#at least they gave me hella painkillers

[meaningofaeons]

AAAAHHH YUUUP YUUP jing yuan <33 indeed <3 omg i need to start writing for him too ngl 🤝 my brains been going so insane just for him 😵‍💫😵‍💫

BUT ALSO OMG I HOPE YOURE RECOVERING OKAY 😭😭 i heard its still uncomfortable even after removing kidney stones so take it easy 🫶🏼

HES SO SWEETIE PIE I saw the cutest fanart of him and mimi on twt look heres a link 🥺🥺🥺(I think the user doesnt want reposts so imma just link it <3)

THANK YOU FOR THE WELL WISHES !!!! thankfully it wasnt too big but like also they had to keep me to make sure of that LOL... and they said I had one small enough to pass so thats been torturing me for weeks (ↀДↀ)⁼³₌₃ but I've been feeling a lot better lately!!!

[httpdabi]

His property

Word count: 6.0k

Genre: SMUT, maybe angst, romantic ? Lots of Dabi lol not sure if it’s yandere... yeah

Warnings: 18+, kidnapping I guess, fire play. Not sure how old Melissa actually is, so if she’s underage in anime, here she’s at least 21 y/I and allowed to drink

Qurikless OC being "saved" from not so hero person. :)

Being quirkless didn’t bother me that much. Sure, i was jealous when my friends started developing their own quirks, showing of. When they used to make a little show, competition which quirk is better, all I could do is sit in the side and adore them.

My parent were telling me almost every day to try to stay out of trouble. If there is a hero fighting a villain, I should just walk away. Because even their power can harm me. I learnt that I can just be at the wrong place In the wrong time and I could be in trouble. They always taught me to be extra careful.

When I was a kid, I used to depend on my parents too much. Today it was kinda different, I was giving my best to be independent as much as I can. Working at a small coffee shop, living in my small apartment. Trying to live as quiet as possible.

,,One caramel macchiato and one chocolate cappuchino” my co-worker said loudly for me to hear. Even tho it could be stressing, I loved my job. I loved making different drinks and talk with people.

I made a little ok sign and started making the ordered drinks.

The shift was passing real fast since there was a lot of work, there wasn’t even time for break. Of course, I could catch a minute and smoke one real fast. Being honest, I was fine with that.

After long ass night I changed into my dress and finally went home. Home wasn’t far from my working place, so if the weather is nice, I would take a walk instead of going home with bus.

,, Great” I hissed after trying to lit my cigarette. Perfect timing for my lighter to die. Little piece of shit gave up on me after such a hard time at work.

I sat down on the end of the bench, trying to find another one while the cigarette was still between my lips. There was nothing worse then forgetting your lighter or when it stops working.

,, Need a little help?” a man asked. I knew that few of them were sitting on the bench, but I didn’t pay attention that much. Before I could turn my head around to face him and take his lighter, his hand was in front of me, and he was lightning my cigarette up with his finger. Small blue fire coming from his finger, looking hella familiar. The purple skin with silver patches didn’t make a klick in my head either.

,,Thanks” I said fast, curious who it is, since my brain was telling me that I know this person. But once I looked at him, his head was already turned to another direction. Not wanting to bothering him or his friends, I just left believing it was someone I saw on my work. After all, we have a lot of costumers.

Time after work was my favorite, especially if I didn’t have to wake up early next day. A glass of wine, face mask, and phone in my hand. I couldn’t force myself to spend rest of the night locked up watching TV, so I enjoyed the beautiful weather on my balcony. I could see the little group of friends from my balcony. So I was lowkey stalking them a little, sad I couldn’t hear shit they were talking about. My little stalking was interrupted by a small vibration coming from my phone.

Of course it was Melissa. My one and only friend, quirkless bitch just like me. Usually I am not a person to use apps for meeting new people, but when I saw that there is an app for us quirkless sad motherfuckers, I had to instal it. And that’s how I met my soulmate Melissa.

Melissa: ,, What are you doing? I am on my way to your place´´

To Melissa: Chilling on the balcony and sipping on my wine. I´ll be on my way to buy us another bottle and strawberries.

I couldn’t even place my phone on the table and another message was already there.

Melissa: AMAZING!!! Can´t wait to get wasted with you. See ya in a bit loveeee u

Since The shop is near café and my home, there was no need for me to change. I was already in my pajama shorts and shirt, so all I did was wear my baggy hoodie over it. Taking my wallet, I sprinted fast to the shop.

The very next day, I had to work with a worst hangover ever. Melissa left my place around 10AM, groaning in frustration she had to wake up so early. But at least she didn’t have to work.

My shift began at 13PM, so I had some time to rest and let the painkillers work their wonder on me. Sadly the time before my shift started passed faster then I could imagine, and once again I found myself at my work.

From 13 to 16PM there isn´t much work. There are some people passing by after the end of their shifts, our usual costumers coming at the same time. But the exactly at 17PM is where the hell starts.

That was the very reason I liked morning shifts more, even tho I had to wake up so early. It was still less work then in late shift.

More and more orders were coming. Usually I would somehow manage to keep my shit together somehow, but this time I was real mad my boss didn’t get more workers. It could be much easier if there was 3 of us in the shift, instead of two of us.

Like we didn’t have enough stress already, there was a huge explosion near the café. Not paying much attention to it I continued making the drinks.

,, Get down!´´ my co-worker screamed and pulled me under the desk with her. I tried to peek and see what´s happening but in the very moment I did it there was another explosion, blowing me almost away.

In that moment I didn’t know if the explosion was beside our café again, or in it. But I could hear people screaming.

My co-worker started crying, telling me how my face is all bloody. Which was pretty weird, since I felt good. She was pulling me to the back side of the café telling me to use the back door and wait for her.

I did as she told me, seeing the mix of the red and blue flames freaked me out. It was the first time in my life to end up in situation like this, so a wave of panic took over me. Sobbing loudly, I sat down, hugging my knees. I was waiting for my co-worker, too scared to try and get help on my own, since I could still hear screams and people fighting.

Another explosion, probably in the café, since once again I was blown away. I could hear Ryuku and Kamui Woods asking if someone is here. But I couldn’t say a word, as much as I wanted to. I wanted to scream, but even a whisper was heavy at that moment.

Their voices were like echo, and the buildings around me started to get blurry.

I could feel my forehead being touched. My hair being placed behind my ear and someone telling me to wake up. Once I opened my eyes, I saw arm resting beside my head on the street. The same purple skin I saw last night.

I forced myself to look up, and the moment I saw that face, I felt embarrassed I didn’t recognize it before. Of course it was Leauge´s villain Dabi. Maybe the fact that I was trying to ignore the news around as much as possible, thinking if I stay in my safe zone I´ll protect myself. But of course I knew the League of Villains. Of course I knew Himiko Toga, Kurogiri, Shigaraki, Dabi and the rest of them. As much as I wanted to ignore everything happening in the city, I simply knew about them. Everyone does.

,, No´´ I whispered, not being able to feel pain or fear. My eyes looking beside him hoping hero or my co-worker will come and save me.

Dabi lowered himself trying to get my focus on him.

,, They are all gone. ´´ He said looking me directly in the eyes. Whit those words all the hope I had died. I closed my eyes while tears started to roll down my cheeks. This was it, I thought. Either way I´ll die from bleeding out or he´ll kill me.

,, Don´t worry babe, I won´t hurt you´´ He whispered, still playing with my hair. I had no power to say anything, all I could do is wait to fall into unconsciousness again.

His hands tried to pull me up, but somehow in that very moment everything started to feel heavy and I felt like I was about to vomit.

,,Fine, if you want to die, then die´´ He said, and once again everything else was black.

I woke up with sudden urge to vomit again. Being in dark unfamiliar room didn´t help either. The only thing that helped was the fact that I was alive. Before I could stand up and find bathroom, I vomited all over the floor. Maybe it´s weird, but I started crying, not only because I had no idea where I was, but also because I vomited. It´s a nightmare for me.

The door suddenly opened and at my surprise Dabi got inside. Which followed with me vomiting once more and crying again. Didn´t he let me die ?

,,Goddammit, I even prepared a bucket for you, can´t you use it ?´´ He said calmly. Grabbing my arm harshly, he pulled me up and forced me to walk out of the room.

,, I´m sorry´´ I sobbed, not wanting to make any problems. I didn´t want to do anything to provoke the villain.

,, Wait here´´ he said, forcing me to sit in the kitchen. Then he went back in the room I slept in.

The kitchen wasn’t big, but it wasn´t small either. There was a counter with drinks, and two tall uncomfortable chairs. On the other side were cabinets, sink, dishwasher, stove and freezer. Everything was in light and dark shade of gray.

,, Well, you can vomit like world champion´´ Dabi´s voice echoed thru the room. I could hear the toilet flush and his steps coming closer. It took him a second and there he was, standing in front of me. He went to the other side of the counter, took one glass and filled it with cold water.

,, So babe, what happened back there?´´ he asked, placing the glass in front of me. I was scared and confused, and I didn’t have any courage to look the man in the eyes or say anything.

,, I don´t know´´ I said quietly. He sighed and took a small box of cigarettes out of his pocket. Lighting his cigarette up with his quirk, just like he did yesterday.

,, You are lucky I noticed you trying to hide back there, since your little friend left without thinking twice´´ he said, as he puffed on his cigarette.

I wasn´t sure if I should feel sad, betrayed or mad. From all of the people back there, a villain saved my life. But I did feel thankful to him.

,,Thank you´´ I said, looking at him. His cigarette between his lips, eyes half closed.

,, What should I do with you´´ he said, finishing the cigarette and taking another one from the box. He placed the box in front of me.

When he realized that I won´t take one, he stood up and made his way toward me. Standing behind me, he placed his hands on my shoulders, slowly massaging them. His one hand pulled my hair back lightly, and other one placed his already lit cigarette in front of my lips.

,, Come on love, I know you smoke´´ he said, placing the cigarette between my lips with a little force. In a moment, his face was inches away from mine. I could feel his breath on my neck, making me freeze in the place.

,, Maybe I should keep you for myself here´´ he whispered, breathing deeply on my ear. ,,After all, I can protect your quirkless little body´´ he addes slowly.

There were many things going thru my mind at that moment. What did he mean ? How did he know I don´t have a quirk?

Days and weeks passed and there I was still at Dabi´s place. First few days I was left alone, either way he was really busy or just wanted to give me some time. Dabi let me sleep in his room, since I couldn´t force myself to sleep in the one I vomited. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could still smell the vomit.

His room was decorated in dark shades. One black king sized bed in the middle, dark green walls and black furniture. On the right side were huge windows and balcony. Since I was alone, I gave myself a little bit of freedom. After all, he didn´t seem that dangerous as everyone said.

