#as he turned a blind eye - he literally was placed into Anya’s position

[byakuyasdarling]

I don’t think I’ve been so sickened and disgusted by a piece of media in a while as I have with Mouthwashing - and I don’t mean that as a criticism, it’s a testament to how powerful it is as art.

[gideongravestwinkdog]

A blind wolf in its own clothing (Pt.2?)

please take in mind the triggering contents behind "Mouthwashing" I recommend checking out this website to check for triggers, also keep in mind this is written from Jimmy's perspective.

The first part!

Jimmy wouldn’t remember the rest of the night, as if his actions had put him into a euphoric haze. Waking up the next day back where he was to begin with, feeling rather rested and with no morning wailing from curly. Regardless it was time to give curly medication, standing up and following the same routine only to find no Anya, grinding his teeth and rolling his eyes he’d grab the bottle of painkillers. Looking over how little they had and deciding the best call was to split the pill since Curly wasn’t in intense pain clearly. “Hey buddy” Jimmy said with a coo, sitting himself on the edge of the buddhis legs hanging over the side. Curly would try to avoid eye contact but Jimmy would gently turn his head, placing his thumb over the rigid skin where Curly’s lips once were and hooking a thumb into his mouth. “Y’know you’re still a lady killer, no need to worry. I’ll fix everything and we’ll be back down there in no time.” Before he could slip the pill into Curly’s mouth the door opened, Jimmy would fly himself into a standing position and smile. “Daisuke! Jesus kid you scared the shit out of me, what do you want?” Daisuke would raise an eyebrow but brush off the awkward energy nonetheless. “Swansea sent me, said something about how you could probably use some company and doing good for me to know medical skills or something like that” Daisuke would move to the side of Jimmy looking at curly with a twist in his brow. “He looks rough” even Daisuke’s intense personality couldn’t break the grim situation Curly was in, at the end of the day none of them knew or even had the materials to properly treat such aggressive burn wounds. “Let me do it” Daisuke held out his hand, Jimmy would visibly sweat at the idea of yet another person trying to fix things as if he didn’t already have it handled but still he didn’t want to come off…odd… “Fine” He placed the pill in Daisuke’s hand. The young man would look up to Jimmy to make sure he was doing it right. Jimmy took note of this and practically groveled every time they held eye contact. “Yeah, don’t act scared now. You’re doing great Kid” He spoke in an oddly sensual tone; Daisuke would carefully slip the med into his mouth, his finger sliding down Curly's throat and sending a shiver down Daisuke’s spine; keeping himself steady not wanting to seem less in front of either captain. Daisuke knew there wasn’t going to be time to make his mom proud so the least he could do was make the others on the ship. Before he had time to process what had happened Jimmy was shooting both of them out of the room and off to the kitchen. 

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i need feedback so bad,literally on anything. i feel like im writing ass LMAOO

[goldenheadfreckledheart]

We live next door to each other and I can see you through the window while you’re dancing to your iPod in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and God you’re a dork” AU. Please! Your bellarke fics are positively wonderful!

Thanks for the prompt! Hope you like it! AO3

Living in collegeapartments is… not glamorous. Walls are thin, pipes are thinner, and working air conditioning is a luxury. But it’s notterrible, Clarke finds, as long as you have excellent roommates to share in howmuch it objectively sucks. Raven and Anyafit that bill, so she considers herself lucky.

Plus, their windows openinto an alleyway between their apartment building and the next. Which might notsound like a plus, but when the alternative is street facing windows that donothing to stop the sounds of drunk college students when you’re trying tosleep the night before a midterm—the difference is staggering.

So, suffice it to say,Clarke largely likes her apartment. It’s great, for what it is.

Until it betrays her.

The first thing BellamyBlake says when he comes in for his shift at the bookstore—the Monday morningshift, that, unfortunately, she shares—is, “Nice moves last night, Princess.”

Most of the time,Bellamy is full of shit, but as he shucks off his jacket the smirk on his facesays he’s getting away with something, so she quickly runs through the eventsof the previous night, searching for any instances of embarrassment he mighthave been privy to.

