, generally, the more exposure you’ll get and then comments (comments though are a fickle beast and it really really varies). 

I’m borrowing some of the advice from a previous post (you can always search my blog with “#writing advice” for more things) but these would be a couple of strategies I would recommend you try out :) Not all of them may be applicable to you either, as all authors write at different paces and volumes and have different time constraints, but maybe something in here will help ;) 

1. Have an update schedule! This one is really important. Whether that means you pre-write the entire fic or you buckle down and commit to a regular posting (which is how Color was for me for the first couple months until I pre-wrote enough to kick back and relax a bit xD) be it weekly or bi weekly or every two weeks (the other bi weekly? Such a weird word) you do that.

When you get people on a schedule and they are more likely to come back and comment with something other than the dreaded “update soon!” because they know you are going to update soon and when exactly that is. Give readers something to plan and look forward to, just like a favorite TV show that airs weekly.

2. Respond to comments. Whether you write giant-ass paragraph responses or even a simple “thank you ♥” it goes a long way. I know I always am more inclined to really keep up on a fic where the author has shown to appreciate their readers (although if I read your fic and like it I will comment regardless ♥). I know for me right now I have stopped doing this as it just got... draining for me, to respond in detail and never see those readers again and it felt hurtful to me. But I still make a point to say thank you in the author’s notes and if anyone has a question I do try to answer that too.

3. Read other authors’ works you enjoy but do not self-promote. Please don’t do that. I hate it when I see that and it makes me even less inclined to check out a fic (I’m already very picky with what I read and don’t read much at all). By all means comment on the fic and be like “I headcanon Keith is a good cook too!” because those personal details are lovely and maybe that’ll inspire that other author to click on your profile to see if you’ve got a fic with such a theme to go read.

But otherwise, keep your comments about their fic (or your reaction to it) and show your excitement and passion for that fic. Bookmark too (and Ao3 lets you add comments; you can bet if I see a nice comment on a bookmark tag I’m clicking on that author to see a; what else they’ve bookmarked and b; if they’ve written anything). Well written and passionate comments tell a lot about a person and if they can write a nice review they likely can write a nice fic and could be worth an extra click to see their profile. That is indeed how I’ve found several authors and fics I now read :)

4. Chapter length. This I have noticed over time but shorter chapters (for me around 3k-4k) tend to get more comments than longer ones because people have “more time” upon finishing to leave a comment. It doesn’t always work but it is something I’ve witnessed on more than one occasion. That said, don’t write a chapter of only 1k words and think they’ll pour in because it’s short. Leading on to…

5. Whatever your chapter is, make sure it has content that people will want to respond to. Not every chapter has to have explosions and action and intense heart-to-hearts, but every chapter should have something memorable. Filler chapters are unavoidable, especially in longer fics, but do what you can to make them not quite so “blah” and give them some heart.

6. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, meaning write multiple things (although perhaps not as much as me ^^;). Having a mix of a longer running chapter fic (for those “episodes” back in bullet point one) to keep people coming back and having a few shorter fics (be one-shots, two-shots, or shorter chaptered fics) to draw in new people and help you out when you get stuck on your other fic is invaluable. I definitely expanded my audience and brought in new readers that gave me little boosts of support when I started publishing one-shots semi-regularly. 

7. Don’t be afraid to self-promote on your blog. Reblog your works, pull out snippets to share, reblog those too if you don’t get many notes. I don’t really get how Tumblr’s tag system works, but tag your first few tags with the biggest ones that those browsing might stumble across. Ao3 does let you link to your Tumblr so long as you aren’t advertising commissions or patreon or the like in said blurb so make sure you link to your tumblr too to get cross-traffic.

8. Post sneak content on your blog; previews and snippets. Get people excited about the work before you post it. 

9. I don’t know how reasonable this is for most, but holding little games or contests can really up the engagement. Starting out, doing something like a bingo card prompt event could be one to consider; the “prize” is writing the prompt which gets you both more content, therefore more eyeballs on said content, and hopefully a very grateful fan who will leave you a nice comment and reblog it for their page. 

10. I like ending on this number. Um, oh, okay! This is both great for writing experience, content and engagement! If you see a piece of fanart you like that you feel compelled to write a bit for, do so and reblog it! Anyone who clicks on that art will see your reblog of it and maybe, maybe, the original artist will reblog your selection too! Not just artists either, but there are lots of “prompt” type posts I see that you could do that for as well. 

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[lowtldes]

your sharp and glorious thorn

rating: M (for game-typical violence)

ships: arthur morgan/original female character

chapter: 2/?

previous chapters: chapter one [tumblr] [ao3]

words: 6k

tags: slow burn, treasure hunting

warnings: game-typical violence

chapter summary: Arthur crosses paths with Iris sooner than he’d like.

also on ao3!

Arthur doesn’t like riding into Strawberry. It’s not that he’s nervous someone will recognize him from the time he broke Micah out of jail, it has more to do with the fact that he and Micah just about killed half the town.

No one is going to recognize him. No one is alive to recognize him. And it’s that that stirs guilt in his belly. He’s never been one to enjoy killing needlessly. Let alone half a town of innocent people.

Arthur lights a cigarette, pressing it between his lips to stop himself from gritting his teeth. No, Micah Bell has already ruined enough things for the gang, Arthur’s not going to let the mere thought of the man ruin his day now too.

STRAWBERRY. Arthur lets his eyes linger on the overhead sign as he takes a drag of his cigarette, passing through his exhaled smoke, looking as if a fog had parted for the tourist town to grace his vision.

He can probably stay the night here, before setting out again tomorrow. Watson’s Cabin, right up north in Big Valley. A tip worth looking into, especially since he was only a day’s ride out of Strawberry when he heard about it.

Back in Strawberry, barely two days since he beat that godawful old man and left his granddaughter with a bunch of dead bodies by the dam. He sighs. This robbery better be worth it, he’s spent far too much time away from camp, he’s gotta have something good to show for it when he gets back to Horseshoe Overlook.

“You… What the hell are you doing back here!”

Arthur tenses up. Hopefully they weren’t talking to him.

“Hey, hey, I’m talkin’ to you!”

Arthur sighs and stops his horse, Charon, right outside the hotel. The mayor’s reciting the same speech he hears every time he rides into town, it’s nothing but background noise now, just about as significant as the cigarette butt Arthur tosses into the dirt.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya,” Arthur grumbles and slides off his horse. He turns around, briefly looking for the source of the voice before he wrinkles his nose at the sight of the man.

It’s Jameson Cole, looking about as drunk as Uncle on his birthday. Whatever this man has to say to Arthur, it isn’t going to be any good. At least this isn’t going to be about that awful business with Micah.

“Mr. Cole,” Arthur greets coolly as the old man staggers towards him, bottle in hand. Jesus, the man hasn’t even crossed the road and Arthur can smell him from here. “I think it’s best you and I don’t talk.”

“You—y-you good fer nothin’ thief,” Cole hiccups when he’s close enough to Arthur, much to the dismay of Arthur’s sense of smell. “You kidnapper!”

“Excuse me?” Arthur says slowly, quietly, not keen on the attention the man’s words are drawing to the pair of them. The new Sheriff is an earshot away, dammit, Arthur doesn’t need those kinds of eyes on him right now. “I stole nothin’ you didn’t owe. If my memory serves right, it weren’t even you that paid. It was—”

“Iris! Oh, you bastard,” Cole wails, pausing to take another swig from his bottle. He jabs Arthur in the chest with his index finger. “You! You took ‘er! Stole her away and now I gotta beg on the street for a drink! Kidnapper!”

Folk are staring at them now. Women swiftly walking away from the scene, men eyeing Arthur suspiciously with their hands resting heavily on their guns.

Arthur’s spilled enough blood in Strawberry. He doesn’t want another fight on his hands, not here. He raises his hands in surrender, leaning back from old Jameson Cole and his whiskey stench. “You’re drunk, old man. Get out of here and stop makin’ a scene.”

Jameson Cole blinks blearily at Arthur, breaths coming out like wheezes. “You give her back. You give back Iris, oh, stupid little Iris, I’m afraid the house neeeeeds a cleaning! She ain’t been back since ya ran off with her!”

“I don’t have her, you old fool,” Arthur sneers, walking away from the man. “Maybe your granddaughter saw sense and ran far away from ya!”

Arthur shouldn’t care, the Coles are people he should be done with. If the world were in any way kind to him, he’d have never seen them again. But the knowledge that Miss Iris Cole didn’t return home after that whole mess with the treasure hunters doesn’t sit well with him.

Should’ve seen to it that she got home safe, he berates himself, you goddamn idiot, Morgan. What kind of man does that? Leave a woman out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies? This is why he loathes debt collection. Arthur’s already a bad man, he knows that, but collecting debts has always brought out a shade of himself he does not like any more than he likes his usual self.

Arthur sighs and mounts Charon again, muttering under his breath. “Don’t owe these people a goddamn thing. Ah, you fool, Morgan.”

He starts to ride out of Strawberry—so much for a night in the hotel—and takes the road leading in the direction of Owanjila.

“Hey, you!” Someone calls to him at the end of the main road—a young woman lugging a bucket full of fresh water. “Mister, I heard you talking to that awful old man.”

Arthur slows his horse, running a tired hand down his face. “Listen, Miss, I already told the man I don’t have his granddaughter—”

“But you’re heading out to look for her, right?” The woman presses, a bit of water sloshing out of the bucket. “That’s why you’re leaving town?”

“Yeah,” Arthur grunts, half shrugging. “I guess.”

“I work with Iris at the hotel,” the woman says, frowning softly, concerned. “She came to the hotel last night. Late last night, a strange look in her eyes. She told me Mr. Davis is dead and that she’s leaving.”

“Leaving? Where?”

“She didn’t say exactly,” the woman’s frown deepens. “I don’t think she quite knew where she was goin’ either. Just said. North. North of Big Valley. If you’re looking for her, you might want to start there.”

“Big Valley,” Arthur nods. The cabin he plans to rob is around there. Good. This won’t be a complete waste of his time. “Thank you, Miss.”

“Please find her, sir. She didn’t… she looked—she didn’t look quite right.”

Guilt stirs in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll get moving, then. Have a good afternoon, Miss.”

-

Iris ignores her rumbling stomach and walks along the road, treasure map clutched in one hand and Sammy's reigns in the other.

Her feet hurt. These old boots certainly weren’t made for walking, but she keeps on.

She knows where the treasure is. Or, at least, she'll know it when she sees it. There's no special instinct to treasure hunting, after all. Considering what Mr. Morgan did yesterday (or was it the day before?), it's as easy as sticking your arm into a hollow rock.

The treasure is by water, a shallow bed of water, according to the illustration on the map. And it's in Big Valley. That, she knows. Has to be. It's a gut feeling. Perhaps there is a special instinct.

Sammy lets out a whinny of protest, nodding his head and almost yanking the reigns out of Iris’s hand.

“I know,” Iris says. “I know, I know. But we're almost there, Sammy. We have to be. We ain’t riding back to Strawberry any time soon.”

Sammy huffs, sounding almost disapproving, but begins to follow again when Iris tugs on the reigns.

There’s that thundering sound again, her stomach groaning for food. Iris doesn’t have any food. She knows nothing of plant life, either. She only knows that eating the wrong plant can be a deadly thing. Better to be hungry for a day than to die by a plant.

The thundering sound continues, though her stomach has stopped its protests. The sound is distant, getting closer by the second. It's a rider, she realizes, the familiar galloping sound of a horse.

Iris stops and turns in the direction of the sound. Whoever it is, they’re heading straight towards her.

Oh. It’s the outlaw.

Iris clutches the map tight in her hand and stands close to Sammy, right next to the saddlebags. If he’s changed his mind and come back to rob her, she’s got one of the dead treasure hunter’s cattleman revolvers.

The memory of Mr. Morgan gunning down the treasure hunters is fresh on her mind again. He moves fast, Iris probably wouldn’t even be able to pull out her gun before he robs her. She’d at least like to try to get a few shots in, though.

He clicks his tongue and stops his horse when he’s close enough. His guns, notably, are in their respective holsters, not at all drawn and pointed at Iris when he dismounts his horse.

“Miss Cole,” he greets, hands resting on his gun belt. He’s exactly the same as when she first met him, lurking outside her homestead like a bad omen. Only this time, there’s no growl to his voice. There’s a roughness that’s still there, ever-present to the man’s voice, but this time around his greeting doesn’t sound like danger.

“Mr. Morgan,” she says back, voice feeble not with fear but with a tiredness. “You’ve… you’ve returned to rob me.”

Mr. Morgan tilts his head back, scrutinizing her from under the brim of his hat.

Iris is sure she looks as though some sort of fiendish wind has passed through. She hasn’t spared a moment to maintain a civilized appearance—her braid is all out of sorts from the wind and her fidgeting with it, her skirts are muddy from all the walking, her shoes are on the verge of falling to pieces, and she’s quite sure that her sore eyes are bloodshot, with darkened circles of exhaustion to complete the look.

Oh, she must look half-mad.

“No, ah,” the outlaw clears his throat awkwardly, scratching at his short beard. “No, I am not here to rob you.”

“Then what is this?” Iris frowns, hand tightening on Sammy’s reigns. “Have I stolen something of yours, then? Another debt that has to be paid?”

Mr. Morgan looks uncomfortable. “No.”

“Then why have you sought me out? I thought you’d have gone far, far away from Strawberry by now.”

“Well,” Mr. Morgan takes a step forward, cautious as though he might spook her. “The people in town said you haven’t been seen for a good while, and I didn’t like how I just left you in the middle of nowhere the other day, so I came out to… well, to check on ya.”

“Do you always check on your debtors after you’ve taken their money?”

He frowns. “Well, no. But—"

“Then why bother? You don’t have a to give me, or my granddaddy, or the entirety of Strawberry a second thought. A lapse of judgement is what you’re experiencing, Mr. Morgan. So allow me to direct you back to Strawberry, and we can go our separate ways.”

Mr. Morgan’s voice rises an octave, indignance lacing his voice. “Direct me back to Str—”

“To Strawberry, yes.” Iris lets go of Sammy’s reigns and crosses the short distance between them. She rests her hand lightly on Mr. Morgan’s arm and nudges him to turn around, pointing somewhere off behind him with the map clutched tight in her hand. “You can get to Strawberry simply by going back the direction you came from.”

Mr. Morgan resists at first, then obliges her light shoving and turns. “I know that, Miss Cole. You might think me a fool, but I’m at least a fool who knows where he’s going—is that a treasure map?”

“It is.” Iris swiftly retracts herself from his space and starts walking away, her sore feet screaming with each step. “And it’s close.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? People are worried about ya, Miss Cole.”

“I’m sure the only person breaking a sweat is Gramps, since I’m not there to clean up after him.”

“Well, what about your job?” Mr. Morgan says, following hastily after her. “Ain’t the hotel manager wondering where you are?”

“The hotel manager is dead,” Iris reminds him, halting to glare at a spot in the distance. Little Creek River. “Those treasure hunters shot Mr. Davis in the head.”

“Shit. Well… well someone else must’ve stepped up in the hotel,” Mr. Morgan says slowly, trying to salvage whatever’s left of his persuasion attempt. “There’s gotta be somethin’ in town that you gotta get back to. You can’t just wander around forever.”

Iris briskly spins around to glare at him. Mr. Morgan’s standing close enough that her long dark braid whips across his chest at the motion. “My boss at the hotel is dead. My job is most likely up in the air at the moment, and this is a moment I’d like to take to reflect on how I’ve been living my life.”

Mr. Morgan presses his lips together. “But you got—”

“I have nothing in that town, in that life, except for my leech of a granddaddy!” Iris looks at the worn map in her hands and sighs. “I don’t know if I want to go back to Strawberry, Mr. Morgan. I feel as though I’ve been going through my life like a phantom, and I need to start going through it like a person. With… with some kind of ambition. Something to look forward to.”

“Those are some dangerous thoughts, Miss Cole.”

“Are they?” Iris sighs again. “Twenty-seven years wasted in Strawberry. Did you know I’ve never set foot outside of West Elizabeth? Let alone Big Valley? I’ve got nothing to show for my life.”

“You don’t…” Mr. Morgan scowls. “You don’t have to show anyone anything.”