At the beginning he didn´t let me cook or do anything that could be dangerous in his opinion. He didn´t trust me at all, being sceptic that I might poison him. He did try to keep me entertained, giving me Nintendo Switch with some games like Pokemon, Super Mario, etc. He also didn´t have any problem with Netflix or whatever I wanted. I know those are small things, but being with him, I expected less.

After some weeks passed, I was seeing him more often. He would casually get inside his room, since there was the balcony. Without knocking or any sign. Well, it was his room after all. Sometimes he would just bring us some fast food, ice cream and force me to eat with him. At least he thought so. I didn´t have any problem with it.

After 3 weeks passed, I started to realize that I was pretty much attracted to this man. I wasn´t someone who falls easily for a man, but his attitude, his cold personality, the way he moves, the way he talks, the way I could catch him look at me, it was all extremely attractive to me. It probably all started the day I caught him sitting beside me, thinking I was asleep. It was around 3AM when I heard him coming inside his room. He sat beside me, and started caressing my cheek softly.

In that moment all I could do was just pretend that I was still asleep.

After that night, he would come at night and just sit there with me, thinking I was asleep.

I opened the window and sat on the balcony, admiring the sight of the buildings and colorful lights coming form the streets, and cars.

,, I don´t remember allowing you to go outside.´´

He was standing to my left side, looking at the street.

,, Planning how to run away?´´ He added, not paying attention to me. He was wearing black pants, with dark grey oversized sweater. His presence was too much for me, it wasn’t that I was scared of him, but I was too shy, I couldn´t look him in the eye without thinking about him sitting next to my ´´sleeping´´ form and looking at me, playing with my hair.

,, You know what will happen if you even try´´ he said getting closer to me. I could feel his hands on my hips, holding them firmly. I could smell his strong cologne mixed with smoke. He told me if I even think about running away, he would burn me down even my ashes will disappear. Somehow he knew who my parents are, who my friends are and he said he would kill every single one of them.

At first I didn’t believe him, somehow I thought he isn´t capable of something like that. But I changed my mind once I saw him on the news, where it was talk about his victims.

His thumb was going in circles, making a small pressure on my hip. I didn´t think of running away. First of all I wasn´t brave enough, second of all, I was so unimportant to this world that I didn´t hear shit about me on the news.

,, Can I have my phone ?´´ I asked him, not thinking about his reaction or anything. I just wanted to contact my parents and Melissa.

,,Wha..?´´ he laughed out. His hold getting stronger, keeping me in my place.

,, Babe, do you think I´m that stupid ?´´ he laughed, turning me around to face him. If I wasn´t in a situation like this, I would probably feel the urge to touch his scars, being so close to me.

,, I just want to contact my family and my friend. I won´t do anything that might harm you´´ I said, not breaking the eye contact.

,, Harm me ? ´´ he laughed, his face inches from mine. This man was indeed driving me crazy.

,, Please, you can control me if you want. I won´t delete any message, I´ll do whatever´´ I managed to say somehow. His lips being so close, it was a wonder I could speak at all.

The moment his lips brushed against mine, I felt all possible feeling I could in my stomach. ,, You´ll do whatever?´´ he said, his head still tilled to the side, and lips brushing over mine. I could feel a small smirk forming on his lips.

,,I´ll think about it´´

After that day, he didn´t hold himself at all. Doesn´t matter what I was doing, if he felt like being close to me, he would just do it. If I was cleaning, making myself a snack, playing some games, he would just casually slip his hands around my waist.

Laying down on the couch, legs up on the wall, while playing Super Mario. There was one level I couldn´t pass as hard as I tried to. It was just too troublesome. Dabi was sitting in the kitchen, smoking and watching the gameplay. I could hear him mumbling something to himself, before he made his way and sat beside me, taking the controllers out of my hand.

I was surprised when he started passing the level without any trouble, defeating Iggy Koopa so easily.

,, YAAASSS´´ I screamed grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie and shaking it happily. I was dealing with that level probably two days in a row.

In the moment when I was about to ask him how did he do it so easily, he threw the controllers to the side, grabbing my right leg with his left hand, and my hip with his right hand. Pulling my body to his direction. I couldn´t even understand what was exactly happening in that moment, since it happened so fast. He placed my legs around him, and hovered over me.

,, Don´t I need a little present for this win?´´ he said looking at me, placing small kisses over my face. This time, I couldn´t suppress the need to touch his scars. The curiosity took over me, and suddenly I found myself, placing my index finger beside his lip. Moving my finger lightly to the left side of his face. The moment I did that he froze in the place, not kissing me, or doing anything. His body twitched once my finger was under his eye, touching the scars and the small patches.

He grabbed my jaw, and kissed me forcefully, forcing his tongue inside, not giving me a chance to breath. His other hand was under focused on pulling my shirt up, just enough for my bra to be visible.

,, You are driving me crazy´´ he said, his lips now on my neck, one hand still on my jaw and other grabbing my left breast making me moan suddenly. I could feel him smirk while leaving wet love marks over my neck.

Having Dabi around was something I hoped for now. I was hoping for those unexpected touches and waiting for him to come at night like he always did.

What surprised me was the fact that he actually gave me my phone. Telling me that he will control my messages and that if he notices I´m deleting them, things won´t be smooth as they are now.

Somehow, I didn´t even feel the urge to write something bad, to ask for help or anything ? I found myself wanting to be in his presence, I wanted him to be close to me.

He already contacted my parents and Melissa before, telling them that I´m alright. He ignored the rest of the messages they sent me. They wanted to see me, they were worried. Melissa thought she did something wrong, since I was ignoring her.

The moment I contacted her, my phone started buzzing with all the messages she started sending me. Where am I? Why did I ignore her ? What happened ? Am I ok ? What happened to my work?

To my parents I simply wrote that I’m fine and safe.

At my surprise, they told me they know where I am, and that we can work it out. They told me that he waited for them home one night. Telling them he felt they need to know where you are, and telling them if they try contacting a hero or police what will happen to me.

I told them that there is no need for me to go anywhere and that I feel safer then I ever was.

After I found out that my parents know, I felt the need to tell everything to Melissa too. She was my best friend after all and I knew she would understand me.

I explained everything what happened that night. Explained how he saved me, how he’s taking care of me and trying to give me everything I need. At first she was really surprised once I mentioned his name. I mean, who wouldn’t be surprised ? But if I’m happy, then she’s happy too. She never judged me even once.

Dabi wasn’t home, so out of boredom I decided to make some food. Maybe he’ll eat it too once he comes home. I decided to make Spaghetti with Quattro formaggi sauce. I noticed that he really likes cheese, so maybe he will give it a try.

After having dinner on my own, I decided to watch some movie on Netfix before I go to bed and once again wait for him. The movie wasn’t anything special, but I still forced myself to finish it. My mind was away all the time, not being focused on the movie at all. All I could think of was Dabi. If someone told me that I would be so desperate for LOV’s villain Dabi, I wouldn’t believe them. But there I was, waiting for him like a lost puppy.

Placing my phone on the Kitchen counter, I made my way to his bedroom. For some reason he was still sleeping in the other room. Making me wonder how does it feel to sleep next to him, and why he let me sleep in his room for such a long time.

I slowly lain down on the right side of the bed, focusing on the lights coming from the outside. Covering my lower part with the blanket. The soft lace pajama that was hugging my body, gave me some comfort in some weird way. I lain on my stomach and placed my left arm under my pillow. Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath trying to keep myself awake.

It was around 2AM when I heard the door slowly open. I could hear his steps, I could hear how he’s in the kitchen, taking my phone, and shortly after placing it back again. I could hear the shower and his soft humming.

Not shortly after that, I could hear him coming. Slowly opening the door and making his way toward me. Sitting to my left side, he took a deep breath, placed his long lags next to mine, and slowly caressing my head. His fingers slowly found their way to my neck, moving left and right.

,,I know you’re awake’’ he said, as his finger slowly brushed the lace on my right shoulder down. In one moment, he was pacing a kiss on my shoulder, and in the next one he was hovering over me. I could feel him on my back. His face inches from mine. When our eyes met, I wasn’t sure if I felt embarrassed or glad.

He took a deep breath once more, and started placing kisses down my back, while his fingers were on my hips. With every kiss, I was going more and more insane.

Dabi got off me, and pulled me to lie to the side, once again facing my back.

,, Such a good girl for me’’ he said pushing my pajama slowly up, and touching my right breast slowly, while biting my neck. All I could do was move my head in the right direction, giving him more access to my neck.

,, Move your legs a bit for me babe’’ he said, placing his hand under my shorts. He didn’t give me a chance to do it on my own tho, forcefully moving my tights and slipping his hand under my panties. My head fall back onto his chest, moan slipping out of my mouth once I felt his touch.

,, Are you my good girl?’’ he asked, stopping his fingers form any movement. Feeling his hot breath on my neck, I forgot how to speak properly.

,, Y-yes’’ I managed to say somehow. Every kiss, breath, word, move from him, made me crazy wanting for more. I could lie to myself and say it’s only because it’s such a long time since I went in bed with someone. But I there’s no need for lies, I’m attracted to this man.

His fingers started moving in circles, massaging my clit just as I wanted. Placing his knee between my legs, giving himself more space for movements. I closed my eyes and moaned, once his finger enter me. Without any word his fingers started to move in and out, so slowly that it was painful. Loving every second of it.

Once again, he pulled me over, making me lie on my back, placing himself between my legs, pinning my hands over my head. No words could describe how I felt in that moment. This time I moved my head foreword and kissed him. I wanted more. He returned the kiss, and started grinding his lower part of body against me, making me feel his erection.

Whit every move he made, I wanted more and more.

When he let go of my hands, I immediately started touching his body, I wanted to feel his skin, his scars. The moan escaped his lips once I started kissing his neck. Not wasting any time, he pulled his whit shirt over his head and threw it across the room, giving me access to his well build chest. Without thinking twice, I started kissing his chest, the purple scars he had. His head was hanging low, breathing deeply.

His hand found it’s way to my throat, grabbing it harshly and pulling me up a little. ,, Time to undress you love’’ he said, his hand like a neckless around my throat.

Moving my ass up a bit, Dabi pulled my shorts and panties down, throwing them on the floor. When I was about to take my top off, he pushed me down smirking a little. Slowly playing with the lace on my right shoulder, he did something I didn’t expect. The blue flame appeared on his fingers, destroying the lace. First the right one, then the left one. His lit index finger went down over the material of my top, from my chest to my stomach, flaming it up just enough to destroy the material.

Once it was destroyed, Dabi pulled the rest of my top that was under me and also threw it across the room. Taking a good look of my naked body, he slowly went down, placing soft kisses over my stomach. The fact that I could feel his burnt skin too was taking me over the edge.

,,What if’’ he breathed out, still leaving wet kisses over my stomach and chest. ,, What if everyone knows to who you belong’’ he said, eyes looking up on me, trailing his finger around my stomach. His left hand holding my hip, making sure no movements were possible.

