#...unless anyone asks for more scenes. get my brain rolling and it doesn't stop.

[lordtraco-fanfics]

*flips two tables* Back by popular demand! Nimbasa Trio Soul Eater AU Reunion Scene!

(No pokemon are hurt beyond status effects. Knife boys are knice boys.) (Continued here)

...

"I like a good challenge! But this is ridiculous!"

"We do seem pretty eevee-nly matched." Elesa agreed, smiling at the mild annoyance she felt through their connection. The puns helped keep her just a bit cocky to match Emmet. Or was it him who raised his confidence to match hers? When they resonated like this it was hard to tell.

Emmet's smile was visible in the glint of the blade she held. Her other hand clenched around-

Nothing.

The sudden pang of grief had them both recoiling at the worst possible moment.

"Dodge!" Emmet's voice cried out as a fireball came at them. She couldn't move fast enough, so she braced herself for the burn.

It never came. The knife in her hand shifted in time to protect her. Emmet's pained grimace broke as he swore harshly. Elesa couldn't see how badly he was hurt with him facing her.

"Emmet!" She held out her arm.

"Verrrry bad timing, Elesa. Get serious!" He clapped a hand to hers, flashing a reassuring grin.

Moving her arm to her side as he shifted, she stared down their opponent with renewed vigor. Static crackled around her and she felt a smile creep onto her lips.

It was different, beautifully so, to only resonate with Emmet. She refused to think on what they'd lost. On who they'd lost. Instead they focused on gratitude.

That was the symphony they played as they moved, slicing through the frenzied Hydreigon's fireballs before they could hit. Occasionally their collected friction allowed them to unleash their own sort of Thunder Wave.

Which would have been great if only the pokemon would stop FLYING!

"Throw me!"

"No!"

"We're getting nowhere! You're tired!"

"It's calmed down some! Weavile be ok!"

"You are the worst!" Ah, he was laughing at that one. It wasn't exactly a joyful one, moreso an incredulous reaction to her joking at a time like this. But Elesa counted it as a win.

And Emmet loved the feeling of winning.

"You're right, though. We have to get closer and finish this fast!" Elesa changed course from dodging in a circle around the dragon type to running straight at it.

"All Aboard!" They yelled in unison, jumping high into the air and latching onto the pokemon as it tried to take flight. The static electricity finally hit, paralyzing the huge Hydreigon.

Except it failed to use fly. And they were right under its massive size as it began to fall.

Emmet felt the idea before it happened and tried to voice his opposition, but couldn't. He hated the irony of her only NOW listening to him.

Before the pokemon could complete its inadvertent body slam onto them, Elesa threw Emmet to safety.

"ELESA!" He screamed out as his soul felt the connection snap. He shifted to human form and cut his hands and shoes on the concrete fighting the momentum of her throw.

His burnt back screamed in agony and he felt so deathly alone. She was only knocked out, but in his panic he couldn't sense her soul. Not again. Not again!!

As he crawled forward, the huge Hydreigon twitched and opened its fiery eyes again. Despite the crackling electricity around it, the pokemon opened its maw and readied an attack at him.

Emmet refused to blink as the bright light and heat got closer and closer. He refused to go out weakly.

But then he was yanked out of the way. Everything looked so dark after staring straight into a flamethrower attack. He thought he was seeing things.

But his soul knew. He grabbed his twin's hand, the one his weapon form was built for. Without words, they conveyed the situation.

Ingo shot a hand out, tipping his hat with the other. The knife in his hand pointed straight at the frenzied dragon.

"Bravo! You have made it very far! However, this is your stop!" Ingo yelled before running toward the opponent at an angle, drawing its attention away from Elesa.

His quick jumps and speedy turns kept him from the worst of the burns as they tried to wear out the pokemon's stamina.

///

Inside, Ingo tread carefully into the familiar soul space. It was a train car, speeding along some vast darkness. He could vaguely remember it being brighter.

A shape in the darkness shifted, backing away from him.

"Emmet."

"You won't like it." The shape said in that empty tone he recognized so well.

"What?"

"I've made a mess." Ingo wished he could see his brother's face. He expressed through body language where words failed, and words were certainly failing.

\\\

Ingo gave up on trying to resonate, deciding the best course was to steam ahead until the frenzy wore off. He had a lot of endurance thanks to his time in Hisui.

His time in Hisui told him that time wasn't going to quell the frenzy, but he ignored that.

"Ingo, Emmet!"

Ingo dodged a fireball, changing tracks. He felt both his and Emmet's souls leap in relief as they ran to their meister, their friend, their sister!

It was a strange feeling, one he hadn't experienced once in Hisui. But it was so familiar and instinctive, it felt like home. A small smile shone in the knife in Elesa's left hand while a brilliant smile shone mirrored to the right.

\\\

Elesa danced into the soul train, lights shining on her like spotlights. As she reached out a hand, Emmet stood and joined her.