“I want to show myself something,” Iris says firmly, steeling his gaze. He often hides underneath his hat, she’s noticed, and being close enough now to peek under the brim and catch his blue-green eyes feels like she’s discovered something hidden once again. “I don’t know what I plan to do with my life after this, but for now, all I know is that I want to find this treasure. I want to show myself that I can find it.”

“And where is this treasure, huh?” Mr. Morgan scoffs. “No need to get all protective. I ain’t gonna take it from ya. I just… you—you look like hell, Miss Cole.”

Iris feels her face heat up. She scowls and walks away from him again, towards the soft sounds of trickling water. “I’m going to get this treasure, with or without your bothering.”

She hears Mr. Morgan mutter something under his breath, but he keeps following her. Risking a glance back, she sees that their horses are following after them slowly.

Little Creek River looks shallow enough that the water would barely come up to her ankles. Iris does her best to ignore Mr. Morgan’s lingering, glaring hard at the map while she hears him light a cigarette.

This looks like the spot. The way the illustration’s lines are darker around this particular bend looks precisely the same as the area in front of her. Iris’ eyes flit back and forth between the map and the riverbend before her. The X looks to be about ten feet away, buried right in the bed of the creek.

“How do you know that this is the river in the map?” Mr. Morgan’s voice grates over her thinking. He stands by their horses, cigarette between his fingers and a curious look on his face.

“I like riding around the valley when I get the time,” Iris answers, folding up the map and walking towards the treasure spot, the soil wet beneath her boots. “Not as often as I’d like, but… I admire the landscapes long enough to guess right about which stone goes where.”

“Well, you found that treasure last time. I can’t argue with that.” He snuffs the cigarette and looks around. “Damn. It’s gonna be dark any minute now.”

“Scared of the dark, Mr. Morgan?”

“Nah. Just don’t wanna die like an idiot, is all.” He walks to where she’s standing in the creek, brows raised as she kicks around the silt. “The wildlife around ain’t something to underestimate. Especially in the dark.”

Iris glances at him before sticking her hands into the cold, cold water to dig. “Could we camp, perhaps?”

“We?”

“I’m assuming you’re not going to leave me alone until we get back to Strawberry.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Mr. Morgan sighs. “Just… get a move on with that, will ya? Sun’s already coming down, and I’d rather find somewhere with four walls and a roof.”

Iris snorts, extracting her hands from the silt and opting to dig into the spot beside her previous attempt. “I suppose that’s better than a tent. But I doubt the folk living up in these parts would be hospitable.”

“There’s a cabin a heard about. I was plannin’ to camp there for a night or two to scope out another place nearby. Vetter’s Echo, I think it was called. Heard the owner hasn’t been seen for a long time. Whoever they are, they’re likely long gone, I’m positive they won’t mind if we use their place as shelter.”

“What were you planning to head up here for, if not to find me for whatever’s nagging at your conscience?” Iris says, then snorts. “An outlaw with a conscience, how ironic.”

Mr. Morgan makes a noncommittal sound. “It’s none of your business. Anyway, the cabin should just be up the ways from here. There’s likely some provisions there, which we need, because you’re lookin’ mighty peckish.”

“Were you planning a robbery?”

“None of your goddamn business, Miss Cole. You don’t need to get involved with that,” Mr. Morgan says firmly, all but confirming her suspicions.

Iris quietly wonders if she does want to get involved with that. She digs deeper into the silt, dirt getting caught beneath her fingernails. What does she plan to do after all of this? She can’t go back to monotonous life in Strawberry. She refuses.

Her nails scrape against something solid in the dirt. Iris jumps at the contact. “Oh! I’ve found it!”

Whatever it is, it’s smaller than a buried treasure chest from pirate stories. Definitely not shaped like any container Iris has seen before. Her fingers find some part to grip and curl around it, pulling it out of the riverbed. The top of it emerges from the silt as she pulls it up, smooth and bone white under the water.

Iris manages to pull the treasure up halfway before she recoils with a shriek, falling backward into the creek and soaking up even more of her skirts.

Mr. Morgan is next to her in a second, boots splashing in the shallow water and hands hovering cautiously over her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Iris doesn’t answer, just stares wide-eyed at the human skull still stuck in the silt. The human skull she dug up with her bare hands. Her skin crawls.

Mr. Morgan eyes follow to where she’s looking. He breathes an astounded, eloquent, “Jesus.”

“I… I touched it. Him. Her. Whoever they were,” Iris whispers, distraught. “I…”

“Well,” Mr. Morgan mutters, wading over to the skull. “Looks like you found your treasure.”

Mr. Morgan pulls the skull out of the silt and water, standing to his full height. Something about seeing him—someone else—taking her findings in their hands kicks Iris back into motion. Splashing a bit in the creek, Iris scrambles to a stand and snatches the skull right out of the outlaw’s hands.

“Thought you were frightened of it,” he says, shrugging and raising his hands in surrender.

Maybe at first.

“I was just surprised,” Iris says, narrowing her eyes at the small grin on his face. She turns her attention back to the skull. “Whoever this dead fella was… he can’t hurt me. Why should I be scared?”

“It’s not every day you dig up a dead head with your bare hands,” Mr. Morgan offers, perhaps attempting to console her. “Surprise and, uh, fear—it’s reasonable.”

Iris doesn’t answer him, but she frowns anyway, looking down at the skull so maybe Mr. Morgan doesn’t see her flushed face.

It’s already dark, the sun had fully set while she was digging, but Iris sees something in the skull’s hollowed eye catch briefly under the starlight. The smallest of shines.

“Miss Cole,” Mr. Morgan says, standing much closer now to look at the skull over her shoulder. His clothes smell like cigarette smoke. “I think you’re gonna have to—”

“Yes,” Iris cuts his sentence off swiftly, quietly. She swallows hard. “Yes, I see.”

“Would you like me to do it? It’ll still be your treasure, even if you let me.”

“I can do it. I will do it.”

Iris readjusts the skull in her hands, turning it upside down. She keeps a firm grip on the jaw, fingers sliding into the small, stiff opening of the mouth. With her other hand, she hooks her fingers into both eye holes, grimacing.

Sorry, she thinks. Then she pulls her hands apart with a sharp tug.

There’s a crunch as the jawbone snaps clean off, Mr. Morgan standing so close that with the force of her tug she accidentally elbows him when the piece comes loose. He lets out a small, winded oof as her elbow collides with his gut.

“Oh, sorry,” Iris says quietly, out of polite instinct. She’s not really paying attention, instead gazing into the hollow of the opened skull.

“No harm done,” he mutters.

There’s still quite a bit of bone in the way, but Iris turns the skull back right side up and shakes its contents into her palm. Several gold coins fall out, along with two more gold nuggets, and a small scrap of paper.

“You’re telling me that all this was buried not even a foot into the ground, for any fool to find?” Mr. Morgan huffs. “I should give up robberies n’ just start digging.”

“Any fool with a map,” Iris corrects, staring at the gold bunched in her hand with wide, wide eyes.

“And you knew exactly where it was again,” Mr. Morgan muses, stepping back and adjusting his hat. “Think you got a knack for this, Miss Cole.”

“I do, don’t I?” Iris looks down at herself, holding the treasures tight in her hand and the skull in the other. No bag, no pockets. She looks back up, past Mr. Morgan’s impressed expression and instead squints at the horses grazing several feet behind him. “Sammy! Sammy over here!”

Sammy finds the grass more interesting than the gold Iris is holding. Typical, that horse never listens to anyone.

“I’ll get him,” Mr. Morgan says, waving a hand as he walks away from her. He takes Sammy’s reigns and starts leading the horse towards where Iris stands by the creek, and whistles for his own dark horse to follow. “Charon! Follow me, boy.”

“Charon?” Iris asks when he’s back within earshot. “How dramatic of you.”

“Thought it’d fit him well,” the outlaw smiles fondly, tugging Sammy’s reigns. “I stole him at this show just outside of Valentine. There was a man on the stage, no arms and no legs, telling old Greek tales.”

“And you stole his horse?” Iris asks, clutching the skull and gold close to her chest.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Some bastard thought it’d be funny to throw things at the storyteller. He had a fine horse. That’s Charon right here,” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his horse following him. “This here’s a dark bay Andalusian—a war horse. Thought it’d be nice to name him after that half-horse half-man the limbless man spoke of. The one who trained heroes.”

Iris frowns. She’s not the most educated person. Not educated like those city folks who stay at the hotel, but she has read some books, especially the ones educated city folk accidentally leave behind. A book about old myths from far away lands kept her up for weeks.

“Forgive me, Mr. Morgan, but I think you’re confused.”

He stops Sammy right in front of her and lets go of the reigns. “Confused?”

“The half-horse half-man you’re thinking of is Chiron. An easy mistake, I suppose, since the names are quite similar.”

Mr. Morgan stops and stares at her in disbelief. Perhaps he’s expecting her to laugh and joke, but she’s quite sure that Charon is not the figure he’s thinking of.

“Goddammit,” he exhales, voice rising an octave. He shakes his head, hiding beneath the brim of his hat. Iris wonders if he’s blushing. “So you’re tellin’ me I’ve been calling my horse some nonsense this whole time?”

“Not quite nonsense, no.” Iris walks over to Sammy’s saddlebag. “If I recall, Charon served as a ferryman to bring souls to Hades.”

Mr. Morgan hums, squinting at his horse as if to see if the story sticks.

Iris tries to fit the treasures in the small saddlebag, but the gun she picked off the dead treasure hunter is in the way. “If you keep the name, your horse is now death’s ferryman. Do you… do you see yourself as death, Mr. Morgan? Or I suppose the name could extend to you, making your horse the vessel and you the actual ferryman.”

“Well…” Mr. Morgan rests his hands on his gun belt, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I have killed some people… quite a lot of people. But it was them or me. Ah, I shouldn’t be saying these things to a lady.”

Before Iris can respond, she grabs the gun in the saddlebag the wrong way. Intending to extract it from the bag to make room, she accidentally hits the trigger and a shot fires a hole out of the bottom of the bag.

“Oh!” Iris startles back, ears ringing from the closeness of the gunshot. Sammy whinnies and rocks his head back and forth in a panic. Charon, on the other hand, doesn’t flinch at the sound.

“Jesus!” Mr. Morgan yells, hand instinctively falling to one of the revolvers holstered on his belt. “What the hell was that?”

“I… the gun—shit, I blew a hole through the saddlebag!”

“Why is there a gun in the saddlebag?”

“I took it from one of those treasure hunters you killed!” Iris snaps back at him. “What’s the problem with keeping it in on my horse, anyway? You got an entire armory on your war horse, Mister.”

Mr. Morgan sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

“Oh, this damn bag is ruined.” The saddlebag is useless now. The hole at the bottom is big enough for any of the treasures to fall out.

Mr. Morgan motions for her to come closer. “Alright, give the gold to me. I can put it in my satchel for the time being.”

“No!” Iris scowls, holding the treasures close. “Do you take me for some kind of idiot?”

“You’re an idiot if you think it’ll be a good idea to walk back into Strawberry holding that gold out for everyone to see.”

“How do I know you won’t just run away the moment I hand the gold over to you?”

Mr. Morgan places his hand on his chest, eyes serious. “I give ya my word that I won’t, Miss. I just wanna see you home safe.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Iris says. “You’ve made it clear several times that you rob people for a living.”

Something moves in Sammy’s saddlebag. A slow, sliding movement before it falls right out of the hole and lands on the grass with a thump. Her first gold nugget from the last treasure.

“Miss Cole, your treasure’s as good as gone if you try carrying it in that bag. I promise I won’t steal from you.”

Iris narrows her eyes at him, trying to look as threatening as she can, but the threat is lost the moment her hungry stomach rumbles as loud as thunder in the sky. Mr. Morgan’s lips quirk, the damned outlaw is trying not to laugh.

“Alright. Fine,” Iris frowns, stepping towards him. “Put it in your bag.”

Mr. Morgan flashes her a small, tight smile and moves for his satchel, opening it up for her to dump her gold into.

“You’re not keeping that skull, are ya?”

“I thought it could be a souvenir. A trophy for my findings.”

“I’m not carrying a dead fella in my satchel.”

“Oh, alright,” Iris says, slightly dejected. She turns around and tosses the skull back into the creek.

“Poor bastard,” Mr. Morgan says, watching the skull splash into the water. He picks up the last gold nugget from the ground and turns to his horse. “Come on, I’m sure there’ll be some food for you at Vetter’s Echo.”

-

The cabin is one of the smallest Iris has ever seen, and the moment she and Mr. Morgan hitch their horses a bad feeling settles in the pit of her stomach.

“Keep that gun with ya,” Mr. Morgan says. “We might find a holster for that in here. That means no more shooting holes through bags.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Iris asks, following him up the path. “What if someone is still living there? What if they don’t want us around?”

In the dark, the cabin looks eerie. What if whoever’s inside has gone mad from the isolation? What if they try to attack Mr. Morgan? Or if they try to attack her?

Iris tightens her hold on the treasure hunter’s revolver—her revolver. I’m a treasure hunter now too, I suppose.

“Then we rob whoever’s living in here,” Mr. Morgan shrugs, answering as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. “Just enough to be on our way, we won’t let ‘em starve.”

“I saw camp supplies on your horse,” Iris suggests, casting a glance back at Charon in the trees. “Why couldn’t we just camp?”

“A fire and a tent ain’t gonna protect us if someone or some animal gets the wrong idea about approaching us,” Mr. Morgan answers gruffly. “Now if I was on my own, maybe I would’ve. But I think you’d be better indoors. Less chance for predators.”

Iris stops on the steps up to the cabin while Mr. Morgan quietly turns the doorknob. He grimaces when the door swings open with a rather loud creak, then takes a cautious step inside. Iris begins to follow him inside, but freezes when she hears a loud, loud rumble of breath.

“Shit,” is all she hears from Mr. Morgan inside before the roar of some kind of behemoth shakes the cabin.

There’s a shout from Mr. Morgan, and Iris makes it to the door to see a bear on top of him, roaring and clawing at him. The back of the cabin looks like it’s been torn open long ago, and judging by the old corpse on the floor next to Mr. Morgan, this bear has been the only occupant of the cabin for quite some time.

Iris screams, unsure what to do as Mr. Morgan gets mauled, fear freezing the blood in her veins. She’s never seen a bear up close, and her mind can’t fathom just how big a bear is. The walls of the cabin are practically hugging the creature.

Mr. Morgan cries out again, drawing a knife and slashing at the beast, and it’s only then that Iris registers that she’s here and that she can do something. Something, maybe, with the gun in her hands.

“What in high hell!” Someone screams, voice full of terror. Oh, it’s coming from her, she’s the one doing the screaming.

Mr. Morgan just barely dodges a swipe of the bear’s teeth before Iris finally kicks into motion, drawing her revolver and unloading every bullet left.

Which is about three bullets.

The bear roars as the bullets embed themselves into its hide, but it doesn’t seem to be too injured. Instead, it is still very intent on making Mr. Morgan its next meal. She watches Mr. Morgan continue his struggle, there’s a blur of the bear’s paws and suddenly a bleeding scratch on his arm.

Then she sees an old shotgun, lying on the ground between Mr. Morgan and the old corpse.

Iris has never fired a shotgun before.

She darts down for it, not really having to avoid the bear as it doesn’t even seem to be aware of her existence, and checks to see if the shotgun is loaded. Iris steps back into the doorframe and takes aim, this time being sure to not fire blindly and instead target the bear’s face.

In the heat of the moment, Iris forgets that some guns, powerful guns, not only pack a punch to whoever’s being shot, but also to whoever’s doing the shooting if they’re not prepared for it. Iris pulls the trigger, the blast of the gun deafening, and she sees the shot go right for the bear’s face before the recoil violently flings her back.

Iris hits the railing hard, promptly tumbling backward over it with a scream and free-falling several feet before she hits the ground.

She lies on the lumpy ground, flat on her back and blinking stars. Distantly, she still hears the bear’s growling, but now she hears Mr. Morgan’s ragged voice as well, calling out for her.

“Miss Cole! Goddammit! Miss Cole, you alive?”

Iris’ vision clears, and oh, the bear has left the cabin, breaking through the railing and heading straight for her. Its face is bloody, very bloody. Did I do that?

Oh, the bear looks very angry with her. Absolutely livid.

“Oh no,” she mumbles, disoriented, voice failing her as she starts backing away in the dirt. “Oh, please no.”

“Hey!” Mr. Morgan calls out, a desperate note to his rough voice. “Hey, you big bastard!”

