#❝ — i make your hands clap ! ❞┊bellamy

[scftlightz]

open   to   :   anyone !! mutuals   +   non   mutuals ( f+ for romance ) muse :   bellamy cruz .  31 . radio talk show host . * the boys verse * made  with  beta,  pls  don't  like  my  starters. no taboo pls.

"  why  does  it  always  have  to  be  a  fight  with  you?  "

[scftlightz]

"  'now,  you're  sending  three  home.  '  but  you're  still  here?  make it make  sense.  " he partially chuckled before passing her a humored grin. " i'm going to steal that by the way. you're hilarious. "

♡ - closed starter ( ft. @scftlightz ) muse: luciana 'luci' villareal. high school cheer coach & party girl.

    “ after that, he literally did his big one up there. that was like a movie. ”

[integra1127grimmreaper]

Would You Hold It Against Me?

Ike Evans Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warning: swearing, smut

Summary: The first time you met Ike Evans. Inspire by- The Bellamy Brothers' - If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me.

Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

​

If I said you had a beautiful body

Would you hold it against me?

If I swore you were an angel

Would you treat me like the devil tonight?

Ike silently sat watching you glide across the dance floor; you oozed both style and flair as your partner led you through the dance.

He had thought taking this business trip to Chicago was a waste of time after the nightmare of a meeting he had been forced to sit through earlier.

But now, after having watched you for the past twenty minutes; his thoughts were completely changed on the matter.

To say that Ike found you interesting would be putting it lightly... truth was; he was completely enchanted by you.

*

If I was dying of thirst

Would your flowing love come quench me?

If I said you had a beautiful body

Would you hold it against me?

The dance soon ends, and you curtsy to your partner, chuckling and clapping along with everyone as they cheered the band.

Believing you to be a couple, Ike was caught completely by surprise when he and you parted ways thereafter, and you make your way toward Ike's direction at the bar then.

As not to make it obvious that he had been watching you the entire time, Ike slowly turns back to facing the bar just as you reached the vacant seat right next to him.

"Vodka Martini please..." you request from the bartender as you took a seat.

You were just about to hand the bartender payment for your drink, when a large hand suddenly closed over your hand holding the money.

"It's on me..." a raspy voice utters, placing your hand back down onto the bar top.

"Thank you, Stranger..." you smile at him.

"Ike..." the man reaches his hand out introducing himself.

"Y/N..." you reach out to shake it.

"Never seen you around here before, you new in town?"

"Just visiting for business" Ike replies with a dimpled smile.

"And what business are you into, Ike?" you enquire, silently admiring his handsomeness.

"Hospitality" he answers, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

"May I?" you request one.

Ike offers the pack for you to take one, and as he reaches out to light it for you; your eye catches the glint of the wedding band on his finger.

"I'm widowed" Ike remarks with a grim smile, having noticed your train of focus.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss" you reply, feeling a bit guilty at your sense of relieve to his remark.

"It's been two years but thank you."

*

Now we could talk all night about the weather

Could tell you 'bout my friends out on the coast

I could ask a lot of crazy questions

Or ask you what I really wanna know

Ike and you sat chatting for quite some time; the flirting between you two heavy, as you got to know each other better, when suddenly he breaks the ice.

"I know this might be a bit forward of me... but would you like to go back to my hotel room with me?

Grabbing hold of your purse, you reach out a hand and smirk.

"Lead the way, Handsome..."

Tongue popping out to lick at his bottom and with a broad dimpled smirk, Ike takes hold of your hand to assist you out of your seat.

Settling the bill, Ike wraps an arm tightly around your waist as he leads you out of the nightclub.

*

If I said you had a beautiful body

Would you hold it against me?

If I swore you were an angel

Would you treat me like the devil tonight?

The sexual tension was getting heavier and heavier by the second during the car ride, that you barely made it into the room when Ike immediately had you pinned against the nearest wall; lips attached to your neck as his hands roamed all over your body.

"Ike..." you whimpered out at the feel of his erection grinding into your middle.

"I need to be inside you..." he growls out, lifting you up with ease and carrying you to the bed.

Ike lowers you to the ground at the foot of the bed, and in an instant you both began undressing each other in-between heated kisses.

"Fuck, you're beautiful..." Ike utters out, cupping your face in his palms.

Tipping down to capture your lips in a hard kiss, Ike slowly leads you backwards onto the bed.

Gripping tightly at your thigh, Ike moves down toward your open legs then, but you grip hold of his hair to pause his movements.

"We'll have all the time for that later..." you pull him upward to lay over you.

"I need you inside me, now..."

"You need me to fuck you that badly, huh?" Ike grins down at you, spreading your legs further to settle in-between them.

"Mhmm..." you bit into you lip at the feel of his cock sliding between your wet folds.

Reaching down, Ike grips hold of his cock; slowly leading it into you, causing you both to groan out as he stretched you more than you ever had been before.

"Fuck..." Ike grunts out, giving a few slow experimental thrusts after you had adjusted to him.

You whimpered out at the fullness of having him so deep inside you, doing your best to rock your hips along with his.

Ike picks up the pace then, causing you to suddenly cry out as he delivered an extremely hard thrust.

"You ok?" Ike pauses, staring down at you in concern.

"I'm fine..." you whimper, gripping hold of his bottom and rolling your hips upward to get him to continue on.

"Please, don't stop..."

Tipping down to capture your lips in a kiss; Ike begins thrusting at a slow pace yet again, gradually picking up in speed and strength thereafter.

It wasn't long when the room was filled with sounds of smacking skin, and the grunts and whimpers of Ike and you.

"Ike...!" you gasp out, grasping onto his shoulders tightly at the feeling of your climax nearing.

"I'm cumming...!" you cry out as your walls clench tightly around him.

"Fuuuuck...!" Ike growls out as your grip around him triggered his own climax; causing him to grip tightly at your thighs as he released himself deep into you.

After a few minutes of recovering, Ike pulls out of you; causing both of you to gasp out that the sensation of it.

Rolling off you, Ike pulls you tightly against his side as the two of you try to even your breathing.

"Come back home with me" Ike utters out suddenly as the two of you laid wrapped in each other's arms.

"What...?" you stare up at him in surprise.

Ike smirks down at you and nods.

"Better yet... Marry me."

Struck speechless for a second, you sit up to look at him better.

"Are you serious?"

Ike sits up too, nodding at you with a dimpled grin.

"Now that I found you, I never want to let you go."

Silently studying his eyes for moment; you bite into your lip, nodding in response then.

"Ok..."

"Seriously...?" Ike looks at you in excitement.

"Yes..." you smile at him.

"Yes, I'll marry you..."

Ike lets out a cry of excitement then, tipping down to capture your lips in a hard kiss.

"Thank you... you just made me the happiest man in the world..."

*

If I was dying of thirst

Would your flowing love come quench me?

If I said you had a beautiful body

Would you hold it against me?... 

Nxt

[askthechronoverse]

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

Stylist Barbie ruffled Kit's messy hair and her hand jostled the horn headband. "Oh! How did I not see this before? That's a unicorn horn! You must be a magical Barbie! Maybe a Dreamtopia princess?" She clapped her hands. "Yes! I think I'm getting a better idea now! I do wonder how your wild side fits in. Dreamtopia Barbies are usually more gentle than you feel." She tapped her feet and pouted. There was less of a bounce in her step as Barbie concentrated.

"Barbie?" One of the other Barbies waved from the spot closest to the door. Stylist Barbie wasn't paying enough attention to notice.

"Hmm… Maybe… Do you like the color pink?" She hopped over to the box and began to dig through it again.

"Barbie?" A second Barbie chimed in with the first one. Stylist Barbie emerged from the box holding a tiny silver crown that was intricately decorated with tiny pink jewels, the one in the center being a large purple heart.

"Princess Unicorn Barbie! That's what you are on the inside!" She placed the crown on Kit's head. "You never see that! Usually, you see a Princess Barbie and they get a unicorn. But you are the unicorn! That's so exciting!" Stylist Barbie's arms were now a blur of pink as she worked, ignoring the growing chorus of her name being called. She pulled away and Kit was now in a poofy pink dress. Her horn was now caked in glitter with her hair tamed. When Stylist Barbie's back was turned to grab the hand mirror, her cowlick popped back to the surface. A shadow in the doorway made her pause. Kit used the pause to take a selfie of her sparkly look on her dad’s phone. She stuck out her tongue in the photo when she got a good look at what would have been her reflection if any of the mirrors were real.

"Hi, Barbie." The figure in shadow stepped into the salon.

"Oh! Beach Ken. Hi." Stylist Barbie fumbled with the hand mirror. She could barely make eye contact with the blonde man before her.

"I want to see if I can help you this time." Ken adjusted his hoodie, a fluffy tie dye Sherpa hoodie with the words "I am Kenough" on the chest. "You helped me after the whole… thing."

"Ken, I appreciate the offer," was all Stylist Barbie said. Her eyes lit up after a moment. "Maybe you can show our new friends around!" She gestured to Kit and Charmy. "I'm sure they need to head to their dream houses soon to make it look all their own!" She gently picked the two up and put them into Ken's hands. "Good luck, Princess Unicorn Barbie and Adventure Barbie!"

"OK! I'll give them a great tour! Call me Tour Guide Ken!" Ken called after Stylist Barbie as he, Charmy and Kit were just about pushed out the door by the stylist.

"Thank you!" The door was closed forcefully behind them. Kit and Charmy turned to Vito and Bellamy, who had just caught up with Ken and joined them in Ken's hands. Vito held out the relic detector, which was screaming in Ken's direction.

"Okay, Barbie and Barbie and… your friends. Its probably a super big and scary place for you, but Barbieland is totally rad and getting better all the time. As Stylist Barbie already told you, my name is Ken." He glanced at the relic detector, confusion palpable around him. “Your box is incredibly loud, bro.”

"We… we aren't actually named Barbie." Kit put her phone away in her bag as she spoke to the man. "I'm Kit. My friends are Charmy, Bellamy, and Vito." She gestured to each of her companions in turn.

"Are all of you from The Real World?" He whispered. There was a subconscious level of longing when he asked this question. “Is that why you have a loud box? I don't remember humans being so small, though. “

"I don't know what that is." Kit tilted her head. "I will say that we aren't from around here, somewhere far away." She decided to avoid answering the questions about the relic detector for now.

"There are places further than the Real World?" Vito used the distraction of Ken talking to Kit to scan around the older man, seeing if he could find the foundation element by sight.

"There are a lot of places, I think. We're new to traveling outside of our world ourselves, so we're learning how big things really are." She paused. "I feel like Stylist Barbie didn't want you in her salon. Are you okay?"

"Oh she always acts like that. It could be because I'm a Ken without a Barbie. Our world has been changing and I think it takes time to get used to changes like that." His smile never faded, but he did sound a little heartbroken.

"You don't sound okay. Do you want to sit down somewhere? Is there anything you need?" Kit spoke softly now, like her dad did when she was upset.

"I just need to-" He stopped when Vito reached out to scan some large yellow rollerskates that were tied to his belt loop. "Hey! Are you trying to take my roller skates? I can't believe everyone wants my skates. I know they're really cool and match any outfit, but get your own!"

"Someone was trying to steal your roller skates before?" Kit's voice remains perfectly calm, as she hoped it would calm the older man down.

"Yeah. Some tiny guy in a big heavy cape asked me for my roller skates the other day. He tried to pull them out of my hands but he was too small! I ra… I mean… I beached him off until he got out of my face!" He looked very proud of himself, completely ignoring the confused looks from the teenagers that sat in his hand.

"Did you see his face?" Vito asked, trying once more to scan the skates. Ken pulled the skates closer to him with his free hand. Bellamy shook their head and started flying everyone onto Ken's shoulder.

"No. He had a hood over his head. He said he was coming back for them. I hope he doesn't, because I'm not getting rid of them." He kept the skates close to his chest.

"We can keep them away from the guy in the hood, if you want." Kit gave a small, disarming smile. "I know we just met, but I hope you can trust us? Believe me when I say that those skates are very important." She gave her sweater wearing cousin a questioning look and got a nod from him in reply.

"Of course they're important!" Ken continued to keep his eyes on Vito as Bellamy picked him up to put him with the others. "They're important to me. I never go anywhere without them." Kit kept her gentle smile.

"Maybe you can just come with us. Are you busy around here?"

"No. I don't really have a thing anymore and I'm trying to find what I'm good at. It's got to be more than "beach", right?" Ken shrugged.

"Wait. What do you mean by that?" Charmy finally spoke up. "How can your job just be "beach"?"

"That's just how things worked in Barbieland. At least, before Barbie left and before I discovered the horseless patriarchy." There was a deep and profound disappointment when he spoke the phrase "horseless patriarchy". "My job has always been "beach". But I'll let you in on a secret." He whispered conspiratorially. "I think "beach" isn't a real job." It was so quiet among the five of them, you could hear a pin drop.

"I mean… you could be right?" Charmy shrugged. "If you come with us, you might be able to find your thing. If that's what you wanted to do, anyway."

"Well… the last time I went on a trip, I don't think it really ended well. But at the same time, it did help the other Kens. Weird Barbie did say I should help other Barbies. I think I-!" Before Ken could finish his thoughts, the sound of gasping caused him to turn around.

Behind them was a figure, similar to the one that Ken had described. His face was completely covered in the shadow of his hood. The only feature of his head that could be seen was a long curl of what Kit could assume to be hair, but it looked like a galaxy was leaking out of his head like smoke out of a chimney. The parts of his body that could be seen that weren't blocked by his cape, chest plate, or the skirt-like cloth that covered his thighs had a similar trapped universe with the occasional cracks that clouded the view with bottle green crystal. He leaned on a staff that made Kit think of a multi-hole bubble wand. He walked over to the five and wordlessly pointed his staff at Ken.

"What do you want?" Charmy asked, sliding off of Ken to go between the giant and the stranger. The being said nothing and pointed to Ken's roller skates. "He's not giving us that. What makes you think he's going to give that to you?" The being laughed, pointing the staff at her. He curved the claws on his hand into a fist, urging her to fight him. "Oh, it is so on." She tried to rush forward, but was held back by her brother, who had slid down after her.

"We don't know what he's capable of. I don't think fighting him is a good idea right now." Vito pulled her back by her dress hem as the stranger laughed again. He pointed to Kit as she and Bellamy landed next to Vito and made the same motion.

"Who are you?" She asked, taking a step closer. "Are you Lord Vortech?" The being straightened his staff, a threatening aura surrounding him. "Answer the question. What do we call you?" No reply was given. The being instead chose to pull out a gun from behind his cloak. Bellamy finally stepped in to block his advance.

"Nope. Ya ain't gettin' that weird guy's gigantic pastel blades." Bellamy smirked as they attempted to push the stranger aside. He moved out of the way, now closer to the skates than before. He had one skate in his claws until Bellamy chopped at his arm, which he pulled away in pain. "Come on! You wanted to fight so bad, fight back!" The being laughed one more time and lunged at Bellamy with his staff. The plant chimera attempted to kick the staff away, but the stranger used it to trip her up. He hit Bellamy with a flying press before they could register the attack was coming.

"Ken. Are you coming with us?" Kit's voice was desperate now. "You're going to want to make a decision before that guy makes it for you."

"I…" The gears stalling in his mind were audible. He looked around to see if he could find someone, anyone who could help him with his plight. A grin soon found its way across his face. "You know what? Why not?" He began to bolt in a direction that would take him to the furthest reaches of the land.

"Wait! Come back!" Kit flew after Ken, followed by Vito and Charmy. The stranger stopped fighting Bellamy long enough to notice the four leaving. He roared, saying nothing in particular as he rushed towards them. Bellamy tried to grab him, but missed by a small margin. He rushed dangerously close to Ken and Bellamy was having a hard time catching up to his speed. As the group headed towards the edge of Barbieland, a large blue swirling portal opened on the ground a few feet beyond. The stranger moved faster now, movement almost animalistic as he got closer to Ken and his roller skates.

"What's that thing?" Ken yelled as the portal took shape.

"I don't know!" Kit replied, looking behind her and gasping at how close the stranger was getting.

"But we should probably find out!" Charmy added, grabbing Kit's hand.

"What? You want us to go into that thing?" Ken slowed, which allowed the hooded stranger to catch up and attempt to aim his gun at the skates. He fired a few shots, but Bellamy tackling caused him to lose his aim completely. It hit Charmy’s fake backpack, which shrank and fell off her back. Only Bellamy noticed this as they pinned the stranger to the ground. He kicked the chimera off of him and aimed for the skates once again. Before Bellamy could react, the skates had been hit and shrunk to their size. The being managed to snag them as Ken ran through the portal.

“Cutting it close, aren't we?” They could feel the stranger’s cockiness as he dove into a portal of his own. Bellamy bellowed as she vaulted through the closing portal.

The five tumbled into an open space. Kit was the first to get up, dusting herself off as she did. She looked up and saw the Doctor, holding a saucer and a cup of tea. Her smile was warm, even as she glanced over to the additional member of the group.

"Hi there, Kit. You look like you could use a cuppa tea and a good sit down."

[thewholecrew]

@headstrongblake said: you don't have a say in the matter / nick & trin

trinity scoffed at that, her hands firmly on her hips as she glared up at him, "like hell i do! don't you tell me what i do and don't have a say in! i can help you guys, no way i'm staying in the car. what, because i'm a girl? this is bullshit." she railed off as she walked up to him and jabbed his chest with her finger. nate's brows rose and he backed away, staying out of this one because unlike nick, he knew how to pick his fights, and fighting with the girlfriend of the girl they were trying to find who was also a mutant didn't seem like the smartest course of action.

kassy almost smirked from where she sat silently in the van, dark and dim eyes almost finding amusement in how trin went off at nick who, in her opinion, kind of asked for it. she continued to glare at him, "who even are you anyways to give me orders? isn't bellamy here calling the shots? you know, the one who's sister is missing, who's possibly being held in this facility that you can't even get into!?" bellamy rolled his eyes, "trinity ease up," he muttered but she turned to him, "no, because you idiots want me to stay here in the car when i'm the only one who can get you into that facility in the first place!"

nate wasn't sure if he was grouped in as an idiot but he tilted his head, looking at her expectantly for her to elaborate. she saw that look and sighed, throwing her hands up in exasperation, "i can teleport inside to let you in!" bellamy shook his head as nick did, "no, it's too dangerous," he began and trin's glare turned to him. "it's our only shot! you want us to sit out here just fiddling our damn thumbs while octavia could be in there hurt? or what if by the time you idiots find a way inside she's gone? huh? let me do it, i'll be fine!"

"i say you let her do it," kassy muttered from behind them, "it makes sense... and if octavia and alec get injured or fucking die while you come up with another plan you're gonna look pretty stupid." trin winced, not wanting to think that death was the possible outcome but she still nodded because the girl was on her side. nate glanced at nick and bellamy before shrugging and looked back to trin. "can you teleport with a gun in your hand?" he asked which had her look at him unamused.

"fine," bellamy muttered, ignoring any kind of protesting from nick, he didn't want his sister to die either. "but before you do we need the schematics for this building, just to make your entry as quick and painless as possible...." he muttered, pulling open his laptop to download it. trin gave a sharp nod and pleased smile before shooting nicklas daggers. nate clapped him on the shoulder, "guess you won't be saying that again huh?" he teased with a grin.

[theselfshippingwitch]

hey i just wrote a thing in like, ten minutes and it doesn't have a title but here you go

-

Ray came back to the firehouse with a dazed, dreamy look on his face. Peter was sitting at his office desk, and looked up from the magazine he was reading. “Looks like your geek convention went well.”

Ray sighed. “I just met the woman I’m gonna marry.”

Peter cycled through a series of expressions before landing on “condescending and incredulous”. “Alright…”

“I’m serious, Peter! I know you’re about to tell me to pump the brakes, but if you had seen her, you would know I’m right!”

“Ray, just hang on a second. You’re saying you just met this girl today, and now you’re absolutely sure you’re gonna marry her?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, well, that’s very you.”

Winston came down the stairs, followed by Egon. 

“Listen, I’ve heard this song before, and I’d like to skip it please.” Peter was saying.