Ingo saw his brother was in a wrinkled suit. His cheeks had heavy tear stains and he looked tired beyond words, but he still glided along in a silent dance with her.

As she held out the other hand, Ingo held her hand and twirled beneath it, striking a pose beside her. He mirrored his brother's stance perfectly.

///

Relief. Relief, belonging, love beyond measure, a sense of home, a sense of safety, and a warm hope for the future all blossomed forth from their trio of souls. It spread like an unseen wave of goodwill, crashing into the frenzied pokemon and far, far beyond.

The glow around the pokemon shattered in a burst of yellow, briefly lighting up the night sky like stars.

The quelled pokemon nodded its thanks and curled up to take a nap.

"Haha! We won!" Emmet was the first to break the silence. It eased the worries for about three seconds before he passed out from his injuries, caught by both Elesa and his brother.

As they eased him down against a nearby wall, Ingo noted Elesa also making pained noises. Despite her best efforts to suppress them, they were obvious.

Careful not to agitate either of their injuries, Ingo sat between the both of them, allowing them both to lean against him.

"Bravo, Elesa. Bravo, Emmet." He gave them little side hugs after saying each of their names. "You're both so very strong."

"Don't think you're getting out of an explanation." Elesa warned, though it wasn't very forceful with the exhaustion finally hitting her all at once.

"I wouldn't even klink about it."

"I hate you both." Emmet groaned out softly, but his gentle smile as his breathing evened out again told the opposite.

[dyker-farmer]

More bro fic.... angst fodder kind content.

Take that can away if you can

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event- not 10, jesus-, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

I also put it on Ao3.

[[MORE]]

A bitch bastard man and a bitch walk into a room... Chapter 1/2/3/4

"I think we should talk about this."

If the room was stifled before, this just causes the pin to drop, and the relative lull to shatter with it. I don't want a storm, but we can't pretend the sea's a slightly oversized pond if we want him not drowning in it- again, my mind supplies, unhelpful.

He's zoning out again, blurry eyes pointedly off me, preferring the turned-off TV.

Let's start easy. "Why did you come here, Shane?"

"I-I-" It sounds like an excuse building up and it bubbles out like a shaken can, "I don't- I shouldn't have-" he goes to up and leave, and we just can't have that.

I scrape my chair closer and grab his shoulder, same as before. Hopefully it's more placating than caging. "No, you should have. You did good. Seeking out, remember?"

He doesn't answer but stills.

"Like Dr.Campbell and Harvey said." I try again.

"Yeah… Yeah." Deep breathing. "I. Don't know." He searches for my face, not quite past the nose. I nod, ushering him on. "It's. Stupid." I frown and my eyebrow goes higher than before and he immediately doubles down. "I know- positiv' reinforchment and all that shit! But… It's hard." A tired hand wipes the most of moisture off his face, before it goes back to wriggle with the other on his lap. "It's so fuckin' hard. Didn't even last two seasons!-"

I cut him off. "Two seasons is a lot! One and a half too. Last time, you'd tried to go cold turkey on the spot. We know what that got us." Sea foam in the mouth and a shared cold in the early spring, on top of a Joja lawsuit. "Shit's hard, like you said. You lasted one and a half this time. Next time-"

"Why the fuck do you always think there's gonna be a next time."

This time, I still. My laidback demeanor mirror his, but so does the cold anger creeping in and tensing both our backs.

"Because. There is going to be a next time. And another after that. And another. Same way there's been next times before this one now."

What's left unsaid we don't touch.

All irritation floods from him like it's just pointless to keep it in anymore, and his forehead goes to thunk softly against the wooden surface he leaned on before. The table muffles his next words a little.

"I can't… keep doing that." I don't peep. "I can't keep rolling back down and then up and down, and up, and down. I- I just can't, Garcia- Uidel-"

"I'll drag you there." I shrug.

"But you shouldn't have to!" His voice raises and make the boards vibrate where his skin's still pressed. "You shouldn't have to-to fuckin'-" he sniffles, the following words drowned out in held-back sobs. "Fuck damn it, you- I said I- I wouldn't be a burden anymore!"

He's crying out loud now, open sorrow and no walls left. Out of all the things you could stick on the not-so amiable man sulking straight from bed to Jojamart to Stardrop Saloon to bed, you probably wouldn't think of "extreme scare of bothering anyone". Yet it's all here in how he collapses silently in the mattress, wake without a sound, keep his head down the whole time he crosses town, tries to merge himself in the fake-nice blue of the shelves at work, then corners himself right between the chimney and the bar on Emily's side, stuck in-between two sources of warmth that can never touch him unless he swings one way or the other. And he doesn't a lot, still keeping to himself strictly. You probably wouldn't think either of how dreamy he gets, hidden in his alcove but seeing everything from there.

When Harvey nerds out about classical, jazz and electro swing music down the bar to me, trying to catch me up on my fuzzy memories of arts history and the implications of breaking codes in the tempo and the leisure of each instruments; of how each note gets a specific response from the brain if done right, and can make up for caffeine deprivation in miraculous ways, when there are no more chances to push back the dread of midterms season at doctor school.