…and comes up withnothing. She didn’t go out after she’d come back from class, and she and Ravendidn’t get drunk, precluding any chance that she’d sent out some drunkensnapchats he might have seen. (She has him on snapchat for bookstore-related emergencies, alright?) In fact, shespent most of the night working on her chem lab assignment, finally finishingaround midnight, so really, there’s nothing for him to have seen.

So she scoffs,dismissive, and keeps working, only mildly interested in what kind of scheme he’srunning.

“What are you talkingabout?” she asks, clicking through their schedule to see if they have anydeliveries scheduled today.

He grins at her, wide, justwhen she spares him a glance, and she has to physically force it to not affecther. Because Bellamy Blake might be a snarky asshole, but that doesn’t make himany less… well, hot. Which is a wholeother level of unfair.

“It’s nothing to beembarrassed about. Everyone needs to jam to Taylor Swift once in a while. It’sa good de-stressor. I’m not judging.”

His words send her backto the night before. To a part she’d skipped over. After she’d finished herassignment and before going to bed, when she had, in fact, been jamming toTaylor Swift… and singing along at the top of her lungs.

She’s about to tell himhe’s an irritating dick, until sheremembers why she’d skimmed over thatpart before.

Because she’d beenalone. In her room. When no one else was home.

With a quick glance tosee that Monty has the register covered, the blood draining from her face, shedrags Bellamy to the back, out of sight of any customers.

“What the fuck, Bellamy? Are you stalking me?”

It’s a fuckingterrifying thought—and certainly not one she’d ever thought she’d have to accusehim of. Because for all Bellamy’s a pain in the ass, he’s never stepped pastthe line of mildly-abrasive. She’d always kind of… liked him, underneath allthe bravado and teasing. She knows he makes good grades, and that he’dpractically raised his little sister. And above that, a fair few of her friendsknow and like him, which goes a long way in her eyes.

But this…

Before she can evenponder why he’d do this, the confusion drops off his face, replaced with a lookof horror.

“What? No! I’m not stalking you!”

He looks genuinelyappalled. Which is somewhat comforting, given he wears his emotions on hissleeve. But it still doesn’t explainanything.

“Then how the fuck didyou see me last night?”

“We moved into theapartment across from yours!”

It’s not what sheexpects to hear, but it is the beginning of the school year, lots of people arechanging apartments. So that part checks out, but…

“Why the fuck didn’t youlead with that?”

He opens his mouth, butshe’s not finished.

“And that doesn’texplain why you were watching me throughmy window!” she hisses.

“I tried to get your attention! Besides, your blinds were open! Anyone in our building would have seenyou,” he seethes back.

It is true that she’dbeen a little preoccupied. She doubts she would have noticed if he’d beentrying to get her attention, like he said he had. And she’s never seen Bellamythis mad aside from—well, when guys are creeping on his sister at the bar.

“Well you should havejust… not looked,” she says, petulant, but she can already feel her angerdraining.

She watches his do thesame, and he quirks a small smile after a second, almost comforting. “I didstop watching after it was clear you weren’t going to see me. But… okay, fuck, yeah, it’s still a little creepy.”His cheeks are definitely pink now. “I’m sorry.”

She softens, the stressleaving her shoulders. She doesn’t get to see sincere Bellamy as often as she’dlike, but she knows he’s there, under all the snark.

“It’s alright. Iprobably would have done the same thing, if the situation was reversed.”

“Yeah but,” he scratchesthe back of his neck, looking sheepish now, any anger at the accusationvanished, “still. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. That was a dickmove.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a dick.” She nudges his shoulder.“So it’s not like you could help it.”

That gets him to grinand roll his eyes. “Yeah, I am. We good?”

“Yeah,” she says, “We’regood.”

“Cool, now come on, orMonty’s going to think we’re slacking off.”

She’s had someconversations with Monty—or rather, he’s had some conversations at her—about exactly what he thinks she and Bellamy should be doing… but shepushes that thought aside, and follows him back into the store.

-

As it turns out, shedoes get her reversed situation, a couple days later.

She comes home from along day of classes, ready to change into sweatpants and do absolutely nothing. In all honesty,she’d forgotten about the instance at the bookstore until she wanders over tothe window in her room to open the blinds—almost a habit now, given the dimlighting of their apartment—and sees a head of messy dark hair through thewindow across from hers, hunched over a desk.