,,What do you mean?’’ I asked confused, not able to understand anything clearly anymore. There was no need for me to even think about it, because Dabi already made his decision to mark me as his. A loud scream escaped my mouth the moment I felt my skin getting burned.

His hand was still holding me firmly, but he immediately stopped what he was doing, and placed his hand over my mouth.

,,Relax, it will be over just in a minute’’ he said, kissing me deeply. He took the destroyed top and placed it between my lips. Making sure I was biting the destroyed piece of cloth, he slowly went down to finish what he started.

Making sure I won’t interrupt his work, he held my hands together firmly, while holding my legs with his weight down. Every move of his finger, burning my skin, was sending a wave of pain through my body. Closing my eyes, tears rolled down my cheek. Back aching up, screaming into the cloth in my mouth, nothing of it helped me calm down. But he was correct, it took him around minute to finish. Pulling the cloth out of my mouth, he kissed me.

,, Such a good girl’’ he said in between the kisses. Pulling my head up, I saw his name on my stomach. ,,Now everyone knows who you belong to’’ he added, leaving wet love bites all over my neck. From all the pain I felt when he was burning my skin down, everything after that felt like aftercare.

Dabi stood up, taking off his shorts and boxers before he climbed on top of me again. He kissed me once mere before he started rubbing his hard dick over my clit. He knew that I wanted more, but the he liked the fact that I was so desperate for him.

,, Dabi please’’ I moaned out, wanting him inside me already. Without any word or sign, he entered me roughly, not giving me any time do adjust to his size.

,,Of course I’ll give my good girl what she needs. You are too good tonight’’ He said kissing my nose, while my hands were grabbing the covers of his sheets to find my comfort in them.

He didn’t move for some minutes, leaving wet love marks over my chest. But once he was done, he slowly pulled his dick out so only his tip was inside of me. Then again, slammed it back inside. The harsh move, made me place my hands over his back, finding comfort there instead of the cold sheets.

He moved few times with the same method. Every time he would slam his dick back inside I wanted to dig my fingers inside his skin. But I was too afraid I would hurt his already burnt skin. I didn’t want to hurt him.

After he slammed too hard inside me, I accidentally dug my nails into his skin. It was probably not to hard, but still I caressed the place I thought I hurt and apologized to him.

,,You don’t have to worry about it love’’ he said stopping his movements. ,, My skin is already bruised, few new scars won’t hurt me’’ he added, giving me the permission to do what I want. Whit those words his movements started to speed up, making me throw my head back into the pillow and wrap my legs around him.

Dabi bit my shoulder, groaning into it, while he was getting faster and deeper with every move he made. Even tho I was still worried about his skin, I couldn’t help it, my nails were scratching it and digging into it enough to keep up with his moves.

,,I’m close’’ I moaned, while every thrust was bringing me closer to my orgasm. I didn’t have to repeat myself or wait, his hand found it’s way to my clit, rubbing it fast into circles. Which was enough for me to cum all over his dick while moaning his name out.

Without any word, Dabi turned me around on my stomach and entered me form behind once again. Holding my hips strongly while thrusting deep in and out of me. Being sensitive form my orgasm, with every thrust he did, my moans were louder.

,, Ass up’’ he said suddenly stopping his moves. Once I did what he told me, he grabbed my head and pushed it deep into the soft pillow and started to fuck me like there was no tomorrow. The sound of his skin slapping my own, the image of what was happening almost drove me close to my second orgasm.

My moans were huffed by the pillow, while Dabi was fucking me into the mattress.

,, Yess babe, cum for me again’’ He groaned into my ear, fucking me even harder.

,,So close’’ he moaned, touching my clit again and moving even faster and deeper if it was even possible. He didn’t have to touch me much, another orgasm was already hitting me hard.

,, Yess baby, so good’’ he moaned, while his dick started twitching inside of me. I felt his hot cum inside, closing my eyes, trying to catch my breath. Dabi didn’t stop, he tried to fuck his seed deep into me, until he thought it was enough.

Falling beside me, his arm over my back, breathing deeply into my neck. I wanted this moment to last forever.

His fingers trailing up and down my back slowly, while smoking a cigarette. The cold air coming form the opened balcony was a contrast to his hot fingers going up and down.

Once I noticed the cum that started to leak out, I stood up covering my body with the blanket, making my way to the bathroom to clean myself and wear another pajama.

When I finished, and changed. I found Dabi standing in the kitchen, already in his white shirt and his shorts for sleeping. Half of his cigarette was finished.

,, You coming back?’’ I asked.

,, Don’t you want to sleep alone ?’’ he asked turning taking one last smoke before placing the end of the cigarette under the water and throwing it away. I shook my head slowly, and made my way toward his room, hoping it’s enough for him to come back.

Once I buried my head into his pillow, I waited for him to follow me. But the steps were going to another direction, making me sigh deeply.

Shortly after that, at my surprise, Dabi appeared again. Holding some lotion in his hands. He sat beside me pulling the sheet down and my pajama dress up. Small smirk appearing over his lips at the sight of his name on my stomach.

Banding down, he kissed it few times before he applied the cold lotion all over it. Laying down beside me, he placed his arms around me and pulled me closer to him and hiding his face into my neck breathing my scent in.

With his presence and arms around me, it was the first night I could fall asleep peacefully not feeling scared of anything in this world.

Hope you liked it, too lazy to correct all the mistakes.

Also credit to the owner of the photo :)

Much loveeee

[brutal-nemesis]

Misery: my greatest joy

Idk how to structure a rant so here we go babey!!! This is just me spilling my thoughts about the book Misery by Stephen King. It’s my favorite horror book (as of now) and I feel like others in the community would like it too. Also this rant will def contain minor spoilers (and probably major ones idk what a major one consists of tho) so if you want to go in 100% blind this is me telling you it’s a great read and go do it. 

CONTENT WARNINGS (for the book): broken bones, starvation, drug addiction, needles, gore, mutilation/amputation, cauterization, a little eyeball stuff, threats of forced self-cannibalism (I don’t have the book on me so I might have missed something minor)

I’m just gonna start by saying I’ve read a decent amount of horror books, and this one feels the most like a whump fic. The basic premise is this famous writer man (Paul) gets in a car crash in rural Colorado and is rescued by a retired nurse (Annie) who’s a huge fan of his work. His most famous series about the character Misery has just ended with him killing her cuz he wanted to write other things. Our girl Annie loves the Misery series and is still in the middle of reading the last book when she rescues Paul. It’s set in like the ‘70s or something so no cell phones or anything. So when homeboy wakes up in Annie’s house, no one knows where he is.

Paul’s legs got super messed up in the accident, like his tibia & fibula just got SHATTERED and, shockingly, that hurts a lot. Paul straight up goes on for pages about how bad his legs hurt and he’s basically helpless due to this, bedridden until she gets him a wheelchair. Annie has a bunch of painkillers that she stole from hospitals she worked at, and she gives them to Paul. If he does what she wants :)

See once Annie finishes the last Misery book she gets hella pissed at Paul. Sis is very much not alright in the head, and it’s what makes her such a great whumper since she’s so clearly unhinged and hard to predict. She keeps Paul captive in her home and forces him to write another Misery book, bringing the character back to life. Paul tries to resist, but she does things like withhold pain meds or refuse to feed him, sometimes leaving him stuck in bed for days. She’s a fantastic example of a caretaker/whumper combo and it’s great because every time she punishes Paul for something, she always twists it to be his fault. She’ll do something like throw his soup at the wall and then tell him he can’t eat that night because he made her upset enough to do that. She just has this air of thinking she’s genuinely doing her best to help him and things wouldn’t hurt so much if he just did what she wanted :) I just love that kind of manipulation for some reason.

Paul isn’t super defiant, but he typically doesn’t just roll over to her right away. And even when he’s genuinely trying his best to please her, it might not be good enough and he still gets punished. He genuinely tries to escape or at least seek some kind of help, leaving the room she locks him in to at least get pain meds/food during the periods when she leaves the house to go to her “Laughing Place” for a few days (I said she was mentally ill and I meant it) or just into town.

Anyway now I wanna talk about my favorite scene and FYI it does involve amputation, cauterization, & needles/noncon drugging. Okay so she finds out that Paul’s been “out and about” while she’s been away and she gets pissed. He wakes up to her injecting him with something that makes him all sluggish. They start talking about how she knows he’s been outside the room and at some point she casually says she just gave him a “pre-op shot”. Paul just spirals at this, and basically every few lines as the keep talking the phrase “pre-op shot” keeps popping up in his thoughts and he’s like Annie please what the hell do you mean pre-op shot what are you going to do to me and she just ignores him and keeps explaining how she knows he’s been outside. She then tells him about how in some diamond mines, when workers run away and are caught, they’re hobbled so they can’t run but can still work. Paul starts feeling sooooo much dread and then she pulls out an axe and he just starts pleading with her as she calmly disinfects it and his ankle. There’s just something about the whumpee freaking the fuck out about what’s going to happen to them while the whumper is calmly preparing for whatever they’re about to do that just hits me in the exact right spot. As Annie raises the axe, she responds to Paul’s pleas with my favorite line in the entire book, “Don’t worry, I’m a trained nurse.” And then the axe falls.

I just love that line cuz it shows how she feels that he doesn’t have anything to worry about because she knows what she’s doing. He shouldn’t be concerned about losing his foot because she’ll make sure it will heal right, and this is necessary to ensure he’ll finish his work. She’s the picture of calm and detached as she cauterizes the wound with a blowtorch and he’s just horrified and sobbing. I just love how much she doesn’t realize what she’s doing is wrong and horrible even as her captive screams in pain. 

She later cuts off his thumb and (cannibalism incoming) threatens to make him eat his own severed finger which is sooo fucked up, and deeply fucked up things always manage to press my buttons. There are a lot of other horrible things she does but I don’t want to give everything away and the two amputations are high up on the severity scale. I wanted to talk about them cuz I love them and so people get a bit of a content warning. Horror books don’t really come with those which can be an oof for some people but thankfully for me the only thing that triggers/squicks me out is noncon kissing which doesn’t come up too much. 

The ending doesn’t have a whole lot of comfort but I’ll at least tell you that he does get away cuz a happy ending is never guaranteed in the horror genre, and I know that’s important to some people. There is so much more to the book that I didn’t talk about cuz I don’t want this to get too long but I could just go on...