When Elliott, boisterous and drunk, arm-on-arm with an equally inebriated Leah, calls out to the whole place to hear out his latest soliloquy, and drags on the words too much, but with a voice that carries it well, all flamboyance and no limits, as his hair floats around him in a crown and he reigns over the room like a kind lion- Description all intoxicated words from your chicken man truly, not mine. I always get too caught up in the pendulum of Leah's braid and her crooked smile to quite appreciate his theatrics. But the recital rings clear, and everyone applauds the performance- because hey, you applaud a drunk guy showing off the prowess of not tripping a single word in a ten minutes tirade, but also because it really is that good! Everyone, even Shane, whose hands zipped to under his armpits the moment our eyes crossed and I met his pink cheeks with a clairvoyant smile.

Hey, what can I say. Dude's a sapiosexual. Hence why we'll never and cannot bang. That, and, uh, the being lesbian thing.

But all this is closed off and not for anyone to see behind see-through fogged windows, like those kitchen cabinets, when you can make out the piled plates all resting against the cold surface precariously, bound to crash and shatter the moment you open them.

It took a good wrecking ball of a fake-oblivious polite faced stranger and my incessant, hot pepper poppers-powered pestering, to even just crackles the glass.

The rest was all done out of his own volition. He can't see that because alcohol is a depressant, and guzzling it down leads to blurry concepts made softer always and pretty much lush in brain, and when he's off the thing, and that's rare, he instantly goes from not there to thinking he's everywhere, soiling everything and giving nothing.

His sobbing doesn't relent, and he whimpers issues of "trustworthy sack of shit", "not being worth the fucking shrink's money", "not being worth his aunt's troubles", "not being worth Jas". At some point he goes to grapple with his hair, and tugs brusquely once, then twice, then I have to reach for his wrist to make him stop, which he snatches back as soon as I make contact. But he doesn't grab anything to pull or pinch or punch again, so that's good. I stay on standby beside him, but don't touch him. He rasps more condemnations, struggles to breathe enough through the phlegm spreading in his respiratory system, and I start reenacting the steps to stop a hyperventilation in my head, and the first aid for choking, when he begins to cough violently, his entire frame upset with the movement.

He takes the tissue box i nudge with insistence toward him, and ends up spitting mouthfuls of mucus mixed with some bile in the basin under his feet. Most of it is clear and smells of fruits, not beer, so I'm not too worried. When I go to stabilize him by taking his shoulders, he grasps at my wrists to stop me- but let them stay here, while he clings. The tremors get to me now, and I remind myself that this is good, this is before the cliffs and him finding refuge to burst open, not glassily stare at the weeping clouds as he blabbers on the meaninglessness of his life.

This is… very alive.

I ought to be glad.

I let him come down at his rhythm, counting the pulses of his wrists as I feel mine numb with the blood circulation slowed down under his hold.

When he's back with a mind, I count to three, then let go. His arms flop back down, on his lap and hands dangling between his tighs. He blows his nose again.

"I'm so pathetic…"

"Yeah sure, and I'm a serial prom queen."

Instead of jabbing back and forth, we get interrupted by a soft mewling. Both of us turn to the door, that's opened slightly to let in Eryza, the pitter-patter of her paws on the stone flooring the only sound for a moment…

As we both stare in revulsion at her jaw, a single line of vomit dripping of it.

Shane puts his head down in shame, not even having the strenght to hide further.

"Sorry."

"Nah, 's okay. She's already trash, anyway."

Eryza edges closer and rapidly tour around our legs- going back to Shane's feet twice, her whiskers tickling his exposed ankles. Purring loudly, she completely ignore my chastizing as I threaten to make her diet periwinkle-based to counter-act her literal potty mouth, and she scampers to do who-knows-what in the rooms.

"Your vibes are rancid, do you hear me?? Rancid, girl!" I call after her. "I swear to Yoba, Shane, your aunt might as well have brought me a raccoon."

Turning back to him, I can see the short-lived humor of the situation was, well, short-lived. I sigh.

It's late. We're both tired. Tomorrow is sunday. It's cool. We've got time.

I don't sit back down right away. First, I put a hand down on the nape of his neck, that slides to the top of his scalp, right where he'd tug. My quota, remember?

He sniffles some, a few teardrops make their way to the planks, unheard. We stay like this for a moment.

He doesn't shake me off, but in the slow tandem his body takes, rocking lightly from back to forth, I can tell it's enough, for now.

I sit back down on my chair.

I lean on the hand I'd put in his dark purple strands before, smelling cedar wood and pine trees. I don't assume. My farm has plenty of those to stumble through. And even if he went back to the cliff, another time again. I do that too. With my own cliffs back at not-home, but close. There's a sense, in staring down what couldn't take you.

Like visiting a scene crime that you've narrowly escaped from. And pride too. And the thrill of asking- "what if again? What if this time?"- and okay, I can see why it'd be worrying to have him go there a thrice time on his own late in the evening.