It takes a second longerto realize it’s Bellamy, and onefurther to notice that he’s singing along to the music that she can vaguelyhear, thanks to paper-thin walls.

It’s not until it getsto the chorus that she can tell it’s the new Zayn/Taylor Swift collaborationthat she’s heard approximately three hundred times in the last week, alone. Sheis, however, far more interested inthe fact that Bellamy’s still singing along, reaching for the falsetto notes ashe furrows his brows at his laptop.

It’s the kind of thingthat begs a snapchat video, okay?It’s Bellamy Blake. She’s not goingto get another opportunity as good as this to offer him a taste of his ownmedicine. And if she gets some satisfaction in staring at him, at the way hisjaw angles away from his neck, the way his hair falls when he shifts, then hey she’s entitled to that. He had hischance.

She does only send thevideo it to him, to be fair, which is showing great restraint. It’s as zoomedin as she could get, music note stickers artfully placed around his head, andcaptioned, “Nice vocals. I hear 1D is hiring.” Before she hits send, she savesit… just for posterity.

A moment later, she seeshim pick up his phone, and, heart pounding, she ducks away from the window, an involuntarysmile forming on her lips.

Her phone pings with anotification short moments later with a snapchat from Bellamy, a picture of herempty window, with the caption, “Now who’s a creepy stalker?”

She responds with amessage:

 Clarke:

Still you, prettysure.

Seriously though, I’mimpressed. Better than Zayn 4 sure

 His response is nearlyinstantaneous.

 Bellamy:

Tell me you didn’tsend that to like, everyone you know.

 Clarke:

If I did could youblame me

Okay the answer’sprobably yes

No I didn’t

Just you

But I really think I needto be commended for my restraint. That was comedy GOLD, Bellamy.

 Bellamy:

Consider itappropriately commended.

Not to be petty orbring up old wounds but:

I literally saw youdancing to taylor swift three days ago

Not sure you’re in aposition to judge

 Clarke:

I didn’t know I wasbeing subjected to judging

You, on the otherhand, knew full well that this was a possibility

I would say we’reeven, but I still had it worse

 Bellamy:

Speak for yourself,you weren’t forcibly subjected to watch yourself sing

Seriously, that videochanged my entire self-image

 Clarke:

Yeah, ‘cause I forcedyou to open that snap

I’m sure your ego willsurvive

 Bellamy:

I thought it might beabout the bookstore!

The books could havebeen in trouble, Clarke

 Clarke:

Bellamy Blake: saviorof books

 When she finally peeksback out the window, he’s still reading her message, looking down at his phonewith a smile that makes her heart twist.

Her phone vibratesagain.

 Bellamy Blake:

I can’t even retaliatebecause that’s honestly kind of badass

Clarke Griffin: giverof great titles

 She’s trying to think ofa clever response when she gets another snap from him. A picture this time.

She opens it, expecting…she’s not sure what. Maybe a selfie with another title suggestion. Instead, it’sa picture of herself, just visible through the window captioned “creeperspotted,” with the eyes emoji tagged on the end. The snap warrants an eye-roll,but she’s a little distracted by the way she’s looking at her phone, in thepicture. There’s a soft, amused smile on her face, not unlike the one she’dseen on his a second ago, and the image of herself, reacting to him that way…it’s a lot to process.

After spending a splitsecond longer on this revelation, she realizes she’s still standing in plainview of the window and recovers enough to look up at him and stick her tongueout.

He responds with acheery smile and a wave. All she can do is shake her head, with what must be aridiculous smile spreading across her face.

-

Her Thursday shiftstarts earlier than his, which means she knows exactly when he comes in. So,really, it would be a disservice not sneakinto the back to make sure that I Don’tWant to Live Forever is playing softly over the bookstore speakers when heshows up.

The bell above the doorchimes promptly at 1 o’clock, just as she returns to shelving books peopledecided they didn’t want, giving her the perfect cover to watch him catch on.It takes him a while though, and she watches him duck behind the counter to sayhi to Monty before heading toward the back. He looks around a little on his waythere—for her, she realizes, becauseof course he knows her schedule as well as she knows his.