“What song was that?” Winston asked.

“The one that goes, ‘Ray just met a girl and now he thinks he’s gonna marry her.”

“I am!” Ray insisted. “I’ve never been this happy before. I think I’m in love.”

“Ray, what you’re feeling is infatuation. I’ve been there a few times before.” Winston put a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “But, an intelligent man like yourself has got to realize you can not just meet a person and just like that know that you want to spend the rest of your life with them.”

“It’s not particularly logical, Ray.” Egon interjected. “From my admittedly limited understanding, determining compatibility takes a decent amount of time and observation. Although initial attraction can cause increases in certain hormones in the brain, they usually don’t last for very long.���

“No, this is for real. She’s beautiful, she’s brilliant, she’s funny,” another dopey grin spread on Ray’s face. “She’s so easy to talk to, she loves all the same things I love, I feel like I’ve known her for all my life. I’ve never felt like this before, she’s so unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, she’s just so…” Ray’s face seemed to be glowing red, and all he could do was make a high-pitched squeal. Peter groaned.

Winston smiled bemusedly, now sitting at the chair on the opposite side of Peter’s desk. “Well, Ray, I’m happy that you’ve found someone you’re so excited about. I’ve really never seen you like this before.”

“Eh, he’s like this every time there’s a limited edition cover variant of Captain Steele coming out.” Peter interjected. “Look, I’m just saying that I’ve seen this all before. Ray meets a girl, usually one he has something in common with, falls hard and fast, insists she’s the one, and then things don’t work out.”

“True, it’s happened at least twice previously, during college.” Egon added.

“I’m sure of it this time. I’m going to marry Violet Bellamy, you mark my words!” Ray stormed off.

“Whatever you say, Ray.”

-

“But little did I know, he was actually right this time. My only regret would be, I didn’t actually mark down his words.” Peter raised his champagne glass higher. “To Ray and Violet!” And the wedding guests all clapped and cheered.

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Op Men React to the Phrase "Clap👏 them 👏Cheeks👏" Slight N/SFW

Hello loves, this idea has been on the back burner for a while I decided to finish it c: The gaming term 'clap them cheeks' means you are going to beat someone in a game. I know it sounds wrong but it is hilarious. I hope you enjoy!

TW: suggestive language, lots of humor

Stop what they are doing and look at you with a curious expression  (They are rather confused on why all of a sudden you want your cheeks clapped “I’m sorry but did you want me to cheek clap you… like right now?”)

-Marco, Pell, Izou, Juzo, Vista, Rosinante, Jean-Bart, Benn, Iceberg, Katakuri, Denjiro,Rakuyo 

They know it is a gaming term and will challenge you ( Very cocky in those challenging words “I’m afraid I’m going to clap  dem cheeks of yours babe” as he says it has is clapping his hands, grabbing the controller, in the end, he does clap your cheeks in the game.)

-Ace, Haruta, Yamato, Penguin, Shachi, Kaku, Sanji, Heat, Wire, Kidd

Perverted mind  (giving you a cocky grin “Kinky are we today? How about this I clap them cheeks each time you call my name out.” holds you closer)

-Thatch, Shanks, Limejucie, Bellamy, Doflamingo, Yassop, Hongo

Doesn’t understand what you are saying, they are from a different Era ( “back in my days that meant something totally different from what you explained to me.”)

-Garp, Sengoku, Kaidou, Rayleigh, Roger, Whitebeard, Gaban, Jinbe, Zeff, Oden, Momonaga

Makes a perverted bet with you (giving you a sly grin, raising his brow “let's make a little bet if I win I get to clap your cheeks, Deal?”)

-Sabo, Kidd, Vander, Sasaki, Duval, Apoo, Paulie, Aokiji, Kuzan, Caesar the Clown

Ask his cards for advice (Looking at the cards “it appears if we play the game your cheeks will get clapped 98% chance of it happening.”)

-Hawkins

 Lets an annoyed sigh out (“I don’t have time for those foolish phrases you keep saying…If you keep it up you will have more then your cheeks clapped….”)

-Crocodile, King, Akainu, Lucci, Daz, Daifuku,Oven, Perospero, Arlong, Kuro

Challenging you to the games not backing down ( “I will show you whose cheeks are getting clapped.” he would be determined to beat you at the game.)

-Luffy, Yamato, Bartolomeo, Buggy, Usopp, Wyper, Cracker, Franky, X-Drake, Koby

Who reverse the question on you (“how about you clap my cheeks~~”)

Ivankov, Bon clay

Will completely not pay attention to what you said ( “what was that again?”)

-Dragon, Zoro, Mihawk

Overly confident in his game abilities (“you think I will let you clap my cheeks well your wrong haha!)

-Enel, Cavendish

Cannot see what you are playing (“I’m afraid I can’t play your game”)

-Fujitora

Will win the game against you ( “I believe you got your cheeks clapped…. Badly.”)

-Killer, Law, Smoker

Gasp at your comment ( “sadly my dear I have nothing for you to clap , i’m a little…butthurt YOHOHOHO”)

-Brook

[100hearteyes]

any more thoughts on 'clarke and lexa make a porno'?

🤔😏

Part 1 Part 2

“Last but not least, worry no more, citizens of Capitola: after a grueling week of searching, our very own superhero Jasper Jordan has finally found his cape. He was wearing it all along.”

“It’s so good to know that he will be able to go on keeping Capitola safe.”

“Yes, what would we do without Jasper Jordan here to protect us? And from now on, you’ll be in Lexa Woods’s hands. Also, such good hands those are. She’s got very long fingers.”

“Oh. Well, I never actually noticed, but I guess they are. Thanks, Clarke. And now, perk your ears for the new hit single from our very own global country star, Harper McIntyre. It’s called Call Me Harp-by. She’s a creative genius!”

-

Lexa’s first instinct when she hears the studio door open is to hide. She checks her options: Monty is holed up under his desk playing on his GameBoy Color, Octavia has barricaded herself in a corner with actual hand-carved sticks and is roaring at Bellamy in a strange language, and Murphy is probably peeing into a bin behind the pillar on the far side of the room.

She’s too slow to think of a solution in the end and she can’t do anything but flush when Clarke strolls in and heads over to her, smirk plastered on her face. Lexa only has time to save her miniature Baby Yoda from Clarke’s weapon of ass destruction before her coworker sits on the edge of her desk.

“Hey, Lexa.”

Lexa forces a polite smile, trying to focus on her outline for the day rather than the butt cheeks planted on her desk, the body attached to them, or the face looking down at her with a sly grin. “Hello, Clarke.”

“What do you think of Harper McIntyre’s new song?”

The topic confuses her, but she trudges on with a brave face. After all, she’s got opinions on Capitola’s Taylor Swift rip-off and if Anya is going to make it a point of leaving the room every time Lexa so much as mentions them, then she’s going to take this opportunity with both hands and pull out all the receipts. “Uninspired. Derivative. Oddly reminiscent of Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.”

“Yeah...” Clarke nods pensively, letting the subsequent silence drag on for a few more seconds. “I like your fingers.”

Lexa starts at the sudden topic change and struggles to keep her blush under control under the brazen intensity of Clarke’s stare. “Yes, I- I noticed. You mentioned. On the radio, for all of Capitola to hear. Thank you, I guess?”

Clarke hums, before clicking her tongue and hopping off of Lexa’s desk. She roundabouts it until she’s right next to Lexa, thigh brushing Lexa’s arm.

Lexa tries and fails to swallow down the knot in her throat as Clarke sits on her desk again, this time on her side, crossing her legs so her feet touch Lexa’s leg.

“So a little bird told me we’re starring in a porno together.”

Lexa almost yelps, scrambling out of her chair to fasten both hands over Clarke’s mouth. “The whole world doesn’t need to know, Clarke!”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but Lexa can feel her smile under her hands. Their eyes lock, a tacit understanding passing between them. Clarke's eyes are a vivid blue, like a cloudless sky or the color of Lexa's highlighters before Anya dunked them all in a bag of manure, and it's hard not to drown in the depths of them.

"Glad to see you two getting intimate already."

They spring apart as though they were burned. Lexa sits back down on her chair, while Clarke takes a seat at her desk, which to Lexa's chagrin is right next to her own. Anya chuckles as she sinks into her own chair, propping her feet on Lexa's desk, crossed at the ankles.

"Anyway," she slams a hand over a stack of papers, making Clarke and Lexa jump in their seats, "can you guess what this is?"

Clarke and Lexa look at each other with raised eyebrows, then at Anya. Lexa shrugs.

"This is your fucking Bible," Anya says, not waiting for them to guess. "Your Dianetics.Your Loose Canon. Your gospel." At her companions' still expectant stares, Anya heaves a dramatic sigh, throwing her arms up. "It's the goddamn screenplay."

Oh.

Oh.

It's like the snap of an elastic band. Lexa and Clarke shoot out of their chairs to snatch the script from Anya's desk. Lexa gets there first (going to the gym does pay off after all), dribbling around Clarke, and lets out a triumphant cry before sinking back into her chair, thumbing through the pages of the heavy tome.

She stops on a random page and feels Clarke press closer to read over her shoulder.

-

INT. BLONDIE'S KITCHEN - TWILIGHT

Enter Lulu. Plumber by day, detective by night. She stops by the island and twirls a lead pipe in her right hand before sheathing it like a cowboy's pistol.

LULU

It seems it's time to read your...

Lulu puts on her shades. ZOOM IN.

LULU (CONT'D)

...Anya rights.

-

Lexa balks, peeling her eyes from the page to gape at Anya.

"Anya rights? Anya rights? You can't just... Arbitrarily rename the Miranda rights. They have that name for a reason."

Anya rolls her eyes like Lexa just said something obnoxiously stupid. "I didn't just rename them, you dumbass. I fucking changed them. If you'd read the whole thing, you would know that the suspect has the obligation to remain silent. No more fucking cry babies in cuffs."

"This is..." Lexa opens and closes her mouth like a fish, trying to find a thread of logic in the midst of... Whatever fever dream she's living in right now. "I thought we were filming a porno, not a sexy cop movie. Plumber by day, detective by night? That's- it's not even remotely realistic."

"Lexa... Suspend your disbelief."

"I think it's really good stuff," Clarke chimes in, her breasts still firmly pressed to Lexa's shoulder blade.

"Thank you, Clarke!" Anya exclaims, throwing her hands up and letting them fall on her legs with a loud clap. "At least someone appreciates my genius."

Lexa rolls her eyes, but fine. Fine. She will read more; she will give Anya a chance. She opens the book on a new page, several scenes ahead.

-

INT. BLONDIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Blondie rubs her lover's love button like she's scratching at a turn-table, making Lulu scream louder than Saoirse Ronan in Ammonite when Kate Winslet was eating her out with her neck.

LULU

Oh, fuck! You're so good at this! Almost as good as my awesome best friend and mentor Anya, even though I've never had sex with her because that would be totally gross.

Blondie stops her ministrations to look up at Lulu and smirks.

BLONDIE

I know. After all, they don't call me DJ Diddles for nothin'.

-

Lexa stares incredulously from the two hundred-odd pages to Anya, wondering how grave a sin she must have committed in a past life to deserve this.

"What are you, a sex-deprived straight guy?"

Anya scoffs, yanking the script from Lexa's hands before she can do anything to stop it. "I can assure you there is no deprivation in that department."

"After reading that I am seriously starting to doubt that you've ever even seen a vagina."

"I thought it was good," Clarke pipes in once again. This time, Lexa turns to her with a raised eyebrow.

"Is she paying you to say that?"

Clarke tsks with a smirk. "I'm just smart enough to know better than to get on the lead producer's bad side."

Anya snaps her fingers and points at Clarke approvingly, and Lexa has never regretted a decision so deeply in her life.

"Anyway," Clarke resumes, standing up and grabbing her bag. "This has been fun, but I need to get going. Anya, stay classy. We'll work out the schedule this week. Lexa," she adds, her voice dropping a tone to turn into a seductive purr. She leans down, and it's all Lexa can do not to focus on how her breasts squish together and seem to become fuller and more inviting. She loses the plot when a pair of lips presses to her cheek in a kiss that is chaste, yet way too slow for propriety. "See you tomorrow."

Lexa's throat is dry as a desert as she watches Clarke leave, her hips swaying more than usual. She jumps in place when Anya clears her throat next to her. This time, she can't avoid her friend's shit-eating grin.

"No chemistry, you say?"

"Shut up, Anya," she grumbles, focusing back on her work. She has a full, five-minute newscast to prepare, she can't dawdle and joke around gossiping like some people. But then a thought pops up in her head and she turns to Anya, eyes narrowed. "Is this some elaborate plan to get us together? I refuse to be your little Love, Actually experiment."

Anya's stare is fifty shades of unimpressed. "Lexa. Don't take yourself so seriously. It's a bad look on you."

Lexa buries her face in her hands with a long-suffering sigh. Why is this her life? Why is this her best friend? Why is she hopelessly attracted to the worst, most unprofessional coworker on the planet?

"Why couldn't you find a normal hobby? Something that doesn't include me? Like baking. Baking would have been so much better."

"You know," Anya drawls almost nostalgically, "I actually considered that, but the criminally inclined baker niche was already taken up by Martha Stewart."

"She is surprisingly niche," Lexa says, intrigued.

"Indeed."

"But she's also able to appeal to a larger audience."

"Uh-huh."

"Fascinating."

"I know. It's like Punkya. You'd think a lesbian erotica magazine would only appeal to queer women and depraved straight men, but it's been selling surprisingly well amongst the straight female demographic."

Hm. Are all women secretly queer?

"Interesting," Lexa concedes, before veering the topic back to Anya's passion (and Lexa's torture) project. "So when does principal photography start?"

And there it is again, that nefarious gleam in Anya's eyes. It grows along with her Cheshire cat grin, curling and curling until it's pure, unbridled evil.

"Next week."

[hopeshoodie]

So yeah LITG is dead, but my brain has decided that my OCs and Noah are the only thing that matter. Here’s an extremely self indulgent, extremely short fic about my OC Bellamy planning his wedding to Shannon LoveIsland

Shannon slid into the chair slowly, fluidly, nearly as intentionally as she crossed her legs and folded her hands. Her polite smile was returned by the woman across the desk, who started introductions, and Shannon glanced at Bellamy in the seat next to her, or, the empty chair that he was supposed to be sitting in. The passing glance turned into a double take, which turned into her craning her neck to find him. He, of course, had gotten distracted by a photo album near the door they entered, and began leafing through it without asking permission. 

She cleared her throat, and when he didn’t react gently called, “Ami.” He nodded, starting to walk towards them without raising his head from the book, then snapped it closed and sat down. Rather, he perched on the chair, knee pulled to his chest and one leg draped over the armrest. He hand found his forearm, and she gently held it. 

The wedding planner smiled warmly and started over her introductions, before adding, “so tell me, generally, what you had in mind.”

“First you should know, we haven’t discussed it at all. That might be a bit of a challenge for you, because there might be some… dissonance between the visions. But we looked over your portfolio” Shannon spared a withering glance to the photobook still in Bellamy’s lap that he was still flipping through, “before we came and we’re both confident you’ll come up with something we both love.” 

“We don’t know that, we haven’t even talked-” Bellamy whispered directly to her, before remembering the third person and looking up, “I think we both have great taste and it’ll be easier than Shan thinks.”

The planner laughed, politely, “my job isn’t to be easy, it’s to make this process easier for you two. There’s no difference in taste that we can’t find a happy medium between. What were you thinking?” 

Shannon turned her chin towards him, almost imperceptibly inviting him to speak. Without recognizing that he picked up on her cue, Bellamy shifted in his seat and began.

“Sorry if I only talk about the decor and vibes, that’s really all I’m concerned with. I’d love to do all the decorations myself, but event planning’s not my strong suit and the shop’s been so busy-”

“Oh, what do you do?”

He opened his mouth to answer and Shannon slid in before the inevitable and almost automatic ‘I make artisan nipple rings’ slipped out of his mouth, “he’s a jeweler.”

The planner clapped her perfectly manicured hands together softly, “oh how fun! Is he going to work on your wedding bands?”

It was Shannon’s turn to grin proudly, and she outstretched her hand to show off the silver band with a brilliant solitaire diamond set into an intricately carved band, ��made from scratch, the wedding bands too.” 

The woman cooed for the requisite amount of time, gently turning Shannon’s hand, before shifting back towards Bellamy.

“It’s beautiful. So you’d like to do decor for the ceremony, but don’t have time. I’m sure we could work something out so that you can do some statement pieces and then we work around that, or just emulate the style you’re going for. What’s the general look you have in mind?”

Bellamy pulled his second leg up, shifting his weight to tuck a shin under himself. “So I think we both want something very cutting edge, tasteful, but not trendy. Almost futuristic, maybe? I don’t want to say avant garde, because it’s a wedding not performance art, but I want the vibe to be really memorable and unique. I want it to be, like, a wedding for the joy of it. You know in apocalypse movies where there’s the wedding or the childbirth or a moment of respite, and it’s so much more intimate and meaningful in the context of everything else? I want that.”

“You want…” the woman looked between Bellamy and Shannon’s unreadable expression, eyebrows raised, “an apocalypse theme?”

“No, just like, the vibe of… Well I think the best word for it is respite. I don’t want a zombie themed-”

“Zombies.”

“Doesn’t even have to be zombies. A natural disaster or-”

“A natural disaster, darlin?” Shannon couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice, “you want your family to be thinking about global warming on our wedding day?”

“No! I want them to be thinking how amazing it is that we’re doing this despite everything else. That it’s a borderline miracle. Like everything else in the world has gone to pieces, but we have this lovely moment. A respite.”

The two women didn’t respond, instead sitting in silence, Shannon with an amused grin and the wedding coordinator in subtle shock. 

He interrupted the mounting tension in the silence, “maybe I want Oliver to think about global warming a little bit on our wedding day. But I think you’re missing the point- it’s not about the look of post-apocalypse, it’s about the feeling. Like the world is a cold, sad, hard place but in our space it’s warm and happy and earnest.” 

“... right.” The wedding planner kept her tone non-judgemental, but her eyes were frozen wider than looked natural, “and how do you want to convey that, through venue or decor? Surely the moment will feel just as warm across the different styles. Or we could bring in some cremes or browns for that warmth-”

“It’d be cool to have it in some kind of abandoned factory, you know one that has nature kind of reclaiming the space. Vines and things.”

“A factory.”

“And that would contrast really nicely with some of the metal accent decor. We both hate brutalism, so lean more into the organic shapes than the mechanical. It’s almost about the deconstruction of the mechanical elements. It’d be lovely to find somewhere that has arches or curved concrete, but that’s a whole thing so maybe we just bring the sharp angles out into more of a curve with furniture or decor. As long as the way we draw the eye around the room is softer, more languid, then I’ll be happy.” 

He continued, seemingly forgetting his audience and speaking faster, eyes down on the table where his hands gestured out shapes and concepts. “You walk a really fine line with metallic fixtures, I don’t want it to look of a millennial gastropub. The way to counteract that might be grime- if we go for dirty floors, weathered metal, antique industrial elements it’ll curb that manufactured industrial look. It can’t look like an Ikea catalog, we’re trying to bring in more artistry than just wholesale buying everything together. I really love the look of cracked concrete with greenery growing through or how when organics sit on concrete for long enough they leave those darker, soily stains. So if that’s the venue, then the decor can be extremely dainty and soft to tell that story. You know, of creating a safe place. I’m thinking some tasteful chiffon drapes up at the altar and instead of florals doing lots of vines. Thrifted vintage cutlery that doesn’t match each other but is all varying shades of beige to copper. I’m not saying any of this well, but I know it when I see it.” 

The woman across the desk stayed silent for a minute after he finished rambling, taking loose notes. Then she nodded slowly, working her tongue in front of her teeth. Intentionally pivoting her body to face Shannon, she said loudly and a bit too firmly “and what are you thinking?”

That was the first bit of irritation with the entire process Bellamy felt. He’d been enchanted by the prospect of proposing after laying eyes on her, but hadn’t until she all but told him she wanted him to, over seven years later. He’d never been frustrated by the fact that Shannon didn’t want to get married, simply because it was indeed a fact. Them never being married was as true and self evident as the tides. He’d never considered to be resentful of it. 