But last time was fine, the one before was made fine, and he might need a bitch for a friend right now, but not a watchdog.

His forehead is back against the table.

Three fingers massage my temple. I don't know how much he'll even remember tomorrow, but it's worth the try, always.

"Shane, dude, look at me." He doesn't.

"Dude."

Still doesn't budge. I knock the wood lightly.

"Yo, punk, my eyes are up here." I joke.

He snorts, or maybe he sniffles, and his chin's now resting on the table, peering through the forgotten drinks to watch me. His hands are hidden, probably still clutching his midsection. If I went on a rollercoaster toasted, I'd probably look the exact same.

"I told you before that you literally couldn't be a burden."

He snorts for sure this time, derisive. I knock wood again. "Don't look away from me when I talk, young man. Rude ass punk."

"Bitch." He throws.

"Bitch bastard man." I send back. "Anyways, as I was saying. If I choose you're my dumb of ass to keep around, that's me, that's my decision. You can't burden me if I choose the hard mode package and roll with it. So stop it. I literally told you before, it's not about you not making efforts or burdening people, it's about people who want to deal with you, out of free will."

"Freaky."

"Oh shut up, you dramatic himbo wannabe."

"A what now?"

"Internet slang. Gotta admit you're closer to a dad bod type, but the energy's here, according to many."

He shuffles, self-conscious. "Y'don't need to remind me…"

"Oh hush you, you're perfectly fine. And Elliott would eat his dumb little lobster and pomegranate toasts off that belly if you'd grow out of your own shell and let him."

He sputters unintelligibly, red as a fecking pepper. Good. Flustered is better than self-depreciating.

But now he's pulled on his hood and the strings all the way out, and resumes to chanting me to fuck off, so that might be a good call for a break.

"I'm gonna change and clean up, you need anything? Do you think you'll go back to the ranch, or stay here for the night?" It's happened before, but you can count them on the fingers of one hand.

A long silence follows and I allow myself a quick look in the mirror. Yeah, we're skipping a shower tonight, but the simple hairbrush will not do. I look like a bird's nest that the birds fought in to know who'd keep the children when bird 2 takes off and bird 1 is left to mourn the empty space that'll never fill up the same again and the good times that won't be- wow, trauma lane much, not now, cowpal. First we buckle up our current rodeo. I walk back to the main room, now pajama-clad.

"I've got the beds for the possible kids up there, don't ask me why Robin put so many there, we're two people in a house, and I can lend you a Tee if you want."

He's anxious, chewing his thumb. "Emily won't mind?"

"She's out, sleeping at Haley's tonight. Girls' night and sisters catching up. It's important for her energy flow and karmic balance. Plus, you know she wouldn't mind, she likes you."

That makes him blush more, covering up the alcohol damage enough. I take note, but don't comment. Things for later. They pile up tonight.

"I- I can't go back to the ranch like this."

"You could. Marnie knows better than act as if you're doing this for fun, now. She'd have to understand. But you don't have to." I reassure him when agitated pupils jump up to me. Let's keep that ongoing panic attack at bay. "Either way, I won't mind."

I sit back. Stretch my arms between us. Catch his worrying hands into mine. Give him a squeeze. Tense appendages don't squeeze back, but don't pull back either. That's half a win. He stops torturing the poor things, and unfold with visible effort, like a crumpled up paper flower put on water. His head shakes, and I can't tell if it's conscious, him speaking with himself or trying to shake off a thought, or just a reflex. He visibly forces his shoulders to relax.

"I'm… not bothering you?" Righteous. Seeking vocal positive reinforcement, like a pro.

"Nope." I pop out the 'p'.

"... I think I'll, uh, stay for tonight."

My hands shoot into the air. "Woo! Sleepover, baby!"

I don't catch his hands curling back on themselves, trying to capture that leftover warmth in the late summer night.

--- to be continued.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Heartbreaker ~ Bellamy Blake (part 4)

A/n: This got a lot more attention than I thought it would. If anyone wants to have me start a tag list for this story just let me know :)

Word Count: 4528

MASTERLIST

Wells' death was hard on me. I was there for Clarke though mostly, which meant far less time with Bellamy. We hadn't talked about the kids or what was going on between us or where we stood yet and it was taking a toll. But Clarke was my friend and the pain she was feeling over losing Wells was more important than my romantic drama with Bellamy.

When Finn asked me to give them some space, I snuck away while he confronted her to give her some gift he was so excited about. I was sure things were fine and I had no worries.

Until I saw her bare wrist. I caught her arm as she passed me. "Clarke," I whispered, eyes wide.

She pulled her arm away. "Not now." I let it go, stepping away and getting back to work.

Just to have Murphy piss me off. When he whipped his wang out to pee on one of the others, I shoved him. Hard. He missed the kid completely. "What the FUCK is your deal?" I screamed. He faced me, our chests touching. He was taller than me but I was angry. "Get over yourself Murphy you're nothing special. Learn to back off. Bellamy said to give the kid some water."