The bear rises to its hind legs, towering over Iris and roaring. A shot rings out, and both the bear and Iris look back at the cabin to see Mr. Morgan standing by the broken rails, his hat gone to reveal a mop of short brown hair, pointing two revolvers at the bear with a furious look on his face.

Mr. Morgan fires both guns at the bear’s face. In that second, it’s as if there’s no end to the bullets. The speed of it takes Iris right back to when he gunned down those two treasure hunters before they could even blink.

The bear lets out one last groan before it collapses onto the ground, its big, bloody head landing right in front of Iris.

Mr. Morgan holsters his guns and starts walking over to her and the bear. “Did it get ya?”

Iris doesn’t directly answer. She only leans back to lie flat on the grass again, a twig poking into her head as she looks up at the night sky. “Oh my goodness.”

“I was not expecting that,” Mr. Morgan murmurs, kicking the bear’s paw as he inspects the corpse. “Thank you, by the way.”

Iris sits up, willing her heart to stop its panicked racing. “For what?”

“Shootin’ the damn thing. Saved my life.”

“Well, you killed it. I s’pose I should thank you for saving my life as well.”

“Nah,” he says, smoothing back his hair. “Makes us even, I guess.”

He then draws a knife, bends down, and begins cutting away into the bear.

“What… what are you doing, Mr. Morgan?”

“Arthur,” he says.

“Pardon?”

“Just call me Arthur.”

“Okay… Arthur. Well, then you can just call me Iris. I suppose there’s no need for formalities if you’ve fought a bear together.”

Mr. Morgan—Arthur—huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I think camping might be safer, Arthur.”

“Yeah. That ain’t no four walls and a roof up there anyway.”

“Three walls and a dead man.”

Arthur snorts and tears at the bear’s skin. “Better him than us, Miss—uh, Iris.”

Iris plucks a leaf out of her hair. “Better him than us.”

#rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 #oc: iris #fic: your sharp and glorious thorn #my writing #yes i did this instead of my piles of homework

[vicaesco]

10 of ‘18

It’s rather a shame that Tumblr is dead now as I always looked forward to posting my ten favorite movies of the previous year. It was a post that usually garnered a lot of interactions and sharing it on other sites to friends would always make for a good conversation. I’ve also been doing it on this site since 2011 so it feels like an end to a tradition. For that reason, I think I’m going to keep it rather short this year as I’ll post the list on Facebook and make that the primary one. Some quick notes: I don’t think 2018 was as strong of a year as 2017. Making a list in 2017 was a lot more agonizing than making one this year and I also had one ready long before my usual self imposed due date (the day before the Oscar ceremony). This is the first year I’ve ever had a children’s movie in my top 10, I actually have two. This is the first time since 2013′s Man of Steel, that I’ve had a superhero movie in the list as well. I also saw a few more foreign movies in theaters than I usually do and 2018 was the first time in which I saw a documentary in theaters (for non-educational reasons).

I also want to mention Suspiria, Sorry to Bother You, and You Were Never Really Here. I thought each of those movies was fresh and bold in the directions they took but they didn’t click with me and it frustrates me to no end.

With all that said, here are my ten favorite movies of 2018.

1. First Reformed - dir. Paul Schrader - Paul Schrader returns to his tortured male character pushed to the edge in the form of Rev. Ernst Toller, a priest in the middle of a religious and environmentally conscious crisis. Toller is the far-left answer to Travis Bickle’s alt-right, making him all the more tragic, especially when filtered through Ethan Hawke’s career-best performance. Although a quiet, meditative film, it delivers a final yell filled with palpable anger and bite. As a viewer and non-believer, it’s as close to a religious experience I’ve had and one that I haven’t felt since the first time I saw Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life.

2. First Man - dir. Damien Chazelle - First Man is stunning. It humanizes one of mankind’s greatest accomplishments, turning it into a small, personal journey while servicing those lost among the way. As much as I dislike La La Land, I can never knock it down on its merits and with just three films, Damien Chazelle has proved himself to be among the greats.  Spanning across the spectrum from moments of full blown terror to easily the most heartbreaking scene of last year (or last few years for that matter), First Man is not just one of the best movies of the year, but one of the best I’ve ever seen.

3. Hereditary - dir. Ari Aster - You have to feel bad for Ari Aster, who made what is possibly the best horror movie of the decade on his first outing. How do you top a movie like Hereditary? Where do you go from there? As a horror movie, it excels in it’s scares. As a drama, it is emotionally harrowing and draining. Hereditary is a stressful experience, it’s not one that I particularly enjoyed going through, nor is it one that I wish to revisit for those reasons, but it left me literally shaking in a way that no movie ever has. As someone who has always wanted to be traumatized by a movie, Hereditary gets an additional point for being the first one to feature an image that scarred.

4. Roma - dir. Alfonso Cuaron - Alfonso Cuaron distills cinema down to it’s purest form with Roma. A movie that doesn’t so much function as a traditional movie but as a memory, a love letter to a person and a time period that’s long gone and could never be replicated. Through Roma, Cuaron elicits the one power that art has: empathy. I understand that it’s easier to admire than to love but I believe Roma will one day be mentioned in the same breath as Fellini’s films or in a more daring statement, Bicycle Thieves. Every shot in Roma is a photograph and every one of those speaks a thousand words.

5. BlackkKlansman - dir. Spike Lee - On it’s surface, the plot of BlackkKlansman is a bit of a joke, but in Spike Lee’s hands, it’s a painfully funny and emotionally painful look at America’s long and storied relationship with race, from the Civil War to Charlottesville. If you’ve forgotten how great Spike Lee can be, this is a reminder, as it’s a vital work in the filmography of a generally angry, but on point filmmaker. While it’s easy to get lost in it’s 70′s look and heroics, it ultimately brings you back with a parallel of the racists of then to the racists of now as it holds a mirror for America to look at itself with, most likely in shame.

As an aside, I really appreciated the inclusion of Gone With the Wind and The Birth of a Nation in it. One of my favorite conversations in school was how we reckon with these two films being essential to the art of cinema and it’s development while also being racist monuments to the Confederacy. If anyone is going to take back the meaning of these two films, it might as well be Spike.

6. Cold War - dir. Pawel Pawlikowski - The beautifully shot Cold War elicits many of the same feelings Roma does on it’s viewer. It’s 88 minute run time brings this Polish, post-war Romeo and Juliet story down to it’s bare essentials. Despite it’s fragmented parts, it almost feels like an epic. More like a novel than a movie. It’s central love story hurts, but like it’s characters, it endures.

7. Blindspotting -dir. Carlos Lopez Estrada - To watch Blindspotting is to make a discovery whether it’s Daveed Diggs or Rafael Casal or Carlos Lopez Estrada, all three carefully craft a full, well rounded story about race, gentrification, police brutality, and what home really means in a manner that’s both hilarious and poignant.

8. Paddington 2 - dir. Paul King - The Dark Knight of children’s movie. A film that’s superior to it’s already excellent predecessor. Is there any movie more pure than Paddington? It doesn’t matter if your heart is made of stone because Paddington will win it and melt it while delivering shots that would make Wes Anderson jealous, a message of inclusivity that refutes the anti-immigration sentiments of Brexit and the U.S, and a fabulous performance from Hugh Grant. If we’re kind and polite, the world will be right.  

9. Mandy - dir. Panos Cosmatos - What begins as a sort of quiet, poetic meditation between Nicolas Cage and Andrea Riseborough slowly devolves into ‘80s heavy metal trash that’s been laced with LSD. Mandy is a bat-shit crazy, violent ride that’s anchored by an equally bat-shit performance from Nicolas Cage. In the most loving of ways, this film is trash and I ate it up. 

10. Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse - dir. Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman - It’s a marvel that the seventh Spiderman film not only happens to be the best Spiderman movie but one of the best movies of the year. It felt wonderful to be transported back to that child-like feeling that maybe you too might be able to be a superhero. Into the Spiderverse is the new standard that animated films will be held to and we’ll be lucky to get anything like it anytime soon.

#movies #top ten #2019

[justauthoring]

Feigning The Connection (22/?)

Prompt: You seem so invincible. But just touch you and you’ll wince. You have secrets and trust no one. You’re the perfect example of betrayal. Because anyone you’ve ever trusted broke you. Thrust into a new world, will you be able to stay alone, or will Bellamy work his way in?

SEASON ONE + SEASON TWO

SEASON THREE: PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR - PART FIVE - PART SIX

A/N: So here we are! The season finale of season three, and I just wanna say I absolutely loved writing this season. It was so much fun and I can’t thank you all enough for the amazing support you’ve all given me, every chapter! It warms my heart and i’m so glad you all requested to start this series because I feel it’s really helped me branch out, my tumblr blog to get out there more and for my writing to grow :) I can’t wait to get started on season four!

THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR STORYLINE: There is a lot of italics used in this story so I want to explain. When reader is being forced to take the chip, italics means ALIE is speaking but of course reader doesn’t hear or see ALIE, so I put it in italics.

When the battle thing is going on and reader is choking Bellamy all the little stories italics are flashbacks to previous chapters. Except this time they are in Bellamy’s POV which you never read, you only read those exact same scenes in *your* POV. So I wanted it to be like Bellamy is reminiscing on his past with reader so he is thinking back on pivotal moments of their relationship.

Thank you!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader

Based off of: The 100 03x15 and 03X16

Warnings: torturing, force and spoilers.

Tag’s List: @super-river-walker - @deathofthethrones - @dontstopxx - @chebz - @isabellaskyliner - @jeppthatsme - @sarita-villa - @jedibookmasterofnorta - @hoesugh - @wsternhaikus - @doctorwhoandrory - @claudsgodz want to be featured on my tag’s list? message me letting me know.

“Rover’s almost charged. We need to pack up. We’ll be home soon.”

“Then what, run away?” Clarke asked, finally stopping her pacing. Sighing, you placed your hand against the front of the rover, looking over at Clarke. Bellamy came around the side, shaking his head at Clarke. “We’re not running away, Clarke. We need to regroup with the others, find another way to defeat--”

“There is no other way,” Clarke interrupted, raising her voice. “We need to find a night-blood. We need to unlock the flame. It’s the only way to stop ALIE.” Taking a deep breath, you jumped off the front of the rover, knowing Clarke wasn’t going to quit anytime soon. You understood her point of view, but at this moment in time you had no night-blood, you had no other solution, you had nothing.

“What do you expect us to do, Clarke?” Jasper asked incredulously. “Walk into random villages asking for their night-bloods?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Shaking your head, you turned to Clarke. “No, Clarke. We have no night-blood. We have no other solution other than what Bellamy suggested.” You pressed, snarling your lip in confusion. “That’s not how it works.”

“If ALIE can find us on Luna’s rig, then she can find us anywhere.” Octavia added, “I won’t help you destroy another innocent grounder village.” 

Clarke took a step forward; “if we don’t find another night-blood, there won’t be any grounder villages. Or a home for us to go back to.” Taking a deep breath, you took a step backwards in frustration.

“That’s all the more reason we need to go there and make sure our friends are okay.” Bellamy snapped. When she looked back at you, you only shook your head, making it clear you didn’t agree with her. She did the same with the rest, receiving the same answer. Taking a breath, she put on a facade of calm, nodding before walking past you four.

“She’ll be fine. Just let her cool off.”

-

Jumping out the back of the rover, you sighed, happy to be back in Arkadia and to see your friends were okay. Stepping out before Clarke, you walked around the rover, finding Raven limping over to you all. “We were getting worried.” She smiled, but as the rest filed out of the rover, her smile fell. “Where’s Luna?”

“Luna said no,” Octavia explained. Taking a deep breath, you offered Raven a shrug when she looked over at you. 

“Who the hell is this?” Harper asked and you turned to find Roan, the man Clarke and Bellamy had captured walking up behind you. His presence had been unexpected, but you hadn’t said anything as it seemed Clarke had a plan in mind. She also seemed to know him a bit more than any of you did, and despite everything, you did trust her judgement.

“He’s Ice Nation,” Bryan spat.

“King of Ice Nation actually,” Clarke corrected. “And he’s our way into Polis.”

“Let’s go, your highness.” Bellamy instructed, pushing Roan forward slightly. Turning to Bryan and Miller, he ordered them to come along before turning to you. “Y/N, you coming?”

“Yup,” you smiled. You offered Raven a small smile on your way across and she let her hand fall on your shoulder shortly before you continued walking. 

“We’ll take him to lock-up.”

-

Walking up behind Clarke and Bellamy, you stopped near the door. You didn’t really have much to say to the King of Ice Nation but you weren’t willing to leave him alone, even if Clarke was there, with Bellamy, especially since he was the one who shot him. You also would like to know exactly what the plan was that Clarke had. Kane was in Polis, and you didn’t know if he was okay or not. You needed to find out.

“Sorry about your arm,” Bellamy offered when Clarke and Roan looked at him expectantly. You let a smile slip, shaking your head. 

“Makes us even.” Roan nonchalantly shrugged.

“Like it or not, we need each other,” Clarke informed Roan.

“Cut to the chase, Clarke. You said we both wanted the same thing,” Roan sighed, shifting in impatience. “I want an Ice Nation Commander.”

“And i can give you one.” It made sense. You had no other option for the new Commander and Clarke could use Roan’s help to destroy the chip and ALIE while he got what he wanted. “With this.” Clarke gestured to the chip she’d been carrying this entire time.

“And why would you do that when you know she’s vowed to wipe you out?” Roan asked suspiciously.

“We don’t have a choice,” Clarke cut it short. “This isn’t just our war. The enemy we’re up against is after everyone, including the Ice Nation. The only way to stop her is to get the information off the flame, and the only way to do that is to put it in Ontari’s head.”

“The Ice Nation isn’t afraid,” Roan dismissed.

“You should be,” you cut in, standing up from the wall as Roan’s attention briefly fell on you. “This thing doesn’t care what clan you’re from. It controls people, and it will take over Ice Nation just like it took us over. One person at a time until there is no one left.”

Roan’s eyes narrowed, his eyes falling across the room before they fell back on Clarke.

“It already has Ontari.” Clarke added.

“I’m listening.” Taking a deep breath, you positioned yourself back against the wall. There was nothing more you needed to say.

“We need to disconnect her before she get’s the flame, or we’ll be giving ALIE exactly what she wants. To do that, we have to abduct her from the center of a city filled with thousands of people who’s minds are linked. All of them thinking as one. Whatever one sees, they all see. Whatever one hears, they all hear-”

“I get it,” Roan nodded slowly. He stood as Clarke and Bellamy took a tentative step back, looking at them, he asked; “when do we leave?”

-

“You don’t have to do this.”

You laughed, turning around to face Bellamy. Shaking your head, you raised an eyebrow; “when have I ever backed down from a fight?”

He shook his head, and you saw the worry flood through his eyes. You hadn’t seen that look in a while and part of you remembered that while this all felt very familiar, it also felt very odd. Pushing back your thoughts, you walked up to him, hesitantly grabbing ahold of his hand. “Besides, you said you needed me by your side, remember?”

Bellamy sighed, “I know-”

“My dad’s in Polis, Bellamy. I won’t sit around knowing he’s in danger or something’s already happened.” Bellamy smiled lightly, nodding. You returned the smile, jumping when Octavia walked through.

“What are we waiting for?”

Pulling your hand away from Bellamy’s grasp, you turned to the rest, steeling yourself for whatever was going to come. “Let’s go,” Bellamy ordered.

Walking up to Monty, you gave him a hug, wishing him luck, just as you did with Jasper and the rest. Stopping before Raven, you paused. You needed to just say it, incase you didn’t make it out of this alive. “I am sorry that I wasn’t there-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Raven smiled down at you, and you hesitantly smiled back. Leaning up, you gave her a hug. She squeezed you tight and you relished in it, it might be a while before you see her again. “Good luck,” she whispered to your ear and you nodded, stepping back from the embrace.

Stepping into the rover, you shut the door behind you, smiling at your friends as you pulled away.

-

“Let’s get ready.”

Nodding to Bellamy’s command, prepping your gun before pressing it against the opened window. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. This was it, this was your one chance and everything was riding on it.

“Are we ever going to be done fighting?” You heard Bryan ask to no doubt Miller. Pausing, you leaned back on your feet, curious as to what they had to say.

“Hell yes,” Miller laughed. “We’re gonna build a house on the lake, and you’re gonna plant corn.” Leaning down onto the heels of your feet, your gaze fell on Octavia as her expression fell. You already knew what she was thinking, it wasn’t hard to tell. Your heart dropped when you looked over at Bellamy.