But now, after the seemingly impossible had come to pass and Shannon had told him on a late night roof party that she wanted to marry him, after he’d painstakingly crafted the ring and planned the proposal, this wedding planner was sucking her teeth at him. She was speaking as if she and Shannon had an inside joke. As if everything he’d just said was equivalent to a child’s babbling, and now the two adults in the room were speaking. Heat flooded his face, and he didn’t process if it came from the years of pining for his own girlfriend or the snark of this one woman in front of him.

Her laugh caught him so off guard he flinched, looking over at her in surprise. In the same time it took to boil over, his anger dissipated, and he brought Shannon’s open palm up to his lips to gently kiss. Without words, without thinking, without communicating, she’d done precisely what was needed to calm him. Of course they didn’t have an inside joke that he was the punchline of. Of course what he’d said wasn’t silly. They were getting married, and it’d be beautiful and magical and as axiomatic as when they hadn’t been. 

Her laugh crescendoed, the kind of sound that resonates inside of your chest for a moment longer than you heard it. Bellamy was filled with the precise warmth, relief, respite that he’d wanted to capture earlier. Nevertheless,  he pushed her side with his elbow sheepishly before letting go of her hand.

When she caught her breath, her hand affectionately caught the back of his neck and gently intertwined with his hair. “I’ve always liked the modern, stark whites. Clean lines. But maybe I wasn’t thinking modern enough, apparently. Honestly, I thought he’d go for an antique-y or rural idea. But a global warming factory? Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Rural? You thought I’d want rural?”

“You’ve pointed to every rotting barn and rusted out silo we drive past saying how beautiful it is. I figured you’d want something like that, I wasn’t too far off.”

“But that’s a completely different vibe. That’s isolation, corrosion, filth. I want the opposite of that, it’s a wedding!”

“But you still want to decorate with rusted metal! For god’s sake, you said the right way to balance the decor was to make it grimey.”

“I didn’t mean literally, obviously.” 

“Oh, obviously.” 

Their back and forth lulled, Shannon turning back to the planner, broken out of the private conversation they’d lapsed into by the mere presence of the overwhelmed white woman across the table. 

“I could deal with that.” Shannon asserted to the woman. “In fact I quite like it. No one in the world would’ve thought of it but him, and I’ll look incredible regardless of what we do.”

The woman smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she leaned forward, “now modern I have some experience with. We’ve got upholstered dining chairs that we can combine with-”

Shannon cut her off with a hummed, dubious sounding ‘mmmm’, side eyeing Bellamy, “I’m not sure upholstery is going to fit into our apocalypse factory.”

“Right.” The planner leaned back in her chair too quickly, putting down the pen she’d been twirling. After a pregnant pause, she said “let’s talk catering.” 

[op-sheepy]

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

---------------------------------o

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Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off  towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo  because of  his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

---------------------------------o

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Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

---------------------------------o

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Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

---------------------------------o

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Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

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Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 3

So, I know it’s been a long time waiting for this chapter but it’s finally done! It is 3500+ words of Thana’s overprotective friends and Jason being an overprotective dad/brother.

Before I get into the chapter, I’m going to go over a few words that might trip you up. All of the translations are courtesy of Google Translate so if I’m using a word wrong feel free to correct it.

Baba is Papa. Aleuma is Auntie. Kutlat Saghira is Little Nugget.

Thana stood in front of the class, carefully going over her note cards for her presentation.

Mlle. Bustier smiled at the class before clapping. “Okay, everyone. Let’s settle down and give Ms. Dupain-Cheng our full attention.”

Lila, ever the attention seeker, allowed crocodile tears to well up in her eyes. “Mlle. Bustier. She’s going to copy my presentation. It’s not fair.”

Thana glanced up at the other girl, her blue-grey eyes cold. “Well, Lila. If you’d paid attention, you would know that M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng are my adoptive parents. I’m not doing my presentation on Italy. I’m doing my presentation on Gotham City, New Jersey, USA.” She nodded towards Mlle. Bustier and waited for her to put the slides up on the board before turning to look at the class. “Gotham City, New Jersey, USA is called the ‘most crime-ridden city’ by the locals. The GCPD, or Gotham City Police Department, is exactly what it sounds like. The police department of Gotham City. Most locals, however, do not respect the officers of the GCPD because of the vigilantes that roam the streets. The main vigilante is Batman, he’s also the oldest, he dresses in all black with a cowl on his head that has bat ear like protrusions on the top. After him is Nightwing. Nightwing is very flexible and most Gothamites, people from Gotham, speculate that he is in fact the first Robin. He dresses in a suit of black with a blue bird across his chest. Red Robin, who is widely speculated to be the third Robin, works alongside the first two but also alongside Spoiler. He dresses in a red and black suit with a yellow robin head in the center of his chest atop a pair of crossed bandoliers. Spoiler, who most believe was both the fourth Robin and the second Batgirl, dresses in a suit that is primarily purple with black on her chest. Signal, a member of the team, dresses in a yellow and black suit with a white bat on his chest. It is believed he may be a meta, which is shorthand for metahuman which is what they call people with powers. There is also Black Bat, who most believe was the third Batgirl, who wears a mostly black suit with a yellow bat on her chest and yellow detailing on her arms and around her ribs. Black Bat’s suit covers most of her face from her nose to her chin. Most Gothamites believe that the first Batgirl is working hand in hand with the rest of the team behind the scenes after an attack by the Joker left her paralyzed from the waist down.”

The class looked on in amazement at the high quality photos that went along with each hero, but also in fear as Thana gave a thorough rundown of all the heroes and villains, called Rogues, before Thana’s face split into a smile.

“-The Sirens, a group of three antihero turned Rogues who don’t behave the same way that most of the other Rogues do. They have been seen helping Batman, when it fits them. The Sirens refers to Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Catwoman wears a black leather catsuit, which is self explanatory in her name. Poison Ivy wears varying shades of green and plant life while Harley Quinn, who was once affiliated with the Joker, most commonly wears a light pink crop top under a pair of gold overalls. The Riddler and Scarecrow, two Rogues who are relatively harmless since they partnered up, are rather distinctive. The Riddler, who wears a green three piece suit with matching hat and a purple tie and domino mask, leaves riddles and clues. Scarecrow, who wears a grey three piece suit with a canvas sack over his head, injects or sprays people with what he calls Fear Toxin but recently he has cut back on the injections and only soaks the paper The Riddler’s riddles are written on in his fear toxin. The Penguin wears a black three piece suit with a white dress shirt and is most commonly accompanied by twin girls who are most commonly seen wearing black wigs, green dresses and Kabuki masks. The Great Rodolfo, whom most speculate is related to the Joker, wears a cream or tan suit jacket, plaid pants, a matching plaid vest and a different patterned plaid necktie. Lastly, there’s Red Hood,” Thana’s hands fisted at her sides and pressed her lips into a thin line, who has recently been spotted fighting alongside various members of Batman’s team. Most Gothamites believe him to be the second Robin returned from the dead. Red Hood wears a red helmet, a dark brown leather jacket, black pants with black boots and a black utility belt, a black shirt with a red bat on his chest, and a red long sleeved shirt under his black shirt.”

---

Thana wrapped her arms around Kim’s waist and let out a shuddery breath. “My brother is Red Hood and he wants me to know it’s him.”

Chloé frowned but nodded. “We’ll help you see him again. However, we need to set up people here to fight the Akumas and someone to get, at least, Adrien to purify the butterfly.”

Alix smiled and turned towards Chloé. “I have some friends in Mme. Mendelieve’s class who can assist us while we’re gone.”

Adrien nodded and smiled. “You mean Bellamy, Brielle, Marc, and Alicia?”

Alix nodded. “Alicia is very sneaky and would be pretty good at using the Mouse Miraculous. Marc is very trustworthy and may or may not already be planning a storyline involving a hero who’s based on them. They would be a good temporary Horse Miraculous user. Bellamy is the Mom friend of their friend group and kind of reminds me of the dragons from mythology who hoard things, so I was thinking about him for the Dragon Miraculous. And Brielle is awkwardly good at keeping people organized, the only person better is Vivienne, so she could probably wield the Bee Miraculous.”

Adrien grinned goofily and slung an arm around Alix’s shoulders. “Those are great suggestions and unless anyone else has anyone better I think we’ll go with them.” Adrien, as the de facto leader of the team, looked to Thana for his longtime partner’s opinion.

Thana nodded from where she was hiding amidst Kim’s red sleeves. “Bellamy was nice to me when I arrived and Alicia always shadows her friends.”

Nino glanced at Chloé before tapping his headphones. He knew she would know what he meant. Nino glanced at their friend, could see how out of it she was becoming, and locked eyes with Chloé.

Chloé, always okay with coming off as argumentative and brash, looked at her oldest friend with a smile before falling back into her usual bratty persona. “Not to say this hasn’t been fun but, this hasn’t been fun. Kim, Nino and I are going to take Fragolina back to mine. Thanks for having us and thank your dad and Jalil for not interrupting us for me Alix. Kim. Nino.”

Kim stood up slowly, making sure to not disturb Thana as he did so. He shed his red hoodie and draped it around Thana’s shoulders before pulling Nino to his feet. Nino, who took his headphones off and placed them atop Thana’s head before selecting one of his playlists and stuffing his phone into one of Kim’s pockets.

The boys guided Thana out of the room, while Chloé smiled at the two other members of their group. “Fragolina’s going through some things at the moment, because she just realized her brother isn’t as dead as she thought he was and wants her to know that he’s looking for her.”

Adrien pursed his lips before glancing at Alix. “I didn’t know she had a brother, did you?”

Alix shrugged. “She didn’t really talk to many of us when she got here.”

---

Thana settled against the pillows on Chloé’s bed with Kim’s hoodie looking as though it was swallowing her whole and the hood pulled up over her head and covering Nino’s headphones with the lyrics to The Neighbourhood’s “R.I.P.2 My Youth” transitioning to Fall Out Boy’s “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea” sounding in her ears. Nino’s phone was no longer in Kim’s pocket but plugged in while Chloé was packing clothes for their trip to the States.

Nino and Kim were trading practice blows in an area far away from Chloé’s closet. Or they were before Nino began flipping away from all of Kim’s attacks.

Chloé glanced at the boys before shaking her head and turning to their resident Gothamite. Chloé let a smile cross her face before turning to the four Kwamis, who were all relaxing in a large dollhouse, and raising a brow. “What are you four doing?”

Plagg and Trixx wore matching grins while Stompp simply crossed their arms over their chest and Sass began humming a tune. “Relaxing, what does it look like we’re doing?” Plagg’s face broke out in a larger grin before he relaxed into Trixx’s side.

Chloé simply shook her head at the four Kwamis. “Why don’t you four go relax with Fragolina?”

-*-*-*

Jason smiled as he picked up his Little Nugget and settled him on his hip. “Hey Little Nugget. Did you sleep well?”

Damian nodded before burying his face in Jason’s shoulder. “Who are they?”

Jason adjusted his hold on Damian to allow for Damian to see the two girls. “You remember Lady Shiva, don’t you?” He waited for Damian to nod before he continued. “The girl with the dark hair is Lady Shiva’s daughter, Cassandra. The blonde haired girl is Stephanie Brown. Do you remember when Bruce proclaimed that he wouldn’t have his children hanging out with the children of bad people?” Damian pursed his lips in thought, something he picked up from Jason, before nodding again. “Lady Shiva is a bad guy, as is Stephanie’s father. But, by Bruce’s standards so are Talia and Ra’s.”

Cassandra bowed, low to the floor, in Damian’s presence. Cassandra would never forget her training, and all must bow before the Heir of the Demon’s Head.

Stephanie gave a two finger salute with a smile. “Sup?”

Dick and Tim emerged from the bedroom they crashed in the night before. “Jason? Does this place have coffee?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Am I going to have a Tamaranean princess and a half-Tamaranean tyke breaking into the apartment you’re helping pay for?”

Dick’s eyes widened before he dove for the couch, where he left his phone the night before. He let out a victorious shout when he found his phone still had battery life left. He tapped out a text to Kory before turning back to his brothers. “No.”

---

Jason kept watching for danger out of the corners of his eyes, even though it was noon and he was in a supermarket, he couldn’t take any chance now that he had his Little Nugget and two sisters to watch out for. He saw a familiar man with short red hair leading a man with long brown hair, a familiar red haired woman and her companion, a familiar blonde haired woman, turn down aisles further down. “Stephanie Jeanelle Brown. Put down the toaster waffles. Take Cassandra and go find the boxed waffle mix, and while you’re there grab some pancake mix and syrup. Dick, Tim, go find some fruits that will keep for more than a week.”

The four teens nodded before going off to do what was asked of them. Damian, however, pouted from beside Jason. “Why do they get to go get things while I’m stuck with you?”

“Because, Little Nugget, I’m not afraid someone will steal them and make me reconsider how I feel about murder now that it’s not just me.” Jason smiled and ruffled Damian’s hair, which had grown out since Jason had first taken him. “I just want to keep you within eyesight because there are unsavoury characters who live in Gotham and darken the streets. I know technically I’m your brother but I feel like you are my child and I will do everything in my power to protect you, like I couldn’t protect your aunt my sister.”

Damian glanced up at Jason, a look of confusion on his face. “But I thought there were only three girls in the family in the right age range.”

Jason’s face melted into a faraway look and tightly pursed lips. “She was four when I met her, this tiny little slip of a child covered in bruises with dark red hair and blue grey eyes. I was following her, like most street kids would have, when she got the drop on me and then pinned me into the shadows beside a dumpster because her father was walking towards the alley we were in. I became Robin when I was twelve and she was nine, and then CPS and GCPD dragged her from one of our nests and took her away from here. I just found out about that at the press conference.” Jason’s blue green eyes kept sweeping the aisles looking for anyone who could pose a threat to his family. He saw, instead, Selina Kyle deciding between two different laundry detergents in one aisle and Oswald Cobblepot, accompanied by Pere and Gale, deciding between two different kinds of cereal.

Damian took in the information Jason gave him, knowing that Jason would tell him anything he asked even if it was painful to think about. “Who’s her father?”

“Jervis Tetch, aka Mad Hatter.” Jason’s voice was filled with so much venom he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “He’s a very bad man and if you ever hear anything about him, you run away. The Iceberg Lounge will provide you sanctuary if you can’t make it back to the apartment.”

Damian nodded as he allowed himself to be caged in by Jason’s arms so he was between Jason and the shopping cart.

Stephanie and Cass returned triumphantly with waffle mix, pancake mix and syrup. Followed by Dick and Tim a few minutes later.

Dick turned to Jason with a wry grin. “Is there a real reason we’re shopping at this store at this time of day? Or did you just want to surround yourself with other people who love your Pixie?”

Jason glanced up and made eye contact with Ed Nygma. Jason waved with a small smile on his face before Ed grabbed John’s arm and dragged him to the six siblings.

“Big Todd.” Ed called in lieu of greeting.

John nodded with a smile.

“Are you ever going to give that up?” Jason shook his head fondly. “Ed, John. This is Damian, my Little Nugget. Little Nugget, these are your aunt’s Uncles Ed and John.”

Ed nodded. “Have you tried to get in contact with her?”

John pressed a kiss to Ed’s cheek before looking at their present company. “Now might not be the best place to converse about this topic Love.”

Ed nodded before he let John drag him away. “We must converse again.”

---

Jason smiled as he tucked Damian into bed, before closing the bedroom door. He slumped back into the kitchen and with an exhausted sigh he set about finishing the dishes from the day’s meals. He paused to think about what Ed had said in the store. Would she even want to hear from him? Would she be receptive to talking to him or getting in contact with him?

Tim walked into the kitchen, intending to get a glass of water then go back to bed, when he stumbled upon Jason lost in thought. “Jason?” Tim stood next to Jason and gently pried a plate out of Jason’s hand. “Jason? Can you hear me?”

Jason shook himself out of his stupor and turned to the smaller boy. “Replacement? What are you doing up at this hour?”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “I was going to get a glass of water.”

Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass out for Tim. “Sure.” Jason leaned against the counter and watched as Tim filled the glass with water.

Tim smiled at his older brother. “Were you thinking about what Nygma said?”

Jason ruffled Tim’s hair with a half smile on his face. “She was my only family for many years.” Jason turned back to the sink still full of dishes with a chuckle. “Go back to bed Replacement.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

Jason finished the dishes before dragging his still damp hands through his hair. He let out a tired sigh before turning around, to find discarded clothing covering his couch. He picked up a laundry basket and tossed all of the clothing into the basket. He glanced around the living room and nodded, satisfied with how clean it was. “We’ll have to clean up the apartment tomorrow, as long as Wayne doesn’t call us in.” Jason muttered as he put the laundry basket down on the counter and walked into his bedroom and curled around Damian.

---

Jason, with Damian settled on his left hip, stared at Bruce Wayne who was standing at the door to the apartment building. He raised a single eyebrow as he turned to have his right side facing Bruce. “Can I help you Mr. Wayne?”

“We need to talk.”

Jason snorted. “Then you can do it while walking. We’re meeting someone soon and we’re walking.”

Tim, Steph and Cass brushed past the trio. “Bye Jace! We’re gonna go hang with Kon, Cassie and Bart for a few hours!”

“Text when you get there and when you’re leaving! If we’re not home before you call to let me know you made it home safe!”

“Bye Jason!” Steph called while Cass waved.

Jason turned back to Bruce and raised his eyebrows. “Walk and talk Wayne.” Jason hitched Damian further up on his hip and started to push past Bruce, when Dick beat him to it.

“Call me if you need something or if one of the others needs something. I’ve gotta go home to Kor’i and Mar’i.”

“See you later Dickiebird.”

“See you Jaybird, see you Chick.”

Damian simply waved at Dick and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Bye-bye.”

Jason watched Dick walk away with a smile on his face. He turned to Bruce and frowned.

“Jason-”

“Baba. Go.”

“In a minute Kutlat Saghira.” Jason pressed a kiss to Damian’s cheek. “Do you want to walk and talk or-”

“What did he just call you?” Bruce cut Jason off. “What did you just call him?”

“I called him Little Nugget, and last time I checked I didn’t have to tell you anything.” Jason shook his head and pushed past Bruce. “Are you ready to meet some friends Little Nugget?”

Damian nodded and smiled.

---

Jason pushed open the door to the Iceberg Lounge and smiled as the chilled air cooled the sweat on the back of his neck. “This is where we’re meeting some friends of your Aleuma.”

Damian smiled and patted Jason’s chest, his nonverbal way of saying he wants down.

“Don’t run off, stick close. Not everyone in here is friends with your Aleuma.”

Damian nodded before the two men from the supermarket approached them.

“Jason.” the man with brown hair smiled as he extended his hand to Jason.

“Mr. Crane. Have you been keeping your nose out of trouble?”

John laughed and nodded. “Of course, Ed keeps me in line.”

Ed laughed and shook his head. “Someone has to.”

The red haired woman and her blonde haired companion strolled into the area with matching smiles on their faces.

“Sundew.” The red haired woman called.

“Little bird.” Her blonde companion chirped.

Jason waved. “Damian, the red haired lady is Doctor Pamela Isley and her lovely companion is Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Pam, Harley, this is Damian al Ghul-Wayne. However, he’s more my son than Wayne’s at this point.”

Pam and Harley waved at Damian before offering him smiles.

“Oswald!” Jason called to a portly man across the lounge.

The man, followed by two women dressed in green long sleeved dresses and Kabuki masks, walked over to Jason with a smile on his face. “Todd. It’s good to see you.”

“You too old man.” Jason bowed to the two women. “Pere. Gale.”

The women bowed back.

“Damian, this is Oswald Cobblepot, your Aleuma liked him for some reason and he gave us shelter on more than a few nights.”

Oswald Cobblepot held out a hand to Damian with a smile on his face. “Hello there Damian.”

“Hello.” Damian smiled and stood taller. “Baba. I’m taller.”

Jason snorted. “I see that Little Nugget.” Jason glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door move.