It’s at that moment thatthe song reaches the chorus, and from her spot peeking through one of theshelves, she sees the recognition in his eyes, upturned toward the speakers,just moments before he passes by the aisle she’s in, at the opposite end.

He catches sight of hera step short of the next row, hand landing on the side of the shelf to pullhimself back.

She meets his eyes witha cheery grin. “Hi, Bellamy.”

He gestures toward theceiling. “Cute.”

“Yeah, that pretty muchsums up my thoughts about your serenade last night,” she teases. “Never reallypegged you for a one direction fan.”

His glare is veryclearly only halfhearted, it makes her smile even wider. “Zayn’s nottechnically part of one direction anymore.”

She raises her hands. “Hey,I didn’t mean any offense. You’re the fan, not me.”

“So by that logic, Ishould defer to you for all my Taylor Swift related questions?” She can tell he’strying to hide a smile. It’s painfully cute.

“Is that a commonproblem you have? Not having answers to Taylor Swift related questions?”

“Yeah, mostly because Google’sbecoming sentient at an alarming rate already,” he says, willfully ignoring herjab. “I don’t want to contribute to the robot takeover.”

“Sure, sure.”

He looks like he’s aboutto say something else when Monty passes by their row to hand Clarke another bookto re-shelf.

He takes one glance at Bellamy,backpack still slung over one shoulder, since he hasn’t made it to the backyet, and Clarke—who’s smile must be telling, because says, unamused, “You two sureflirt a lot for people who claim not to be into each other.”

Bellamy’s halfwaythrough his correction—“We’re not flirting.”—whenshe decides, on an impulse, to throw caution to the wind.

“I never said that,” shesays, making her words nonchalant, like a challenge.

Even Monty lookssurprised—and maybe a little impressed—but he’s no match for Bellamy’sexpression, whose jaw has slackened a little.

“What?”

It’s probably a terribleidea, especially considering she doesn’t really know how she feels about him—butshe’s started something now.

She raises an eyebrow. “Youheard me.”

After a moment, hevisibly collect himself, not one to be caught off guard for so long in theirgive and take. It’s almost predictable, the way he calls her bluff.

But that doesn’t necessarilymean she’s prepared for it.

“Great. Then I guess youwouldn’t mind going out with me.”

Her breath sticks in herthroat, and she narrowly avoids having to cough.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says,parroting her own words back to her, smug smirk on his face.

Clarke is vaguely awareof Monty, who mutters something under his breath before turning back toward thefront of the store, leaving them alone in the aisle, but her attention isotherwise occupied.

It’s her turn to composeherself. She swallows and lifts her chin a little. Defiant.

“Sure. We get off at thesame time right? We can get dinner.”

If her answer throws him,he doesn’t show it, aside from a brief series of blinks.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

For a second, she thinkshe might say something else, back out after all, but he just turns toward theback. “I better go clock in.” And he’s gone before she can respond.

“Yeah,” she says, toherself, left alone with the books and strange feeling in her chest.

Things are relativelynormal through the rest of their shift, except that she keeps get these jarringjolts every time she sees Bellamy when she’s not expecting to—around a cornerwhen she’s finding a book for a customer, behind the desk when she goes to ringsomeone up. Her body is hyper-aware of him, and she’s not a fan.

Even more unsettling isthat he doesn’t seem affected at all, joking with her like he normally would.He doesn’t even taunt her about their impending date, which must be someintricate scheme to make her all the moreanxious about it, because it’s definitely working.

Halfway through the day,she makes the executive decision to resign herself to it. She’s going on a datewith Bellamy. In another world, one where they’re not both deliberately abrasiveassholes, she might be excited about it. He’s not a bad person after all, and everyonewith eyes knows he’s attractive. She can handle this.

Six o’clock rolls aroundand she finishes up with a customer just as Bellamy passes by, already changedout of his work clothes.

“Hey, I’ll meet yououtside.”

There’s not a hint ofteasing in his voice, which she’s sure is deliberate, but it throws her again with the realization that she wouldn’t mind at all, if this was for real, andnot just a product of their mutual stubbornness.