Uhm in conclusion if you like whumpy caretaking, a whumper who is detached at times and intimate at others, long-term captivity, and enjoy gore (or at least can tolerate it) then this is the book for you thanks for coming to my TED talk (●'◡'●)

[cosmosogler]

hnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhhhhh

i woke up on time but i didn’t want to do anything so i ended up getting out of the shower late. and then eating breakfast late. i was hungry, and i knew i had to teach for four hours straight, so i made four waffles instead of two. and a pbj, and the rest of my lunch, in the last 5 minutes before i left instead of like 15.

i biked to campus pretty fast... i got to class 1 minute before it started. i did my lecture and stuff and tried to be a lot more active with the matter model. 

they asked another question that stumped me and i’m embarrassed because my notes were wrong too and i had to correct them when i figured it out. i’m embarrassed because it’s a basic physics newton’s laws sort of thing.

i was hung up on why the force on the sensor and the frictional force are always equal even when the block the sensor is attached to is accelerating. i looked up the horse and cart problem and understood it way better... two hours after the students had asked and the new section had started.

it really rustles my jimmies that i can’t make the three sections of exactly equal quality. i feel like i let my students down when i can’t very well explain a concept to them specifically, but i can to the next group!!!

suzanne mentioned today that she has a lot of trouble with basic stuff too, along with jennica, just because we haven’t taken the classes in forever. i did apologize to the students while trying to answer the question- i said i’d been working with energy for so long that forces didn’t really mean anything any more. we don’t even work with any numbers in class basically.

i was so exhausted afterward but i only had a five minute lunch break to shove the entire pbj in my mouth before i had to head over for my psychiatry appointment. i let the doctor prompt me on which information she wanted, but i did have a list of things to talk about in my life in chronological order to keep me on topic. i think it was a productive meeting since i kept it kind of, more organized than if i was just rambling about my childhood for an hour and a half, you know? 

she raised her eyebrows a couple times... especially at the stuff leading up to and just after my heart surgery. i don’t know if i’m too focused on the negatives or what but i really just remember having a pretty bad time social life wise. 

i know one family did come to visit me in the hospital- actually it was a student i didn’t spend a lot of time with. joey. he and his family came to bring me a card and hang out in the common area for a few minutes to see how i was doing. i was hooked up to my iv and i think i had just gotten the drainage tube out so i was on some strong painkillers. mom must have been talking to them. i fell asleep in the wheelchair.

it was too much i guess. the painkillers on top of the effort of keeping up with a conversation while my insides were still putting themselves back in place after getting a garden hose yanked out of my entire chest cavity.

i guess some people care more than they let on. and some people care less. he didn’t really do much to help me out with the bullying that doubled down after i got back. i still reflexively punch people that try to tickle or touch my nerve-damaged side. maybe his parents were more worried than he was. i dunno. it was 15 years ago.

now that i think about it... what the doctor said i should have had, at the hospital and going back to school afterward... i’m really upset. at the time i’d blinked and smiled and said “none of that ever occurred to me.” 

but now i’m really sad. knowing what i didn’t have that should have been provided, i guess. i told her the hospital really was very busy, and that my parents were basically always around so they must have thought i was covered. and i had no idea the school was supposed to, i guess, assign some kind of buddy to make sure i could get around okay? 

i’ve already talked about the wheelchair. 

near the end she said “it sounds like no one’s really been there to support you.” i said “yes.” and showed her my teeth. it wasn’t really a smile. i think she could tell though. wasn’t foolin no one.

she made sure my meds were refilled for the next month. i talked about my grandparents too. on glenn’s side. how nice they were to me. i can’t say how they treated everyone, or even glenn and my uncle don, but the people who attended grandma pearl’s funeral had only the most glowing, actually kind of really sincerely fond memories.

uncle don seems to have had a complicated relationship with his parents. but he loved them enough to take care of them for a very long time after they got old. glenn didn’t. i don’t think i should ask what happened. i know parenting is hard and there’s probably not a perfect way to do it. but there’s... functional ways to do it. and i hope that they were functional parents.

anyway i caught the bus back to the physics building and had sooo much trouble sitting down to actually study. i didn’t want to open anything or even get out my notebook to try some practice problems. i sent danielle at the drc a semi-long email about my academic progress, since i had that midterm on tuesday, and some concerns about the upcoming friday test.

after that i strongarmed jennica into getting dinner with me. we went to subway. she didn’t actually want anything but i figured some exercise might help her settle down, and also it gave suzanne a small break. entropy can get contagious and jennica had been stopping her to look at this or that dress for several minutes. and i appreciated the company. going to subway alone when i’m so exhausted is super awkward. at least with jennica there if i couldn’t make a decision quickly enough i could smile apologetically at the lady behind the counter and say “sorry, i’m hella tired.” and jennica would laugh and the moment would continue.

it ended up not helping jennica that much but it did help me to get some food. 

i think this was after i realized mom never put the 900 dollars back into my bank account. i talked seriously with jennica and taylor about some bank options and how to switch my direct deposit and stuff. they said it’s super easy. i asked one of them to go with me on saturday to make sure i get a good deal. taylor said that wouldn’t be a risk but jennica told me a couple things to watch out for and i think she also agreed to go with me but i’m not 100% sure on that.

anyway, after i ate i was in a much better mood. not a good mood, but a less bad one. i did finally get out my notebook and start... actually taking notes on the textbook. i didn’t get very far at all- i was interrupted- but i felt like it was working for me a little bit. i was trying to take the equations, and finding the main ideas for how we interpret those equations, and then writing that down in my own words. it’s been four hours and i still remember the difference between poisson’s equation and laplace’s equation- even though laplace is just a special case of poisson. i think, if i can identify the most important ideas behind the main equations given in the text, i can write that down and that will help me remember what the hell green’s theorem is or whatever next time it comes up on a test.

i also tried something new after i was interrupted. suzanne had gone to talk about the class with one of the undergrads in the same section and he allowed me to sit in on the session while we worked through practice problems covered in class. 

suzanne made it so much easier though.

the new thing i tried is that i tried to basically repeat what suzanne was saying but in my own words. and i asked questions about what each variable *was*. and if i felt i didn’t understand it well enough i said it again a different way. 

i couldn’t tell if it was slowing her and john down or not. i tried to pull back on the goofs at least. i also talked to john a little bit just trying to identify what it is about the professor’s lectures that has me so lost. and i figured it out!

he takes these practice problems from the book but then generalizes them to include all cases. this turns his math into monstrous entire-blackboard-spanning messes of variables and summations. and he skips important logic steps so it looks even more like a wall of chalk.

suzanne walked us through the simplest cases and then explained how some parts could be expanded to account for harder scenarios. i found that SUPER helpful because it let me point out myself where something could be made more complicated. 

i have a lot of trouble with lectures, but conversations are so much easier. i don’t necessarily remember exact words or phrases but the idea sticks with me a little better. maybe it’s an active listening thing? or a participation thing. i had a good time in discussion-based classes back at villanova too.

i like john though. i hope he likes me enough to let me intrude on his tutoring time again. i felt bad that i was explaining really basic concepts- not to him, but to myself. but he seemed to react as if i was kind of, splainin at him about how image charges worked. 

really it was because i had to remind myself a couple times that they are not actual charges that appear in a grounded plane as a response to a real charge. they are a math thing we use because it’s convenient.

hopefully that helps tomorrow on the test! i think the discussions are starting to help a little more... now that i’m getting less anxious about not getting stuff right away. i mean taylor and jennica give me Looks, sometimes, when i ask for a definition i should probably know by now. i get turned around by the notation kind of easily though, especially when i’m trying to identify the point where i stopped understanding the question. but if Looks are the worst they can do, well, i’ve had worse happen. in this department! with the e&m professor. 

in the conservatory, with a knife.

dated jokes are the best.

anyway i think that is also going to be my good thing about myself for today because i am already running kind of late since mom called and wanted to chat for 10 minutes while i was trying to write. i got my test tomorrow. so i will try to rest now.

[madisonsclarks]

Sing About Tragedy

**This didn’t show up in the tag last night, so I’m trying again**

Summary: Abby finds out Marcus’ name wasn’t on Clarke’s list and must deal with the consequences of what it means for her relationship with her daughter and with the man she loves. Set in some alternate S4 future after Abby returns from Becca’s lab and Marcus gets out of whatever mess he’s in with Azgeda. :/

Author’s Note: This is the angsty-est 8,000-word thing I’ve written in a long time, but I just couldn’t let that list plot go without exploring the idea that Abby might find out he wasn’t mentioned. Don’t hate me. Cry with me instead.  

Pairings: Kabby, and hella implied Raveric/Puppy Mechanic because I’m TRASH NOW AND THE TRASH CAN IS WHERE I RESIDE

Abby smiled as she moved through Medical, taking care to keep her steps as quiet as she could. For the moment, her only patient was Octavia Blake – freshly returned from another brush with death, which seemed to be a talent of hers – and two members of their camp had hardly left her side for the day’s duration.

Bellamy had set up a chair next to his sister’s cot, sat down, and proceeded not to move an inch for at least three hours. Octavia had yet to awaken – she’d been bruised pretty badly, and one of her legs had been fractured – this was, of course, factoring out the stab wound she’d sustained from Echo. With her hair fanning out in all directions like a raven waterfall, she appeared the most peaceful Abby had ever seen her. No matter how ardently she reassured her older brother that she was going to be fine, he seemed determined to be there the moment the anesthetic wore off.

“They’re both asleep,” Jackson noted, his gaze drifting from Bellamy to his companion as his lips formed a wry smile. “Didn’t you offer to let them know when she woke up?”

“I did,” she sighed, a slow quirk at the corners of her lips forming a mirror image of Jackson’s expression. Of all the things that had surprised her with the oncoming nuclear meltdown, this wouldn’t have come close to making the list. “They didn’t listen.”

Jackson’s smile widened. “As long as they’re resting,” he said, his focus switching to the test tubes of Nightblood they had managed to manufacture in Becca’s lab. Or rather, the person standing next to them, drumming her fingers absentmindedly against the countertop. Jackson asked permission with a glance, and Abby nodded. There was nothing more he could do for Octavia: now it was a waiting game to see how she felt when she awakened.

Abby watched as Raven met Jackson with a smile, and they began an animated discussion about the contents on the counter in front of them. At one point, she thought she even heard Raven laugh – a welcome change from her demeanor only weeks ago. Jackson, it seemed, had that effect on her. Thank you, Jackson.

Abandoned by her assistant, Abby’s gaze drifted to the man sitting in a chair on the opposite side of Octavia’s cot. Marcus had tried to find things to do in Medical for the past few hours as the sky darkened, for what Abby guessed was a two-pronged reason: to spend time with her and to be there for Octavia. The majority of his day had been spent in meetings; time with Clarke, Jaha, and others. Now, it seemed, the steady flow of duties had slowed to a trickle, and he had time to spare in awaiting Octavia’s recovery.

He hadn’t had time to tell her the specifics of what happened, but it was obvious enough that he and Bellamy had thought she was dead. From the weight in his tone and the regret in his eyes, she guessed their last conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. It was a sharp, white-hot pain Abby knew all too well; when she had been in space and her daughter on the ground, regret and grief had almost swallowed her whole, sanded down the edges of her will to keep fighting for what was right.

Thankfully, she thought, they managed to salvage their relationship and come to an understanding about what happened to her father. To realize Marcus had gone through a similar stage, all while being captured by Azgeda…it was almost too much for her to bear. Octavia might not have been his daughter, but he certainly loved her like one: his relief at seeing her alive was enough to prove it.