“Hey, Ozzy? You heard from-” Jerome stopped talking before his face split in a smile. “Hoodie! You’re back!”

“Hey Rome.” Jason waved. “Come meet Damian.”

Damian tilted his head in a confused puppy manner before the red haired man appeared from behind Jason. “Is he?”

Jerome extended a hand to Damian with a more mild grin on his face. “Hi. I’m Jerome Valeska, although most of these people know me better as The Great Rodolfo. You must be Damian Todd.”

Damian preened for a moment before coming back to the moment. “Technically, Baba says my name’s still Damian al Ghul-Wayne but I like Damian Todd.”

Taglist

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @lilkymilky

After this, there will be a short titled “Pixie?!” featuring Jason fresh from the grave and the appearance of Talia al Ghul using his panicked state against him.

[finnsgrin]

John Murphy - “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

John Murphy x reader

From my Wattpad: inanoncriminalwayy

GIF: mattsryan

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Word Count: 2,035

Published on: October 8th, 2020

TW: Drinking

Spoilers: None

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

♡Masterlist♡

John Murphy

Sulking wasn't the right word.

Alright, maybe it was.

You were a sulker. And, there's nothing wrong with a good pity party every once in a while. Sometimes you just really need to focus and reflect on yourself and your problems.

While every other delinquent was busy partying and getting drunk off of their asses from Montys moonshine, you stood alone at the entrance of the wall, loaded with a gun, eyes peeled for any sudden movement on the outside.

Unity Day on the Ark brought out the best in people. Here on the ground, it seemed to bring out the child in everyone.

"Jasper! What the hell are you doing?" You hissed at the tall and lanky boy who was wielding a thin stick and creating random patterns in the dirt with it.

The boy looked at you, blinked, and dropped the stick.

"I... I don't know." He slurred.

Now impatient, you threw one last glance over the fence, and figured it would be safe for a few minutes. You weren't gonna leave Jasper alone with a stick without someone who was coherent.

"Come on." You sighed, grabbing him gently by the wrist.

"Where are we going?" He asked, tripping over his own two feet.

"To Wonderland." You grumbled sarcastically.

As Jasper giddily clapped his hands together, you took note of the scene before you.

A roaring bonfire, moonshine by the gallons, handsy couples...

"(Y/N)! There you are!" Your boyfriend of two years, John Murphy, walked over to you with a cup of alchohol in each hand, and extended one to you.

"John, you know I don't drink." You gently reminded him, keeping a firm grip on Jasper as he tried to grab the drink for himself.

"Pbhhh. Take a break from babysitting Goggle Boy, and come dance with me." He shoved the metal cup in your face, moonshine splashing over the rim and onto your shirt.

"Damn it, John! This was my last clean shirt." You complained as you yanked Jasper back yet again.

Murphy scowled, his nose scrunching up to his green eyes.

"Who called the party police? Lossen up, (Y/N). No wonder you never got invited to anything on the Ark. You're boring." He scoffed and walked away, drinking as he did so.

Boring? You were so not boring! Sure, you kept to yourself and weren't one for confrontation, but you weren't boring.

Annoyance evident in your eyes, Jasper sobered up enough to realize that now wasn't the time to mess with you, and he followed you back to his and Montys shared tent where you took off his boots and tucked him into bed.

"(Y/N)?" His soft voice stopped you  as you were about to leave.

"Yeah, Jasper?" You sighed, massaging your temples.

"I don't think you're boring." He yawned.

Your lips curled up at the kind words, and you patted him on the leg.

"Thanks, Jasper. Goodnight."

He mumbled something incoherent to your ears as you walked outside into the crisp air. You took a deep lungful of it and battled your thoughts.

John's words stung more than they should. Were you really boring? No... no, you were being safe. Responsible.

If no one else was going to watch the forest for approaching and violent Grounders, who else would?

Even Clarke was playing some drinking game with a few other delinquents.

Huffing to yourself, you began the short walk back to your stakeout spot where you stood alone in the cold.

On Unity Day on the Ark, you and Murphy used to spend it together.

Ever since you could remember, back to when you two were just kids, you and John would stand in the back of the crowd of the Unity Day Pagent, and sneak out to cause mischief. Once, you even snuck into the kitchen and shared a glass of apple juice.

Now? He was spilling moonshine on your last clean shirt.

You were almost to the wall, when they caught your eye.

Murphy and Fox, their bodies pressed close together, foreheads grazing as they laughed loudly and swayed to the beat of nonexistent music only the two of them could hear.

You swore your heart stopped, froze, and skipped a beat all at the same time.

Murphy whispered something in Foxs ear, and she giggled, slapping him playfully on his chest.

John Mbege tapped Murphy on the shoulder, and pointed to you.

Murphy whipped his head around, his eyes which were once mischievous and flirty, now wide and full of regret.

"(Y/N)!" You read his lips over the crowd of rowdy teens, and just shook your head.

He had just began to make his way to you, when someone started a conga line, disrupting his pathway.

Monty Green was walking solo, holding a cup of moonshine in his hands, on his way back to his tent, presumably.

"Give me that," You hissed as you snatched the cup from his hands, and gulped it, your eyes stinging.

"I am NOT boring. Just because I look out for us, and don't drink, doesn't make me boring, does it? I'M the responsible one here! Where the hell is Bellamy? Isn't he King of the camp? Remember our first few days on the ground, when he was just whoring it up with any living creature with boobs? Who was out there collecting water and building shelter? That's right. Me!"

The poor boy just blinked, unsure of what to say or do in this situation, so he just opened and closed his mouth, confused beyond belief.

Finally, he just shook his head, looked at the ground, and continued on his way.

You took another swig of the poison, and coughed.

Murphy wanted you to loosen up? Well two can play at that game.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Murphys POV

"(Y/N)!" Her name fell from my lips which were slightly chapped, and stinging from all of the drink I had consumed within the past couple of hours.

She just shook her head, turned to the side, and began to walk away.

"Damn it, (Y/N)!" I called once more, and took a step forward just as a giant conga line made it's way before me. When it had finally passed, she was gone.

"Fuck." I cursed, running my fingers through my hair.

Mbege slapped me on the back in a feeble attempt of comfort.

"She's water under the bridge, man. Weren't you just saying how boring she was?" Mbege sighed.

I tore away harshly from him, a scowl on my face.

"That's not what I meant! I don't even know why I said it. I don't even know why I was dancing with Fox. Damn it!" I brought my hands up to my face, and slapped myself on the forehead, hard.

But Mbege could have cared less. He just brought up his stupid drink to his stupid lips and smirked.

"She's just a stupid girl. There are plenty of sluts like her down here."

I grabbed him by his shirt, and pinned him up against the dropship, his drink spilling onto the dirt below our feet.

"Say that about her again." I seethed through clenched teeth.

He just blinked, eyes wide until I released him harshly and jogged away, both eyes on the lookout for the girl I loved.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"I wish I had a harmonica, y'know? Like how in the old timey Western movies, people in jail would play a sad song on it." You slurred from the ground where you sat talking to Raven, who was busy making bullets.

She just chuckled, and shook her head.

"You're a hazard, (Y/N). You're not supposed to have any flammable liquids near this gunpowder, and you my friend, are a walking, talking, bottle of booze."

You laughed at her retort, and childishly stuck out your tounge.

"You said Murphy was dancing with another girl?" She held up a bullet to the dim lantern, and examined it.

"Fox. Don't remind me." You took another swig of moonshine, and sputtered.

"Well, just dance with another guy. That'll piss Murphy off to no end." Raven shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

It took a moment for her words to process themselves in your brain, and when they did, you gasped.

"Raven Reyes, you're a genius!" You hopped up quickly, stumbling back and catching yourself on the table which housed the dud bullets.

"I'm good, I'm good." You hiccuped, giving her a thumbs up.

"Just keep your hands off of Finn!" She laughed as you struggled with the opening of the tent flap.

Normally, everyone was mindful of the root that stuck out for the ground in front of the ammunition tent, but in your drunken state, you completely dismissed it, and tripped over it, spilling your drink on Murphy as he caught you in his arms.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" He hissed once he steadied you.

"Well, well, how the tables have turned." You smirked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He gave you an incredulous look as you laughed.

"Not an hour ago, I was the responsible one getting my shirt soiled by moonshine. Did you get your Fox fix? Don't worry, I was just on my way to find someone to dance with. Don't wait up." You sneered, turning away from him.

Murphy grasped your wrist, and pulled you back to him.

"No, not happening. You are going straight to bed, and-."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

You asked mournfully with tears in your bloodshot eyes.

Murphy blinked, emotion and confusion overtaking him.

"What?" He had the audacity to question you.

"I'm just loosening up, Murph. Like you said. Wouldn't want a boring girlfriend, would you?" You sniffed.

Murphy shook his head, taking a moment to access the severity of his words.

"Babe, no, I - I didn't mean that. I don't think you're boring." He took both of your hands into his, and frowned at how cold your fingers were.

"Then why did you say it? And why were you dancing with another girl?" You pressed.

His eyes met yours, and they were full of regret.

"Because I... I'm an idiot. I'm an insecure, stupid, jealous idiot who doesn't know how to communicate with my girlfriend. I was just so scared that some other responsible guy would end up talking to you, and you would realize how much of a doofus I am, and leave me, and I'm selfish and petty, and... I can't lose you, (Y/N). You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I sorry I'm not good at communicating, and for some reason I thought that dancing with another girl would make you jealous, and you would come over and talk to me, but I realize now that my words and actions have been thoughtless and - ."

"If I say I forgive you, will you shut up?" You interrupted.

Murphy, who had been speaking that whole rant in a single breath, took a deep breath and nodded his head.

Once he had regained his breath, he caressed your cheek.

"You aren't boring, (Y/N). You're responsible. And I love you for it." He blushed.

"You... love me?" You blinked, and prayed this wasn't all some drunken hallucination.

He chuckled, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"I do. And I'm sorry it took all of this for me to find the balls to say it." He smirked.

You pressed your lips to his, hints moonshine and young love dancing on your taste buds.

Fatigue overtaking you, you stumbled once more into him, and he steadied you again.

"Let's get you to bed." He scooped you up off of your feet, and carried you to your shared tent.

As he took off your boots and covered you with the thin blanket you both shared, you smiled to yourself and silently thanked Raven for her advice. If she had never persuaded you to go dance with someone, you probably would have never fallen into Murphy, and he would have never confessed his love to you.

What started off as a self loathing night, turned into a magical one.

♡Masterlist♡

[slytherinbarnes]

there are ghosts in the sky, ii

ii. how deep is the moon?

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 12.4k

Warnings: violence, fighting, language, angst, anxiety, blood, death, mentions of Shumway.

Summary: the battle for your body begins, but who will come out on top? you or josephine?

a/n: part 2 is here and it’s my favorite of the three! what do you think so far?!

au series masterlist // sub rosa masterlist // full masterlist

It takes a second for the flood of panic to leave your system, and it’s quickly replaced with confusion.

Despite your last memory being of you stretched out on a table, surrounded by skeletons while being murdered by Russell Lightbourne, you are now in Arkadia, in the room you shared with Bellamy before Praimfaya. Your clothes are the same ones you used to wear back then, long since discarded. The closer you look at the room though, the more you realize it’s not right.

In fact, it’s a mess.

Clarke’s sketches clutter the walls, taped over each other, overlapping in some places. Weirdly enough though, some of the sketches are from your memories, not hers, etched out perfectly despite her not being present for the memory. Scattered among the sketches are star charts, each of them labeled differently, and you reach out to touch the closest one, simply labeled, “The Kiss. October 11, 2149.”

As soon as your fingers brush over the paper, you get a glimpse of a memory: Bellamy, hovered above you, the sound of Grounders and Delinquents fighting in the background. But all you see is him, and all you feel is him as he leans down to kiss you. You pull away in shock, not expecting the memory to appear around you so vividly. You reach out and run your hands along the cluttered wall, and your hand passes over a sketch, transporting you out of your room again. This time, you're standing in Vincent and Maya’s bathroom, with Bellamy’s arms wrapped around you. You pull away again, walking along the room, scanning the belongings. A stack of books sits on the desk in the corner, and you smile as you look down at them, The Illiad on top. You reach out to grab it, but when you do, you see Gina in front of you, slumped over the desk, bleeding out. You gasp and drop the book in shock, stepping away from it, suddenly realizing that not all of the memories in this room are good ones. 

As your eyes scan over the sketches and star maps and assorted books, you see memories from every year of your life, both the good and the bad, the happy and the sad. There’s a star map near you, and you get curious and move towards it, reading the label, “Sister. March 28, 2150.”

When you reach out and touch it, you see you and Octavia hugging, right before the Final Conclave, days before Praimfaya. Beside it is a sketch of McCreary torturing you and Clarke, your fight with Bellamy outside of the Second Dawn bunker because of his relationship with Echo, you nearly being killed in Shallow Valley by the Eligius prisoner, sitting with your family in your living room on the Ark. You step back, almost overwhelmed with the memories, your memories, that are held within this room, and as you take a deep breath to center yourself, you hear a door creak open behind you. You turn your gaze to the door to the room, light now filtering in through the crack, and curious, you walk towards it, pushing the door open wider and stepping outside.

Except outside is actually inside, because you get a flash of light before you realize that you are now standing in the church that you, Madi, and Clarke used as your home in Shallow Valley. When you look down, your clothes are different again, your outfit one that you wore frequently in the valley, and as you step deeper into the room, you realize now that you’re not alone. A figure stands near one of the windows, peering out, their back to you. But you don't need them to turn around for you to know that it’s your father, because you just know.

You let out a little gasp at the sight of him, and he turns to face you, a smile on his face. You feel tears rise to your eyes as you look at him, his face a little older than it was at his death. He whispers, “Hello, sweetheart.”

He opens his arms and you crash into him, pressing your face into his chest, smelling his scent of grease and Ark soap. Tears fall down your face as you hug him tightly, only pulling away when a thought starts to nag in your head. “How are you here?”

His voice is calm, yet serious, when he asks, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I died.” And saying the words out loud, they shock you a little, because it feels like they have solidified the truth of what you already knew. You’re dead, your mind in some sort of afterlife, and that’s why you can see your father. That’s how he’s here. Your dad seems to sense that you're spiraling, because he turns you around and starts to guide you over to one of the tables in the room. “Come here, let’s sit.”

You plop down into the chair, looking at your father in shock, your voice a quiet whisper. “It's over. I've been fighting for so long.”

“I know you have.”

A horrifying realization hits you hard, bringing tears to your eyes. “I didn't get to say goodbye to Bellamy, or Clarke, Madi, Mom.”

Each new name that pops into your head, each unsaid goodbye, makes you more emotional, and as your dad gazes at you with a sad expression, you hear the clap of thunder outside. The lighting in the room changes quickly, the sunlight fading and now hidden behind a wall of clouds, and you stand and turn to the window, walking over to gaze out at the suddenly stormy sky in confusion. “What the hell? It started when I got upset.”

Behind you, your dad calls your name, drawing your attention back to him. “Listen, what do you hear?”

You listen for a second, your ears only picking up on the soft patter of rain on the window, so you roll your eyes and look towards him. “Rain?”

He laughs, and the sound brings a smile to your face, but his amusement fades as he locks eyes with you. “I'm serious, la lune. Focus. Between the raindrops, what else do you hear?”

You close your eyes, listening hard, focusing on the sound between the raindrops, and slowly, your ears start to pick up on a different sound, a steady thumping sound. The longer you focus, the louder it grows, until you open your eyes and look at your dad in surprise. “A heartbeat.”

He smiles and nods, and you look at him in shock, “I'm still alive.” But before he can say anything, you shake your head, instantly refuting your own statement. “No. No, I saw it. Russell killed me.” 

“He didn't.”

You shake your head again, starting to grow frustrated. “You're just in my head. I loved being here with Clarke and Madi, and I love you, so here we are.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your dad stands from his place at the table and crosses the room over to you, pulling you into his arms at the first sign of your now falling tears. Your emotions are all over the place, confusing you, and you feel yourself growing frustrated as you struggle to understand what’s going on. You pull away from your dad slightly so you can look into his face when you ask, “I don't understand. Am I dreaming?”

“This place is reacting to you, so we're just in your subconscious somehow. Beyond that, there are no answers for you here, so go on. Go figure this out. I'll be here if you need me.”

You look up at your father, into his smiling face, your grief over losing him hitting you in a way that it hasn’t in months. You suddenly realize that you’re grateful for this moment, that you get to see him again, but you know that walking out the door and leaving him behind will just amplify your loss again. Because if you do figure this out and leave all of this behind, you’ll be leaving him behind too. And subconscious projection or not, that loss still pains you. Your father motions towards the door, urging you to leave, and you whisper, “I love you, Dad.”

“Forever, my little la lune. Now go on.”

You nod and turn away from him, heading back to the door of the church, stopping just as you reach it to turn and look back at your dad one last time. He smiles and waves at you, and you smile back before turning and pushing the door open, temporarily blinded by the light again. This time when the light fades, you’re standing in the halls of the Ark, the whole ship empty and abandoned. You hear a scream from behind you, followed by muffled yelling of, “Sanctum is mine!”

You spin around, your anxiety spiking, your eyes landing on a door at the end of the hall. Despite your limited knowledge of the Ark and its appearance, you know this door is out of place. It’s red, with a wreath hanging on the front, and it clearly looks like the door to someone’s house, not one that belongs on the Ark. You mutter, “What the hell is going on?”

And as if the ship was just waiting for you to ask, you hear a door creak open behind you. You turn and look at it as you whisper, “It is reacting to me.”

You walk towards it and push the door open, your clothes now changing again as you step back into your shared room with Bellamy. This time, you’re wearing the outfit you were wearing in Polis, when Clarke shut down the City of Light. As you look up from your clothes and gaze around the room, you realize that someone else is here. A woman in a red dress turns to face you, and you feel a chill roll down your spine as you lock eyes with Alie, who gives you a small smile. “Hello, Miss Griffin.”

You shake your head, backing away from her slightly. “No. Clarke pulled the kill switch, she destroyed you!”

“And I saved you.” You look at her in confusion, and she motions to your memories scattered all around the room. “Why do you think you're still here? I may be gone, but this precious repository of your memories is here because of me. You're welcome.”

You look around the room and then to her in confusion, trying to understand why Alie would be responsible for your safety. But then you remember the chip, the one forced down your throat as you tried to protect Clarke, the contents of the chip still inside your head. “The neural mesh is still in my head. It must have interfered with the drug they used to wipe my mind.”

“Correct, and so you see, you exist because of me. But you won't if they figure out how you freed Raven.” She motions to a drawing on the wall, one of Raven tied to a bed, her mouth opened in a scream. You glance at it and then back to Alie. “We EMP'd the chip, but only in Raven and my Mom.”

“If I were you, and in a way, I am, I'd keep this memory safe.” She pulls the sketch off the wall, balling up the paper and pressing it into a tight ball, closing her hand around it. When she opens her hand again, the sketch is now transformed into one of the City of Light chips, small enough for you to easily hide. You take the chip from her hand and tuck it into a small pocket inside your jacket, before turning your gaze back to Alie. “Thank you. But for the record, you tried to steal all those memories you're now saving.”

“I tried to spare you the pain and horror of your existence.”

You shake your head. “There is no joy without pain.” 

She turns away from you, gazing at your various memories before turning to face you again. “I never did understand humans. Those painful memories aren't even here. They're cast away deep in your mind, where you don't have to face them, and yet, you can't let them go.”

You look around the room, realizing that she’s right, though you don't want to admit it. There are sad and painful memories here, but the worst ones, the ones that really hurt you, are locked away somewhere, left out of the sketches and star maps and books of your mind. But as you stand across from Alie, you start to get a nagging feeling in your mind. one that’s reminding you of a red door at the end of the hall. You look up again as Alie starts to walk away, presumably to leave you alone, but you call out to her, “Wait.”

She turns to look at you, waiting for what you have to say. “You said this is a repository of my memories.”

She nods, confirming her earlier words, so you continue, “But there's something here I've never seen.”

“I told you to keep your memory of Raven safe. But I never told you who from.”

“Who is it? Who’s in my head?”