He sneered, "You're not one to go around preaching about what Bellamy says. Aren't you team Clarke?"

"We're all on Earth you dimwit! There are no teams!"

Hands were pushing us apart and I looked over to see Bellamy himself. "Both if you calm down," he snapped. "Y/n, come with me. It seems you two need some space from each other." A look crossed Murphy's face and I could hear the words he wasn't saying in my head so clearly that I got even angrier. Teasing us about having sex or making out. Poking fun at Bellamy because he could have easily pulled Murphy away but he didn't. He pulled me. I pushed his unheard taunting words out of my head and followed after Bellamy. "What's your deal with him?" he asked. "You're usually pretty level headed these days."

I actually smiled, but it didn't last long. "He just gets under my skin. He's ruthless and seems to genuinely like hurting people. I don't feel safe with him around. And when I don't feel safe... I lash out, I guess." Bellamy nodded but before anything else could happen, Octavia and Jasper were rubbing up to us, babbling about something they had seen in the woods, and Murphy was forgotten.

Wells' missing fingers had been found and after a quick conclusion that his murderer had been on of the 100, my brain was packed with red tinted images of Murphy covered in Wells' blood. If I didn't feel safe around him before, I felt actively in danger now. I was relieved when Clarke went after him.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, shoving him hard. I watched from the tent entrance, fighting a smile. I shouldn't get joy from her pain or from Murphy's death, but... after seeing him walk around here like he owned the place, stepping on people like no one but him and Bellamy meant anything at all... I got some satisfaction from it.

"What's your problem?" he asked, laughing. The bastard.

"Recognize this?" Clarke asked, drawing Murphy's eyes as she held up to the blade.

Murphy shrugged. "It's my knife, where did you find it?" He went to reach for it but Clarke pulled it out of his reach and his hand fell to his side.

"Where you droppe dit after you killed Wells," she accused roughly.

People began gathering and Murphy seemed to stop short, his mood completely changing. "Where I WHAT?" he spat. There was a silence. And something... something was off. "The Grounders killed Wells, not me."

Clarke stepped closer to her and that anxiety and fear rose up in me again, but for her, not me. "I know what you did, and you're going to pay for it."

"Really?" Murphy eased, disbelieving. "Bellamy you really believe this crap?" He looked at his leader but Bellamy didn't say anything. I stepped forward, moving so I was next to Bell, even if we were fairly delegated by space. He was diagonal from Clarke, to her right, and I was the same but to her left. We stood a ways back, watching and unsure.

"You threatens to kill him, we all heard you," Clarke reminded, her voic elevating. "You hated Wells."

Murphy crosses his arms over his chest. "Plenty of people hated wells. His father was the chancellor!" His voice rose for that last part, as if announcing it or using it as proof. If he wasn't guilty, why did he look and act and sound so defensive? If he did, why did it feel like there was something VERY odd about this whole thing?

Clarke's voice knocked me out of my thoughts. "Not many people got in a knife with him!" she yelled.

"Yeah I didn't kill him then either," Murphy ground out.

Octavia took a small stepped forward, from standing next to her brother to standing in front of him. "Tried to kill Jasper too."

A tension rang out for a few solid seconds and I looked at Murphy calculatingly. He had fear. Real fear. But not guilt. Not the darkness or the torment of a murderer. But if he was unbothered by killing Wells, did that make him innocent or psycothic? "Come on this is ridicuslous. I don't have to answer to you- I don't have to answer to anyone!"

"Come again?" Bellamy piped up.

Another long pause. Shuffling. Tension. Awkwardness. Hesitation. Then Murphy broke it, walking past Clarke to his leader. "Bellamy," he said rather evenly. "Look, I'm telling you, man. I didn't do this."

Bellamy's eyes narrowed. "They found his fingers on the ground with your knife."

"Is this the kind of society we want?" Clarke yelled, grabbing everyone's attention again. She looked around and then looked at Bellamy, her eyes intense and her gaze accusing. "You say you want no rules- does that mean we can kill each other without- without punishment?"

Murphy stepped towards her and there was an honesty about the way he did it. No bravado, like when he played strong and brave for everyone else. "Look I already told you, I didn't kill anyone!" he seethed.

"What if he's telling the truth?" I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until that tense silence was back again and everyone was looking at me. Each and every person had an equally surprised look on their face- even Murphy. I found the need to defend myself. "I mean, just because it's his weapon doesn't mean he was automatically the one that wielded it. Just like Wells used Bellamy's gun to shoot that lion-tiger-whatever thing in the woods when you went to get Jasper. We've all heard the story." I stood taller. "Sure he's a dick and a hot head, but we know that he's all talk. No matter what he says I don't think he would really kill a person unless he absolutely had to. He can't even stand up to Bellamy without shaking in his boots." He glared at me but the look was softer than usual. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

Clarke turned to face me, anger rolling off of her in waves. Did K just out our friendship on the line for a douchebag I absolutely hated? For MURPHY? "And what if he's lying? There's plenty of evidence- I don't want to give him more time to do more damage!"