As if her soft stare was enough to wake him, Marcus blearily lifted his head and found Abby looking at him from across the room. Instinctively, they both smiled. In the past she might have been embarrassed for him to find out she’d been watching him sleep. After all, it was an intimate thing – in sleep, he appeared weightless, unburdened, calmness and tranquility having filled in gaps where stress and anxiety vacated – and while she couldn’t say she’d never done it before they were together, it meant something different now. Every touch, every glance, every word was a treasure.

He meant something different now.

Marcus stood slowly, wincing, and Abby gritted her teeth. She wanted to tell him to stay in the chair, but doing so would require her to shout from across the room – a sound that wound undoubtedly wake Bellamy, who hadn’t been roused from his slumber by her gaze. Thankfully the moment passed quickly, and Marcus made his way over to her with no more outward indications of a pain she hoped he no longer felt.

Wordlessly, he opened his arms and she moved into them. Faintly, Abby could hear Jackson and Raven deep in their discussion. They had moved out of view: the potential for embarrassment was low. Not, she thought, that embarrassment was something about which they needed to be worried. Not after their reunion.

She nearly laughed when she remembered how she’d greeted him, half her heart limping and twisting and barely beating since he hadn’t answered his radio a few days earlier. All pretense of decorum evaporated, she’d sprinted toward him and all but thrown herself into his arms, all sounds of hammers on metal and buzzing conversation drowned out by the loudness of his presence.

His arms felt like home, his heartbeat a symphony, and she’d leaned away just enough to kiss him – passionately – in front of an unwilling, clueless audience.

She could still hear John yelling at them to “get a room.”

The memory brought a muted giggle from between her lips as she leaned into his embrace, composed more of a sigh than emotion. But Marcus knew her well enough to know what it meant, his steady hands stilling on her back.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly, still holding her close. Honesty, she decided, was the best policy.

“What I’d do if anyone walked in on us now,” she said. “Then I remembered…” she trailed off, and it was his turn to give a sigh of a chuckle.

“I don’t think we need to worry,” he said. “Unless you’d rather we didn’t-“

There was no way in hell she’d let him finish that sentence.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmured, pressing herself more fully to his solid form, and earned a real chuckle for her trouble.

A loud chorus of laughter shattered the intimacy of the moment, and Marcus pulled away to look in the direction of the explosion.

“Raven and Jackson?” he said, his tone asking a question his words hadn’t. Abby shook her head.

“I don’t think so. Not that I know of, at least. But you’re assuming they’d tell me.”

“Jackson would.”

Abby considered for a moment, decided he was right. Spending five years as someone’s assistant gave them an all-access pass into one’s personal affairs, whether or not you wanted them to have it. Jackson had known about the two of them long before the rest of Arkadia, had been aiming knowing smiles in her direction every time Marcus wandered into Medical. It was only fair, she thought, that she could make the same conjecture about him and Raven. If there was a conjecture to be made.

“Probably,” she admitted. “But for now, I’m just happy she’s happy.”

Marcus nodded. “I haven’t heard her laugh in…” he trailed off, the sound of Raven Reyes’ laughter falling outside the parameters of his memory. His sentence was finished by another source: a quiet groan from across the room.

“Octavia,” he said, every muscle in his body stiffening at the sound. Abby removed herself gently from his arms, and he all but sprinted to the cot. Naturally, Bellamy had awakened at the moment a sound came from his sister’s cracked, dry lips.

“O,” the boy said said, leaning over her as her eyelids opened, desperate to be the first thing she saw when she returned to the world of the living. “Octavia. Octavia.”

Marcus approached slowly, placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder as the girl before them took a deep breath. His posture revealed his emotions, the stiff line of his back and slump of his shoulders betraying guilt. He truly hadn’t thought he’d see her again.

She mumbled something Abby could barely understand from her position in the room, barely able to make out “was nothing,” and “had worse days.” Her sentence must have been fully formed from where Marcus and Bellamy stood, because she heard them both give low chuckles.

Reluctant to intrude on the moment but knowing her duty required her to do so, Abby slowly made her way toward her patient and her visitors.

“I need to check on her,” she said, her tone conveying the depth of her understanding. Marcus stepped back first, and reluctantly, Bellamy followed.

Octavia regarded her wordlessly, moving to sit up: a motion Abby halted by placing a gentle, but firm hand on her shoulder.

“You need to rest,” she said. “Lie back down, Octavia.”

The girl gave her a glare that said she’d certainly attempt the same maneuver later that night, and Abby wondered if she’d have to spend the night in Medical to keep Octavia Blake from further injuring herself. If she had to, she would.

She asked the girl questions about how she was feeling, each of which were answered with a short, “fine.” She was feeling fine, her head felt fine, she felt fine now that the painkillers had worn off.

As satisfied with her answers as it was possible to be, Abby stepped away. Tempted to aim her words at Marcus – as she was always tempted to do whenever he was in her proximity – she instead turned her head to regard Bellamy.

“Not too late,” she said. “She needs to sleep so she can heal.”

Abby couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard a snort from the direction of the girl’s cot. Bellamy was less obstinate in his response, giving her a nod before practically sprinting to his sister’s side. Marcus lingered by her side a moment longer, pressed a chaste, quick kiss to her temple.

“I could say the same for you,” he said, reminding her Octavia wasn’t the only one who needed sleep. There was an offer in his gaze, a question in the softness of his touch that made her skin buzz and her stomach flip. She knew where his room was, and sleeping without him after Polis would feel too empty, her old room too dark to let her close her eyes.

She had always needed a little light to fall asleep, and Marcus Kane was that light.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, meaning every word. He beamed, the clouds of guilt and remorse lifting for a moment as his brown eyes shone. For a man who had spent the better part of nine days holding her, exploring her, making love to her in Polis, he still acted as though she were a breakable, fragile thing. As if assuming too much might shatter her and render everything between them useless. Abby knew that no matter the height, no matter how steep the fall, what was between them was unbreakable.

Watching him with Octavia – the gentleness in his voice, the tremor in his apology – it was profoundly private, and she turned away.

***

“Doctor Griffin?”

Abby had been on her way out of Medical for the night, handing control over to Jackson for the next few hours so she could get some sleep. She had asked him if he wanted her to take the late shift, but he vehemently denied – and it was hard to keep her brain from making a connection between Raven’s hours in Engineering and the overlap they shared with the late-night Medical shift. Probably nothing, she decided, but it was nearly impossible not to speculate.

She’d been set to leave, hanging her lab coat on the hook next to the sliding doors, when Monty Green appeared. To her observation, he didn’t look injured: that said, his expression was ashen.

“Monty,” she said, doing her best to hide her chagrin. “Can I help you?”

Marcus was waiting for her, and although they likely wouldn’t do anything but sleep tonight – she thought he was likely too weary from his latest brush with death – she reminded herself she also hadn’t thought he was the type to make her late for meetings by kissing his way down her neck, her stomach, and burying his face between her thighs. The uncertainty made her all the more eager to go to him, and Monty was…well, getting in the way of having her questions answered.

“I, um…” he trailed off, fidgeting a little under her gaze. “I’m not injured or anything.”

“Is it Jasper?” she asked, her brain defaulting to the next most likely alternative. While Monty was careful about avoiding anything that might be affected by radiation, Jasper was…less so.

“No. I’m here to talk to you, actually,” he said.

Abby couldn’t help herself: she frowned. In all their time on the ground, Monty Green had spoken all of perhaps ten sentences to her, many of which involved either Clarke or Jasper. What could he possibly have to tell her, and why did it need to wait until midnight?

He looked so uncomfortable her heart was swayed to pity him, and she invited her young guest to step inside.

“Octavia’s asleep,” she said, regarding the unconscious brother-sister duo at the other side of the room, “so we need to keep our voices down.”

“Right,” Monty said in something that was decidedly not a whisper. “Understood.”

He was nervous, and Abby felt her stomach clench. Had they found a problem with her Nightblood?

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, waiting for the blow that would send the rest of her perfect night reeling. Would it have been too much, she wondered, for her to go to Marcus and curl up in his arms without drama finding its way back to them? Was one night too much to ask for?

“It’s about Clarke,” he said, then backed up a step, shook his head. “Well, it’s not really about her. It’s about the list.”

The frown that had recently vacated her features returned in full force. “The list?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice down. “What list?”

“Oh. Shit,” Monty breathed. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looked vaguely as though he were considering sprinting out of Medical and abandoning the conversation for good. “She didn’t tell you.”

“I don’t know anything about a list,” Abby said, nausea making her stomach sink lower and lower as the gears of her brain turned.

“You…you might want to sit down, then,” Monty said.

Abby remained standing as he explained what, exactly, “the list” was – a group of 100 people whom Clarke had deemed the Ark would keep safe from the nuclear radiation when the time came. She sensed Monty’s frustration through the tightness in his voice, the stiffness in his posture: for good reason, she thought. Her daughter had no right to play God in that way. To determine who lived and who died. They’d done that in space, and to this day her memories of that time left her weary and exhausted.

He also explained that they’d come up with an alternative. Now, at Jaha’s suggestion, they’d be holding a lottery to determine who stayed on the ship when the time came. It was fairer, he said, and it had gotten everyone working again.

“Clarke put your name down first,” Monty said, conflicting Abby’s emotions even further. “Which makes sense. You’re our best doctor, and her mom. But…”

He trailed off, swallowed hard.

“What is it, Monty?” she asked, already half-enraged with her daughter and half-exhausted by the thought of seeking her out to have this conversation at well-past midnight.

He looked at her with an apology and said the words she hoped she wouldn’t hear.

“Kane wasn’t on it,” he said quickly, as though the sentence burned him as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Doctor Griffin. I just thought you should know, in case you wanted to talk to her about it. I just-I saw you guys today, and-”

The world faded in and out of a blurred haze, her lungs shrinking in her chest as she struggled to breathe. There was a ringing in her ears that came from no specific source.

Marcus wasn’t on it.

Part of her wanted to believe it was a joke – apparently Jasper and Monty had taken to reviving some of their antics now that the world was strapped to a timer – but there was nothing but sincerity to be found in the boy’s gaze. Abby prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw in Monty Green told her he was giving her nothing but the truth.

How could Clarke do this to him? Even if that paper was now null and void, if those plans were long-gone, how could she have…after everything Marcus had done for her, for their camp, for their people…

A vision of him stumbling through black rain, choking in the poison fumes, shoved through the jumble of her panicked thoughts and she tasted bile. She hadn’t let Pike execute him, and she sure as hell wouldn’t let her daughter do the same.

“Thank you, Monty,” she said sharply, hoping the boy knew her tone wasn’t directed at him. “I’m happy you told me.”