“I think you’ll find that you already know the answer to that. Maybe it’s time to open another door.” And before you can say anything, she turns and walks away, disappearing into the wall like a forgotten ghost. You walk out of your room, back into the halls of the Ark, moving towards the large red door slowly, growing more nervous with each step. The same yelling you heard earlier is repeating now, punctuated by a chorus of screams, and as you come to a stop right outside the door, the Ark announces, “Proximity alert.”

You reach out and touch the handle, turning the knob slowly, but the door flies open first, freaking you out. You scramble backwards, away from the bright light, watching as a figure makes its way towards you. As the door swings shut behind them and the light starts to fade, you come face to face with a familiar looking blonde, one who is grinning at you and saying your name. “It's nice to meet you. I've heard so many things, most of them murdery, but, you know, no judgment.”

The sight of her tugs at a memory, reminding you of the picture you, Bellamy, and Clarke saw in the creepy shrine on Sanctum, and you stare at her in confusion. “Josephine?”

“In the flesh, but you shouldn't have opened that door. This body is not big enough for both of us.”

The sight of her hits you like a ton of bricks, truly confirming what you were sure of all alone. “Russell really did it. He stole my body.”

“And clearly made a mess of it. It's been hundreds of years since a mind wipe failed. She looks around, slightly impressed. “But I gotta say, this isn't bad. Not as organized as my mindspace, of course, but mildly impressive.”

“Mindspace?”

“The brain creates these constructs when two minds share a body, like lucid dreaming only not as fun. It's a self preservation thing, trying to keep the minds separate so the body doesn't die. You kind of messed that up when you opened the door, so, you know, thanks for the accelerated brain deterioration.”

You feel a wave of panic wash over you. “What’s going to happen?”

“Brain hemorrhaging will lead to a stroke, and we all fall down. It's messy and hurts like a mother, would not recommend it. Two minds, one brain never ends well, so this,” She motions between the two of you, looking annoyed. “It's a problem. How did you even survive?”

A voice in your head reminds you of the chip in your pocket, one that Alie explicitly told you to keep safe. You glare at Josephine, your panic starting to subside as you focus on your anger. “You just want to know so you can figure out how to get rid of me.”

“Weren't you listening? If we don't do something, this body dies. Is that what you want?”

Your voice starts to rise as you counter, “Of course not. But why can't you just find a new body and give mine back?”

“I could, I suppose, but it's risky. The last Primes who went on ice died forever, and I'm not really into that. Besides, just between us girls, I kind of like your body.”

Your anger flares, your blood starting to feel white hot within you. “You're a sociopath.”

“Judgy. Besides, like you're one to talk, Wanlida.” Your fist clenches at your side as you remind yourself to stay in control and not lash out. Yet. “The way I see it, you have two options. Tell me how you survived so I can fix it, and I'll make sure your people live happily ever after. Or don't, and eventually we'll both die anyways. The difference is, I'll be reborn in someone else, tell my father what happened, and he'll kick your people out to die in the woods.”

You practically spit, “Go float yourself.”

She shakes her head in confusion, clearly starting to get annoyed that you won't just roll over and take it. “I have no idea what that means.”

“It means that I'm not telling you anything, and I don’t go down without a fight.” 

Josephine scoffs, her expression turning to one of slight amusement. “Wow. You're selfish, not to mention dumb. Your mindspace contains all of your memories, so try not to think of where you keep them.”

Of course, as soon as she says the words, your mind flashes to your room within Arkadia, and the door at the end of the hall swings open, practically inviting her in. You feel a flash of frustration as she pushes past you, heading straight to the room, her voice taunting you. “You control your mindspace. Too bad you can't control your thoughts!”

You turn and jog down the hall after her, glaring at her as you walk into your room and see her gazing at all of your star maps and sketches with distaste. “This is a disaster.”

“Get out of my head!”

She rolls her eyes and glances your way. “Now, now. Sharing is caring.”

She brushes her fingers over a few memories on the wall, including Octavia being the first delinquent on Earth, you and Bellamy putting the Flame in Madi’s head, and Finn giving you the star charm to give to Clarke. She reaches the one blank spot on the wall, where the overlapping sketches and star maps are clearing missing one of their own, and Josephine turns to you with a smirk. “Are you hiding a memory from me? Rude.”

You snap, “You'll never find it.”

She brushes past you again, checking out more of your memories as she walks around the room, talking to you as she moves. “You know, I study all life, but insects always fascinated me most. They're merciless, ruthless. I respect that. People are so messy, so emotional. Because of that, they give themselves away. I could always figure people out, even as a kid. I could tell when they were nervous. Their pulses would beat faster. Eyes would dart. Breath would quicken. It's physiological. You know what my spidey senses are telling me about you right now?”

She comes around and stops in front of you, and you glare at her and answer, “That I'll never help you wipe my mind?”

“You think you're a badass, but your bravado covers self doubt. You had to physicalize your secret so you could keep it close, where you have control. I bet you have it on you right now. Now let me have it.”

She swings a punch towards you, and you almost smile as you realize you’re back in your element. Because the thought of Josephine taking your body freaks you out, but a physical fight is right up your alley. You spent months learning how to fight from both Lincoln and Octavia, and right now, in your mindspace, you have no injuries. No cut up leg to hold you back, no injured shoulders or bruised ribs. Right now, you are at your best. Which is why you deflect Josephine’s punch with ease before immediately following the move up with a punch of your own. It lands on her face, and she staggers backwards a little, but you bear down on her, punching her again. You remember the move Bellamy used on you during the eclipse, when he grabbed your shoulder and held you in place so he could punch you, and you use the same move on Josephine, except you hold her in place and bring your knee up to hit her in the stomach. 

She doubles over in pain before she feels a rush of anger, which she channels before she runs at you, wrapping her arms around your center and pushing you backwards. The two of you fall through the door behind you, now out in the halls of the Ark. You scramble to your feet first, and as Josephine tries to get up and come at you again, you deliver another punch to her face, knocking her to the ground. Black blood is now dripping out of her mouth, but you don't care, still so pissed off that she’s even here, in your body. You knee her in the chin and she collapses to the ground on her stomach, trying to crawl away from you, but you press your shoe down onto her back, pinning her in place before you swing the heavy metal door of your room towards her head, hitting her in the skull.

You slam the door against her a few times, until you’re sure she’s dead, and then you drop down to the ground in a heap, staring at Josephine’s dead body in shock, panting as you try to catch your breath. Your hands are shaking, your brain trying to process what is likely your most brutal kill, and you close your eyes and take in a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. But as you do, you hear an alarm ring out, and you pull your eyes open as the Ark announces, “Warning. Collision alert.”

You look to the place Josephine’s body was just in, the ground now empty, and you mutter in horror. “No.”

You pull yourself to your feet and run to the hallway with the red door, watching as the knob twists and the door swings open, Josephine walking back into the Ark with a smirk in her face. “We're back, bitches.”

You ignore the stolen words from your stolen memory, focusing only on the horror of her return, your head shaking in disbelief. “How?”

“Come on, you're smarter than that. How do you think we're resurrected? My mind drive backs my consciousness. I can't die in the mindspace, but you can, unless whatever fluke kept you here can bring you back. You, my friend, are playing for keeps. I took a sedative about an hour ago, so that gives me all night to kill you in here or find the memory of how I can kill you out there. Got a preference?”

Your mind runs through a hundred different scenarios at once, before your fight or flight instincts kick in, ultimately choosing flight. You turn and take off running, putting space between you and Josephine’s taunting voice. “Easy or hard way, either way, you die!”

You ignore her, running through the Ark until you reach a set of doors, which automatically open for you, temporarily blinding you with light again until it starts to dim. But as they dim, you realize that you’re no longer on the Ark. You are now back in Polis, after Praimfaya, in the room that you and Bellamy used to put the Flame in Madi. You look around the room, trying to find a place to hide, but you stop when you see a figure standing in the middle of the room, their back to you. You already know it's Madi, even before she turns around, all dressed up in her Heda clothes. “Madi?”

She turns to face you, her expression blank, her voice emotionless. “Hello, ani.”

“Madi, you have to help me, I have to hide from Josephine. She’s trying to kill me.”

“It’s always something with you, isn't it?” 

You shake your head, looking at your niece in confusion. “What?”

“Me and Clarke were never enough when we lived in the valley, and you spent all of your time thinking about and wishing for Bellamy. You always wondered why my relationship with you was different from my relationship with Clarke’s, and it's because Clarke was actually there for me. You never were.”

You shake your head, tears rising to your eyes. “What? Madi, no, that isn't true.”

“Isn't it though? Isn’t that why you put the Flame in my head? Because, compared to Clarke, I’m expendable. Even though it meant ruining your relationship with her, you were willing to sacrifice me and put a target on my back just to save her. But it was more than that, wasn't it? Because without Bellamy there to put the idea in your head, without him there to convince you, you would have never done that to me! He convinced you that it was the only way to save Clarke, but you never even stopped to consider another way.”

“Octavia would have killed Clarke!”

“Octavia almost killed me!” You stare at her in shock, not used to hearing her yell. “But that didn’t matter to you, because all you cared about was following Bellamy, at the expense of me, and your relationship with Clarke.”

“But it wasn't at your expense, Madi, because you were safe, I protected you. And Clarke, she forgave me. She understands!”

“Does she? Then why isn't she here right now?”

You look around in shock, realizing that your twin is missing, and there must be a reason why. Madi, of course, is well aware of that reason. “You’re afraid to face her because you think that she, and everyone around you, thinks that you’re just a shadow to Bellamy. You’ll sacrifice anyone and everyone to keep him safe, the rest of us be damned.”

“That’s a lie! I would do anything to protect Bellamy, but that doesn't mean I’m willing to give up Clarke or you or mom or just anyone else to do it.”

She shrugs, a sinister smile on her face. “I don't know why you’re arguing with me, ani. After all, I'm just a subconscious projection of you.”

Before you can answer her, an alarm starts to blare, warning you, “Collision alert.”

The doors slide open and Josephine steps inside, smirking at you. You look at Madi in fear, whispering, “Madi, you have to help me!”

“No.” You look between them for a second before you take off running again, moving through the room towards the door that leads to the streets of Polis. Madi watches you go and shrugs at Josephine, “Have fun!”

Josephine laughs, yelling at your retreating figure, “Even your projections hate you!”

You ignore her and push open the door to the outside, the light taking you over before it subsides again. Your clothes have changed again, your body now covered with a sweater, jeans, and tennis shoes. Your stomach drops, aware of the last time you wore these clothes. The light around you is still bright, but it’s not because you’re still transitioning into the next space. It’s because you are in a bright white hallway, surrounded by bright white rooms, with bright white lights. Your gaze travels up from your clothes to a sign on the wall, confirming your suspicions as you read the words, “Mount Weather: Quarantine Ward.”

Your gaze moves over to the door, the glass smashed, and as you peer through it, you can see that there’s a body bag sprawled out across the bed, a body sitting inside. You push the door open and step into the room slowly, walking over to the body cautiously, afraid of what you’re going to find. You take a deep breath to give yourself strength, and then you reach out and pull the zipper down, slowly revealing a face covered in radiation burns. Not just any face though, Maya’s face. You whisper, “Maya?”

Her eyes suddenly snap open and she smirks at you, and you step back a little, unsettled by the sight. “Hi.”

She sits up, her skin marred by radiation, because of you. You, Clarke, and Bellamy made a choice to save your people. You pulled a lever to save them, but it was at the expense of everyone else in the mountain. And looking down at Maya now, at the death you had a hand in, despite all the help she gave you, you know that you haven't really ever dealt with what you did in Mount Weather. Those deaths, whether you’re actively thinking of them or not, are part of your darker memories, hidden within you. This isn’t the scary place, not yet, but you realize this must be the road that leads there, your journey away from Josephine taking you closer and closer to the darkness. You shake your head as you stare at Maya, backing away from her, heading to the door. “No. I don't want this, I don't want any of this.”

“That's the thing, la lune. Some part of you does want this, or I wouldn't be here.” She climbs out of the bed and comes to stand across from you, cocking her head to the side. “I have a question for you: Why are you fighting so hard to stay alive?”

“I have to-”

She cuts you off, already aware of what you're going to say. “Save your people. Yes, I know. Too bad I wasn't in that group, huh?”

“Maya.” Your voice cracks a little, tears rising to your eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to save everyone, but Cage, and Lexa, and Emerson, they forced our hand. They were killing my mother. I had to, I’m sorry.”

“Tell me, are you sorry about Jasper, too? After all, killing me is what sent him off the deep end.”

You shake your head, “No, that wasn’t me. Jasper made his choice.”

“Wrong. His death is on you too, Wanlida. You do things, but other people pay the price.”

“Enough.”

She smiles at you, the expression so mismatched to the words coming out of her mouth. “You've killed more people than you've saved. Do you realize that? If you actually cared about saving people's lives, you'd walk away. Because how can anyone do better with you still around? You’re the reason that death finds them, after all. Clarke can't kill them if you don’t lead her there.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you're cut off by the alarms in the room ringing, repeating the words, “Radiation alert. Radiation alert. Radiation alert.”

Maya glances at them, and then turns her smile to you. “She's coming. Why don't you give in to her? Just give up control for once.”

Her words remind you of something, of Josephine’s earlier words to you. You control your mindspace. You look at Maya with realization. “Control. I'm in control. I have an idea.”

You pull the City of Light chip from your pocket, holding it out in your palm so Maya can see it. And then you close your palm and your eyes, thinking of your journey to the darkness, of the scary place hidden with your darkest memories. You open the door to it, find the little lock box in your mind and drop the chip inside, locking the box behind you before closing the door and opening your eyes. When you open your palm, it is now empty, the memory hidden deep inside of your mind. 

Just in time too, because Josephine pushes open the door to the room just then, looking at Maya with intrigue. “Whoa. you have a little something…”

She trails off, pointing to Maya’s face, and Maya reaches up to touch her damaged skin before she catches on to Josephine's cruel joke. She laughs, before she glances at you, and you mentally adjust projection Maya’s attitude towards you so that she’ll help you. Maya turns to Josephine and mutters, “She hid it in the cave.”

You play along, glaring at her and exclaiming, “Are you kidding me?”

Josephine laughs, looking between the two of you with amusement, completely falling for it. “I mean, your projections are the best.”

She turns her focus to Maya, “Care to take us?”

Maya nods in agreement, transporting all three of you to the entrance to a cave. Maya motions towards it, and Josephine nods at her in thanks. “Thank you, melty girl.”

She starts walking into the cave, everything around you growing darker and darker as the tunnel grows skinnier, until finally the cave opens up into a room. The room is adorned with a few meager belongings, a bed of furs in the corner, and Josephine looks at it in disgust. “Ugh, gross. Who the hell would live here?”

You see the movement behind her, and you nod towards it with a smirk, “He would.”

Josephine turns around in shock, catching a split second glimpse of Lincoln before he knocks her out. Her body hits the ground with a thud, and you look up at him for the first time, his clothes closer to his Grounder clothes than his Skaikru clothes. Still, you smile at him, happy to see your old friend before you step forward and grab him in a hug. Lincoln smiles and hugs you back, pulling away after a moment and looking down at Josephine’s body. “What have you gotten yourself into, my warrior with a heart?”

“Nothing good. Long story short, she wants me dead.”

“Yeah, well she’ll have to get through me.”

You smile at him before the two of you team lift Josephine and carry her to the corner of the room, chaining her up to the wall, in the same place Lincoln once held Octavia. The two of you wait around for a few minutes before she wakes up, her eyes pulling open and her face pulling into one of confusion. She tugs on the chain and it rattles, but her hand doesn't move far, her movement limited. “What is this?”

You smile down at her. “You have no control here, because this is my mindspace. Turns out, I can create whatever I want.”

She sneers at you, “Cute. But what's your plan here, stall until I wake up? I'll just try again night after night, and the more time I spend here, the faster you die. And let me tell you, that death ain't fun or pretty. You can't win, so why bother?”

You cross your arms, looking down at her, your expression serious. “To make sure you lose. As for me, I'll find a way to survive. I always do.” 

“You’ve got spunk, I'll give you that. If things were different, we could have been friends, but I'm bored now.”

And before you can even comprehend what's happening, she reaches out and grabs a discarded knife that’s lying nearby, which she uses to slit her throat. You and Lincoln watch in alarm as the blood spills out of her neck, and you turn to him to ask what you should do, only to be transported out of the cave and back into the Ark. You’re facing the red door at the end of the hall, and you don't wait for it to open this time before you take off running down the halls, and as you do, you can hear Josephine’s voice calling out to you, “I may not be able to create anything in your mindspace, but I can sure bring something in!”

You freeze in the hallway you’re running through, listening hard to hear what she’s brought in. Unfortunately for you, that what is actually a who, and that who is actually Russell. His voice simultaneously sends a chill down your spine and pisses you off, still in disbelief that he's the reason you're even in this mess. “Let's split up and stop playing games. You're not a cat toying with a mouse. She's dangerous, kill her.”

You take off running again, putting space between your killer and his daughter, praying to the Universe that you survive this night. As you run past a door, the lights flicker on, revealing the airlock that sent your dad out to space. Tears instantly spring to your eyes as the memory flashes in front of you, and you watch him fly out of the airlock again, relieving the experience. You stare at the door, knowing this is the path to your dark memories, and you debate on whether to head here or continue down the hall. But the loud thud of Russell’s nearby footsteps is enough to decide for you, and all you can do is hope that this dark path is enough to stop him.

You step towards the doors and they slide open, and this time you’re not blinded by light before sliding into a place from your memory. This time you’re blanketed in a thick darkness, which slowly grows lighter to reveal the field below Arkadia, a big pole erected in the center of the field. You already know what this is as you gaze at it, your eyes already searching the space for him.

Finn.

He finds you first, his voice casually calling out to you, “Hey, la lune.”

You spin around to find Finn, his shirt stained with blood, smiling at you. You feel your emotions threaten to take you over, but you push them aside and call back, “Hey, Finn.”

He walks towards you, closing the space between you, looking you over. “You know, I told you to keep her safe.”

You know he means Clarke, so you nod. “I know, and I have.”

“Letting her bear it so you don't have to? That’s not keeping her safe. And what about the City of Light and Praimfaya and the Battle for Eden?”

You shake your head at him, refusing to be bullied by another one of your subconscious projections. “No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to make me feel bad about Clarke’s reactions to the things she’s done. She needed to leave after Mount Weather, because she couldn't stand to look at everyone and know what we did. That's not my fault. I have tried to help her bear it. I decided to take the Nightblood serum before she did and I got left behind with her during Praimfaya. I did everything I could to protect her while she was in the City of Light, including getting chipped myself. None of that was easy for me either, Finn, but I did it to help Clarke. I did it to try and keep her safe.”

He nods, accepting your answer, before he counters, “And what about giving Madi the Flame?”

You scoff, annoyed that another one of your projections is bringing this up. “Believe it or not, I did that for Clarke too. I didn’t do it because Bellamy told me to, and I didn’t do it because I value Clarke over Madi. I knew that people would follow Madi as their rightful Commander. I knew people would give their lives to keep her safe. But without a rightful Commander, I had no way to get to Clarke and free her, because even with Octavia in a coma, Wonkru still wanted to follow the wishes of their queen. I needed Madi to take the Flame so we’d have that Commander, but I was willing to do it myself if that is what it took to save Clarke. Even if it meant I'd be killed in the end, at least there would be enough of a distraction to get Clarke out. But Madi volunteered to do it to save both of us, and I agreed. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed, maybe I should have fought her harder on it, but it's done now. I made my choice knowing the effect it would have on my relationship with Clarke, but ultimately she forgave me. So it’s time for me to forgive myself.”

All around you, the trees start to go silent, nature’s warning to you and Finn that you’re in danger. Finn looks at you and warns, “He’s coming.”

You nod, and he slips into the shadows as Russell emerges from the trees, stalking right towards you with a glare. “Miss Griffin, I believe I told you no more fighting, and yet, here you are.”

He comes to a stop across from you, holding out his hand. “Now give me the memory.”