Then someone said the two words I thought I was free from and with that one phrase a type of fear I didn't know I could feel coursed through me, freezing my blood and turning my bones to steal. "Float him."

Clark whipped around to face the speaker. "That's now what I'm saying."

"Why not?" the boy asked. "He deserves to float. It's justice."

"Revenge is not justice!" Clarke snapped back.

"It's justice! Float him! Float him!" And he started cheering. The crowd around us roared and echoed his chant. It was so loud I was knocked out of my state of shocked fear and I ran to Murphy's side just as he jerked forward. For that reason only I was able to fight some people away... before a hand came across the side of my head and I was knocked flat on my back. The crowd wa smiling and I was groaning to get to my feet. I was moving, fighting, running. And then everything changed.

"Bellamy. You should do it."

Clarke was screaming, begging him not to. He didn't hear her though. He made eye contact with me and I gave him a very dark look. I mentally screamed at him not to do it. "You left Atom, I know you're not a killer!" That phrase seemed to tip him off.

He kicked the stool out from under Murphy and I was suddenly losing my center of gravity. If I was struggling with me feelings for Bellamy before, it wasn't a struggle anymore. "This is on you, Princess!" He screamed at Clarke. "You should have kept your mouth shut.

Finn ran into the scene and went to save Bellamy but he was cutoff bu the bitch boy that had started this whole thing. Bellamy was stopping Clarke and I wa the only one left. I grabbed a knife from my waist and and pushed through the crowd. The blade slid across someone's skin and caused even more panic as Charlotte screamed, "STOP IT! STOP! It wasn't Murphy didn't kill Wells!" We all grew quiet but I wasn't looking at her, I was moving to Murphy. "I did."

My blade hit the rope and Murphy fell. I was at his side immediately. "Murphy?" His fingers wrapped around my wrist gently, air desperately screaming into his lungs. My eyes skipped right over Bellamy's and I felt the pain in his chest at my complete rejection without even having to see his face for long at all. My eyes landed on Charlotte. She looked terrified and for the million time since I'd been on Earth, I was faced with another dilemma that should have been easy... but wasn't.

-

"BRING OUT THE GIRL BELLAMY!" I was the only thing that stood between a raging Murphy and Bellamy, Finn, Clarke, and Charlotte, who were inside the tent. I had my arms crossed over my chest. I wouldn't let him kill her. That's all I was thinking right now. "I thought you were done with him!" he spat at me. "I almost got killed because of her!"

"And killing her is just as bad as them trying i kill you," I replied with complete monotone.

Inside the tent, Bellamy sighed. "Why Charlotte?" He asked the young girl.

"I was just trying to slay my demons," she whimpered. "Like you told me!"

"What the hell js she talking about?" Clarke snapped.

Bellamy wa struggling. "She misunderstood me," he mumbled nervously. "Charlotte that is not what I meant."

"BRING THE GIRL OUT NOW!" Murphy screamed again. He took a step closer and I brandished my blade. He stepped back again.

"Please don't let them hurt me!" Charlotte begged, near hysterics. I couldn't just stand here for much longer. I was so tired of this...

"If you guys have any bright ideas, speak up," Bellamy grumbled. Defeat was so clear in his voice that I felt my insides begin to twist. She couldn't die. She couldn't die. She couldn't die. But there was quiet in the tent and my stomach twisted tighter. "Now you guys stay quiet?" Bellamy snapped.

"Those are your boys out there," Finn shot back.

"This is not my fault," Bellamy stayed clearly. "If she'd listened to me, those idiots would still be building the wall!"

Murphy was getting restless. "You want to build a society, Princess?" he screamed. "Let's build a society! Bring her out!

"No!" Charlotte screamed. "Please Bellamy." Her voice was soft and wet with emotion and I grunted, my teeth clicked together to right my jaw was burning.

There were whispers I couldn't hear and then Bellamy was exiting the tent. I stayed back. I didnt want to be anywhere near him right now. "Look who finally decided to join us," Murphy spat as he approached rather quickly.

"Dial it down and back off," Bellamy ordered clearly.

Murphy stepped closer again. "Or what?" He was covered in blood and my face contorted with pain. I wanted it to go away. I wanted what just happened to be rewound and hidden, buried deep and out of sight forever. "What are you gonna do about me? Hang me?" I flinched.

"I was just giving the people hat they wanted," Bellamy told him without a single care in the world. Without a lick of guilt. I didn't realize I was glaring at him until Infelt eyes on me and looked over to see Murphy looking. Then I was knocked out of my thoughts and felt the shape of my face and forced it calm. But Murphy had already seen it- the damage was done. "Yeah," he said in the same tone. "That's a good idea." He turned around to face the crowd behind him. "Why don't we do that right now?" I felt my heart drop into my toes. "So who wants to see the real murderer hung up? All in favor?" He rose his hands. His little buddies rose their hands. Maybe five people... out of the total ninety-something of us there were. Ouch. "I see." The words were filled with so much anger they seemed to ooze out of him like toothpaste being squeezed from a tube. "So it's okay to string me up for NOTHING, but when this little batch confesses, you all let her walk?!"