“Raise chickens,” Bryan laughed. 

Biting your lip, you pushed your gun up again, looking through the view-finder.

“Yeah,” Miller breathed. “And grow old.”

There was silence, and you didn’t dare to stare around you to see what Octavia was feeling or if Bellamy was okay. Instead you focused on looking outside for Clarke and Roan. “Eleven’o’clock,” Bellamy announced and looking you saw Clarke and Roan step into view. “Roan will signal when he sees Ontari. We wait until she’s standing in front of them, and then we launch the gas.”

“They’re gonna be holding their breath, so we gotta move fast.” Bryan explained, tossing the gas to Miller. 

“Anyone who gets in our way, we use nonlethal force,” you stated, looking back at everyone. They nodded in response. “These people are not the enemy. They’re being controlled.”

“The only thing we’re here to kill,” Bellamy spoke, following your order. “Is ALIE. Is that clear?”

A chorus of clears followed, and nodding to Bellamy, you turned back to your gun. “Good.”

You watched Roan and Clarke step forward, reaching the door that Ontari would step through. Roan turned to Clarke, nodding at her as she silently agreed to move forward with the plan. Taking a tentative step forward, Roan raised his hand. “I am Roan, King of Azgeda... and i have what the Commander seeks.” He held up the flame.

With wide eyes you watched as all the people that had been previously kneeling, opened their eyes, standing up before Roan and Clarke. A man stepped towards the two. You don’t know what Roan said to make them all responsive, but you guessed it had something to do with the flame.

“I don’t like what i’m sense, so if she wants it, she can come to me.” Roan informed the man. 

“It’s Jaha.” Bellamy announced and you watched Jaha step up to the two, stopping just before them. Your heart tightened, knowing that this wasn’t exactly how the plan was suppose to go. And something within you told you this wasn’t going to end well. 

“What the hell is he doing here?”

“You see Ontari?” Miller asked.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Hold,” Bellamy ordered Miller and Bryan.

“Hello Clarke,” Jaha greeted, though you couldn’t hear. “Your mother will be so pleased to see you.”

“Who are you?” Roan asked, “where’s Ontari?”

“Not coming out,” your breath quickened. Something wasn’t right. “But you can give the flame to me. I’ll be sure she gets it.” Roan’s hands tightened around the flame and Clarke’s somewhat panicked expression fell over to where you all were.

“Something’s wrong,” Bellamy explained. 

“Your friends in the tunnel can’t help you,” Jaha informed Clarke. Though you couldn’t hear what he was saying, you saw Clarke’s attention snap back over to Jaha and her eyes widen. “Now give me the flame.” The group stepped closer to Roan and Clarke, threateningly.

You winced when Roan suddenly pulled out a knife and pressed Clarke against his chest, the knife now against her throat. “Back up, or she dies.”

You looked away from your gun, turning to Bellamy with wide eyes. Turning to Miller and Bryan, he nodded. “Do it. Do it now.” He rushed. Miller and Bryan went to follow orders before grounders stepped up behind them, pushing them to the ground.

“On your knees, now!” A hand grabbed your shoulder, the other wrapping around your neck as your gun was ripped from your hands. Your were suddenly shoved forward, your chest smacked against the wall as your eyes were able to peer out the window. The grounders behind you kept you pressed against the wall and you could feel a gun press against your back in warning. “You two, against the wall.” Soon enough, both the Blake siblings fell beside you, their bodies pressed against the wall.

With panicked eyes, you looked over at Bellamy. Groaning in pain when you were shoved harder. Something had gone wrong. How had they known about your plan?

“Take this one.” Your heart beat quickened when you realized they were talking about you. You let out a groan, kicking at the man behind you. You weren’t going to let them just take you, especially since you weren’t even sure why they wanted you. Though your struggles were useless as more came through the door, grabbing your arms aggressively. 

“Hey,” you heard Bellamy yell. “Get off of her!”

“Y/N!” MIller called.

"Hey!”

With wide, panicked eyes you felt the men and women wrap their arms around your body, pulling you against them as they began dragging you out of the room. Your attention turned to the rest, trying to get back to your friends. You didn’t understand why they were taking just you. You offered nothing and it wasn’t like you knew how to set up the flame. You struggled, kicking your feet out desperately but one of the grounders just back-handed you across the face.

“Bellamy!” You bellowed, trying to reach him. “Let me go, no!”

“Y/N!” Bellamy bellowed and looking back at him through wet eyes, you tried to calm down. But your heart beat was rapidly beating and no matter how hard you struggled, nothing worked. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, but the grounders holding you only ignored you.

You watched Bellamy try to break the grip of the man holding him, only to be shoved harder against the wall. His head smacked against the concrete, and you thought he would’ve stopped. But instead he continued struggling, his eyes falling on you the best they could as you felt fear run through you.

“Let her go! Y/N!”

The last thing you heard before being dragged out of the room was your friends grunting in indignation and Bellamy calling your name.

-

“You guys missed the part where it’s time to go?”

Looking up from his sister to Murphy, Bellamy shook his head. “We’re not leaving.”

Murphy laughed, shaking his head. “We just saved your lives, why do I think i’m gonna regret that?” 

Taking a step forward, Bellamy walked towards Murphy, worry etching his features. “Clarke’s in trouble-”

“Clarke’s always in trouble.” Murphy interjected.

“Y/N,” Bellamy mumbled, finally catching Murphy’s attention. Pausing Murphy’s smile fell, he hadn’t heard your name or seen you in a long time, just as he hadn’t seen Bellamy. The last time he saw you was before he’d gone off to the City of Light. “Y/N’s in danger. They took her, I don’t know where.”

Miller stepped up, followed by Bryan. “I’m not leaving Y/N behind.”

“None of us are.” Bellamy shook his head, turning back to Murphy. “They took Clarke and the flame to the tower. It’s a safe bet Ontari’s there too. Everything we need to stop ALIE is in the same place. I’m betting Y/N will be there too.” Bellamy swallowed the lump in his throat, all he could in-vision was your fearful face and hear you plea and call his name. He needed to find you.

“If we go up that tower, we won’t be able to fight our way out again.” Octavia warned. 

“If we stop ALIE, we won’t have to.”

Turning to around to Pike, Murphy stared at him questioningly. Sighing, Pike handed Bellamy a hand gun who accepted it without hesitation. Murphy turned back to Bellamy, an unimpressed look on his face. “Up the tower, great.”

-

“I won’t take the chip.” 

“You will,” Jaha dismissed. You tried to ignore the way your heart beat rapidly increased, tried to ignore the vulnerability you felt with having your wrists restrained. After they dragged you through a few hallways, they’d brought you into a room, tied your wrists up so they were hanging from the ceiling. Your feet were barely able to touch the ground, an increasingly vulnerable position for victims. You could only imagine what was about to happen to you, and none of it you liked.

The minute they’d finished tying your restraints, Jaha had walked in. He’d said nothing but stared at you for a few minutes, watching as you desperately tried to break the ties that kept your wrists up. Nothing worked. No matter how hard you tried. 

Your thoughts flew back to Bellamy and the rest. Were they okay? Had they managed to escape? Was Clarke okay? Your dad? You knew that you’d either die here or take the chip, and you were willing to die yourself if it meant that no one else would suffer and you wouldn’t betray your own people. But something told you that things would go differently. They had something up their sleeve, if Jaha’s confident expression was anything to go by.

“You’ve suffered through a lot, haven’t you, Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you refused to respond to Jaha, knowing he was only trying to trick you. “You’ve also managed to be the cause of a lot of peoples sufferings too.” Clenching your teeth, you glared at Jaha. You’ve never felt such hatred towards him before this point, but you had to remind yourself that he was chipped and clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

“Why not take the chip? Erase the thoughts that plague your mind constantly.” Jaha offered, taking steps towards you. He brought one of his many chips up your eyesight, taunting you with it. Snarling, you shook your head.

“Where’s Clarke?”

“She’s safe,” Jaha shortly answered. 

“She won’t take the chip willingly.”

Suddenly Jaha’s expression changed, and he turned away from you, instead to the doors. “Come in.” Confused, you turned your gaze over to the door, scared to see who would walk through. Your heart leapt through your throat as your father walked through. You wanted to smile at the sight of him, you almost did, but by the way he walked you knew something was wrong. “Dad...?” You called hesitantly.

Kane continued to step through, stopping so he was beside Jaha. He stiffly turned towards you, his expression blank. You felt your heart drop and tears well within your eyes. You knew that expression. He was chipped. 

“Hello, Y/N.” Your father greeted, but there was something different. You said nothing in response, your breath frantic. Turning to Jaha, he nodded and Kane followed whatever order he’d been given, walking toward you. He stopped just in front of you and you swallowed the lump in your throat, your determination falling as your eyes welled up. “Take the chip.” 

“Please,” you whispered, moving your head away from the chip he’d brought to your lips. “Dad, please. This isn’t you.” Kane said nothing, only shoved the chip closer to your lips. Your aggressively moved your head away, taking the chance to bring your knee forward, hitting your father in the stomach. You winced, hating to hurt him, but you had no other choice.

He stumbled back, grunting as he nearly fell but Jaha helped him up.

“I won’t take your damn chip,” you spat.

“We don’t have time for this.”

Getting up, Kane straightened his back. Your eyes widened as his hand moved towards the gun that hung by his hip. 

“Got to plan B.”

“Dad,” you mumbled. “Dad, don’t do this please.” You heard how ALIE got Abby to take the chip, and what they did to Raven. You felt your breath stuck in your throat as Kane pulled out his gun. You weren’t worried about him pointing it at you, ALIE knew what would crack you.

Breathing heavily, you pulled on your wrists, trying to break free. “Dad, listen to me. This isn’t you, this isn’t you.”

“Press it against your throat.”

Your eyes crinkled in fear as your father pressed the gun against his own throat, and his finger fell on the trigger. Your struggles increased, your wrists burning in pain as you pulled harshly on them. “Please,” you bellowed, tears falling. “Please!” Turning to Jaha, you saw him just as stoic before. Shaking your head desperately, you pleaded with him; “don’t make him do this! Don’t-”

“No one but you is making me doing this, Y/N.” Kane interrupted. Tearful eyes fell on your father, as he pressed the the gun harder against his throat. Your head fumbled with coherent thoughts, desperate to stop your father from killing himself. You couldn’t lose him. Not him. Not your father too. “Take the chip, and all of this will end.”

Shaking your head head, you tried to think of a solution. Nothing came to mind, and you knew that if you didn’t do what ALIE wanted, that your father would shoot a bullet through the back of his skull. Part of you remembered why you hadn’t taken the chip when first offered, and that had been before you’d known what it could do. This was now. With every single piece of knowledge of what it’d do to you. Make you fight against your own people, betray your own people.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t take the chip. You’d just gotten them back. You’d just gotten Bellamy back. But you’d just gotten your dad back too... Tears fell down our cheeks with no care who was watching, your panic stricken eyes fell on Kane. “Please don’t kill him! ALIE, don’t kill him!”

“She’ll crack.”

“ALIE’s not killing me.” Kane replied calmly. “You are.” Everything froze as his words sunk in. Your eyes focused on the way his finger begun to press down on the trigger. You couldn’t- you can’t loose him too.

“Stop!” Kane froze, his finger coming off the trigger. “I’ll take the chip! Just don’t- i’ll do it!” Your head fell in shame, “i’ll take the chip...”

“Perfect.”

-

“You didn’t see Y/N anywhere?” 

Taking a deep breath, Clarke shook her head apologetically. Bellamy swallowed the lump in his throat, the possibility of what could’ve happened to you flooding through his mind. Part of him knew, it wasn’t hard to figure out. Especially since they had Kane chipped, and if they did anything like they tried to do with Abby and Clarke... “Bellamy,” Clarke offered. “We’ll get her back.”

He nodded, dismissing her pity. 

“We’re all set,” Abby informed. Nodding at her, Bellamy took the steps up so he was standing next to Clarke. “Okay, you ready?”

Nodding hesitantly, Clarke shifted to prepare herself. Turning the valve, Clarke let her head fall against the back of the chair. Bellamy’s eyes watched as Clarke’s blood travelled up the tube, going into Ontari before her own blackened blood began travelling. With watchful eyes, Bellamy watched Ontari’s blood flow into Clarke’s. 

“Try doing that hanging upside down,” Bellamy teased. 

Clarke smiled reluctantly, nodding to herself more than for anyone else. “This will work.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Abby asked. 

“If it doesn’t work, she dies. If she doesn’t try, then she dies with the rest of us.-” Murphy bluntly explained, walking towards Bellamy and Clarke. Murphy stepped up grabbing the flame as Abby, in a panic tried to stop him. “-When the climbers get here. If we’re going to do this, I need the flame.”

“Mom, please.” Clarke pleaded. “He knows what he’s doing. You have to let me go.”

Letting go of his arm, Abby backed off. Grabbing the flame, Murphy turned to Clarke. Walking around Bellamy, he stopped beside Clarke; “lean forward.” He ordered and taking a deep shaky breath, Clarke complied. “You ready?”

“Yeah, do it.”

“Ascende Superious.” Murphy whispered, and the flame reacted. Slowly but surely, he brought it closer to Clarke’s neck before it attached itself, digging it’s way into her skin. Jumping, Clarke snapped her head up, letting out screams of pain and grunts. Suddenly her screams stopped and her eyes fell shut, the back of her head hitting the chair behind her. 

“No, no, no.” Abby rushed, moving her fingers to feel for a pulse. 

“Is she okay?”

“Her hearts racing,” Abby informed. “Get that thing out of her head-” Murphy stayed put, “I said, get that thing out of her head!” Sighing reluctantly, Murphy moved to comply with Abby’s orders before Clarke’s head moved up, and her eyes opened. “No. I’m fine. Not yet.” 

Abby moved forward, grabbing Clarke by her cheeks. “Are you in any pain?” 

“No. I’m okay. I know how to stop ALIE... I have to take the chip.”

“What?”

“I have to go into the City of Light,” Clarke explained. “And find the kill switch.”

Murphy pursed his lips together, nodding. “Yes. That sounds like a great idea.” He mumbled, walking off.

“Clarke,” Abby called, leaning down to Clarke’s eyesight. “Listen to me. ALIE wants the flame. If you take the chip, you’re giving it to her. The second someone sees you, ALIE is gonna know that you’re there. She’ll kill you. If you’re mind dies, you die.”

Narrowing her eyes, Clarke looked back at her mom with determination. “The flame will protect me.” She nodded, “I don’t know how I know... I just- know.” Bellamy took off down the steps, walking towards one of the chips. Picking it up, he examined it before turning back to Clarke. 

“I believe you.” He declared.

Abby still seemed concerned as she dismissed Bellamy’s sentence, turning back to her daughter. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?” Abby objected.

“I’ll know when I find it.”

-

“Y/N...?”

“Bellamy come on!” Shaking his head, Bellamy continued making his way out of the room. Once he reached past the door, he let go of Pike who limped over to get something to hold onto. Turning towards the door, Bellamy caught sight of you. You smiled at the sight of him, cracking your neck as you climbed over the ledge.

Bellamy shut the door, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. You’d been chipped.

“I told you, you need to get yourself under control if we’re gonna survive this.” Pike told Octavia, helping Bellamy drop the piece of furniture in front of the door as a barrier. Bellamy leaned down, with the help of the other two and lifted another piece of furniture up on top of the other. Grunting as they did so. Panting, they all leaned against their barrier.

Bellamy noticed Octavia’s frustration, and turning to her with wide eyes he called out; “O, O, listen to me. I know how you feel. I let my need for revenge put me on the wrong side. I don’t want that for you.” Bellamy advised, confiding in his sister which he hadn’t been able to do in forever.

Suddenly the door that they were holding pushed forward, meaning that the chipped army were pushing back. Grunting, Bellamy repositioned himself so he was in a stronger position. 

“You keep it closed,” Octavia ordered Bellamy. “I’ll get more for the barricade.”

Shifting closer to the middle of the barrier, Bellamy let his head fall against the the wood behind him. His suspicion was right. They had forced you to take the chip, and he couldn’t even began to think how. It was his fault. If he hadn’t allowed you to come or tried harder... If Clarke’s plan didn’t work... he would die here today, and it could be by your hand.

“You called Y/N’s name.” Pike suddenly spoke, catching Bellamy’s attention. 