***

She found Clarke in the Chancellor’s office, sifting through a stack of papers that dwarfed her tiny frame. Under typical circumstances, Abby would have felt a twinge of pity, of sadness: she was only eighteen, but the world wanted her to be so much older. Her people wanted her to be so much older.

Now, she felt only a white-hot ball of rage in her chest, a squirming, pulsing thing that she didn’t know what to do with. Being angry with her daughter was a thing foreign and strange to her – they’d rarely argued on the Ark, and even here their disagreements had always reached a timely and decisive end. But this felt like a betrayal in more ways than one, and Abby reached for words that were well beyond her grasp.

How to ask her daughter why she’d condemned their Chancellor, their former Ambassador, the man she loved with her whole heart, to death? How could her lips even begin to form those words?

The absence of her wedding ring and the ring around her neck felt palpable now, a weight on her being that shortened her steps and slumped her shoulders. Part of her hoped Clarke would deny everything, tell her it was a joke from Monty and Jasper’s twisted imagination, that Marcus had been on the list just below her name.

And part of her knew that would be a lie.

“Clarke,” she said, using all of her willpower to keep her voice even. Her daughter turned to her, the look in her sea-blue eyes – her father’s eyes – expunging her last hope.

Her daughter knew why she was here.

“Mom,” Clarke said, her voice wavering in a way that split the rage in Abby’s heart down the center, gave part of it over to sadness and left the rest to fester. “I can explain.”

Abby took a deep breath. “Can you? Can you tell me why you wouldn’t think our Chancellor is worth saving? The man who saved my life?”

She rose from her chair then, shadows crawling across her youthful face in the dim light. Her eyes were already red-rimmed, and Abby wondered if she’d been crying long before she entered the room. Caught between drawing her into a hug and walking away, she found a middle ground in remaining where she was.

Clarke bit her lip. “You and Jaha were both Chancellor before Kane,” she said. “Jaha has experience in Engineering and could help if anything went wrong before five years was up. You’re a doctor. Kane…” she paused again, looked away as though summoning every last bit of her strength. “Kane’s a guard. We have plenty of guardsmen. I didn’t-“

“Marcus,” Abby said, feeling the need to emphasize his first name, to make him more than just the authority figure her daughter knew by last name and last name only, “is the head of the guard. He knows the position better than anyone else. He’s more than just a guardsman, Clarke.”

“I know,” her daughter said, every word a nail through her heart. “But at his age…I weighted the list toward younger, experienced members. People with his knowledge who could help us for-“

His age? She’d condemn him for his age?

And suddenly, every bubble of anger she’d been keeping intact within her chest burst.

“Enough!” she shouted, far past the point of caring whether anyone else could hear them now. Her voice trembled, a quiver marring her exclamation as her heart shattered. How could the person she loved most have changed into one of the coldest she’d ever known? “Clarke-“

“Mom, please just listen-“

“How could you?” Abby snapped. “After everything Marcus has done for us, all the lives he’s saved, you’d leave him to die because of his age?”

“Mom, I…I didn’t…”

Suddenly, with a sickening click, all the pieces fell into place. There was a reason her excuse felt flimsy, foreign, slipped away when she tried to make it stick to her daughter. Age had nothing to do with Marcus qualifying for her list.

“Clarke,” she said, taking a shuddering breath, “tell me this had nothing to do with your dad.”

Her daughter remained silent, tears slipping down her cheeks. Each drip of water fractured Abby’s limping heart further, but her words were free now. Unbidden, they continued to flow past the dam of restraint she imposed upon herself.

“This is because of us?” she said, hardly daring to believe it. “Because of Marcus and I? Because I took off the rings?”

She stopped, nearly gasping for breath under the weight of her realization. All this time…Clarke had seen them in Polis, seen Marcus stroking her cheek, told her to go to him after the battle in the Throne Room. Could she have really despised their relationship all that time? Could she have been nurturing a hatred so sharp that she’d cut a man’s life short with it?

How could she be so cruel?

Abby was openly crying now, her own tears splashing down to the carpet to accompany her daughter’s. She couldn’t believe it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, and something inside her daughter broke.

“I can’t talk about this,” she said, turning away and sitting down in her seat with a thud. “Mom, I can’t do this right now. Bellamy and I-“

“You’re not doing anything at one in the morning, Clarke,” Abby snapped. “Tell me why your father’s memory gives you the right to condemn the man I love to die.”

“I know you love him!” Clarke exclaimed, her voice breaking all over again. “I know! I didn’t want to do this!”

“Then you didn’t have to!” Abby said, stressing every syllable, matching her daughter in both emotion and volume. “You didn’t have to play God, Clarke!” She turned away, wiped a few tears from her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve. When she turned back to her daughter, her voice was shakily measured. “I just wish that if you had a problem with Marcus and I, you would have told me. Then he could have made your list and lived.”

Clarke took a deep, rattling sigh, one that shook her frail shoulders and quelled her sobs for a heartbeat of a moment.

“Mom, I…” she trailed off, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her stained gray shirt. “This isn’t about you and Marcus. I promise. I just – he made me promise not to tell you-“

Abby felt her pulse quicken, her stomach lurching all over again.

“Who made you promise? Jaha?” she asked.

A few seconds passed, magnified by the roaring of her blood through her veins and the white noise of machinery.

Clarke shook her head. “No.”

A few more seconds of quiet.

“I’m so sorry, mom. I didn’t want to leave him off, but he told me it was better that way…that I should give the spot to someone who deserved it more than him. He made me promise not to tell you…he didn’t want you to worry about him…please believe me.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Marcus,” she breathed with the little air that was left in her lungs. “Marcus told you to leave him off.”

Her daughter nodded vigorously. “I tried to keep it a secret, but you were so upset, and I didn’t want you to think…” she stopped, her voice in danger of breaking again.

“I just…couldn’t stand you thinking I didn’t want you to be happy.”

Abby felt her tears flow anew, and knelt down to be even with her daughter’s chair. Wordlessly, she gathered her into her arms, placed a comforting hand on the back of her head.

I couldn’t stand you thinking I didn’t want you to be happy.

“It’s okay,” Abby reassured her as guilt and anger formed a toxic weight in her stomach. She focused on Clarke as much as she could, rocking her back and forth as best as their position would allow. “It’s okay. I believe you, honey. I believe you.”

But apparently, Marcus could stand her thinking he didn’t want her to be happy. Apparently, Marcus loved her enough to cement her unhappiness for the rest of her days.

***

The knock on her door was hesitant, soft, questioning. It could only belong to one person, and it was for that reason she felt no urge to rise from her bed and face its owner.

“Abby?” he said, his voice as gentle as the rapping of his knuckles against the cold metal. She turned over in bed, grimaced as the linen sheets twisted and clung to her sweaty legs.

“Go away,” she droned, her voice a soulless monotone.

He was quiet for a few moments, his shadow darkening the light beneath her door and evidencing his presence. On some level, she knew he knew what she’d learned.

“Abby,” he said, his voice considerably quieter. “Please let me in.”

She gave a long, soft, drawn-out sigh in a bed that no longer felt like hers.

“Fine.”

The door had been unlocked the entire time, but naturally, Marcus Kane wouldn’t enter until given express permission. He stepped into her room gingerly, closing the door behind him with a barely audible click.

“Can I turn on the light?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Abby snapped, throwing off the covers and moving to sit on the edge of her bed. She couldn’t handle being any closer to him right now. He had a kind of magnetism that would pull her in, his brown eyes rendering her logical thought useless, losing her in a maze that would lift the shroud of anger over her words, her thoughts, her entire being.

She couldn’t be close to him knowing he hadn’t wanted to be close to her in less than two months.

The light shone, revealing a Marcus that looked no better than she felt. His gaze was rife with guilt, his eyes lacking the spark they usually had when he regarded her. They were both empty, she thought, this news having hollowed them out in every way imaginable. And he had to know it was his fault. He had to know that if he valued their relationship more than his ever-present need to sacrifice himself, that she’d be sleeping with him instead of yanking sweaty sheets around her trembling body in a bed too big for one.

“Abby,” he breathed. “I’m so-“

“Don’t bother.”

He sighed. It was three in the morning, her body ached, her head pounded as though she were being hit with a sledgehammer. She wanted him to go away. She wanted to run into his arms. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted everything to stop.

“I can explain,” he said, and she gave a snort the likes of which she hadn’t heard from herself since their days on the Ark. It stung for him to hear, and she knew he recognized it.

“Can you?” she asked. “Tell me, Marcus. Tell me why you would let me believe my daughter didn’t put your name on her list. Tell me why you’d commit suicide instead of-“ her voice had strayed into dangerous territory, and she swallowed hard.

“Clarke and I discussed it together,” he said. “She told me there were only a hundred spots, said Raven insisted she make a list, and…there were people more deserving than me, Abby. People without three hundred lives on their hands. People who I thought should see the future of this planet, when the storm ends.”

He looked small standing by the foot of her bed, shrinking under the weight of his confession.

“So Polis meant nothing to you,” she said, hoping that pouring her pain into her words would get some of it out of her chest. “Everything we did…everything you said to me…it was just a way to pass the time until Roan needed you to get to work.”

Marcus took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It wasn’t, and you know that. Abby, please don’t question whether or not I lov-“

“Stop.”

She couldn’t hear him say it like this. The first time couldn’t be the last, marred forever by his willingness to throw himself into radiation and leave her, the Blakes, everyone who cared about him behind.

“But it’s true,” he said, a note of pleading creeping into his tone. “Please, Abby. Everything I said in Polis, everything we shared…those were the best nine days of my life.”

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and realized she’d been crying without realizing it. How long had her eyes been betraying her? How long had her heart been breaking loudly enough for him to hear?

“If that’s true,” she said, exhausted and broken in places she hadn’t known were whole until they shattered, “then you wouldn’t have asked my daughter to end your life. I shouldn’t have been surprised. You’ve always been determined to be a martyr, Marcus. Don’t let me stop you.”

He blinked, the harshness of her words taking him aback.

“Abby,” he said, taking another step toward her, reaching out to touch her. She recoiled.

“I need to go to sleep,” she said.

He understood her dismissal without an explicit statement, realized his presence was no longer needed nor wanted. Defeated, he moved toward the door with his shoulders slumped. Even in the darkness after he turned out the light, he appeared a shell of his former self. Of the man who kissed life into her in Polis, the man who electrified her with a thousand feelings she didn’t know she could still have.

“Goodnight, Abby,” he said.

She didn’t answer.

***

Dawn broke coldly over the horizon, yellow light chilling her to the bone. She hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep thanks to the constant buzzing of her thoughts and the weight in her stomach, a kind of pain caused only by a careful mixture of regret and desolation. A glance at the clock told her her alarm would ring in an hour, and she leaned over to switch it off anyway. Sleep wasn’t coming. It had never been invited.