You cock your head to the side, sizing him up. “Seems this is a lesson that you and your sociopathic daughter need to learn: I’m nothing but fight.”

Russell sneers and lunges at you, but you sidestep his outstretched arms before swinging your elbow to his face and smashing his nose, breaking it. He reaches up to grab his nose, blood gushing between his fingers as he glares at you. You punch him across the face and then deliver a solid kick to his chest, sending him flying backwards, and as he peers up at you, you snap, “Make no mistake, the only reason you were able to kill me was because I was already sedated. Without that temporary paralytic, I would have ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

Russell tries to get up and attack you again, but Finn emerges from the shadows, punching the man and knocking him flat on his back. He tosses you a rope, and the two of you restrain Russell’s hands before dragging him over to the execution pole and restraining him there. Once he's tied up, Russell struggles against the ropes, but fails to do anything other than waste his energy. You and Finn watch on before he holds out his hand and mutters, “Here.”

You look down at his outstretched palm, your eyes falling on the knife that Clarke used to kill him, his red blood still staining the blade. You look up and meet Finn’s eyes in surprise, and he nods to Russell before he snarls, “Jus drein jus daun.”

And it’s like the words remind you of what Russell did to you, because your anger starts to rise, and you take the knife from Finn’s hands with little hesitation. You walk over to Russell, who is still angry, though he’s looking at you with curiosity. “‘Jus drein jus daun’? What does it mean?”

“Blood must have blood.” And then you plunge the knife into his chest, killing him. When you turn to face Finn again, you watch him disappear into the Commander’s tent, leaving you behind. You run after him, calling out, “Wait!”

As you push through the flap to the tent, the darkness overloads your senses again before gradually getting lighter, revealing a new location. Your clothes have changed to ones you hoped to never see again, because the sight of them only means one thing: you’re in the Skybox.

But as you look around the room, the one you know is the darkest part of your mind, holding your most painful memories, you get the sense that you are not alone. Because this cell, this solitary prison, it reeks of Shumway. His mark is all over it, your darkest memories flashing as you turn and take in the room, visions of Shumway shoving you against the wall to kiss you and standing in the doorway and taunting you with your father’s death. You feel your anxiety and panic start to rise, bringing a fresh onslaught of tears with it, but you close your eyes and take a deep breath, reciting constellations under your breath until you start to calm down. 

Your calmness doesn’t last for long, because the door behind you swings open, causing the hairs to lift on your arms in alarm. You turn, expecting to see Shumway standing there with that sinister ass grin he always wore, but you are instead met with the sight of Josephine, her smirk just as taunting as Shumway’s used to be. Your stomach drops and you feel your confidence start to crack, which is the only reason she’s able to swing a punch at you and knock you to the side. You hit the ground with an echoing thud, and Josephine stalks across the room to your bed, reaching underneath it to grab the locked ammo box that is hidden there. You look up at her, weakly muttering, “Don’t.”

You’re unable to muster up much more than that, the heaviness of this room and these memories weighing on you. She tries her luck with the combination lock on the box, spinning the little dials before she tugs, the lock still and unmoving. Josephine grunts in frustration and drops the box onto the bed, plopping down beside it before looking around the room, taking it in. “This is the place you were avoiding?”

She shifts her gaze to you, shaking her head in confusion. “It’s not even that scary.”

You sit up, glaring at her as you snap back, “It is if you know what happened here.”

A memory of Shumway attacking you in this room flashes across your mind, and apparently Josephine is able to see it too, because her eyes go wide with surprise. The next time she shifts her gaze to you, it’s full of pity and you hate it. “I didn't know.”

You counter, “It doesn't matter.”

“Memory is funny, you know? The formative stuff like the traumas, the things we can't move past, they live deep in the brain stem. These are the wounds we pay shrinks not to fix. These places control us, make us who we are. It's actually connected to the lower brain function; breathing, reflexes.”

“Please just shut up.”

She shakes her head, looking at you in confusion, motioning to the room around you, “All of this is guilt for the things you’ve been through and the deaths you've caused, but I don't get it. Why are you so torn up? Everything you did was to save your people. I'd do the same thing.”

You snort, “A ringing endorsement.”

“The thing I don't get is why you don't care about saving your people now.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Josephine?”

“Let's say you could somehow fight me off and get your body back. What would that do to your friends and family? Do you think my father would just let me go? What you're doing right now leads to the genocide of your people.”

“I just want to live. I want to see my family again.”

She cocks her head to the side, sizing you up. “Have you ever even once considered that the solution is to sacrifice yourself?”

You think of Maya’s words to you and the words from your father during the eclipse on Sanctum, reminding you that there is no doing better while you’re still around. Josephine can see you thinking of these memories, because she pushes on, “Your people are safe, Bellamy and Clarke made sure of it. I mean, they took your death hard, sure, but they knew the only thing a leader could do was to strike a deal for peace. Now it's time for you to step up. Bow out gracefully, and your people get to live happily ever after.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, calling out the bullshit of her words. “You're lying. Bellamy and Clarke would never make a deal like that.”

“The lack of trust hurts me, but that's why I brought this.” She tries to hand you a book, one that’s been tucked at her side the entire time she was talking to you. You stare at it with apprehension, wondering if this is some ploy that ends with you dead. Only, for real this time. She shakes the book, urging you to take it. “Take it. It's not a trick, I don't play that way.”

You sigh and place your hand on the book, seeing a memory from Josephine’s point of view. She’s standing next to Russell, but she’s facing Bellamy and Clarke, both of them looking distraught. Russell has a small cut on his neck, and he’s panting slightly when he levels a look at your lover and your twin. “If you let us live, I can guarantee safety for the rest of your people. We'll share everything we've learned about surviving on this moon.”

You watch Bellamy glance at Clarke, the two of them having a silent conversation before he answers Russell with anger, “We are not doing this for you, we’re doing it for her.”

The memory ends, and you’re suddenly back in your prison cell on the Ark, looking at Josephine, tears in your eyes. They didn't fight for me. Josephine senses your emotional turmoil and tries to use it to her advantage, “It's time for you to sacrifice for your people. Don't start another war they'll have to fight.”

Your mind runs through all the possibilities, weighing the options on whether you should fight or just give in. If you fight, you get back to Bellamy and Clarke and the rest of your family, but at what cost to them? Because ultimately, you wanting to go back to them is purely for selfish reasons. It’s because you want to see them again. But if you give up now, they get to live. They’ll be safe, have a place of their own. And maybe most importantly, you’ll have peace. You have already sacrificed so much to save your people and the ones you love, which is why ultimately you look up at Josephine and nod, resigned to your fate. “I need for them to be okay.”

“By my word, your people will be safe. Bellamy and Clarke are meeting with my father first thing in the morning to discuss building them a compound. They'll have a new home, a new life. Madi can go to school just like any other kid, your friends can settle down. Everyone can stop fighting, including you.”

You feel tears rise to your eyes as you think of the peace that they’ll finally have, the peace you’ve all been fighting for since you landed on Earth. If making this one sacrifice gives them that, then you’ll do it, because they mean everything to you. You whisper, “Tell Bellamy I love him, Madi and Clarke too. Just...tell all of them.”

She nods, and once you have her confirmation, you cross the room over to her, reaching out for the box. You lift the lock, checking to see what incorrect combination she put in, and you see that the numbers are set to 0100. You shake your head, glancing over at her and muttering, “You forgot Bellamy and Raven.”

You change the last number, switching the numbers to 0102 before you tug down on the lock and unlock it. You step aside, allowing Josephine to remove the lock and open the lid to your darkest memories. She reaches inside, pulling out a tablet that has security footage from the Ark, the cameras aimed at the hallway around the airlock used to float people. The footage is edited together to show you sliding around the corner at the last second, just as your father is seen flying out to space, gone forever. You blink away your tears as she puts the tablet aside, reaching in to pull out Maya’s ipod, reminding you of both Jasper and Maya, and the role you played in their deaths. Next is the Grounder knife, which is stabbed through a picture, and Josephine looks at it in curiosity before pulling the picture off of the knife. It’s a photo of Gina, smiling and happy, wearing the clothes she will later be murdered in. You feel yourself choke up at the sight of it, unable to think of the sacrifice she made for you without getting upset.

Josephine pulls out Shumway’s ID badge, and she tosses it to the side, just as disgusted with the man as you are. She digs around in the ammo box, only two things left inside now. She pushes one to the side, a small angel statue that has been created from twisted metal, in favor of the tiny chip that plagued you and your people once Jaha returned from the City of Light. As soon as Josephine touches it, the memory of Raven’s EMP plays for her, which Josephine seems to find fascinating. She turns to you with a smile, musing, “An EMP. Cool.”

She sees your serious expression, one riddled with hidden emotions, and she drops the smile from her face, growing more somber. “It'll be over soon. I promise.”

And then she rises from the bed and walks away, leaving the room and heading back to her side of your brain. As soon as you're alone, all of the emotions you worked hard to keep hidden begin to bubble to the surface, all of your most painful memories spread out across the bed in your former cell. You collapse onto it, your tears finally falling, allowing yourself to cry for all of the awful things you’ve been through. But beyond that, you have a new memory to add to your locked box: the one you’re sitting in right now. Because this memory of you sitting on the bed, surrounded by the ghosts of your past, symbolizes what will soon be a reality for you: your death. 

Soon, it will truly be over, and you will be nothing but a memory to the people you love, locked up in their own ammo boxes, hidden deep within them and out of reach.

-

You don't know how long you sit in your cell and cry, but eventually you pull yourself up and head back through your mindspace, determined to spend your last few hours of life doing something other than crying or fighting. You walk past the scene of Finn’s death, through Lincoln's cave into Mount Weather, then back into Polis before emerging back inside the Ark. and then you follow the halls, past your shared room with Bellamy and the eerie red door to Josephine’s side, until you emerge back inside the church in Shallow Valley, eyes searching for your father. This time though, the building is empty.

You shrug off the hurt you feel and grab your favorite book from a nearby table, flipping it open to read the note scrawled on the first page. 

My radiant moon,

I’m writing this letter to you to tell you that I love you. 

Right now, you’re asleep beside me, unbothered by the chaos of life that awaits us outside our door. When you sleep, you have a tendency to pull me closer to you, always reaching out for me anytime I shift or leave the bed. I don’t think you even know that you do it, but each time you do, I’m hit with the strength of your love. I’ve never had someone love me like this before.

But, I feel the same for you. Looking down at you now, I want nothing more than to love and protect you for the rest of my life. I promise to always do that. 

I don't know when you’ll find this, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe when we’re old and gray, surrounded by our kids and grandkids, watching our family gather together and spread the love that we share. 

All I know is that you are my love and my heart, and I am a better man because of you. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you. I know that I've made mistakes, and that at times I don't deserve the love that you give me, and when I feel that way, I’m going to work to earn it. 

For now, though, I have to go. The love of my life is reaching out for me, trying to pull me closer. I love you more than the stars, my radiant moon. You light up my life in ways I didn't even know were possible.

Forever yours,

Bellamy

 You smile as you finish reading, the words not making you sad like they did after Praimfaya. This time as you read them, all you feel is gratitude. Even though your life will soon be over, you’re grateful that you at least got to meet Bellamy. You got to meet him, then hate him, then fall in love with him. Even better than that, you got to be loved by him. Not many people get to experience the love that the two of you have for each other, but you did. And now, at the end of your life, you’re just so damn happy that you did.

You flip past the note and to the first page of the book, quietly reading to yourself and spending your last few hours at peace. 

You read for a few hours, the sun outside of your window rising slowly, reminding you of the passage of time, and when you’re about halfway through The Iliad you hear a door open, letting you know someone else is here. You close the book and look up with a smile, calling out, “Dad?”

Except your eyes don't land on your dad, they land on Monty. 

He looks the way he did when you all went into cryosleep, before he became an old man, and you jump up from your seat and put your book to the side, running across the room to pull him into your arms. He hugs you back, though not as enthusiastically, and as you start to wonder why, he mutters, “You call this doing better?”

You pull away from him and look at him in confusion as he adds, “Giving up isn't better.”

“That’s not what I’m-” You cut yourself off when you see the look that he gives you, because technically, you are giving up. You just have a reason to, which is what you decide to tell him instead. “I’m doing this to save the others.”

“‘It's all for my people’? Look. I've heard that from Clarke before, and it's just an excuse.” You give him a hurt look, shaking your head, unsure what to say to him. Because maybe it is just an excuse. But maybe you just don't care anymore. Monty must sense that, because he becomes more empathetic. “I get it, it's been endless. But are you really gonna leave them?”

He motions to a picture tacked on the wall, one with Madi, Clarke, and Bellamy locking arms, all smiling. It’s not a memory, it’s just something nice that your brain created, but now Monty is using it against you. You think of Josephine's warning, how you fighting back will be seen as an act of war, and your people will suffer for it. Which is why you counter with, “They’ll be better off without me.”

“I don't think that's true.”

“They have each other. Plus, Bellamy and Clarke already made a deal that keeps them all safe.”

Monty shakes his head, trying to get you to understand. “This is about being the good guys. Yeah, that deal means our side gets to live, but at what cost? You're giving in to people who murder human beings to live forever.”

“You’re right, but it’s too late. I already gave in, and Josephine has the memory. As soon as she wakes up, she'll know how to get me out of my head. It's over.”

“We’ll see about that.” Monty holds his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it, and you know the gesture means more than just trusting each other. If you agree to take Monty’s hand, you are agreeing to go back on your deal with Josephine, and to fight for your life. And the more you think about it, the more you want to fight. Isn't that what you told Josephine, and Russell, and Kane, and countless others? You don't go down without a fight, never have, and you let yourself be manipulated by Josephine, who could easily tell that you were struggling. And maybe it is selfish to do this all because you want to see your family again, but so what? Everyone needs something to fight for, and your family is your reason.

Which is why you take Monty’s hand, and allow him to lead you out of Shallow Valley and back onto the Ark. He leads you down the hall, towards the eerie red door, both of you coming to a stop right outside of it. You look at it with apprehension and mutter, “This is Josephine's mindspace. She controls it.”

Monty jokes, “What’s she gonna do, kill you?”

You both exchange a smile before he nods towards the door, urging you to open it. You grab the knob and twist, pushing the door open, you and Monty temporarily blinded by the light before stepping into what appears to be the world’s largest library. You look at it in shock, staring at the shelves of books that extend further than your eyes can see. “Wow.”

“230 years of memories.” As soon as Monty says the words, you hear a distant explosion, the lights above you rattling. You look around in fear, before turning back to Monty with wide eyes. He surmises, “Good news is, we can affect her body here. Bad news is, Josephine seems to sense it. Come on, let's find something we can use.”

The two of you split apart, taking different aisles so you can cover more ground at the same time. You can see Monty in the space between the shelves, and the two of you exchange a look every few seconds, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books in the room. They’re all in chronological order, numbered and neatly organized, seemingly color coded according to which body the memories occurred in. You have to agree that Josephine’s mindspace is better organized than your own, but the vague appearance of each book means that finding anything useful in here is going to be a pain. Luckily for you, you don't have to worry about that for long, because as you and Monty come to the end of your respective shelves, you find a large door, locked and labeled: Special Collection. Monty calls out, “Look, this must be where she keeps her primal wounds. This is her Skybox.”

You think back to Josephine's earlier words to you, said to you as she sat with you in your own special collection. These memories control us; they’re connected to lower brain function. You look at Monty, suddenly getting an idea. “She said they create a physical response. We could control my body from there.”

He smiles at you, proud of your quick thinking, “On it!”

You wait anxiously at Monty’s side as he hacks into the security system that controls the door to Josephine’s darkest memories, and after a minute or two, the door beeps, and the light outside turns from red to green. Monty smiles, cheering himself on, “Yes!”

He pushes the door open and motions for you to step inside first, both of you temporarily blinded by the light until it begins to clear, revealing a small diner. There are people milling about inside, and lights hung up all over the place. You glance and Monty and mutter, “Earth before the bombs.”

Monty rushes forward to the counter, sliding a stack of newspapers to the side to reveal a magazine, which he holds up to show you. “Check it out.”

On the cover is Diyoza, looking identical to the Diyoza you met over 100 years later, the headline proudly proclaiming that she’s been caught. You shake your head, looking around at the cozy setting, wondering why Josephine gave you so much shit about your dark place not being scary when hers doesn't seem scary at all. “Why would she keep this memory locked away?”

“More importantly, how do we get control from here?”

You look around, trying to figure out the answer to Monty’s question when your eyes land on a blonde girl sitting at a table nearby. It’s Josephine, dressed in a pretty pink outfit, sitting at a table with a friend. You nudge Monty and point at them, whispering, “Come on.”

The two of you slip over to the table behind the pair, watching as they write in notebooks in front of them, textbooks scattered all along the table. They’re quietly discussing their classes, the conversation largely boring until the bell over the door of the diner rings, signaling a new arrival. A young man walks inside, searching the diner until his eyes land on Josephine, and he makes a beeline for her, coming to a stop beside her table awkwardly. “Hey.”

She looks up at him, before her eyes shift to her friend, both of them having a silent conversation. The guy seems oblivious to the fact that neither of them seem to want him there, and he plops down in the empty chair across from Josephine. “I was looking for you at the water rationing protest, thought you posted something about going.” 

“Too many people, you know.”

Her friend adds, “And it's really dusty outside.”

“Yeah, sure.” He seems to take a second to regroup, before settling a smile on his face, directed at Josephine. “Uh, I asked, and there's plenty of room at the comparative linguistics thing if you want to go.”

She twirls some of her hair between her fingers, the motion clearly something she does without really realizing, as you’ve seen her do it a few times before. “I don't know. I'm not really feeling that social lately.”

Josephine looks down, back at whatever she’s working on, and the guy finally seems to catch onto her rejection. “You still think you're too good for me, huh?”

She looks up in alarm, shaking her head, “That's not what I-”

He cuts her off, sounding more pissed off with each passing second. “Don't lie, just admit it. Stop toying with me and just admit what you are.”

Josephine stutters, “I, I don't-”

“I mean, I tried. Calls, texts, you know, being thoughtful. What do I get? Nothing.” He follows his nothing up by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gun, plopping it down on the table so Josephine and her friend can see, but the other patrons in the diner do not. You and Monty share a look of alarm, and you're finally starting to understand why she might have hidden this away. Josephine and her friend both look panicked, but Josephine sits silently as her friend shakily asks, “What are you doing?”

“Thinking you should shut the hell up.” The friend snaps her mouth closed, obliging his demand, and he turns his gaze back to Josephine. “Message received, you stuck up bitch. You don't want to see me, but you can see this.”

And before anyone can say anything, he lifts the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger, killing himself and sending blood flying all over both girls. People in the diner cry out at the sound of the gunshot, and they all take off running, but Josephine and her friend stay frozen in place, shocked into stillness. You turn to Monty, your adrenaline pumping a little because of what you just witnessed, and you whisper, “This is the thing she couldn't face.”

“We need to use it to control your body.” You nod in agreement and he looks around the room for a second before he mutters, “I have an idea.”

Before you can ask what it is, the lights in the diner start to flicker as an alarm starts to blare, “Alert. Incoming bombshells. Take cover immediately.”

You look at Monty in fear and whisper, “Quick, hide.”

He does as you say, quickly jumping up and running towards the bar, ducking behind it as you stand from your chair. The door to the diner swings open, and Josephine comes stalking in, dressed the same as the version of her that’s sitting in a chair behind you, covered in blood. This Josephine, however, is clean, but she is pissed. She takes one look at you and screams, “You never should have come here! Get out!”

Her words echo in your ears, the force of them sending you back to your side of the divide. As you look at the red door in shock, it suddenly flies open and Josephine dives out, knocking you both to the ground before she moves to straddle you, her hands flying to your neck. She squeezes hard, spots already dancing along the edges of your vision as she grunts, “I gave you the chance to go quietly. I said I'd help your people. Deal's off!”

And just when you think it's the end for you, she’s gone, her body disappearing off of you in the blink of an eye. You roll over and cough, struggling to take in the air she nearly stole from you, and as soon as you catch your breath, you stare at the red door, now closed. You’re hit with a realization as you try to comprehend her speedy exit, one that can be the only answer as to why she wouldn't finish the job. “She's awake.”