Bellamy grunted, trying to think of what to say. “Yeah- Yeah, she took the chip.”

Pike nodded, leaning down to tie something over his wounded thigh. “Wasn’t the wrong side,” he grunted, pushing back on the barricade. “If the grounder army was still there when Lexa died, they would’ve attacked and you know it.”

“I wanted to see things like you,” Bellamy confessed. “I needed that, to believe that they were bad and we were good... I don’t know what I believe anymore. I just know I have to live with what i’ve done.”

-

Bellamy felt his heart stop. He knew it was inevitable. You would walk through that door just like the rest, just like Kane and every other person who’d been chipped. Part of him just wished, willed that it wouldn’t happen. But no, in the midst of a full out war in the throne room, you stepped through the door, a smile on your face.

Bellamy felt time slow down. And he watched you, every movement you made, as your eyes turned to him and an even sicker smile grew on your face. It felt like his heart was plummeting down. The inevitable was coming and he watched you take a step towards his direction.

Grunting, Bellamy bent over as a grounder punched him in the stomach. Straightening back up, he punched the grounder in the face, making him stumble back. But nothing happened, because they felt no pain and the grounder who attacked him came back full force. Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy watched you step closer, your hands held out at your side in preparation. Kicking at the grounder before him, he turned to you, shaking his head. “Y/N,” he called. You didn’t respond. “This isn’t you, I don’t- can’t.”

You only smiled, reaching your fist back to punch him. Bellamy did his best to dodge it, grabbing your wrist. You broke off his grip, the grounder from before coming back and smacking Bellamy in the side. Grunting in pain, Bellamy stumbled back, weakly looking back up. You only continued to step towards him, your foot coming out the kick him. Taking this chance, he grabbed your ankle, pulling you forward to shove you back.

The grounder came around, punching at Bellamy ruthlessly as he did his best to retaliate. It was impossible. It was two against one, and Bellamy couldn’t even hit one of them. Because every time he reached out to hit you, he imagined your face, smiling at him. He remembered every memory the two of you shared and what you’d been through together. Even when your fist came and hit him in the face again, and your other hand punched him in the gut, he wouldn’t hit you.

Wiping at his bloodied face, Bellamy staggered. “Y/N-” You only punched him across the face again, blood flying from his nose and his head snapped in the other direction. You didn’t stop and continued to hit him, riddling him with punches. Taking your chance you shot your foot out, kicking at his feet. Bellamy grunted as the back of his head smacked against the ground, his vision blurring. Before he had anytime to think, you straddled his waist, your hands coming out to wrap themselves around his throat.

There was no way to describe it, the expression you gave Bellamy. It wasn’t you. Bellamy kept thinking. This wasn’t you. Because if this was, you would be helping him fight off the many grounders and such, not fighting him.

Gagging, Bellamy desperately tried to breathe. His hands coming out around your body to pathetically try to shove him off of you, of course it didn’t work. He desperately tried to help himself without actually hurting you. Because he couldn’t hurt you. Not you. 

You smiled. Twisted and sickly. Bellamy stared up into your E/C eyes, your hair falling around your face as your hands tightened their grip around his throat.

-

It was then that Bellamy realized, maybe you weren’t so bad.

“Didn’t even know you could smile and mean it.” 

“It’s only for reserved people.” Bellamy smirked, finding your reaction more than amusing. You gasped, helping him set down the log and hold a hand against your mouth, feigning a gasp. “I’m hurt.” You acted offended, laughing with him when he rolled his eyes. Bellamy felt at ease, relieved that he actually managed to have a decent conversation with you. And you were funner than he’d originally thought. Even in the midst of everything, Bellamy felt himself genuinely relax.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll be on that list sweetheart.” He teased, before turning. He knew that you’d say more, expected and only found himself correct when you uttered: “what does one girl need to do to get on Bellamy Blake’s list?” Your laugh was something he’d never quite heard. Turning around just so he could see your face again, he smirked.

“Continue, and you just may see.”

-

Bellamy had never seen you so vulnerable.

“Y/N look at me.”

With worry, Bellamy watched your defeated eyes meet his. “I don’t know what happened between you and your mom, but one thing I know for sure is, you’re not a murderer.” There was something in your gaze, something he’d never seen in anyone else. You almost seemed distressed but calm at the same time. Bellamy could see deep down in your eyes that you weren’t all you seemed to be. And he felt hope flutter through him at the thought that maybe you two weren’t so different. “I trust you, Y/N.”

He wasn’t sure how you’d react, but the three words he’d been dying to hear you say, instantly made him feel better; “I trust you.”

-

Bellamy knew his life was filled with guilt, but he never knew that you being upset with him would make him so visibly shaken.

“What the hell is your problem!” It broke his heart to hear you, hear you sound so angry at him. “I trusted you for God-sakes! Did you know?” Part Bellamy remembered that every action, every word you said could be heard by everyone around. But it was clear to him you didn’t care.“Did you know that taking that radio would kill all those people?”

Angry and insulted, Bellamy grabbed ahold your shoulders, violently shaking you. “No! How the hell was I suppose to know? Y/N, I didn’t force you, you did it on your own. Stop blaming me!” He screamed at your face, but in his mind he hated himself. Hated himself for yelling at you for his mistakes. Bellamy had done this, he was the one lashing out and you were frustrated beyond belief. Bellamy hated himself because you were the one person who could change him and he was shoving you away.

“I’m not blaming you.” You whispered, “but this? Bellamy you can’t just kill and destroy anything that becomes a threat to you! Listen, I don’t want the Ark down here and I definitely don’t want the grounders to murder us, but this is not the way!” 

Bellamy’s face fell, looking away from your gaze. “I have to…”

-

Bellamy’s eyes fell on the gun in your hand as you tried not to shake. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He clarified.

“I’m not gonna leave our friends, you, to die.” You stressed, and Bellamy watched with pride as determination flooded your gaze. You were more than met the eye. “I’ve got this. I’ll-I’ll be fine.”

-

When he saw you, his heart froze.

“Y/N!” Bellamy yelled over the screams, “go!” His hand shot out behind him, to the drop-ship, desperate for you to listen.

“I’m not leaving you!” Your words sunk in, realization flooding him that you both may die today. “Please, just go! I can’t loose you too.” Bellamy, grabbing ahold of the ground and trying to hold him back. Give you a chance to leave.

“I’m not leaving you.” 

-

Bellamy had been so worried.

“Y/N?”

Bellamy felt you press yourself against him, your warm embrace surrounding him. “I am just glad you’re alive.” You whispered so low that only Bellamy could hear. “I didn’t se-see- I thought you were dead.”

Deciding to lighten the mood, Bellamy grinned. “You know i’m not that easy to get rid of, Y/N.” He found himself mesmerized by such a simple act, you brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

-

Bellamy hadn’t seen you so broken since that night at the depot.

“I-I tried…” You whimpered, it breaking Bellamy’s hear..

He nodded, “I know.” Bellamy wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, holding you in your time of need. He only squeezed tighter when you sobbed.

-

Bellamy should’ve known, you always were too stubborn.

“To me it isn’t worth the risk.” 

“Y/N-” Bellamy started once again but you held your hands up, effectively stopping him.. “I’m not gonna stop you, you wouldn’t even listen to me. But I told you, if you’re going in there so am I.” You said, raising your head and Bellamy noticed how you tried to hide the pain you felt. This wasn’t right. It was already risky with him just going in, and it didn’t settle right within him if you went.

“Y/N, it’s too dangerous. It’ll be quicker if I go by myself.”

“True, you might move quicker, but who’s gonna watch your back when you get in trouble?” You asked, smirking up at him. “I’m going with you, and that’s final.”

Something told him he’d regret this later. “Fine.”

-

It had taken every bit of Bellamy’s will-power to not have gone after you sooner. 

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Thank you.” You whispered. Relief flooded through Bellamy. He had you. He had you in his arms and you were safe. Looking down, Bellamy noticed how your eyes fell shut and you fell into a slumber. You were safe. Bellamy felt like he could breathe again.

“I got you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

-

Bellamy never knew he needed to hear something so bad until he heard you finally forgive him.

“I was so angry at you,” you whimpered, sniffling. Bellamy’s felt his entire being flood with guilt, watching through wet eyes as you struggled with your own emotions. “Everything you’d done, everything you said.” What you said did nothing to calm his nerves, but he knew you needed him to hear it. And for you, he stayed and listened.

“I-I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

Bellamy took a deep breath, wiping at his tears. “I need you, Y/N. I need you by my side.”

-

“This isn’t you...” Bellamy gasped.

Suddenly, something within you snapped. Everything came flooding through you and it was like you could see through your own eyes again. What you saw was not what you expected. Letting go of Bellamy’s neck, you stumbled back, eyes wide. Bellamy took a deep breath in, slowly sitting up as you stared at him. 

Holding your hands out before you, you watched as they shook violently. You- You’d just been choking Bellamy? You couldn’t- you would never. And then it all came flooding back. The chip. ALIE.

“Bellamy...?” You mumbled out, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened, worry flooding through them as tears welled in your eyes. What had you done? What... how? Falling back, you moved to crawl away, too ashamed to even be near Bellamy. You’d tried to kill him. You-

“Hey, hey, hey.” You heard him call, grabbing ahold of you before you could get away. Shaking your head, you stared at his reddened face, his bloodied face, all because of you. You were going to murder him. Choke the life out of the man you’d fallen in love with. It didn’t matter if you’d been being controlled, it had been your hands. “It’s okay.” You heard him whisper and then his arms wound around you, pulling you against him. It felt wrong but you fell against him, your eyes crinkling as tears fell.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” You repeated, desperate for him to hear. He held you close, running his fingers through your hair as you cried. What had you done? “They were going to kill him... I couldn’t- I didn’t have a choice.”

“It’s okay.” Bellamy whispered, pulling back from the hug, he grabbed ahold of your cheeks. Bellamy searched around, trying to get you to focus on him. Once his eyes found yours, he nodded at you. “You’re not a murder.” You nodded, tears running down your face as you looked completely vulnerable in that moment.

Leaning back to hug him, your eyes found your father, sobbing. Though, soon enough Abby came around and you knew he was fine. Part of you felt relieved that he had someone to support him and you could allow yourself to heal without having to worry about him. 

Staring up at Bellamy, you pushed yourself closer to him. You relished in the warmth. Relished in the way he was able to forgive you despite nearly choking him to death. You don’t know what would happen now, but you were relieved to be back in his arms.

A sudden groan caught your attention. Pulling back from the hug, you looked over to Octavia only to find her sword in Pike’s stomach. Your eyes widened, unsure of what to say as you looked over at Bellamy. Octavia pushed the sword forward, then aggressively pulled it out. Pike fell to the ground, his body thumping loudly as no one uttered a word. Taking a deep breath, Octavia walked over to the door, leaving the room.

Bellamy turned to you, shock filling his system as he gazed down at you. Nodding, you smiled, trying to give him some reassurance; “i’m okay. I’m okay.” You both got up, Bellamy helping you as you shakily stood. Following behind him, you made your way over to Clarke. She smiled at the sight of you and you offered a small, unsure smiled yourself.

“ALIE’s gone,” she nodded.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“I figured.” Bellamy agreed.

Though your furrowed your brows in confusion when no smile or look of relief passed over Clarke’s face. Looking over at Bellamy, you saw him look just as confused as you. “Clarke, you’re not acting like someone who just saved the world.”

She shook her head, smiling lightly; “because we didn’t. Not yet.”

Part 23?

#the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 characters #the 100 bellamy #bellamy #blake #bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #bellamy imagine #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake x reader #imagine #imagines #drabble #drabbles #prompt #prompts #request #requested #the 100 series #series

[mahalshairyballs]

Justice League Review

I have a lot to say about that movie. And I haven’t done a long review on a movie in a long time. So I guess it means something that I want to do that for Justice League?

but first: come on rottentomatoes it deserved more than 40% 

Many compared it to Age of Ultron, while that comparison is interesting, I feel like when Age of Ultron is good it is better than JL but when it is bad, it is way worse than JL, while Justice League is a pretty innoffensive movie. There’s no canon destruction here compared to BvS or AoU. 

 “A fun but unimpactful movie”. I think this describes it well. I liked most of it and I would go see it again. 

Now for the details (and spoilers) under the cut

And my inevitable comparison of what people said and what I saw: 

General

People said that the movie was jumping a lot from scene to scene, I saw that but it didn’t bug me. It wasn’t as jarring to me as it felt to many other people. I also didn’t see that “change in tone”, the movie felt pretty constant in tones to me. I also like the more “light hearted” feel of the movie, there’s not that many jokes in it (but I guess compared to BvS it’s a big difference) and most of them work well. Some things were cheesy and over-the-top, some things were “bad” but in a good way. I think it’s Andre from Black Nerd Comedy who said that it felt like a live-action cartoon of Justice League, and I could see that. It really had that feel, which is hard to describe, but it was a positive thing.  

Also I’m rarely one to complain about CGI, but maaaan some CGI in this was reaaaally showing. The worst part for me was when Steppenwolf fought the amazones, and at some point when Arthur Cury was jumping in the water it seemed like he was in front of a green screen? I have no idea why, it’s just a guy in the water, why do you need a green screen for that?

Many people liked the battle between the amazones and Steppenwolf but I didn’t really like it. My favorite was the one in the tunnels, mostly because there was a lot of character interaction and some form of character development. And it’s true that the “boss battle” at the end was done in like 10 minutes. 

The movie does feel like there’s no high stake here, who cares about steppenwolf? Even if they say it’s a big threat you’re like wtv. But that didn’t bother me much. 

People said there was a lot of plot holes, well they were not big enough to bother me. People said that it was rushed, yeah I can get that, especially with the backstories of the new characters, but it could have been way worse. The movie was mostly straightforward and easy to follow. I had no problems understanding what was going on even if I never saw BvS or Suicide Squad (But I did watch a lot of reviews and analysis of those movies, and I know the big lines of the DC comics lore) 

The characters: 

I liked Batman, I quite like Ben Affleck’s take, especially the lighter version seen here in Justice League. I feel it’s more like the comics than the other ones. And I liked that they made him do some martial art fighting, I feel like we don’t see that enough in the Batman movies. He’s supposed to be so good at it they should show it more. But then his costume is so bulky, it does very much look like some of the comics stories. He says a few funny lines in the movie, I wouldn’t say they’re “jokes” but at least he’s not GrumpyMcGrumpalot Batman in this. 

I liked that Alfred had stuff to do in the movie, even if it was more just practical than emotional. He kind of reminded me of JARVIS.

It was also kind of funny that Batman tried to delegate to everyone else the task of talking to the other three ‘recruits’ (Wonder Woman and Alfred “I thought you were supposed to talk to him.”) 

Wonder Woman is difficult to pinpoint in this movie. She seems more or less the same as in her solo movie. I saw an excerpt of a review on tumblr that said “oh Joss Whedon made wonder woman a nagging wife trope again!”. For one, who said it was Joss Whedon who wrote those scenes and not Snyder? When I was watching the movie I thought “where is she supposed to be the nagging wife exactly?” I never got the sense that she was that at all. It’s not because she disagreed with Bruce that one time that she’s automatically a “nagging wife”. Women can disagree with men you know? And Batman never seemed annoyed by her, and he apologized later, and the other ones were all on Wonder Woman’s side... so really I have no idea where she got that idea...it’s reaaaly stretching it.  I saw that scene where they disagreed more like a “Tony and Steve” kind of moment, and it was way less tense in JL than Avengers. I saw Batman and Wonder Woman as the coleaders of the team, or at least trying to be. Also if you want to talk sexist tropes, instead of the nagging wife, I felt like the nurturing mother was more present to me. I don’t know if it’s good or bad but she seemed to be the one who cared about everybody and believed in them and was sweet to them.

But there are some things that bugged me. Like the fact that they kept mentionning Steve Trevor. Like I GET IT, SHE LOVED HIM. But like it’s been 100 YEARS AND SHE’S STILL NOT OVER IT? Steve wasn’t over Peggy because he got FROZEN IN TIME so to him it’s been a fraction of a second later, but Diana had to live in “Man’s world” for a hundred years now. I know they wanted to link it to the Wonder Woman movie but it felt so forced and I didn’t get any emotion from it. It is a way for them to explain why she didn’t do anything for a hundred years. When Batman said “why aren’t you a beacon of hope like Superman if you’ve been here longer” me: ‘hum I don’t know, the patriarchy? The fact that the producers decided she wasn’t?” I though that the idea that Diana had lost hope and abandonned men had been retconned with Wonder Woman.  They went back to retcon the retcon from what I’m understanding? Ugh I hated this.