A long, slow sigh brought her into the land of the living and she slid out of bed, wincing as her feet collided with cool metal. The discomfort seemed to shake off the few cobwebs that had formed around the edges of her memory, and her pain returned stronger than ever.

He had really been willing to let himself die. And he had convinced her daughter to go through with it, convinced her it was necessary, remained stubborn in his insistence to keep Abby in the dark. His expression last night – the genuine regret in his eyes, the haunted lull in his voice when he told her goodnight – there was a remorse inside them that couldn’t be faked.

That didn’t mean it was able to be forgiven.

Moving around slowly, as though the memory sapped her of her strength, Abby picked her tank top, henley and jeans up off the floor where she’d tossed them last night and began pulling them on. Her muscles felt sore for no apparent reason, and she winced as she raised her arms above her head to dress. Her breaths were ragged, uneven, and a lump had formed in her throat.

No more of that, she decided as she swallowed forcefully: no matter how she was feeling, she had a duty to her people. There were bigger things at stake than her relationship with Marcus.

A knock on the door startled her as she brushed her hair, and she decided not to acknowledge it. If he thought night would sand down the edges of her fury, he’d thought absolutely wrong. If anything, hours of consideration had sharpened it. What he’d done…it approached a line she thought she’d never see him cross again. And it sickened her to know perhaps he’d never really left it behind.

Another knock, harder, echoing through her tiny quarters. He was determined. But so was she, and of the two of them she wholeheartedly believed her will was stronger. Marcus Kane wouldn’t get a single word out of her this morning. Loudly, so he knew she was inside and in no mood to talk, she slammed her hairbrush down on her dresser and pulled her chair out from her desk for no good reason. There. Good morning, Marcus.

“Mom?” a voice at the door asked, and Abby flushed red with shame. “Are you in there?”

“Clarke,” she said, realizing her assumption couldn’t have been farther from reality. “I’m here.”

She crossed the room in three steps, pulled open the door to reveal her daughter standing in the Ark’s early morning white light. Her fingers curled around a single sheet of worn paper, and Abby could only guess as to what was on it. There was no desire within her to see the document he hadn’t requested to be on. The document that could have – and still very well might, in a different manner – separate them forever.

“Mom,” Clarke said, sounding relieved, “can I talk to you?”

Abby smiled, combatting a wave of self-hatred for the way she’d behaved toward her daughter the night before. Emotion had gotten the better of her, erased her clarity of thought, but she should have known Clarke wouldn’t try to sabotage her happiness.

“Of course,” Abby said, inviting her in and closing the door behind her. The chair came to good use, then, as Clarke seated herself in it and unfolded the document, spreading it and smoothing the creases on the solid wood of Abby’s desk. The yellowed paper did indeed contain a list of a hundred names, starting with her own: just as Monty had said.

Abby Griffin.

Eric Jackson.

Thelonious Jaha.

Raven Reyes.

The list meant as much to the future of her relationship with Marcus as it did nothing to the one between her and her daughter. Although Abby felt it had been wrong of her to create it, it was apparent from the guilt in her eyes that she saw the error of her ways: a lecture wasn’t what she needed. A lesson had been learned.

“I thought about what happened last night,” Clarke started, her voice even and measured. “Jaha had the list, but he gave it back to me. I wanted to show you this.”

Abby followed her pointer finger to the final spot on the list, a name written in capital letters. A name decidedly not printed in her daughter’s hand. CLARKE GRIFFIN.

“I know you’re mad at Marcus,” Clarke started, and Abby interrupted.

“You don’t think I should be?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Of all the things she thought Clarke might have come to her an hour before her shift in Medical to discuss, her relationship with Marcus Kane hadn’t made the list. “He was going to sacrifice himself, Clarke. He didn’t tell me, and he left that burden to you.”

Clarke shook her head. “Let me explain,” she said.

Her finger still resting on the name that was both hers and foreign, she continued. “I wasn’t going to put myself on the list. That last spot…it was going to go to one of our people. I hadn’t decided yet whether it would be a guardsman, or an engineer, but it wasn’t going to me.”

All the breath drained from Abby’s lungs. Not only could she have lost Marcus, but she could have lost her daughter, too? Why bother putting her on the list, then? Why offer her salvation when her heart had already been destroyed?

“After the things I’d done…the pain I’d caused…I didn’t think I was worthy of a place here,” she continued. “I had every intention of being outside the doors when the end came. Just like Kane.”

Her hands shaking, Abby clung to that name as a reminder her daughter would have been indoors. Somehow, she’d made it onto the list. The image of Clarke trudging through black rain, suffering through ARS, her pale skin marred by lesions and lumps…she couldn’t even consider it.

“You deserved to be on the list,” Abby insisted, all thoughts of Marcus expunged for the time being. “Honey, you’ve saved us all more times than I can count. You should have been first, not me.”

Clarke shook her head. “I didn’t come here to talk about me.”

Abby frowned, tempted to interject, but let her daughter keep going.

“If Bellamy hadn’t been with me, my name wouldn’t be on that list. And it didn’t mean I don’t care about you, or Raven, or him. I do. But I made a choice for my people, and I was determined to see it through. Even if it meant sacrificing myself for them.”

“But Bellamy was there,” Abby said, all the pieces of the puzzle falling together. “And he wrote your name.”

A nod from her daughter’s golden blonde head, painted with streaks of white in the early morning sun. “And if things had been different…if it had been you and Kane making the list…you would have written his name in capital letters, too.”

Understanding washed over her like a ray of sunlight, illuminating her questions about her daughter’s presence.

“You think I should forgive him,” she said.

Clarke was quiet for a few moments, her gaze transfixed on the list of names that meant everything and nothing.

“He made the same choice as I did,” she said. “And I understand why. He didn’t do it to hurt you, mom.”

Abby hadn’t often considered the parallels between her daughter and Marcus, although now they appeared in ink before her eyes on that yellowed piece of paper. Both she and him suffered over their past deeds – things they’d done for the greater good – things that resulted in losses of innocent lives. Neither of them had yet found the strength to fully forgive themselves. And it was her duty, then, to support them until that blossom of self-forgiveness could stand on its own.

“But he had to know,” Abby offered. “He had to know how I would feel.”

“I knew how you would feel, too,” she said. “But I hoped you’d understand. And so did he. If you can forgive me for not writing my name, you should forgive him for telling me not to include his.”

Taken aback, Abby stared at her daughter while she tried to come up with something coherent to say. And to think she’d thought this was because she didn’t approve of Marcus – that she harbored resentment because of Jake. How wrong she’d been, only mere hours ago.

“Of course I forgive you,” she said finally, moving closer as Clarke stood from her chair. “I’ll always forgive you, Clarke. You’re my daughter.”

Clarke smiled, a brief flash of sunshine-infused joy that reminded her of her father. Abby moved forward to enclose her in an embrace, and Clarke held her back just as tightly.

“So you’re going to forgive him, too,” she said, her tone making it sound as though a conclusion had been reached. “You can’t forgive me and not him, mom. Not when we made the same choice.”

Abby’s shoulders rose and fell in an exasperated sigh, knowing she’d been backed into a corner by her daughter’s logic. Yet another thing that reminded her of Jake: their ability to win an argument by sheer, solid, foolproof reasoning. As annoying as it was, it was hard to keep yelling at a damn good point.

Clarke stepped away, a question in her blue eyes.

“We’ll see,” she said. Clarke gave her another short nod, unwilling to push her further. Only once she’d left did Abby notice the list remained on her desk: a reminder of what the two people she loved most had almost done out of another kind of love: a love for their people. It was an aching kind of poignant, one that forced her to fold up the paper and shove it in the crack between her wall and the desk. She had no desire to look at it again.

When all was said and done, she looked at the clock.

We’ll see.

***

Abby stood in the hallway, hesitating as the hum of machinery whirred around her. There was no reason, she told herself, to be this timid. Discussions like this could go one of two ways, and there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

That said, her stomach felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.

Banishing her uncertainty to a dark corner of her head, she raised her knuckles and slammed them against the door. Her heart wouldn’t be able to handle a non-response, so she added her voice for good measure.

“Marcus,” she said, knowing fully well she might not have been the only one who rolled out of bed this morning in no mood to talk. “Are you-“

The door was yanked open before the end of her sentence.

It was as though he’d spent the whole night waiting, she thought. He didn’t appear to have removed any of his clothes or attempted sleep, his bed perfectly made and his jacket zipped. He looked at her with a mixture of hurt and regret, sending shockwaves of emotion through her as she stood before him in the Ark’s snowy light.

“Abby,” he breathed, as though her name pained him. After last night, she couldn’t blame him if it did. “Come in.”

She walked through the door and heard it close behind her, felt his gaze on her as she leaned back against his metal table. They both began talking at the same time, words flying as he made his way toward her.

“I’m so sorry-“

“Clarke told me-“

Then they both stopped, aware of what they were doing.

“You first,” Abby said with an ember of a warming smile, curious as to what was on his mind. Her heart would forgive him, as it always did, but it would do her good to hear him apologize.

“Abby, I’m so sorry about the list,” he said. “About everything. I should have told you from the start what was happening – not only what I was thinking, but what Clarke and Raven were thinking, too. We’re a team, and it wasn’t right of me to leave you out.”

Abby nodded, took a step closer to him. “We work better together,” she said, remembering the long nights when the chancellorship had been a burden shouldered by them both. “But that’s not…” she paused, struggled to find the words that best conveyed the swirl of emotions in her chest. “Marcus, just promise me something.”

“Anything,” he blurted, his brown eyes wide.

“Promise me you won’t do this again,” she said. “I’m not talking about sharing everything with me. You’re the Chancellor. You don’t have to tell me every detail of every negotiation. But the thought of being without you…that you could want that…your penchant for self-sacrifice doesn’t just affect you.”

He nodded so vigorously Abby thought she heard his neck crack. “I won’t,” he said. “I don’t want to be without you, either. I never want to leave your side again, Abby. Those weeks when we were separated…they were hell. And the decision I made regarding that list was wrong. I hope you can forgive me.”

She smiled, a real, full one then, stepping forward to close the distance between them. Their proximity was practically intimate – she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension his question wove through the air between them.

“Clarke came to talk to me this morning,” she said. “She told me she wasn’t going to put her own name on the list, either.”

Marcus frowned. “That’s absurd,” he said. “Clarke should have-“

“It doesn’t matter now,” Abby interrupted, firm. “Bellamy was there, and he wrote her name. And she made me realize you two are more similar than I thought. You have the same tendencies. Her name wouldn’t have been on the list, but Bellamy wrote it down. In the hundredth spot.”

Marcus appeared relieved, although they both knew the list was no longer meaningful. “Of course he did,” he said. “Anyone would have. Clarke deserves to survive.”

“Her point was, Bellamy wrote her name,” Abby said, “and I would have written yours. Her choice wasn’t made to hurt the people she loves, and neither was yours. I understand that now.”