Silence. Dead silence. He turned to me again but this time I wasn't afraid. "They're dicks," I agreed. All eyes turned to me. "They're irrational and stupid." I looked directly at Bellamy. "This is why we have rules." My eyes moved back to Murphy. "RULES. A WAY we do things. Justice, NOT revenge. A non-bias judge. Shit like that. People just wanted to kill you because as much of a dick as they are, you're MORE of a dick. Dragging her out here is not going to reverse what's been going on this whole time. It's going to make it worse!"

His face twisted with rage. There was no talking sense into him. "COWARD!" he screamed. He stormed at me but Bellamy intervened, probably saving my ass.

"Murphy!" he hollered, face aged with dark seriousness and demanding leadership. "It's over."

"Whatever you say Boss," the bloody boy replied far too evenly. Bellamy turned away from him, catching my arm as he passed. Whatever his intentions had been, they were ruined when that second of distraction allowed Nurohy to grab one of the log chunks and whack it over Bellamy's head, knocking him unconscious. Octavia ser off screeching but all Murphy did was turn to his boys. "Let's go in and get her." I held my ground as they approached, but one of the guys stepped forward, catching me off guard as they didn't go to grab a weapon but wrapped their fingers around my throat without hesitation, squeezing my air pipe until I was unable to call oxygen into my lungs. There was shuffling and screaming but all I could see were the dark eyes of my would be killer and hear the rushing of blood in my ears as my vision started to spot and my body began to seize up.

"I SAID LET HER GO!" Air suddenly flowed back into my body. "She was there, at the beginning. Don't kill her." I hit the ground hard, gasping desperately to get my body regulated again. A hand rested on my back. "You okay?" I looked up to see Murphy. My eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You have my back, I have yours. Even if you are a pain in the ass." Then he stood and was gone.

-

"You can't go with me." I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious, Y/n! I'll move faster alone and if I get in trouble I don't want to have to face down Murphy with you there- even if he does suddenly have some soft spot for you."

"She's my friend too!" I argued, my voice hoarse and cracking. The sound made him flinch.

He moved closer and I stepped away. Pain briefly showed on his face before he hid it. "Please stay here?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Get the rest of these guys into line. I need you to be their leader just for a second. You always know what to say, what to do. Do it. Help them. I'll be back with Charlotte and we can figure something out. Okay?" When I didn't say anything he sighed. "We can fugue EVERYTHING out later."

Everything. The way he said it and the look in his eyes when the word came from his mouth. I thought of the kids neither of us had talked about. All that time hating me and now he was just as mixedbuo and lost as I was. I'd been stupid to think things would just go back to how they were before just because I confessed to him. But now it wasn't just about the rift between us because he thought I turned his sister in. Now t was about him giving in to everyone and kicking that stool away, despite me and Clarke and the justice that was demanding be served. There was a whole world between us and ut was all a mess... the promise of a solution. Of returning back to what we once were, or even just defining what we could or had to be in the lives we lived here, as the people we are now.

I stepped back. "Fine."

I would never see Charlotte again.

-

"Y/n?" It was the sixth time my name had been called in the last two minutes. They'd been trying to get through me to me for about an hour. Octavia was taking care of Jasper and Clarke was with Bellamy, explaining the situation - which is what set me off and sent me into this mode in the first place- and then ran off with Finn to get updates with the communication bracelets. After everyone had parted ways, I'd found a small corner to hide. Bellamy had found me. He was having absolutely no luck getting through to me.

"So much..." I whispered. I wasn't totally sure I was speaking out loud but I didn't care. "Pain. I think I almost find the good in people. I almost fix it. Almost get there. Almost solve the puzzle. Almost calm down. Almost find my place. Almost find my place. And then soemthing happens. They die or almost die or kill someone." I scoffed. "Wells. Charlotte. I could have even seen Murphy, maybe. If he calmed down or I could get through to him. That would have been an interesting friendship if it worked out." I shook my head. "I need my own friends. I keep making the same friends as you and Clarke and Octavia and I just want my own friends that won't die. So that I don't feel like we HAVE to work out because then I'll lose them or have to see you with another girl because I'll have to be around you all the time. I- It's so much... I've been alone for a long time and si thoughts this place would be different. And- and it is. Different. It's so much worse."

Bellamy sighed after it got quiet, signaling that I was done. "Y/n..." He say next to me. "I've always believe that love and fear and such emotions that made you irrational or complacent were dangerous because they'd get you killed. But you... you wear your wildest, ugliest emotions on your sleeve. Even when you're stone cold you still radiate your emotions, like they're coming off of you in the air or something. You have a way of finding the hope in any situation. You're strong and you're... your place is here. Working, supporting. You don't fight for power- you're fine speaking up for the little guys and supporting the big guys- as long as you find it right for you. If you disagree, you have no problem fighting for what you believe in. I know we've been through a lot in the last few days but I just need you to be okay. I- I can't lose you too."