“Yeah, be there in asec,” she says, keeping her voice as casual as she can.

She heads back tochange, where Monty offers his hand for a high-five on her way out. She rolls hereyes at him, but still slaps her hand against his, after which he promptlywaggles his eyebrows.

Bellamy’s leaningagainst the wall outside when she pushes through the door, casual as anything,and looking far too good for someone who’s worked the last five hours.

“Ready, Princess?” heasks, straightening.

She squares her shoulders,and grins brightly at him for no other reason than to convince herself she cando it. “Let’s do this.”

Then he smiles back,equally bright, and she’s so fucked.

He teases her a lot lessthan she would expect, once they set off toward a hole-in-the-wall burger placethat they apparently both love. It’s not like they don’t tease each other atall, because that might be weirder than the alternative, but it’s all goodnatured, and never like they’re not on the same team.

The restaurant iscasual, and goes a far way in making the whole affair seem less like a date andmore like just hanging out, which is what Clarke goes for when she’s datingsomeone anyways. She’s always felt like dressing up to go to a fancy place makesit unnecessarily formal and awkward to get to actually get to know someone.

And so, against all odds—ormaybe not, if she’s taking Monty’s perspective as more realistic than her own—the“date” is really fun. Which sucks when she realizes this on theirway out of the restaurant. Because it’s hardly a real date, and now she’s stuckwith the knowledge that she’d dating Bellamy would be fun, with no inkling thatit’s ever going to actually happen again.

She’s just finishedtelling him about her plans for grad school, and they’re about to part ways,when he gives her a strangely serious look.

“What?”

“Honest question.”

“Honest answer.”

He grins. “Shut up. Didyou agree to go out with me because you wanted to or because you didn’t want tolose the argument?”

She’s honestly a littletaken aback, despite the honest questionfor-warning. Being the way they are—which she openly admits is a littleridiculous—she figured they’d be dancing around the topic for a couple weeks tocome, only finally admitting to their feelings when it became unbearable. Thatis, if the feelings were ever evenmutual, which—

The heart stoppingsincerity in his eyes tells her they are.

The idea of admittingher own feelings should be terrifying. Relationships have never been smooth forher, and beginning a new one, even when she didn’t have a specific person inmind, had always led to anxiety. But, somehow, this doesn’t.

Somehow, the idea ofbeing with him, after tonight especially, doesn’t seem risky or scary at all. Sheknows him, knows he wouldn’t hurt her if he could do literally anything toprevent it. And more important, maybe, she knows herself. Knows that she feels more comfortable with him than she’sbeen with anyone on a first date before. Knows that he makes her laugh andmakes her happy, as cheesy as the whole things sounds.

So it seems safe tosquare her shoulders, and tell him the truth.

“A little bit of both.”

His smile is slow. “Really?”

She shrugs, trying tokeep her hopes under wraps. “Sure. I had a good time.”

He’s still smiling ather and she honestly can’t help mirroring it.

“Cool. Me too.” Heshifts on his feet. “You want to do this again? Saturday maybe?”

She can’t help it. “Monty’sgoing to be so impressed that we’re having this conversation without some kindof challenge involved.”

He snorts. “Monty doesn’thave any room to talk. Have you seen the way he looks when my roommate comesin?”

“Now that you mentionit, yeah.” She pauses. “And Bellamy?”

“Hmm?” If she had to guess, she'd say he's doing his best not to look nervous.

She leans up to press her lips to his cheek. “Saturday sounds great.”

She never wants him tostop smiling like that.

“Great,” he echoes. “Eighto’clock good?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

He returns the favor, pressing a short kiss to her lips far too quickly for her to anticipate, or think about returning it--apparently because he can’t actually help it, which helps make up for the fact that she’d really like to kiss him more.

“See you then.”

She has to resistputting a hand to her lips, where his were a moment before. Bellamy Blake. A smile tugs at hermouth.

“Yeah. See you then.”

-

When they’ve been datingfor two months, she sends the snapchat video, still saved on her phone, to allof their friends, with the caption: “my boyfriend is such a catch.”

He's in the kitchen, making breakfast, so she gets a snap back a second later: a picture of a delicious looking omelette, captioned: "I'm going to spit in your eggs