You stand staring at the door for a long minute, trying to figure out what to do. Now that Josephine knows you’re fighting back, you have to keep going and you have to win. Otherwise she’ll kill everyone that you love just because she can, and those she doesn't kill she’ll cast out, leaving them to struggle to survive on this complicated ass moon. 

Monty’s last words to you before Josephine’s arrival were that he had a plan. And considering the fact that he’s still in her darkest memory, that means that you are still inside her darkest memory, since he is a subconscious projection of you. That’s why you reach out for the doorknob again and push your way inside, arriving inside of Josephine’s neatly organized library. You run past the shelves and head to the door, worried when you see that the light on the door is red again, and you have no idea on how you can hack it like Monty did. You decide to take a risk and knock on the door, whispering, “Monty, are you there? It’s me.”

The door pulls open and a hand grabs you and tugs you inside. You start to worry that it���s Josephine, fully prepared to send you back to your side again, but you’re relieved to see that it’s actually Monty, standing in front of you and holding up a pen and small paper pad. “Morse Code.”

“What?”

“We’ll use the lights to send a message with Morse Code.”

You shake your head, growing panicked again. “I don't know Morse Code.”

“Yes you do, you learned it when Clarke did. The memory’s boxed up, shoved to the side in favor of more useful skills, but since we’re inside of your memory, it’s much easier to find the box. In fact,” he uncaps the pen and writes quickly for a second before passing the notepad to you. “I already did.”

The notepad has a message, one word, simple, formed with dots and dashes. The message, scribbled on a waitress’s notepad in a memory that does not belong to you, gives you more hope than any other message has ever given you before. You rush over to one of the abandoned tables in the diner, tugging down one of the strands of lights so that you can easily reach it. And then you plop down into the chair across from Monty, twisting the light to turn it on and off, signaling out the code that Monty wrote out for you. 

●— A

●—●● L

●● I

●●●— V

● E

 -

Clarke freezes as the door to the palace opens and her twin walks in. Except, it’s not her twin. 

It’s your body, but you are no longer inside. 

She knows she should be listening to whatever the hell Russell is saying, but she can't bring herself to focus, her eyes still locked on you. Josephine doesn’t seem to notice though, she just stands near the back of the room, waiting patiently to talk to her dad. Though, maybe it’s more like waiting impatiently, because she’s tapping her arm while she waits. At first, Clarke doesn’t find anything odd about that, until her eyes notice that the tapping is occurring in a pattern, and the pattern is repeating in a loop. 

Josephine clears her throat, asking for the attention of the others in the room, and Clarke uses the temporary distraction to nudge Bellamy. He looks over at her in confusion, and she nods her head to Josephine, silently communicating what she’s seeing. Bellamy follows her gaze over to the former body of his fiance, catching onto the same strange pattern being tapped out. But Bellamy recognizes it for what it is first, and he flips a page in his notebook before he begins to write quickly, marking out the dots and dashes in the order they appear in.

Russell demands his attention again, and Bellamy manages to keep it together just long enough to end the meeting and get Clarke and Miller outside. He already knows what the symbols mean, easily able to translate the code in his head, and he’s practically bouncing with excitement. Clarke nearly breaks his hand when they get outside of the room, when she grabs it tight so she can drag him away into a private corner. “What does it say?”

Bellamy writes the letters next to their corresponding symbols, translating the message out for the remaining Griffin twin. He turns the notepad around so she can read it, the word leaving her mouth in a breathy whisper. “Alive.”

She looks up at Bellamy in disbelief. “She’s alive?”

“Looks like it.” Both of their faces split into wide grins, this information the happiest news they’ve ever heard. Miller is still struggling to understand, his gaze flitting between the pair in confusion. “What does it mean?”

Clarke turns to him, her expression getting serious as she realizes what they have to do now. “It means my la lune is alive, and we’re gonna get her back.”

-

[prairiesongserial]

16.1

The lights on the burlesque stage went out just as Friday’s brassiere fell open - the timing of which she and Abernathy had been practicing for days. The crowd was so reactive that Friday felt the whistles and applause reverberating in the floorboards as she hustled off the stage. It was a louder reception than she was used to. She’d had fans at the Ace, but unlike the burlesque tent of the Madsen and Graves Circus, the Ace was just as much about drinking and catching up with friends over cards as it was about the girls.

Behind the curtain, in the tiny staging area, Beatrix was getting ready for her fan dance - she always did the finale, and it was always the same act. Friday had picked up the importance of crowd control since she first started hanging around the burlesque tent. With just cloth tent-flaps between yourself and a crowd that had been waiting a year for the circus to come through town, it was important they understood when the show was over.

A little girl popped through the curtain behind Friday while Friday was still trying to fix her brassiere back in place.

“Hey, baby,” Friday said, shooting her a smile. Jaelle, All-Fair’s kid, had been working the crowd. It was odd - usually Johannes did the burlesque tent himself, or at least got one of the men to do it. They blended in better. On the other hand, looking at the dozens of rings jammed on Jaelle’s fingers and the watches crawling up her arms, maybe the kid was the right choice.

“Hello, Miss Friday,” Jaelle said. She deposited her goods in the tin lock-box that Abernathy would come collect at the end of the night, turning the key with an air of great importance. “Can’t stay and chat - Johannes has me working every tent in the circus.” She heaved a sigh. “Bury me standing - I’ve been on my knees all my life.”

Friday had no idea what Jaelle was talking about, but the kid took off before she could ask. The circus would be winding down, now that the burlesque tent was putting on its last show. Friday threw slacks and a shirt on over her sequined underwear, still soaked in sweat from performing. She needed an ice cream cone before the stall packed up for the night.

When Friday left the tent, she was abruptly reminded that this was no ordinary show.

Her boots tread on grass, but there was no sky here. Despite the fact that it should have been past ten at night, dozens of lights high up on a domed ceiling gave the impression of daylight. Johannes’s amplified voice reached her from the main tent as he announced the last attraction. All at once, the lights on the ceiling shifted from yellow to orange to red, performing dusk in a matter of seconds. If not for that, the effect would have been eerily realistic.

Friday got a strawberry cone from Di and decided to wander over to the main tent. Might as well.

The last act in the main tent was fire-hooping, which was worth watching. The twin clowns had shed the baggy overalls from their tumbling routine and now wore form-fitting red and blue harlequin outfits as the flaming hula hoops arced through the air in perfect sync. Not only were the fire-hoopers impressive, but when the flames were extinguished at the end of the show, it made for a powerful symbol. Lights out, go home.

Friday felt the lightest touch against her back pocket. Most people would have written it off as the movement of displaced air as someone nearby walked past. Friday jerked her hand back and caught a slim wrist.

“Damn, I’ve been made,” Jaelle whispered.

“It’s just me,” Friday said, letting go. She beckoned Jaelle forward. “See that cluster of people three rows ahead of us, a little to the left? Heavy purses.”

Jaelle squinted in the direction Friday had indicated.

“Thanks, Miss Friday,” she said, then disappeared into the crowd again.

On stage, one of the clowns tossed her hoop up in the air, tumbled through the center of her twin’s hoop, and caught the one she’d thrown on the other side. The crowd clapped. That was the perfect moment to pick pockets. People’s hands were occupied, it was noisy, and the whole tent was filled with vibration, making little touches harder to notice. Friday felt the urge to check her own pockets again.

She did wonder at Johannes’s directive to go hard on pickpocketing this show. They were underground - had actually had to pay a toll to get into this giant bunker - and only after the steel door had been sealed behind the circus caravan had Friday learned that this was Washington, DC; home of Hemisphere Central. If Jaelle was caught picking the wrong pocket, that pocket had a pretty good chance of belonging to a powerful mobster. And the circus was trapped in here.

It was interesting how the Madsen and Graves circuit just happened to hit so many Hemisphere towns - from Everglades City to the accidental run in with the Good Guys - and now Central itself. No, interesting wasn’t the right word. At this point, it was almost boring, how obvious it was that Johannes was planning on handing her, Val, John, and Cody over to Hemisphere. Friday had finally tested her L-shaped pin against those used in the trailer hitches, and it was a perfect match. Johannes was trying to kill them, and Friday didn’t have a next move.

The fire-hooping ended with the lights shutting off just as the fires were extinguished. When they came back on, Johannes stood center stage to announce that the night of spectacle had come to a close. He’d changed backstage, and now wore a sequined suit - the left gold and the right black - and a cream cravat with a gold pin. Also cream colored was the porcelain mask that covered the top half of his face. Strange.

“Thank you all for coming to our show - that’s all the entertainment we have for you tonight. We hope you enjoyed the feats of athletics and wonder of the Madsen and Graves Circus.”

Friday spied Enis climbing down the ladder of the crow’s nest from which he controlled the lights. The crowd began to move toward the exit.

Friday wondered what Val thought about all this. She hadn’t tried to talk to him since he came back from Monocacy, but she’d pieced together from the gossip that Johannes had kissed him, it hadn’t been appreciated, and Val was pissed about it. Di, who was approaching sixty and had likely been with the circus since before Johannes was born, had called Johannes a dog and spat on the ground.

The crowd cleared the main tent surprisingly quickly - there were whispers of stopping at home to get changed. Interesting. Apparently the Madsen and Graves was the unwitting first half of a double feature.

As the last of the crowd left, circus members began to file into the main tent. Not unusual - after a show, there were sometimes special instructions for striking the sets. Friday saw Val hanging around the edges, and John and Cody front and center. She made her way over to Val.

“Catch my show?” she asked him.

Val looked at her, made an embarrassed face, then looked back to the stage.

“Would you rather I said yes?” he asked.

Friday smiled to herself, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“A girl can dream,” she said, and winked at him. Val rolled his eyes. For a second, the summer had rolled back to the start, before John, Cody, and the fire. The reminder of how things used to be made Friday forget what she wanted to say next.

“Alright people, gather round,” Johannes called out, tipping the mask up to show his face. “You all know your strike teams, but there’s a little change. Enis and Abernathy are standing in for me and Ezra. We’re gonna shmooze at the gala and see if we can’t get us some extra gigs next year.”

Ezra had joined Johannes onstage by this point. He too was dressed up, wearing a bright navy suit and polished red leather shoes. He held a red mask in one hand. 

Friday was surprised when Ezra projected his voice exactly as competently as his brother had.

“Once you’re done, feel free to go into town, buy things that aren’t good for you, and give Enis a hard time.”

The crowd of circus members laughed, and a few ribbed Enis.

“Alright, get outta here,” Johannes added.

Friday stole another glance at Val. His brow was furrowed, his eyes intense on the brothers as they descended the stage.

“Gala, huh,” Friday said. “Sounds like a high class affair.”

Val gave her the look that meant I know what you’re getting at.

“I’m just saying, beer and campfires are nice, but I’ve never been to a champagne-on-little-trays kinda party.”

Friday wanted to keep an eye on Johannes - to judge if this was going to be a planned handoff, or if he’d spend the gala advertising the bounties to interested parties. Either way, Friday needed as much advance warning as she could get. And if Val came to the gala with her, maybe he’d finally see Johannes for who he was.

“It’s a Hemisphere party,” Val said.

So don’t you think it’s interesting that Johannes is looking for work there? Friday thought. Come on, Val.

“No one’s gonna be looking for us there,” she said. “It’s a fancy ball. We’ll wear big sparkly dresses and masks and introduce ourselves as the stars of a not yet released Bellamy picture that no one’s even heard of yet. No further questions.”

“I’ll come, but I’m not doing that,” Val said. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Me? Trouble? Never,” Friday said, a wide grin growing on her face. “Come on, let’s find costumes.”

epilogue 15 || 16.2

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #29 Debonair

Clean-up is such a process, especially when you spend most of your sun elbow deep in soil, compost and whatever Maxim’s Gelmorran sapling secrets. It was truly an incredible discovery for Charlette, just how much like gum sap can be when it’s found purchase in your hair. To find out how dirt really does love to stay beneath your nails, after a long morning packing it in there one planting at a time. Yes, she was serious about her personal maintenance, but the workload triples every time she steps into that Greenhouse. It’s a good thing then, that there are few things she enjoyed more than ‘straightening-up’. Anyone that has plucked an annoying stone from the sole of their shoe can understand, just a little, the satisfaction there is in taking something blemished, and polishing it to a shine Especially when that thing is you. Even moreso, when that thing is your hopelessly slovenly friend.

“Hold this, and hold still while you do.” She’s stern with him, but you really had to be considering how poor Maxim’s posture could be when he’s protesting. She had him seated in front of her dresser, it was half the size of her sister’s to accommodate a bigger reading desk, but it was enough. He had his back to the mirror, and Charlette was facing him. She had shoved several of her tools into his hand, the rest sprawled on the side of her bed next to her. It kept his often too busy hands in one place while she worked. And what a piece of work he was. “Ow! Stop plucking so hard!” His brow creased, the skin reddening where Charlette had just plucked several hairs “Then stop trying to hold onto your stray-brows so much.” And she plucked another with a swift yank. The same way she plucked her own, immaculate eyebrows. She could tell he’d never done this before, by how overgrown they were and how intolerant he was of the process. “Tsk, I’m not holding onto them, they don’t want to leave me. I’m an addiction after all.” Considering how much Charlette was enjoying his beautification, he might have a slight point. “Roll up the ego Maxim, you have squeaked and squealed far too many times to have one by now.” He pulled his shoulders up, and took the chance to quickly nod between another pluck. “Ow! That’s true, and yet, I still think I’m the best.” Charlette snorted, and wrenched the last wandering follicle away. “The best indeed. I have not heard someone reach such a high pitch since A’nidreah tried to teach us her tribe’s whistle-speak.” She freed one of his hands, taking the pair of scissors from it and pulling at his long fringe. He took the opportunity to rub at his brow and wince. “You nearly skinned my face Charlette, what did you expect? You know I’m a screamer.” Maxim had very soft hair, the almost white-blonde colour of it giving his unkempt mane a richness to it, like it was spun from pure gold. “Hmh, do not admit that to Chloe. She will use it liberally, and cruelly against you.” She snipped, cautiously, taking away only split ends for now, but it was much too long to leave like this. “Think so? I mean, if she enjoys it, isn’t that a good thing?” Charlette leaned back just far enough to look him in the face. “No, no it is not. Gods, have some dignity boy, are you trying to get her attention or be the plaything she swats at like a cat? You know they get bored quickly with their toys, yes?” Maxim pouted at her, it made his lips look even more full. Dare she say kissable? “Yes, do that as much as possible. Chloe is an utter sap for pretty boys, and once we get you cleaned up, you will be the prettiest boy in the Village.” Snip, snip, snip. More hair fell away. Each series of strands that Charlette cut drew a concerned dart from his eyes. He looked up at her, wide-eyed and with a simpering tone said “Really? Oh, it’s my dream come true! When do I get to try on the dress and shoes? I want to feel like the Sultana on her wedding night!” Charlette combed his hair, only the very points of his bangs hanging down to the corners of his eyes. The perfect length to frame his deep-green stare, and long enough to hang and sway, but with a few ilms to twirl around a venturous finger. “Gods I am good at this.” She let him turn to the mirror. He brushed a hand through his neat, recently washed locks “What did you do? I don’t see a difference…” She hit him atop the head with the handle of the scissors. Charlette’s father, Algernon Bellamy, was a tailor by profession. Which, of course, meant he had plenty of suits for Maxim to choose from. Once Maxim had been properly groomed, so as not to look like the mud-digging Botanist that he was, they had gone to the Bellamy Patriarch for help in getting him properly dressed. The tall Duskwight stared down at the shorter Wildwood, tapping a finger to his lip. “He is a little burly for an elezen is he not?” Charlette nodded, Maxim pulling his shoulders up and crossing his arms. “Botanist, axe swinging, scythe wielding, log carrying. Can’t really avoid it.” Algernon waved a hand, puffed out a sigh and turned to the collection he had pulled out. Hanging from a long rack were several suits, all of them beautifully tailored to fit a tall, lithe man. Algernon did not deal in bright colours and garish schemes, there were no white, pink, or otherwise suits here. Greys, dark blues, deep blacks were his domain, he called it the Gelmorran suite. However, he did pull one of the brighter ones from the rack, and held it against Maxim. A shade or two darker than sapphire blue, but enough that it would stand out against a sea of navy, Maxim’s pale skin and hair stood out brighter for it. “It makes him look like a bobble-headed mammet.” Back it went, Charlette’s cackle following it, Maxim’s coming only a little after. Another suit, a darker colour. Midnight blue, but with an almost purple suggestion to it. “Ah, I like this one.” Charlette smoothed it over his chest, the shirt beneath was a steel-grey, the waistcoat a slightly brighter colour to the rest. Algernon nodded, and pressed it into Maxim’s grip. “My daughters rarely allow themselves to agree on anything, Maxim. But I am confident that, in this one, they will find common ground. If one likes it, the other should too. Try it on, let us see.” and he spun Maxim around and shoved him toward the little changing booth at the back of his studio. Maxim took his time changing and Algernon had to go in, twice, to help him with buttons and cuffs. But, once he emerged it was well worth the wait, or so Charlette thought. Maxim cut such a clear figure, the suit pulling against his shape, but adding the little debonair edge to his silhouette. The jacket smoothed his broad, for an elezen, shoulders and the waistcoat emphasized the flat of his chest and stomach. A thing you did not often see, with the baggy clothing the man favoured most suns. She raised her hands, clapped quickly along with her father who was doing the same but much more politely and with far more restraint. Maxim bowed low, his shirt popping loose from where he had half-tucked it into his trousers. “Thank you, thank you. And for the next part of our act, the Bellamy’s will turn me into an actual opo-opo in a suit.” Algernon smiled, but Charlette was up and walking around Maxim. “You look almost perfect, but there is one, very important thing I need to check first.” She reached-up, pulled his jacket from his shoulders and grabbed one arm. “Ah, c’mon Charlette! It took me ages to get that buttoned up.” she had undone his cuff, and started to roll up his sleeves. “Shut up, you will thank me later.” Once both were up, she stepped back “Cross your arms for me.” Maxim hesitated, she smacked him on the shoulder, and he complied. “Ah, there we go. Perfect.” “I don’t understand.” Maxim looked to Algernon, who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “The arms are the most important part, Maxim. Make sure you do this at some point during the evening. Chloe likes your arms.” And Maxim blushed, almost beet-red. Charlette had never seen him do that before. Maxim was combed, cleaned, clothed and just about as ready as they could get him. Though, as per usual, the calmest person throughout the entire process was Maxim himself. The man never seemed to lose his nerve, unless his hair was being cut. “No butterflies in your stomach?” She asked him. “Nope, I’m pretty sure they’ve digested by now, but I might swallow another handful so that I get that nice, fluttering sensation when you hit me again. It’s like shaking a jar full of the things! Good fun.” She hit him, and he shivered and let out a dramatic groan. “Where is Chloe, the sooner she takes you off my hands the better.” Maxim gasped, hand on heart, looking offended in a way a person who is never offended pretends. “And here I thought we were having a moment! So cruel, no wonder you’re the least popular Bellamy.” She hit him again. It was just at that moment that the door to the Bellamy home opened, and Chloe came striding into the room. “Hey Charlette. Hello dad.” She kissed Charlette on the top of her head, her father on the cheek, then rounded on the Wildwood seated between them. “Maxim! You look good, best get going or we will be late!” and she grabbed him by the wrist and all but dragged him out of the house. It was over in a handful of seconds, she had barely even looked at him. Charlette and her father exchanged glances. “That boy is doomed.”

[aerisahale]

Catharsis

Pairing: Clarke Griffin x Lexa kom Trikru Fandom: The 100 Length: 4,311 Summary:  Raven invites Clarke to stay at her house over Christmas break after the university forces all the students out of on-campus housing. Clarke doesn't expect to see her angry ex-boyfriend or the incredibly gorgeous friend of Anya's. Read it on AO3, if you prefer!

--

The chair to Clarke Griffin’s desk in her dorm room is the best seating in the small space and Raven Reyes is quick to throw herself down into it, bag hitting the ground with a thud. The bright lettering stands out against the mild background. Raven’s eyes are drawn to the flyer immediately. “Getting kicked out?”