The choices of aestetic 

First, the ass shots thing people complained about. It’s not there all that much. I think it’s there once when she’s in normal clothes and maybe two times in her Wonder Woman costume? That’s not what bothered me the most. What bothered me the most was how often she had very big cleavage shirts, even when she was only going to talk to Victor, why did she need a shirt like that? Also “sexy women in movies must wear heels” it’s funny because the first time she came to see Batman she had those big heels, and then the next scene where they walked in a park or something she had black running shoes? So she decided to change shoes in between? 

The Amazones

So the “bikini armor” of the Amazones’ past that did the rounds on tumblr didn’t bother me that much. During the flashback you barely see that they have leather bikinis, and some don’t. What bothered me though is during the present day some of the amazones had metal crop tops and all their stomach were showing. Did we have that in the Wonder Woman movie? I’m pretty sure we didn’t. 

Her relationship with Bruce

I liked it, except for the moments where he kept mentionning Steve Trevor. But oh my god the StraightsTM with their “oooooh there’s sexual tension between Wonder Woman and Batman, will this be a future ship in the movies” like? no? there? isn’t? any? For real, I didn’t read any ~sexual tension~ in their interaction. When she got to help him in a secluded room after he got pretty hurt I feared for the worst, I was like “oh no, this is it, this is the time they will flirt and people will call it  ~sexual tension~ “ but actually it wasn’t? I was relieved, they only talked heart to heart. Also the “I should stop reacting and start acting” thing. I understand where they were coming from and what they wanted to do here. I didn’t see it as necessarily sexist but more a reference to that damn “oh Wonder Woman has lost faith in humans and is hidding now for a hundred years”. I know they wanted that moment to be where she assumed her role as the leader of the team, but yeah it felt more like a reminder of a previous bad character choice for her that they still wanted to be A THINGtm in the movie. 

Also, can we all agree that Wonder Woman is also super fast? They kind of forgot that after her first scene. 

The new characters & the team

The movie tried to give a story/backstory to these characters as much as they could with the short amount of time they had. I applaud their effort, it didn’t work super well, but they tried, and each of the tree had their ‘alone moments’ and some good moments together. It didn’t work so well because you mostly felt thrown into their story without knowing much of anything about these characters. It’s true that the movie does rely on the fact that you should already be familiar with those characters via other media. 

Something I liked is that they all didn’t want to be part of the team at first (Flash said yes but hesitated later), for different reasons, and came back on their own for different reasons too. But can we talk about how everyone in this movie seem to show up exactly at the right time, excactly when they’re needed? Sometimes you’re like “How did you know to come here?”. 

I also liked the team dynamic as a whole, I liked that there wasn’t any forced tension, they mostly got along well but they still had their disagreement. I’m a bit tired of the trope “people who hate each other must fight a common baddie that will unite them and they will bond through fighting together and then form a team of mistfits!” it’s been done over and over, Marvel is a particular expert at this one. I liked that they didn’t have to fight each other to become a team, it’s refreshing. 

Victor (Cyborg) 

I really liked him, he was endearing.  I liked the actor. I just liked the way he was in general, he was the rational one who knew a lot about stuff. He was the straight man to Barry’s quirky/excited character. He had some tension going on with Aquaman, and developped a bond with Wonder Woman (I liked their scenes). 

During his first scenes, we saw him having to deal with being now a cyborg. They touched subjects that were deep and had a great potential for drama but I thought “That has such potential for a deep story, but I’m sure they’ll ruin it”. They didn’t ruin it, they just never really adressed it again? 

Toward the end of the movie I was like “I like him, but I don’t know how they’ll be able to make a solo film with him”. I still want that solo film though. 

Also Honest Trailer will probably nickname him “MrExpositionGuy” probably.

He did look CGI A LOT, I mean of course he would, all his body is a robot! but it was jarring at the beginning how much he looked computerised. And the way he learned his powers, I don’t know if it was good or not but he did learn to use them fast. 

Barry Allen (Flash)

I really liked him!? Yeah he was the comic relief but maaaan he was cute, and relatable. I often felt he was all of us, a tumblr poster child, super awkward, some social issues and endearing. I do very much like the actor too so it helps. So many of the things he said were tumblr quotes material. I hope people will at least gif him.  

I liked how they threw in there a small character development story for him. I liked how he was the average guy who suddenly got supperpowers, he wasn’t suddenly all courageous and had to learn to be. He was a bit the spider-man of the story, the young tech guy who’s also a fanboy and doesn’t know how to Hero yet. 

Also, after credit scene with superman: gold.

Arthur Curry (Aquaman) 

Most people said it was Cyborg that made the least of an impression on them (if they mention him at all...) but to me, my least favorite one was not Cyborg...it was Aquaman. Which surprised me a lot. I LOVED Aquaman’s new design, and Jason Momoa to play him. But I don’t know, his character never struck anything in me. He was cool, I guess I liked him, but less than the others.

I did like the ‘sit on the lasso of truth’ scene haha. Clever way to have Emotional Exposition moment. 

I do want to see a solo film of him though. I think he is one of the characters who should have had a solo film before the Justice League movie, because there is so much lore to his world. They tried to crame as much lore and backstory on him in one scene, it was weird. I mean, good try, but it didn’t work very well. I wasn’t lost during that scene, but it’s definitely one of those “yeah you need to read the comics to know more” moments. 

Superman

I liked him. I liked that he went back to mostly be the Superman of the comics and the early movies. People said that it was the best superman portrayal they’ve seen in the DCEU, I agree, but  I also think it got a bit overhyped. 

The moment when Barry saw that superman was as fast as him though, priceless. 

We did have some good BatSups moments.

Also the CGI lips? Guys it wasn’t that noticeable. I kept looking at his lips and didn’t seen any problems with it. 

Steppenwolf: yeah there’s really nothing to say about him, like who cares? 

The most important now: the ships. Hey I came back with ships! I feel like a movie did its job if they made me ship characters, so good on you Justice League! During the boss battle at the end the only thing I was thinking about was “ok so I ship him with him and her....and then him with....” 

So ships: I’d say Diana x Victor or Victor x Barry (or Diana x Victor x Barry? Ot3 ? maybe?). But then I was like Victor x Barry so Diana......Bruce? ah nah....*Superman arrives, awkward but cute scene with Batman* ah! Batman x Superman! All is as it should be, and all is well in the world. 

So Diana x Victor x Barry

Superman x Batman

and Aquaman......? (and that’s where I realized he was my least favorite, I had no ship with him. But I could maybe see Aquaman x Victor, idk? Aquaman x Batman?) 

To sum up 

The movie was enjoyable, but there was something that felt...off. I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly. I theorized it was because we didn’t know most of the characters yet, or that the story was no that engaging. I’m still wondering what it is, maybe it was the filming choices? Even if there was more colors, it was still a pretty grey movie (and red..). 

So you know I’d give it a good 65%-70%  I think. 

And the After credit: Hey Deathstroke, will you come in time to watch Deadpool 2? (So we won’t have Darkseid just yet?)

#this is SUCH A LONG REVIEW #I think the last time I did a review like that was for age of U #Justice League review

[fallenloverecords]

Interview:  Gentle Brontosaurus

Hi lovers! Here at Fallen Love headquarters we periodically interview people that we adore in order to shine a spotlight on our wonderful pop planet. We post all those interviews right here for your education and enjoyment.

Gentle Brontosaurus are an indiepop band from Madison, Wisconsin, USA. They are Huan-Hua Chye (ukulele & keyboard), Nick Davies (keyboard & trumpet), Cal Lamore (guitar), Paul Marcou (drums), and Anneliese Valdes (bass). Fallen Love head Harley interviewed the band through a computer. Fallen Love Records: How did Gentle Brontosaurus begin? Huan-Hua: Get ready for some band lineage in excruciating detail:

Nick and I used to be in a band called TL;DR that broke up after a couple of band members moved away, so we decided to start a new band.

We knew Paul and Jon from having played with their old band, Baristacide, and we recruited Michael to play bass for us through Craigslist.

Eventually Jon decided it was time to part ways with us and we asked Cal to play guitar. Nick and I had met Cal through a songwriting website called FAWM, February Album Writing Month.

Last year Michael moved to Milwaukee and decided to leave the band so we recruited Anneliese, whom I had met via a community ukulele club called MAUI and who had filled in on bass for us a while back for a Buffy The Vampire Slayer Musical Episode cover show we did with our friends Croaker.

And here is a curated selection of a few of our other related current or recent projects you might want to check out - we are busy individuals: Square Bombs (Paul & Jon) The Werewolverine (Anneliese) The Ferns or C. H. Lamore solo (Cal) Vowl Sounds, Red Tape Diaries (Huan-Hua) Spiral Island (Nick)

FLR: All five of you sing. Was that something planned on from the early stages or did it just discover itself? HH: We used to only have three vocalists (max one lead and one backing at any given time) but decided that seven instruments and three vocals between five people wasn't making the sound guys' lives hard enough (not to mention ours) so we added some more. It has definitely been a voyage of self-discovery. I think we'll try to streamline a bit more in the future, though, since venues almost never have enough mics. FLR: Based on your social media some people might expect you to be a comedy or novelty band. Are new listeners ever caught off-guard? Nick: Is this regarding the Facebook account where we share dinosaur memes or the Twitter account where we post things like Baha Men trivia? Early on I had our genre listed as "brony rock" on Facebook just as a joke and it’s come back up occasionally. Like the time Jimmy K, a local radio personality, had both us and The Ferns (Cal's previous band) on an episode of his show and he got his intro cards mixed up and called The Ferns "brawny rock." HH: Also we got invited to put a song on an actual brony rock compilation, which was unfortunately vetoed by other band members. Anyway I aim to keep expectations at rock bottom so that new listeners can only be pleasantly surprised when we turn out to be (hopefully) honest and charming and good. I don't usually aim for funny when I'm writing songs (although sometimes it ends up there) but I usually aim to be entertaining on social media. (I usually man the Facebook account and Nick the Twitter account). I feel it's the least I can do. FLR: Who writes the lyrics? Each song carries a real depth, like a full short story condensed into four minutes. HH: Nick and I are about 50/50 on songwriting. On the first album our old guitarist wrote one and our old bassist wrote one but I think on the new album it's more or less evenly divided between me and Nick as far as lyrics go. I think the two of us share a love for possibly ill-advised wordiness and allusions so sometimes people have been surprised to find out who wrote which songs. I wrote poetry for years before ever turning to lyrics and a few songs, like "Rabbit Test", are remnants of poems or stories or concepts I could never quite make work on the written page. N: I don't intend to give every song a narrative but in addition to FAWM in February I participate in NaNoWriMo in November. Maybe some of that bleeds over into songwriting. Storytelling does provide a way to address topics without being tied to your own perspective. I'd be kind of uncomfortable writing songs all about Nick and how Nick feels right now, especially if we might decide to have someone else in the band sing it. HH: I, on the other hand, love writing songs all about HH and how HH feels right now. Maybe this is why we have so many songs about food.

FLR: Your debut album, Names Of Things And What They Do, came out in November 2015. What was the process to get there and how has the path shifted since then? HH: That album was very DIY like our new one will be. We recorded it over a period of months in our old practice space and our old guitarist Jon mixed it. Similar approach this time around, all home recordings. It's going to be an interesting mix as some of these songs, like "Kevin Bacon", we've played for years (it almost made it onto the first album) and others, like "A Shot" or "For Emma, Forever Ago", we'd only been playing for a few weeks and had never played live before starting to record. So for those newer songs we're kind of figuring out arrangements and parts as part of the recording process. We recorded all the drums and scratch tracks live, the way we're used to playing, and are now going along and re-recording individual parts to replace the scratch versions. One of the things that's pretty interesting about our piecemeal recording process is that we often can't hear/process the cool things everyone else is doing since we are distracted at the time with our own performances. Sound balance is also difficult to get right live with five people,so there have been a lot of moments where, once you're listening to a clear recording, you go "Oh, I had no idea you had this awesome part happening here." It makes you appreciate everyone and their contributions and musicianship just that much more. FLR: Do you think dinosaurs had feathers or scales? Anneliese: Yes, and some had neither. FLR: Why hasn't Netflix rebooted popular '90s sitcom Dinosaurs yet? A: This might be a question for the Jim Henson Workshop. Fun fact: Kevin Clash, who's the voice of Elmo, was also the voice of Baby Sinclair. And Jessica Walter (of Arrested Development) was the voice of the mother. HH: I'm sure it's on the horizon since we are apparently officially in the midst of a serious worldwide franchise shortage. I will officially volunteer us to provide the soundtrack for the inevitable gritty, sexy reboot. (I mean have you seen Riverdale, the gritty, sexy Archie reboot? Anything is possible.) The theme song will be called "Nobody's Baby" and will be in the style of Julee Cruise and everyone will wear black leather jackets and white undershirts in a very sexy James Dean kind of way. Also, if you don't have a physical copy of our album, Baby Sinclair fans should check out the art on the inner sleeve. FLR: Do you ever get tired of answering dinosaur questions? Will your choice of band name haunt you for the rest of time? HH: No and no. Since we are from the Land Before Time I'm not totally sure yet what this "time" thing is but I'm sure I'll figure it out one of these days. (Sorry to the random person on Tumblr I stole that joke from.)

FLR: What's your earliest musical memory? N: The first songs I wrote were entirely MIDI, written in a sheet music editor. Sadly they were lost forever in the mp3.com buyout of 2001. I thought I had a cassette copy but I went back to my parents' house in D.C. this past summer and the cassette is gone too. After that era I started recording angsty stuff with a beat-up acoustic guitar and some ill-conceived "rapping." Unfortunately there are surviving copies of that. A: Dancing around the living room to my dad's old boogie-woogie records when I was three or four. HH: They gave us recorders in grade school because the only thing better than one five year-old playing the recorder is fifteen of them all at once so I clearly recall making some really avant-garde noise rock as part of my early musical education. Also one of our music teachers was a grad student at the UC Berkeley School of Music and wrote an opera called The Nightingale that he made us learn, like a troupe of performing opera monkeys. FLR: What song have you listened to the most this year? HH: I went to look at my Spotify stats and some of my top tracks in recent months have been: Frankie Cosmos- "Fool", Big Thief - "Masterpiece", X - "The World's A Mess, It's In My Kiss", Eux Autres - "Other Girls", and Jens Lekman - "To Know Your Mission." N: I'm also enjoying the new Jens Lekman album! Crying's Beyond The Fleeting Gales has been the album that has hardly left my car stereo this year. FLR: What's one question you've never been asked in an interview that you would love to be asked someday? HH: You are standing in front of two doors. Behind one lies immeasurable riches, behind the other lies certain death. There are two guards guarding the doors, one sworn to always lie and one sworn to always tell the truth, but you don't know which is which. What is the best song ever written, and why is it "Africa" by Toto? N: If we're ever interviewed by Nardwuar [The Human Serviette] I hope he knows that I dressed as him for Halloween once. HH: Also I think Paul and Anneliese were hoping to do a Jerry Springer-style interview someday with paternity tests and chair fights in front of a studio audience. FLR: What does 2018 look like for Gentle Brontosaurus? I know you're working on your sophomore album. N: We've started recording out at Cal's parents' barn in Cambridge, WI. You must have seen the big chart on Facebook. Once we get that released I think we're hoping to go out on tour again. Maybe reconnect with some of the folks we met on the road in 2016 or maybe play some shows around the upper midwest where we actually haven't been yet. FLR: The first album came on CD with a piece of toast. Will the new album come as a download code in a jar of jam? N: If someone bought our toast in 2015 and is still hanging onto it in 2018, I don't think jam is going to make it edible. HH: I'm not really into jam bands. Gentle Brontosaurus on Bandcamp Gentle Brontosaurus on Facebook

#interviews #Gentle Brontosaurus #scouting report #indiepop #Madison #Wisconsin

[ostrich-on-a-rampage-blog]

Crutchie, Cursed: Chapter Seven

And, I am back from my little vacation! It was super nice and I’ve gotten quite a bit of chapters for this guy done, plus a number of one-shots, so you can expect those within the next few weeks. Previous chapters for Crutchie, Cursed can be found here: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six or just by searching “crutchie cursed” on tumblr. I hope you guys are enjoying this, because I most definitely am having fun with this little au. 