I looked at him. "You would have let him die."

His face exploded with guilt. "He wasn't a good guy."

"He trusted you. Supported you. Obeyed you. He's as much a dick as that kid who strung him up. As much of a bad person as those that beat him up and cheered as the air left his lungs. As twisted as the piece of shit who tried to kill ME. He's messed up Bellamy, just like all of us. What about you? What did you do to get on the dropship, hm?" He looked away. "That's what I thought. None of us are really good people. Clarke could be close but she's too reckless, forgetting that other people don't think as she does. Aren't as strong or as centered or as driven or as... anchored to life as she is. We're the best we can be and that's all we can really offer. So what made him different? He was a shitty boss? He acted out more than the rest of us? He wasn't afraid to do and say the things that everyone was thinking about? Hell if he's condememned for being a bad leader then you deserve to die too." He flinched. I looked away.

"Y/n...."

"Charlotte's dead too now." And she killed Wells because- like what the fuck is wrong with us? God..."

Bellamy slowly, softly guided me closer, pulling me to him without forcing me so that if I wanted to pull away, I could. But I didn't. And when the side of my head touched his chest, I lost it. He held me and I cried and tried to breathe and make sense of the chaos of my thoughts and emotions right now. But it didn't make sense. Not at all.

My wrist burned and I hissed, jerking away from Bellamy to look down. The bracelet on my wrist had opened, falling to the ground. My eyes widened. Bellamy and I looked at each other. What had just happened? I stood, ready to hunt down Monty or Clark and make sense of why my wristband had turned off. Bellamy caught my wrist. "Wait." It was the one the wristband had been on and to feel him touch the skin there was weird. It was tender and too soft and tingly. I paused, looking back at him. He had a sort of desperation on his face and my body relaxed a bit, melting under it. I could see the questions flashing through his mind but didn't know what they were, and he seemed too overwhelmed or clueless or confused or something because he wasn't vocalizing any of them.

"I know you've been sleeping around," I mumbled. His eyes widened even further. "I'm not mad." I scoffed. "It actually gave me a moment to show how great I am at comebacks. And we're not... together. So. It's whatever. Just thought you should know, I know."

He stood. His hands went to either side of my face and he pulled me to him, smashing our lips together. Tension snapped and emotions ran free and I clung to him, pulling him as absolutely close as I could. For the second time, we kissed.

He pushed me and I tripped over something. He was only nudging me really, trying to guide me, but I'd fallen anyway. Thankfully he'd been there to catch me. "My tent?" he whispered.

I rolled my eyes, mind racing with everything going on but my heart ramming against my ribs, overpowering it all as it was super charged from his touch. His kiss. "Really, Bell? Charlotte died today. You almost killed Murphy. My wristband came off and- what if everyone's did? Why now? Why so suddenly? There's a whole world flipping on its head- my world- and all you can think about is sex?"

"You know what I'm thinking about?" he demanded of me. I paused and then shook my head. "The girl I love used me for what the fuck ever and then sold my sister out for brownie points with the counsel. For a year and a half I wa sure you were garbage, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't REALLY believe it. I couldn't shake you. You would pop up in my head at the most random moments and my whole body would ache someone was digging invisible needles into my nerves at night and then leaving me with the pain in the morning. I couldn't shake memories of kissing you or holding you or hugging you. I couldn't forget your laugh or your smile or the way your hand felt in mind. And then, I find out that the world I've been dreaming about escaping to in order to get away from you is finally mine! But you're here to taint that too, and actually, it's a total shit hole where nothing is right and it all just completely sucks. And then... you suddenly AREN'T the scum of everywhere and I don't feel wrong for wanting you and I can have you, so please excuse me for wanting you after all that."

I smiled weakly. "I'm sorry Bell..."

His forehead touched mine. "I'll forgive you for that if you forgive me for Murphy."

Honestly that was fair. I nodded and he moved close again, our breath mixing in the air between us. "Let's take it slow though. It's overwhelming just to be close to you touch you? Kiss you? Dear god, have sex with you? I might lose it." He laughed. "I'm serious! After losing you... thinking I'd never see you or O again, ever. I shut off. Turned into a robot for a year and a half. And ever since I heard your voice again all those emotions have been back except this time I don't know how to deal with them and on top of that it's been one thing after another-"

"Slow," he mumbled. "We can take it slow." I smiled gratefully. "Sleep in my tent tonight? JUST sleep, I promise. I just don't want you out here, out of sight and unprotected, when I have spit on my bed."

My face split in a grin. "I would love that." That night I slept in Bellamy's tent, in his arms. His breath was cool and his body was warm and I have never slept that well in my life.