“Just for the holidays. I have that extra semester to make up before it’s a full eviction,” Clarke says as she flops down onto her bed, her equally heavy bag hitting the floor hard.

“You going home?”

“Probably. Mom’s in Pakistan working at a Doctor’s Without Borders clinic that helps women and other refugees in the area, so I’ll have the house to myself.”

Squinting at her friend, Raven cocks her head. “Christmas alone?”

“It’s fine. I can catch up on The Mandalorian.”

“What did you do last year?”

Clarke sits up, eyes on the floor. “Bellamy and I went to his parent’s house.”

The remorse is easy to see on Raven’s face. “Sorry, Clarke. I know it’s still a sore subject.”

“It isn’t,” Clarke says quickly.

Too quickly. Raven raises a brow.

“It shouldn’t be,” she amends. “I ghosted him. Not the other way around.”

“You did the best thing for yourself. That doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt.” Raven reaches out and places a comforting hand on her friend’s knee.

“It’s been almost a year. I really am mostly over it. This is just the first Christmas in years without him.”

“You’ve been through a lot together. Despite how it ended, you cared for each other for a long time and that means something. It will always mean something.” Raven smiles her warmest smile and squeezes the knee she’s resting her hand on before pulling it away to snap her fingers. “Listen. Come to my place. You can stay in the spare room. We’re even throwing a Christmas Party.”

Clarke looks hesitant so Raven throws in a drawn out please with her best pout until her friend gives in. “But nothing crazy.”

“Just a few friends, no worries.”

--

“Thanks again for having me over,” Clarke says as she takes sets out the trays of food Anya handed her. Lining them up neatly on the countertop of the kitchen pass-through window, Clarke takes an extra moment to observe them in the whole of the setting.

An enormous tree sparkles in multiple colors in the corner of the living room, near their fireplace. Garlands, lights, and holiday-themed décor are arranged perfectly throughout the public spaces, down to the Christmas linens and hand soap in the bathrooms. All the invited guests have a stocking hanging over the fireplace as a party favor and three gifts currently sat wrapped beneath the tree for the white-elephant gift exchange planned for later in the evening.

Clarke knows all the names but one. The first hanging from the mantle is Octavia’s. Octavia, Raven and Clarke had all gone to school together and Clarke used to date her brother. She and Octavia played soccer together for awhile until the latter had transferred schools mid-year in their sophomore year. They were fairly close until that happened.

The next is John Murphy’s. There were so many John’s in high school that everyone started calling him Murphy and it stuck. Murphy wasn’t always her favorite person, as her moral compass did not quite point in the same direction as his, but she did not foresee them having any issues. She had a particularly fond memory of a time where they both got called to the principal’s office—both for very different concerns—and they had shared a pair of headphones while waiting.

After his was Emori Emmerson’s. She only knew of her. They did not frequent any of the same social groups growing up, but she had fallen in with Raven and Murphy, the latter of which she was dating. As far as Raven told it, she was fun to be around and had the same sense of humor as Raven.

Nathan Miller and Eric Jackson followed Emori’s and Clarke hoped they were still together. They started dating in their junior year of high school and seemed like a picture-perfect couple. She still saw the occasional Facebook post of stunning settings such as where they held hands against the backdrop of a vivid sunset. If anyone was going to make it through as high-school sweethearts, it was them.

Remember when they said that about you and Bellamy? Her traitorous brain completes the thought before she can stop it and it makes her angry. She argues back, Remember all the times he blamed me for things that were out of my control? Like the time you refused sex because you were on your period?

Satisfaction makes her smile when nothing else decides to bubble to the surface. Focusing her attention on the final stocking, the name she doesn’t know intriguing the curious, non-traitorous part of her mind. Lexa. She finds herself whispering it under her breath, enjoying the feel of it rolling over her tongue.

A knock on the door pulls her attention and Raven claps her hands as she sets the napkins in her hand next to the plates that were beside Anya’s appetizers that Clarke had laid out. The front door opens to reveal Miller and Jackson first, gifts tucked under their arms as they each pull Raven into a hug with their free arms. Those three converse for a minute before Raven takes their jackets and hangs them in the breezeway closet while Jackson puts their gifts under the tree next to the other three.

Miller sees Clarke first and waves to her, Jackson’s attention going that way moments after. She moves to hug them both, greeting them. “How have you guys been? I’m so glad to see you!” Privately, she adds, Together.

The exchange pleasantries as Raven starts pressing buttons on their stereo system until Christmas pop spills out of the speakers distributed well throughout the house. Clarke can hear it coming from the kitchen even. The lights on the Christmas tree dance to the beat and Clarke knows Raven enjoyed setting that up.

Another knock finds John and Emori on the other side of the door and the couple enters. The conversations of seven people fill the house with chatter and laughter, swirling with the Christmas music and the emerging, mouthwatering scent of warm sugar wafting out of the kitchen. The dancing lights distract Clarke from the next guest that enters, letting the cheerful music sit in her soul like a hearth fire, warmth filling her bones. It’s not with regret that her eyes find the next guest, she just wishes she had been paying attention because the woman she finds steals her breath.

She only sucks in another when the stranger is coming towards her, guided towards the food by Raven. Clarke panics. She ducks into the kitchen and finds herself staring into the fridge for absolutely nothing. The amount of cheese sticks Raven has stuffed into the crisper drawer is concerning, however. At least its twin is actually packed with vegetables.

“Oh, Clarke!” she hears Raven say and she takes a moment to pre-compose her reply to the inevitable introduction. Armed with her most charming smile, she turns away from the cheese overload, closing the door behind her. “This is Lexa! She’s a friend of Anya’s.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Clarke!” She holds out her hand and tries not to wince at how overly-perky she sounds. Raven gives her a weird look and she knows she’s doing too much. She tries to dial it down by three notches as she asks, “How do you know Anya?”

There is an awkward moment where Lexa just stares at Clarke and she begins to wonder if she forgot to ask the question out loud until Raven says, “They grew up together, a lot like we did.”

The doorbell rings and Raven excuses herself, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone in the kitchen, alone in the uncomfortable silence as Clarke mulls over the fact that the other woman has yet to say anything to her. She wonders if the silence was better when the woman trips over her speedy question, “You’re the pre-med student that Raven goes to school with?”

“Ah, yeah, yes. I graduate in April. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage?”

“Sorry,” color warms her pale cheeks as Lexa clears her throat and says in a much more paced tone, “Anya mentioned you might be here. What is your major?”

“Double-majoring, actually. I have one more semester to get my Bio and Chem degrees. Then off to med school.”

“You’ve already taken the MCATs?” the woman asks and Clarke is caught off guard.

“Yeah! Took them in my junior year to save time. I start at Harvard Med right after graduation.”

Surprise widens the woman’s green eyes and Clarke’s heart races. “I will be attending Harvard in January.”

“Small world,” Clarke jokes in an attempt to soothe her nerves. “What are you studying?”

Lexa smiles and the house around Clarke is spinning giddy circles to match the butterflies in her chest. “I also took the LSAT in my junior year. I just finished a double in Poli-Sci and History.”

“A lawyer!”

“Indeed. The real goal is to get into Congress, down the road. I hope for more, but that is my realistic goal.”

“That’s amazing! I have this feeling that you would be impressive at it.” Lexa smiles wide. “Thank you, Clarke.”

The way Lexa’s voice pops on the K of her name has Clarke wondering what she would sounds like if Clarke had her quivering under her mouth and the way Lexa is looking right through her, as if she can read her thoughts, has heat creeping up her neck and across her face. To distract herself, she turns towards the living room, surveying through the pass-through window.

Her eyes lock with familiar ones, the last ones she ever wanted to see again. His eyes were already on her and she feels trapped all over again. She spins around and suddenly finds herself breathing heavily. Lexa lays a hand on her back, rubbing a soothing circle as Clarke continues to chase her breath.

She turns back towards the party to see Raven looking at her with concern, mouthing, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ and Bellamy just behind her, eyes locked on the spot on her arm that Lexa’s hand gently remains. Only when Lexa’s arm drops back to her side does Bellamy say coldly, at odds with the words themselves, “Nice to see you again, Clarke.”

“Wish I could say the same!” Clarke blurts before pushing past him and beating a hasty retreat to the far corner of the living room.

Octavia finds her shortly and fills her in on what she has been doing, over the years. She keeps glancing at the kitchen door but she doesn’t think Bellamy has left there yet. Chuckling weakly at a joke that Octavia made, she jumps when Bellamy is suddenly at Octavia’s elbow, eyebrows drawn in anger. He speaks quietly enough that Octavia and Clarke are the only ones to hear him. “Why are you joking around with her?”

“We were friends before I switched schools, Bells.”

His voice rises slightly louder, people close to them glancing towards the group. “Friends? You don’t even know what you’re saying, Octavia.”

“Bellamy.” Clarke says his name in warning at the same time as Octavia tells him to stop making a scene.

“No, I think it’s time you—it’s time everyone knew the real Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy raises his voice, the conversation in the house falling silent as everyone focused in on them in the corner. The cheerful Christmas music and rhythmically twinkling lights at odds with the suddenly tense air. “You changed schools because of Clarke.”

“What?” Octavia asks. “What are you talking about? What is he talking about, Clarke?”

Shame fills every inch of Clarke as she stares at the ground, all eyes on her. Torn between running and praying a miraculous sinkhole swallowed her and only her, Clarke stays rooted to the spot. She tries to look at Octavia but can’t meet her confused gaze.

“Clarke planted the drugs in your locker that got you expelled from Arkadia High.”

The chill in Octavia’s voice actually makes Clarke shiver and she finally gathers the courage to meet her former friend’s furious eyes, “Explain, Clarke.”

“You…You all know how…competitive and ambitious I was in high school. I…put the drugs in your backpack the day before and then told the school officer about them. I thought it would just get you kicked off the team! We were both up for Captain and—at the time I thought it was what I had to do to win. I was young and dumb. I swear I had no idea you would be expelled. Please, Octavia, I’m so sorry.”

Octavia doesn’t say another word, storming out of the front door. Clarke is quick to follow, just behind her as the dark-haired woman keeps her steady march towards, well, Clarke isn’t really sure. Suddenly, she stops and whips around, finger pointed right at Clarke, jamming it into her collar bone to enunciate her words.

“You never told me? You never owned up to it? Even after you saw the consequences of those actions?”

“Octavia, I’m so sorry. Nothing I can say can ever make up for that.”

“I had to go to court!” Stab. “I had to go to therapy!” Stab. “No one believed they weren’t mine.” Stab. “Except Bellamy, and I guess I know why now.”

“No, no!” Clarke is quick to say, pleading with her eyes. “Octavia he always believed you. I only told him later when I was beyond drunk and feeling extremely guilty. I swear, he was always on your side.”

“And the worst fucking part, Clarke? Is that you lied! For all these years.”

“Please, Octavia. I know I can never make it up to you now, but you have to know, if I could go back and do it over, I would never have done it. I hated the person I was and I’ve learned from those choices. I choose every day to be a better person. I’m becoming a doctor to save lives, not ruin them. Maybe that’s why, if I’m being honest.”

The anger drains out of Octavia and Clarke holds her breath. “I was angry for a long time. I never knew how they got there. I did a lot of unsafe, unhealthy things that I regret while coping with that anger.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke breathes out.

“Look, I’m trying to say: I get it. We all have done things we’re ashamed of. All we can do is move forward and be a better person than we were yesterday. I definitely can’t forgive you yet, but let’s take it a day at a time and not let this ruin Christmas any more than it has.”

Clarke admires the woman Octavia has become, wonders what she went through to become this level-headed woman before her. In high school, Octavia would hold the longest grudges. Quick to anger and quick to give it a home adjacent to her heart where she would house it forever. It is part of the reason Clarke could never come clean about what happened.

Octavia heads back in, but Clarke stays in the cold a moment longer, taking a few deep breaths to calm her emotions before following back into the warmth. The Christmas music filled the quiet house, as everyone murmured quietly to one another. Bellamy stood in the back and it looked like he was quietly arguing with Octavia.

It took the party a while to lose the tense atmosphere, but it eventually did. Clarke kept near Raven, worried what the others must think of her, learning one of her deepest regrets. Not too long after the conversation picked back up, Raven pulled out a game of Pictionary and divided the group into teams. One team had Raven, Anya, Clarke, Bellamy, and Lexa and the other had Octavia, Miller, Jackson, Murphy, and Emori.

Clarke is chosen to draw first, and after Emori earned her team 4 spaces on the board, the turn passed to her. The first things she had to draw was stained glass. A church window came to mind and she quickly sketched Saint Mary as the centerpiece to a Curved window with lines to represent the where the glass was different colored. She thought this was going to be hard for any of them to guess but Lexa guessed correctly at the same time as Bellamy shouted, “Mary, the mother of Jesus!”

“Yes, but not exactly correct. Lexa got it, though. Roll for us?” Clarke tried to say it as gently as possible.

It turned into a competition between the two, or at least, as far as Bellamy was concerned. Every time it was Clarke’s turn to draw he would try to shout over Lexa, usually incorrectly. He would glare every time Lexa was right and he was wrong. Eventually, the game ended and Clarke’s team won, but barely. Despite the problematic moments, Clarke really relished how well Lexa got her.

She offers to help clean up as Lexa starts doing it. They gathered up the pieces and fit it all neatly back into the box. Clarke smiles at her. “Let me show you where it goes.”

Clarke leads her down the hallway to a closet and opens the door for her. She reaches in and turns the light on towards the side and Lexa slides past her to add the box to the stack of board games already in there. As Lexa turns to leave, she caught Clarke looking up and swallowing. She follows her gaze. Mistletoe.

Clarke glances back down in time to watch Lexa’s eyes dart up and she suddenly realizes how close the two are. She chuckles and attempts a joke, “Who puts mistletoe over a closet door? I feel like this is some sort of ‘coming out of the closet’ joke.”

“We don’t have to—” Lexa starts.

“But it is tradition—” Clarke stumbles.

“It is—" Lexa gets out before she’s crashing her lips into Clarke’s, missing by slightly too much before she pulls back and finds her center, placing a proper kiss on the shorter woman. Clarke moans into it, surprising herself, as she parts her lips for Lexa’s tongue that wastes no time in seeking askance.

It’s over as soon as it starts, as the sound of a toilet flushing just further down the hall has them pulling apart. Bellamy emerges and there’s no making excuses for what they’d just been doing. Anger further clouds Bellamy’s face as he says, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He storms past them and down the hall, turning back to shout. “Good riddance, you fucking slut.”

Octavia’s reply in the second sudden silence of the party at Bellamy’s hands issues down the hall, “You did not just slut-shame someone.”

“Yeah, I fucking did. Clarke is down her making out with Lexa after she fucking ghosted me.”

Clarke and Lexa head back out to the scene being made about them in the living room. All eyes are once again on Clarke as she confronts her ex-boyfriend. “You act like this, Bellamy! You act like this and worse, all the time. This is why I left you!”

“We spent years together and now you’re fucking some random chick!”

“First of all, it’s been almost a year since we broke up. Second of all, we were not fucking, clearly.”

“Third, she can do whatever she wants!” Octavia intercedes. “We don’t slut-shame in this house.”

“Once again, O, you have no idea what you’re talking about. The things Clarke and I have been through together mean something.”

“Look-“ Clarke starts to say, but Bellamy is hearing none of it, already set on his path.

“She was a secret fucking teen mom and now she’s hooking up with a stranger in her friend’s fucking closet. This is ridiculous. I’m glad I broke up with her. I clearly don’t know her at all.”

“What the fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke growls. “It took two to be that fucking teen mom!”

“Teen mom, for a minute, anyway. I’m fucking out. Fuck this shit.” He slams the door behind him and Clarke sways. Lexa is at her elbow and quickly has an arm around her waist.

“Let’s go sit down, okay?”

She lets the other woman guide her to the couch, taking a seat beside her. The soothing hand from earlier is back, rubbing circles into her back, and this time, Clarke leans into it. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, building a dam around the tsunami of emotions coursing through her, knowing her friends want an explanation.

Lexa is a silent but reassuring presence at her side. Raven looks heartbroken. Octavia is furious. The others wear looks of mild concern to curiosity. Raven is the first to break the silence, “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I—I want to. It’s time. It’s been years. I got pregnant in senior year. Bellamy’s, of course. It’s why I worked so hard to graduate early and why I took classes online for the first three semesters. I gave birth to a beautiful, amazing, healthy baby girl, but I wasn’t ready to be a mom. So, she was adopted by this lovely couple with enough money and time to give her an amazing life that I wasn’t sure I could guarantee her.”

She takes a few deep breaths, bolstered by the hand on her back, by the awe on her friend’s faces, by the love. “I was really depressed for months afterwards. Bellamy always supported my choice, he just didn’t get it, you know? I joined a Post-Partum Depression support group and ended up becoming friends with this other woman who also gave up her child and was experiencing a lot of the same feelings I was. Eventually, I worked through it.”

“I was different afterwards, and so was Bellamy. He was irritable, blamed me for a lot of things that weren’t my fault. I think deep down, even beyond admitting it to himself, that he blamed me for us not having our child with us. I think he felt pressured to support whatever decision I made and never voiced any of his feelings on it and it led to the rift that formed between us, until, one day, I just left.”

All of the shame and guilt that Clarke has carried with her for years felt lighter. Something else had changed tonight, and Bellamy was still an asshole, but it was all cathartic in some way. She smiles over at Lexa. “Nothing like meeting a cute girl and finding out all her deepest, darkest secrets, am I right?”

Lexa laughs and everyone else joins in. The atmosphere lightens and people begin a few side conversations. Raven throws herself into Clarke’s lap and pulls her into a tight embrace. “I love you, Clarke. I’m so sorry that this all happened tonight, but I hope it turns into something that helps you heal. I’m always here for you.”

“I love you, too, Raven. We should probably talk more about it, but later.”

“Oh, and, by the way, there might be some mistletoe hiding up there above the couch!” Raven points as she darts off Clarke’s lap, leaving her next to just Lexa, who she pulls into another kiss, drawing hollers from the crowd. “You owe me ten bucks,” she hears from John Murphy and she breaks the kiss in laughter.

“I know it’s been a pretty intense night, but I really am pretty attracted to you and I heard I might be living in the same city as you in a few months.”

“I feel the same way, Clarke. Following the tradition of candor this evening, Anya hoped we might hit it off tonight. She told me all about you and I was so stunned by how beautiful you are, I forgot how to talk when she introduced me.”

“Let’s exchange numbers for now and we can see how things play out once I move out there?”

Lexa smiles and kisses Clarke again. “I’ll miss these lips, but that sounds good.”

-- One Year Later --

“We’re going to Raven and Anya’s for Christmas, right?” Clarke asks.

“That’s the plan. Is Bellamy going to be there?”

“He is,” Clarke begins, stopping Lexa’s protests with, “but he’s bringing his girlfriend, and he seems to really be working on himself. However, in honor of last year, I proposed a new game to Raven. Confessions: The Game of Secrets and Lies. With a few custom added cards to carry on the tradition of last year, but it’s his turn.”

“Clarke.” Lexa frowns.

“All in good nature! I promise. Not like he was. Besides, it was pretty smooth sailing for us after all that!”

“Just because it worked out for us, that doesn’t make it a good model to cementing the foundation of a new relationship.”

“Okay, but it made mine and Octavia’s relationship even stronger!” Clarke adds with a sweet smile at her girlfriend. “Fine! Without the custom cards. Maybe. I reserve the right to be petty.”

“I am really glad I met you that night.”

“Maybe there will be more mistletoe!”

“Any excuse to kiss me?”

“As if I need an excuse! No, this party I’m going for scandalous!” Clarke directs a devilish smirk towards Lexa. “Gotta keep ‘em guessing.”

Lexa laughs. “Alright, scandalous, it is. Let’s practice right now.”

Clarke groans as Lexa bites right into the spot she knows drives her crazy. Their clothes hit the floor as they make their way towards their bedroom, thoughts of Christmas parties long gone.