It only took a short four hours for the distance between him and Jack to begin to ache unbearably. Crutchie wasn’t entirely sure if the pain arose from the pressure of the command, or from the heart-breaking way that he had been forced to simply disappear without explaining to Jack what was going on.

Crutchie had arrived home, promptly collapsing onto his bed without a word to Medda. She had been, understandably, worried about him, but hadn’t pressed him to tell her. Medda understood, all too well, just how much Crutchie hated being forced into anything. Instead, Crutchie had simply waved her away, promising to explain everything in the morning. She had nodded, softly squeezed Crutchie’s shoulder, and then left him alone.

Once Medda had left his room, Crutchie had rolled over, placing his back to the door. He didn’t want to risk anyone accidentally walking in on him and noticing the small tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes. Even though Crutchie knew that he could never speak with Jack ever again, that didn’t prevent him from wanting to see the Prince one last time. Maybe… Maybe he could ask Davey to show him Jack one last time. And, then, he’d just move on and never think about the Prince of New York and what may have been.

Crutchie sat up quickly, trying to find his bag that he would keep Davey in. “No,” Crutchie whispered, scanning his room. He checked under his bed, in his closet, behind the small nightstand. Nothing. “No, no, no,” he murmured, the word a soft mantra as he desperately prayed that he was just missing it. Crutchie sank back onto his bed, well aware of his folly. He had left Davey back at the castle.

Crutchie had managed to lose the only four people he had ever been able to call his friends.

All in the span of one week.

He clutched his head in his hands, his fingernails tearing at the tender skin of his scalp. Crutchie hated being alone, and was often ditched by so-called friends at school for various reasons, most stemming from the others’ inability to see past his leg. But, this time, it was Crutchie’s fault that he had been left alone. If he hadn’t…

Crutchie growled ending that train of thought as quickly as he could manage. It wasn’t as if Crutchie wasn’t accustomed to losing friends. He knew, all too well, how temporary friendships could be. Just… these people had genuinely liked him for him. He had forced Katherine away, had yelled at Spot, had left Davey behind, and—

And he had left Jack without even the barest explanation for his sudden disappearance.

Not that Crutchie could actually tell Jack anything. Not when he suspected that Jack would take the King’s word over some poor peasant boy that managed to leave a trail of lies wherever he went. No, he couldn’t tell Jack the truth. For, even if Jack believed him, the explanation would require Crutchie to tell Jack about the curse. Which, he couldn’t. He was back at square one, unable to explain why he could no longer see Jack ever again.

Or, rather, he couldn’t tell the truth.

Jack would want some sort of explanation, Crutchie knew. And, if he couldn’t tell the truth, then a lie would have to suffice.

Crutchie grabbed a piece of parchment and his quill. He dipped the quill, and then paused, the tip held mere centimeters from the paper. What would he say? What could he say? For a moment, Crutchie simply contemplated whether the hasty idea would even work, or if it would raise suspicion. Surely, Jack wouldn’t actually think—

Shaking his head, Crutchie banished those tendrils of hope. It didn’t matter what Jack thought or wanted. It just mattered that he believed the letter long enough for Crutchie to leave, to go somewhere else. To save Jack’s life. With resolution that steeled, icy, at the base of his stomach, Crutchie redipped his quill and began to scratch out the letter:

Dear Jack,

I am sorry about just leaving you in the castle the other day. Especially, without an explanation. And that’s what this is. Because, after everything you’ve done for me, you deserve to know. I couldn’t stay, because I couldn’t continue to lie to you. I’m forever grateful for your help, but I wasn’t comfortable where our relationship was going. You must understand, Jack, that you are one of the best men in this country. But, I could never truly love you. I don’t think we should see each other again. I wish you the best of luck, as the future King of New York. Thank you, once more.

Your friend

Crutchie hastily crossed out the closing of the letter. Instead, Crutchie concluded the letter with a sloppy signature, before sealing the letter into an envelope. He couldn’t bear seeing those lies, stark black against the pale parchment. Each word had pierced him, as he painstakingly traced out words that he could never say aloud to the Prince. However, Crutchie figured that the lies would be far less painful than the Prince’s death.

He licked the envelope shut, before practically throwing it across his desk. Crutchie would send the epistle off in the morning, and he would never think back on the brief time that he had spent with Jack, Crown Prince of New York.

After Crutchie had sent the letter to the castle, he expected some form of relief, a weight lifted from his shoulders. Instead, the pressure of the curse began to increase. Crutchie could barely walk outdoors and be able to withstand the urge to run to the castle and plunge a dagger into Jack’s heart. The ball was to be that night, and Crutchie wasn’t sure how much he could hold off the curse by himself. Crutchie was loath to admit it, but he knew that he would need some outside force enacted in order to resist the command that King Snyder had issued.

Crutchie toyed with the idea of tying himself to a tree and just waiting out the night, but he feared that something would come along, freeing him, and sealing Jack’s fate. To put it lightly Crutchie just couldn’t trust himself to put himself into a position that would not allow him to go to the ball, later that evening. That left only one solution, really.

He didn’t bother alerting Medda that he was leaving; Crutchie knew that she would hope for an explanation that Crutchie just didn’t think he could give. Shortly before noon, Crutchie crept out of the house. He avoided Wiesel and his stepbrothers, who were currently going through their closets, trying to find something appropriate to wear to the ball. While Crutchie found their obsession with Jack annoying—he refused to admit that a larger portion of the annoyance than Crutchie would prefer arose from spikes of jealousy—he was grateful for the distraction, which aided in his escape. Crutchie glanced back at the house, studying its walls, as he breathed a quick sigh of relief. He was out. Step one, complete.

The next step of Plan: Don’t Kill Jack, however, was less simple.

And Crutchie wasn’t exactly looking forward to what it required in order to actually be successful.

As quickly as he could, and ignoring the distinct tugs from the curse, Crutchie set off to the main part of town. The dagger pressed cold and dangerous against his thigh. He had tried to leave the dagger behind, but the command had been too strong, and Crutchie had just given in and tucked it into his belt. While he couldn’t actually fight off the urge to keep the dagger at his side, Crutchie prayed that the next bit of his plan would keep him from using the weapon.

The center of Manhattan thrived with the bustle of a Friday afternoon. Crutchie ducked out of the way of a large wagon, nearly running into an officer of the law in the process. Nervously, Crutchie dipped his hat in respect, before edging out of his way. He glanced around, searching for a target. Something close enough that he would be seen and, hopefully, caught, but far enough away that it didn’t seem conspicuous.

There. Across the street, a large, burly man stood outside a jewelry store. His wares glittered in the window, sunlight glinting off of gilded jewels. Crutchie took one last, sidelong glance at the officer, before crossing the street. He nodded once to the owner of the store, well aware of the stuttering motion of the greeting. Crutchie could feel the man’s eyes on him as he surveyed the small stand of necklaces that had been set up outside. He fingered one: a long, gold chain dotted with ingots of gold.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Crutchie grabbed the necklace and took off down the street. As he had hoped, the shop owner witnessed the thievery and shouted for help. The officer that Crutchie had bumped into earlier took after the young man. Crutchie glanced behind, narrowly avoiding grinning at the sight of the officer in pursuit. Step two was a go.

While he had been pleased at his success with the thievery, Crutchie hadn’t expected to be tackled to the ground by the officer. His leg twisted uncomfortably and Crutchie could not restrain the grunt of discomfort that edged out against pain-pressed lips. The officer ripped the stolen necklace out of his hands and gave it to the shop owner, who must’ve followed the chase. “You’re going to jail, young man,” the officer informed him, cuffing his wrists.

So, it hadn’t been the best of plans. Get sent to jail to avoid killing the Prince. But, under the current time constraint, Crutchie hadn’t been able to come up with anything better. He hoped that he’d be locked into a well-guarded cell, and that they’d frisk him and take away the dagger. Then, King Snyder’s command would be well and truly foiled.

While they did take him to jail and place him into a lonely cell with a barred window, they didn’t end up confiscating the weapon. The lapse of judgement niggled at Crutchie, and he feared that it was some sort of portentous sign that fate would align with King Snyder’s command. However, Crutchie couldn’t quite bring himself to tell the guard posted outside his cell about the hidden weapon. The hesitance, Crutchie attributed to the curse.

Time passed slowly, and Crutchie finally settled on amusing himself by observing the passersby that strolled past his window. Some would stop at a carriage stop outside the prison, waiting for a large carriage to come along its route and transport them across the city. These were the most interesting subjects to watch, Crutchie discovered. He had already witnessed a mother usher five children into a carriage, resulting in a tangle of limbs that Crutchie could not figure how to unsnarl. He had watched an old man sit at the bench, a raggedy dog panting at his feet. Crutchie had even seen two young girls go around, trying to sell boxes of overpriced—but far too delicious—cookies to the different people on the street.

Crutchie had almost decided to stop his people-watching when a familiar man stepped up to the carriage stop. He had tight blonde curls and a long cigar jutting out from his teeth. It was the man that Spot had been talking to at the tavern. It was his fairy. It was Racetrack.

“Racetrack!” Crutchie shouted, sticking an arm through the bars of the cell window, trying to catch the fairy’s attention. “Racetrack!”

The fairy turned around slowly, his eyes alighting on Crutchie’s waving hand. Suspiciously, the fairy stepped forward. “Uh, do I know you?” he asked, the words a little distorted around the cigar. “You look… vaguely familiar. Though, if I owe you money, I gotta tell you, I’ve got a no-payment policy if the other party is in jail.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m Crutchie Morris. Or, rather, Andrew. Andrew Morris,” Crutchie explained quickly. “See, you gave me a cur—gift. You gave me a gift when I was a baby and—“

Racetrack snapped his fingers, taking the cigar out of his mouth. “Ah, yes, Andrew. I remember you. The gift of obedience, am I correct?”

Crutchie nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, you are. But, Racetrack, you’ve got to take it away.”

“Take it away?” Racetrack asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Why would I do that? It’s a gift.”

“No, it’s not! It’s a curse. I’m—People—The curse has made me do bad things and, tonight, if you don’t take it away, I’m going to do the worst thing you could ever imagine. I… I can’t explain, but, Racetrack, please, you’ve got to take the curse away!” Crutchie explained.

Racetrack observed Crutchie carefully, before remarking, “You just don’t get it, do you.”

“Get what?”

“The gift.”

Crutchie barely resisted rolling his eyes. “It’s not a gift,” he asserted. He wished that he wasn’t having this conversation through a barred window. Though, Racetrack probably appreciated the separation, as Crutchie was aching to just reach across the divide and strangle his fairy.

“That’s the problem,” Racetrack explained, gesturing at Crutchie with his cigar. “It is a gift. But, until you realize that, I’m not going to take it away.”

“Fine,” Crutchie agreed. “It’s a gift. Happy? Now, please, just remove it. I need—“

Racetrack scoffed. “Okay, one thing, kid, don’t just lie to my face. Especially, when I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me?” Crutchie sputtered. “You and this curse have ruined everything!”

“With that attitude, I’m sure it has.” Racetrack paused, his eyes darting down the iron bars of the window. “Did it get you landed in jail?” he asked.

“Well, sorta,” Crutchie explained. “This is actually—“

Racetrack cut him off with a wave of his cigar. “In that case, let me prove to you just how kind of a fairy I am.” He waved his fingers in Crutchie’s direction and, before Crutchie could realize the fairy’s intention, he found himself standing outside the prison building. “Ta-da,” Racetrack said sarcastically.

“No,” Crutchie muttered, feeling the curse’s tug pressing at his legs, urging him to hurry to the castle. The sky had already darkened, and Crutchie knew that the ball would be starting soon, if it hadn’t started already. “No, please, put me back in jail,” he begged.

“Hey, I know why you look so familiar,” Racetrack said, snapping his fingers. “You were at the tavern. You’re Spot’s friend.” Crutchie winced at that comment, but didn’t have much more time to dwell on his fairy’s assumption, as Racetrack continued, “You were there, with the Prince. You know, the Prince is having a ball tonight. You should go.”

“No! I can’t! I really, really can’t,” Crutchie tried to explain.

“Come on, I saw you with the Prince. He really likes you, you know. So, as your fairy, it’s my duty to make sure that you get your happily ever after, or whatever,” Racetrack explained, the conclusion of the sentence thick with sarcasm. “Let’s get you spruced up.” He waved his hands once more, and Crutchie’s plain vest and old pants were replaced with a smart blue suit. Much to Crutchie’s dismay, he could still feel the knife against his thigh. “Brings out your eyes,” Racetrack told him. “Now, you go get your Prince,” Racetrack said. It was phrased as a command, and the combination of that command and King Snyder’s were too powerful for Crutchie to resist. Against his volition, he turned away from his fairy, and began the trek to the castle.

The castle was brightly lit, decorations gilding the entry way. Crutchie would normally have been awed by the apparent jewels that hung in strands, crisscrossing each hallway. This night, however, Crutchie didn’t have time to examine his surroundings. He still searched for some way to be prevented from murdering the Prince, but no guards took notice of him. In fact, no one took notice of him.

That is, however, until he entered the main ballroom. The curse still tugged at him, urging him forward, but the sight of the many elegant dresses and finely trimmed suits had Crutchie pausing in awe. Couples twirled around each other, the swish of silk and taffeta keeping time with the orchestra in the corner of the room. His eyes darted across the room, unable to quite find—

“I didn’t think you would come here.”

Jack.

Crutchie turned, facing the Prince. Excuses and explanations died on his lips at the sight of the Prince. His hair was slicked back, displaying far more care than Crutchie had previously seen. Despite the combing and gel, a couple strands had come loose and hung over his forehead. Jack was dressed in a navy blue suit with a ruffled white dress shirt that Crutchie normally would have teased the Prince for, had it not been for the lack of smile on Jack’s face.

“Ah, I—I’m sorry,” Crutchie muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

Jack snorted. “I got your note, you know.”

“You did.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jack asked, jerking his arm up to his jaw. He held it there, his thumb worrying his bottom lip. “You said… Look, am I kidding myself or… I mean, is there really something?”

Crutchie bit his lip. He had to say something. “Jack, I need you to understand,” Crutchie began.

“No, tell me the truth,” Jack commanded.

“I love you,” Crutchie whispered. “I love you so very much and, Jack, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened, but—“

“But, what?” Jack asked. He gently pulled Crutchie closer to him, one hand against Crutchie’s hip, the other rubbing a thumb against Crutchie’s cheek. “What does it matter? If you love me and I love you—“

“You--?”

“Yes, Andrew, I love you. So, what’s stopping us? Is it—“

Jack cut himself off as Oscar and Morris approached. “Prince Jack!” Oscar called out in greeting, quickly smoothing his hair. “You…” Oscar trailed off, catching sight of Crutchie. “Leave us alone,” Oscar commanded.

Never before had Crutchie been so glad for a command from his step brother. If he could just manage to avoid Jack, then everything would turn out okay. Sure, he wouldn’t ever be able to be with Jack again, but Jack wouldn’t be dead, and that was a plus. Before Jack could speak up, Crutchie slipped away, finding his way to the large buffett table that had been set up at the edge of the ballroom. He picked at a small sandwich, observing the ballroom. Crutchie ached to just slip away, but he knew that the hold of the curse would prevent an action like that. Instead, he just hoped that Oscar could keep Jack occupied for the next ten minutes.

“I see you couldn’t quite stay away.”

Crutchie stiffened, his hand tightening around the sandwich. “King Snyder,” he whispered. “Please, I beg you. I’ll do anything. Anything for you, just don’t make me do this.”

The King tapped his chin, as if he were considering Crutchie’s request. “No, Andrew. I command you to murder my nephew, Prince Jack. At midnight. Which, if that clock serves us correctly, is only eight minutes away, so, chop-chop!” King Snyder said cheerfully, grinning maliciously at Crutchie. “Ah, here he comes now.”

“Crutchie, there you are!” Jack called out, approaching quickly. He grinned. “I finally got away from your step brother. Do you want to… go somewhere more private?” he asked.

“Jack, I really—“ Crutchie began.

“Oh, go with him,” King Snyder commanded. “Have fun, you two,” he added, winking in Crutchie’s direction.

“Come on, Crutchie. Let me show you the roof,” Jack said, reaching for Crutchie’s hand.

Crutchie nodded mutely, following Jack throughout the castle. He tried to ignore the ticking of the clock as they passed it. Seven minutes. Seven minutes until… Crutchie prayed that Jack couldn’t feel the sweat that was creeping down his palm.

“It took me far too long to shake off that step brother of yours,” Jack laughed. “Finally, I managed to slip away. Which, speaking of which, why did you leave me to handle him alone?”

“I don’t know,” Crutchie whispered. “I was just worried…”

“About what?” Jack asked, pausing to look Crutchie in the eyes. “That I would ever choose Oscar over you? Andrew, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, but I love you.”

“Jack…”

“Here we are,” Jack said, pulling Crutchie up a flight of stairs to the rooftop. “Welcome to the penthouse,” he said, swinging his arm to direct Crutchie’s gaze to the view.

“This is where you and your father would go,” Crutchie whispered, stepping forward to lean against the railing of the roof. He felt as if he could see all of New York, from the roof. The sky was swathed in darkness, clouds rolling in and obscuring the star-studded heavens. Across the land, Crutchie could discern small dots of lights, determining the location of various towns and cities. “Jack, it’s beautiful.”

Jack smiled, stepping up beside Crutchie and studying the darkened landscape. “It is. This is… Sometimes, it feels like this is the only place I can go and not have to worry about expectations, about… Well, anyway, I thought you’d like to see it.” Jack scuffed the tip of one his dress shoes against the ground, before continuing, “Crutchie, I love you.” He turned and faced the other man. “I love you, and, I know this is sudden, but I can’t keep this to myself.”

Crutchie watched, horrified, as Jack took a knee. His stomach roiled with fear and he could feel tears pressing, hot and anxious, against his eyes. This wasn’t how he had wanted to feel at a time like this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Andrew, will you marry me?”

He was choking. Oh god, he was choking. What could he say? What time was it? “Ja-jack,” Crutchie said, his breaths coming out as harsh gasps.

Jack grabbed his hands, holding tightly to them. “Look, it will be okay,” Jack reassured him. “Don’t worry about your family, about mine. We love each other, yeah? Then, what else is there to worry about?”

“I—I,” Crutchie started, unsure of what he would tell Jack, how he could ever explain the horrendous position he had been thrown into. The clock struck midnight. The curse tugged at his hand, urging him to grab the dagger, that now hung ever heavier at his thigh. “Jack,” Crutchie gasped, as the tears finally broke free. “Jack,” he repeated, for it was all that he could say, all that mattered.

“Andrew,” Jack whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. “Andrew, it’s okay.”

Crutchie couldn’t control himself as he slipped the dagger from his belt and held it up, behind Jack. He didn’t want to do this. He couldn’t do this. Crutchie had never hated himself or the curse more than he did in that very moment. His hand trembled as he fought the commands. He couldn’t—He wouldn’t—“I will not be obedient,” Crutchie ground out, the words forced out past clenched teeth. “I will not. I will not,” he repeated.

For over two decades, Crutchie had been forced into obedience. He had tried to fight off the effects of the curse many times before. But, never before, had it been so imperative that he be successful. Never before, had he ached so desperately to just be normal. Racetrack was wrong; this was no gift. It hadn’t been until, recently, that the curse truly became a problem. Previously, his father had ensured that no one used the curse against him and had been careful to avoid commands, no matter how small. And, then, his step brothers had come along and, suddenly, Oscar was using Crutchie’s curse to his advantage.

Then, there was Jack. He avoided commands as much as he could. Not because he understood what they did to Crutchie, as Crutchie’s father had. But, because he wasn’t the type of person to force a friend into doing something that would make him uncomfortable. Crutchie blinked back the tears, his hand shifting around the dagger. He wouldn’t do this. He would no longer be beholden to those that only wished to use him for their heinous purposes.

For the wonderful ten years when Crutchie’s father was still alive, he had been careful to remind Crutchie of his strength. On his death bed, he had begged Crutchie to promise him that the would overcome the curse. Crutchie had promised, half-heartedly, unsure how he would manage to actually do that. Now, he felt as if he understood what his father meant. It wasn’t about destroying the curse, or having it removed. It wasn’t about any outside forces at all. This was something that Crutchie, alone, could do. This was something that Crutchie, ever alone, had to do. “I will not kill him. I will not do it,” Crutchie commanded himself.

Jack pulled slightly out of the hug. “Uh, Crutchie?” he asked, confusion etching lines across his face. “Are you—“

The weight pressed, unyielding, against Crutchie’s chest, threatening to choke the will out of him. Crutchie no longer cared. He wasn’t sure exactly how he would manage to break the curse, but that wasn’t the crux of the situation, in the end. He would not do as he was told any longer, that much Crutchie was certain of. “I will no longer be obedient!” Crutchie shouted, the dagger dropping from his suddenly lax fingers and clattering against the ground.

It was done.

At the sudden sound, Jack jerked back, completely breaking the embrace. His eyes darted to the dagger on the ground. “What?” he asked. “Andrew, were you—“

Jack was cut off as the door leading to his penthouse was slammed open. King Snyder barreled through, a flank of dark-dressed guards at his side. “He tried to kill the Prince!” the King shouted, pointing at Crutchie.

“No, wait, I can explain,” Crutchie started. He had been overjoyed at the sudden break of the curse, but now he was terrified that Jack would never accept his explanation. The curse did seem a stretch, Crutchie knew. “Jack, please, let me explain.”

The Prince stood there. He had picked up the dagger, and was holding the weapon gingerly. “I thought you loved me,” Jack accused, his voice safely emotionless.

“I do!” Crutchie said, stepping towards Jack. Before he could even get within a foot of the Crown Prince, he was grabbed at by a rough guard. “Let me explain,” Crutchie tried, attempting to break out of the guard’s grip. “Please! Just let me explain!”

The guard punched Crutchie in the jaw, the force of the impact tearing Crutchie from the guard’s hands and landing him on the ground. His crutch skittered out of his reach. Crutchie groaned lowly, but doggedly refused to give up. He tried to grab his crutch and hoist himself up, but the King reached his crutch first. For a moment, Crutchie fooled himself into thinking the King would help him to his feet, hand him his crutch, and then Crutchie would be able to clear up the whole mess.

The first blow to his ribs shocked Crutchie so fully, that he nearly didn’t notice the pain. By the second hit of the crutch, however, the pain had caught up to him. Crutchie gasped loudly, grabbing at his stomach in some futile effort to block the blows. The third hit him against the side of his head, and Crutchie’s vision swam as he barked out a hoarse cry of pain.

“Uncle!” Jack shouted, breaking from his momentary stupor. He grabbed the King’s arm, aborting the fourth downward sweep of the crutch. “Stop!”

Crutchie gasped in as much air as his battered ribs would allow, curling in on himself. It all hurt so badly, Crutchie wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to think straight again. He merely moaned, no longer taking notice of the conversation between the King and the Prince. However, when King Snyder grabbed his wrists, Crutchie was forced to pay attention. “It’s off to the Refuge with you, little man,” the King growled, snapping a pair of handcuffs onto his thin wrists and gesturing for one of the guards to grab the prisoner.

The Refuge. Crutchie’s chest tightened at the thought. He knew just how often that prisoners never returned from that hellish castle dungeon. And, how the rest exited the stone walls, changed men: now, muted, skitterish, terrified, ruined. “No, please, no,” he begged, his voice hoarse with the dregs of pain.

The guard paid no heed, and began tugging Crutchie along the ground, and toward the door that exited the penthouse. Crutchie only had one hope, to save him. “Jack! Please, Jack, help!” he cried, scrabbling for purchase on the ground. “Jack!”

The Prince didn’t move to help him, only stood and watched, his face impassive to the proceedings. He still held the dagger, and Crutchie felt his gut twist as he recognized that, while he may not have killed the Prince, he had managed to ruin whatever had been between them.

“Jack, help!”

Crutchie didn’t expect the Prince to come to his aid.

Crutchie hated when he was right.

#crutchie cursed #my fanfiction #ella enchanted au #man this is such a fun au #next chapter is all about the refuge #loads of fun there #this is looking to be about nine or ten chapters #let me know how you like it #!!!

[bluezey]

The Breakdown - Writer’s Commentary

Time for a writer’s commentary!  As a total nerd of commentary, sometimes I feel some of my fanfics could use a short piece about some possible questions about the piece.  And with this fanfic being my first Gumball fic that is also a crossover with Inside Out, I thought this needed it.  So, under the cut, let’s begin answering the possible questions you may have about The Breakdown.

Part One – http://bluezey.tumblr.com/post/159319741657/the-breakdown-part-one

Part Two – http://bluezey.tumblr.com/post/159319858352/the-breakdown-part-two

What gave you the idea to cross Inside Out and Gumball?

For one, I am a BIG fan of Inside Out.  I mean, even if you know me and know that, you don’t even know.  Not only do I think it’s a great film, but the idea of making a mind world and emotions for each character is a fun character study.  So, when I made one for Rob from The Amazing World of Gumball, and then shared it with tumblr and getting a good deal of likes from the idea, things began to fall into place from there.

 Were you nervous to write this piece?

Oh, extremely.  Not only my first Inside Out fanfic, but my first Gumball fanfic (not counting Let’s Never Speak of This Again).  But, despite it being Inside Out inspired, I wanted the fanfic to mirror the show Gumball.  I knew I could capture the drama okay, but comedy is another matter. Though I tried, I don’t think I can capture the comedy style of the show.  Another thing is I’m kinda a stickler when it comes to writing fanfics based on shows, as in I want them to be written in a way that they can be feasible as an actual episode.  So, with it being a long piece, I’m seeing this as a two parter episode, the first eleven minutes being more comedy driven and the second eleven minutes being more drama driven.  And it was tricky cause this is obviously going to end with character development, but I didn’t want to end the story arc between Gumball and Rob.  So, while much has been developed, this is more of what could be a big step in the right direction of their story arc.

 Why the character development?

It was inevitable, for one, what with emotions running around.  Another influence was this was written right after The Ex.  I loved the episode, but I did the big mistake of looking up others comments online about it, and the number one complaint was either no character development or reversing character development.  While I don’t see that, I see it as more of the start of their character development in the guise of a funny episode, that couldn’t help but influence me to put some character development into the piece.

 Why Rob?

Well, for a character that gets little screen time, he’s a pretty developed character, but at the same time we know little about him.  The main reason, however, is because I was curious as to how his mind being erased of his previous memories would work in the terms of Inside Out.  What I decided upon is that all his previous memories would be completely erased, but his emotions, despite being physically affected, still retain their memories.  This is more for dramatic reasons, as we have the emotions wanting to help Rob cope, but they don’t have the means, they can only make him feel without past influence. Hints of that appear in the fanfic reasonably well, I think.

 So the emotions are just Robs in different colors? 

Basically, yes.  In Inside Out, each emotion is designated by a color:  Joy is yellow, Sadness is blue, Fear is purple, Anger is Red and Disgust is green. While it would be cute to have them look like the emotions from Inside Out, I thought it’d be more fun and simpler to have the emotions look more like Rob.  But, if you want to picture them with more detail, there was more considered other than color and Anger bursting into flames when enraged.  For one, I wanted to break tradition and give Fear his nerve curl, despite him still having hair.  This is something from Inside Out that bugged me, so I wanted to change that with Rob, but surprisingly found myself on the fence about a purple Rob with purple hair and a nerve curl.  One idea I liked, but cut in case some didn’t, was giving Disgust eyelashes.  They wouldn’t be real long, just short eyelashes, I just thought it’d be cute and in Disgust’s character.  But, I was worried some wouldn’t like this, so decided to cut it.  Another reason why I cute details was I couldn’t think of any details for Joy and Sadness, apart from Sadness having a low res turtleneck and Joy having either a static left foot or both wire framed feet, as most Joys run around with bare feet.  I also played around with the idea of giving Joy blue hair, as Joy from Inside Out has blue hair, but I thought Rob’s Joy looked better with yellow tinted brown hair. One last addition I thought about was changing the color on their shorts for each emotion.  So, Sadness would have blue stripes, Fear would have purple stripes, Disgust would have green stripes, etc etc.  But, I decided against this because, one simpler, two Anger would have darker red shorts for his red stripes to show up, and three, I couldn’t decide between yellow or lime green for Joy, as Joy from Inside Out is partial to lime green.

It says Rob’s emotions sound different, is that because they sound emotionally different or they have different voices?

Both.  Joy is going to sound happy a lot, Anger is going to sound angry a lot, etc etc.  But, if you’ve seen Inside Out, the emotions don’t sound like their person.  It’s what makes the emotions unique in their own way as well as makes them their own individual characters.  So, yes, each of Rob’s emotions have a different voice.  So, what voices would that be?  Well, hard to say, as I haven’t decided on a fit for his Joy and his Sadness, so they’re both open for interpretation.  Okay, they’re all open for interpretation, but I have my personal choices for his Fear, Disgust and Anger.  Anger is pretty simple and I think everyone would like this choice, he would be voiced by David Warner.  Don’t remember him?  He voiced Rob’s Dr. Wrecker voice!  That’s right, Anger would have the same voice as Dr. Wrecker!  It all makes sense.  His Fear I’d like voiced by Bill Hader doing his best Rob impression.  It’s for a few reasons, one he voices Fear in Inside Out and I bet he’d love to do that again, two he’s pretty good at voice acting and imitating and/or making up voices so having him play Fear as well as imitating Rob would show that off, and three I just like Bill Hader okay?  And this may be a long shot, but I can’t help it, I think a good fit for his Disgust would be Brad Jones aka The Cinema Snob.  Don’t know him?  Well, if you’re mature enough to watch an internet reviewer who highlights exploitation films and bad porn, check him out, he’s pretty funny, and pretentious enough to make a great Disgust.

Why are Rob’s emotions all male?  Did you consider female emotions?

This needs some explaining before answering.  In Inside Out, Riley has a female Joy, Sadness and Disgust and a male Fear and Anger, while her mom has all female emotions and her dad has all male emotions.  Long story short, this sets up a long and complicated debate/theory in the Inside Out fandom as to what defines an emotion’s gender, is it the person’s gender, the person’s personality, are the emotions genderless and they define their gender by their own personality, the list and theories go on.  But, as fun as the debates and theories of the emotions and Rob’s gender are, I wanted to keep things simple.  So, I went the simple route and made all his emotions male.  The rest is up for interpretation for each individual reader.  If you think they’re genderless, that works for you.  If you like the idea that Rob has some female emotions, feel free to imagine it.  If you like the idea that Rob is transgendered therefore all his emotions are transgendered, why not?  It’s up for each individual’s interpretation, but to avoid controversy, I made it simple and just made them all male.

A bonus answer for this, in Part Two you may have caught that, even after all my proofreading, I accidentally call Rob’s Joy “her” one time.  This, is actually not because at one point his Joy was female (but again, if you like his Joy a girl, I can’t stop you).  This, is because throughout part two, I couldn’t help but imagine Riley’s Joy from Inside Out instead of Rob’s Joy.  So, some lines were written with she/her instead of he/him.  Being terrified of this error, I went through part two with a fine tooth comb, but one still managed to get passed me.  I can find it when I read it, but when I go to edit the piece I can’t find it again.  So, apologies if this bothered you, and once I do find the thing in editor, I’ll be sure to fix it.

Why did you have Rob’s emotions escape his mind instead of having the story in Rob’s mind? 

For two reasons.  One, while I have an idea of what Rob’s mind world would look like, I didn’t have enough of an idea to carry a story.  Two, I just thought it would have a deeper meaning, plot and crisis to have Rob lose his emotions, making him emotionless, therefore that close to being a literal nobody.

 Why were there eventually so many characters following the plot when it looked like only Joy and Gumball were needed for the second half? 

I thought having more residents of Elmore take notice in Rob’s emotional state would have a better impact to the story.  It was the same reason why I had Gumball end up trapped in the void for a few minutes, also so he could feel a bigger impact of how it felt to be in Rob’s shoes after learning more about his struggles through his emotions, especially his Joy.

 Are there any more Inside Out influences?

I listened to the track Tears of Joy from the Inside Out soundtrack on a loop while writing the section from when Joy was talking to Rob in the void to when the emotions finally returned inside Rob’s mind.  In fact, in my mind, I tried my best to picture the scene from Joy freeing Gumball from the void to Rob crying to the track.  If you want to have a listen and try to imagine it, look up Inside Out Tears of Joy on YouTube and have a listen.

#The Amazing World of Gumball #The Breakdown