He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time, dawn breaking through the gloom of his features. As if he knew, for the first time since she stepped through is door, that there was a chance he’d be forgiven. That everything would be okay.

“Although I do wish you’d given me a little more consideration, Kane,” she said. His surname was accompanied with a wry smirk, a gesture that made it clear she was joking. He breathed a laugh, wrapped his arms around her as she pulled him close and buried her face in his shoulder.

He smelled like home.

“Abby, I…” he whispered, anchoring her to him with his hands pressed against her back. His voice shook, and she felt that all-too-familiar tightness in her chest that threatened sobs. “Thank you. I won’t do it again.”

She pressed her lips to the tiny expanse of his collarbone exposed by the neckline of his shirt, suddenly overwhelmed by how deeply she’d missed him. How empty her life had felt, even for those few hours, knowing there was a fraction of a possibility everything could end between them. How dark things had been then, how light they were now.

She leaned away, reaching up to brush a soft curl of dark hair away from his forehead.

“I missed you,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side as she leaned forward again. He met her in the middle, brushing his lips against hers in a gesture that was half apology, half yearning.

“I missed you, too,” he said when they broke apart, their mouths still only inches from each other’s. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Abby grinned. “Me either. I think we formed a habit in Polis.”

Her laugh was contagious.

“Good or bad?” he asked.

“Good,” she answered. “Except for when you make me late to important meetings.”

She leaned in again, giving him a kiss that was decidedly less gentle. The shape of his mouth betrayed a smile, and when they parted there was a familiar gleam in his eye. A laugh worked its way up her throat before she could stop it. She knew that look.

“Marcus, I’m supposed to be in Medical in ten minutes.”

The look remained, tantalizing and reverent and adoring all at once.

“Then we have ten minutes.”

His fingers found their way beneath the waistband of her pants, teasing her, skimming her sensitive skin and forcing a gasp from between her lips. Already heat had begun coiling low in her stomach, and she realized she’d missed more than just his comforting presence beside her in bed.

By the time he stepped forward to kiss her again, his mouth insistent and hungry, she was already lost.

“You…” she started as they moved in the direction of his bed, shedding clothing in graceless piles as they went. His kiss cut her sentence short, and she felt the smoothness of his comforter brush against the back of her knees.

“Are a terrible influence?” he finished for her as she lay down with her head on his pillows, amazed by how comfortable his bed was. It was smaller than hers but softer, a true threat to the luxury they’d experienced in Polis.

“The worst,” she murmured, sighing as he peppered hot, slow kisses to the pulse point of her neck and worked his way toward her lips again. There was no way she’d be on time to Medical, but as she had the morning before she was called to meet with Roan, she couldn’t quite locate the part of her mind that was responsible for caring. “The absolute worst.”

***

And so that night, right after she’d said goodbye to Jackson and Raven, Abby made a beeline for her quarters. Naturally, she and Marcus would be sharing a room – publically because it created more space, and privately because they found they couldn’t sleep without each other now – and she threw open the door to her room with a sense of urgency.

Tonight was the do-over for last night, a reset button for all the rage and anger that had been shoved in the place of love and tenderness, and she intended to do it right. But she’d still need her clothes in the morning, her things…she had no intention of being taunted by Monty and Jasper when they saw her making her way back to her quarters after spending the night with Marcus Kane.

The simpler solution, then, was to just move in with him. Which was exactly what they intended to happen.

Thankfully, her possessions were meager: a few shirts, a pair or two of pants, the only other tank top in her possession. Things that could fit in a bag, at least for now. For tonight, she’d take what she could carry. This was only the beginning, she thought with a smile.

She reached up to grab her favorite book – a cheesy romance novel with a revealing cover that she knew would earn her a playful ribbing from the man she loved – and threw it in the bag. Clothes, book, toiletries…it was enough for now. The rest she could come back for later, if she felt the need.

In the process of turning away from her desk, Abby’s gaze fell on that familiar space between wall and wood: a space she knew held something more than open air. It was unimportant, and altogether preposterous, and part of her knew it would be better to burn it and put the list to rest once and for all. At some point, she thought, she might ask Marcus what he thought they should do with it – how best to dispose of it.

Fishing around for it in the darkness, her fingers finally closed against the smooth paper. She pulled it out and slammed it on her desk, as if intent on making it feel the pain it had caused her, her daughter, her love. Such an outpouring of emotion for such a small, meaningless, irrelevant thing.

For now, though she was thankful it was no longer their solution to the apocalyptic problem at hand, she had unfinished business where its black-inked page was concerned.

Rummaging through her drawers, her fingers scraped wood and various office trinkets until she landed on what she was looking for: a pen. Pulling it out from the blackness, she slid the drawer closed and uncapped it in one fluid motion.

They might have only planned for a hundred, but Bellamy Blake had been a stowaway.

It was only fair, she thought, that the same rules should have applied on her daughter’s list: intended for a hundred, given an extra one. So, on the bottom of the list beneath her daughter’s name, Abby Griffin wrote one more in bold, swooping letters.

MARCUS KANE.

[sini-sterility]

Y’all finally get my backstory now.

@weaponizedhorse I FINISHED FINALLY

Alright motherfuckers, you asked for it; you're gonna fucking get it. You've finally unlocked Sini's tragic backstory.

Let's begin with the childhood depression due to intense emotion abuse and manipulation, causing me to try to kill myself, not once, but twice before the age of ten. However, it seems that my body liked the idea, because within two months of turning ten, my legs began to go numb, and I would experience random pain. I told the nurse at school; she didn't believe me. Stir this mixture of reckless negligence and bitchy old-lady nurse until two years have passed, and I am now completely paralyzed in constant literal agony 24/7, to the extent of not being able to sleep, stand, sit, lounge; you name it.

I wasn't nauseus, but the pain was so horrible that I would fake getting sick every day in order to stay home and not face the ridicule the least liked person in my entire school (I am honestly not exagerrating. I got into my school's spelling bee, and was the last 6th grader standing. They called your name, you stood up, waved to the crowd, and they cheered. They got to me, and I shit you not, less than 1/5th of the 6th grade class, none of the other students, and three teachers clapped, and that was as good as I got. Maybe I was annoying or something, I don't know. I was a very, very quiet kid, so I actually don't know what their deal was; there were much uglier people there than me, too) would get from acting like they can't feel their limbs or stand up, or be constantly hunched over in pain.

So I'd stay home with my dad and watch old cowboy shows, trying to ignore the pain. I remember how we treated it was Icy-Hot and a fuck-ton of Ibuprofen.

Eventually, my bullshit quack of a doctor finally clued in that, no, I was not just suffering from a particularly bad UTI. She actually fucking told us that I had a UTI. Because UTI's are reknown for causing pain so bad you literally can't think straight.

So, one day, a week after my 12th birthday (which was the saddest shit you've ever heard of; my mom made my favorite cake and my favorite food (Flan Cake and Chicken Curry), my Godmother was there with a bunch of books, I had a few really cool presents; my sister Shirley even got me a hair straightener at Goodwill, because I'd finally learned that thick curly hair with the mind of it's own (that mind being one of a psychopath) didn't stand a chance against hot iron. They sang happy birthday to me, and I remember that after they finished, I just put my head down on the table in cried. It was the single saddest moment of my life, aside from April (which is another can of worms all together, and very few people know about it).

Anyway, a few days after my mom took me to the doctor, and at this point I had given up on trying to present any semblence of an ability to walk or feel anything at all, so I was in a wheelchair. The doctor saw how much pain I was in (fucking finally), and that I truly felt no sensation anywhere, and immediately sent me to a Neurologist in Indy.

We got there an hour later, and the Neurologist took one look and ordered an emergency MRI – that turned out to be a very traumatizing experience, as the even more amplified pain (metal + back issues of the highest caliber + loud noises + bright flashing lights = Literal torture. To this day I can't go in MRI machines without being knocked out (But I secretly love it because I get to play a little game I like to call 'Resist'. It's basically the game they have you do where you count up to or down from 100, only you ask the Anesthesiologist to push the anesthetic in as slowly as possible, and start counting. When you start to feel it kicking in, you count as fast as possible. My record is 128 bitches <3).

They were only able to get 15 minutes of an MRI with me, before the panic and pain were too much for me and I started convulsing. After that, they checked me into the hospital overnight while they went over the results.

You know that shit's bad when the next day the ICU Oncologist comes in at 7 am the next morning to tell your mom that you need emergency surgery right away, but don't tell you why.

It turned out that I had stage 4 (better known as terminal) Neuroblastoma. There were three main problematic tumors; one that was slung over my left shoulder and attached to the upper left lobe of my lung (bigass motherfucker holy shit it was enormous. They had to cut out a piece of my lung to get ride of (most) it.), one the size of a softball pressing on my brain, just above the temple (They drilled my skull open, and scooped it off my scalp like a blob of strawberry preserves, which is what it looks like anyway btw. They were nice enough to honor a request I made, and take a picture of the tumor. BUT THEY DIDN'T FUCKING SEND IT TO ME, THEY SENT IT TO MY DAD VIA TEXT, AND WE ENDED UP LOSING THE DAMN THING >:O), and then the worst one; the mac daddy of Neuroblastoma tumors.

It was a long, thick, malignant tumor that had infused itself with my spine, and was subsequently cutting off my spinal cord – thus causing all of the pain and the paralysis and numbness. It gave me a hella sweet scar though, shit looks like a zipper along my spine!

After they removed what they could of the spinal tumor (which still to this day causes me a great deal of pain. I'm on 10 mgs of Oxycodine up to 6 times a day, and more often than not I need 7 pills in one day.), they told my parents that I had maybe two months to live. That they were going to send me home with them with a car full of all the medical supplies they could spare us, and that I was going to be very dead, very soon.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked when the third month rolled around and I was still alive – and learning how to walk again. It's taken me 6 years to be able to walk up and down stairs, and depending on the treatment or how long they keep me in the hospital, I occasionally still need my walker. (Sparkly red thing with little stickers all over it. I think we gave it to my grandma, but I'm not sure?) They upped my prognosis to 6 months and then it would be all over, but by then Obamacare went into effect, and that got the ball rolling for CHIPS, and that little thing that so many Americans hate because they “don't want to pay for a stranger's abortions!” (actual reason I was given once. I know that there are real reasons, but I still am okay with paying a little bit extra each month so that another kid who's like I was six years ago today, might have a chance to beat the odds in an overwhelming way. Again, that's just me, and I'm probably over simplifying the matter.), is most likely the main reason I'm still alive.

See, because I was accepted into two (or maybe three, I'm not sure?) forms of health insurance because of the Obamacare plan, I was able to begin treatments within almost a month of diagnosis. After four months passed, they began to fit and train me to use a wheelchair at home, as it was an impossibility that I would ever walk again (or use fine motor control for that matter).

Two months after that, just six months after being told I was already dead; six months of hellish PT and OT; six months of taking chemo and painkillers and throwing up blood – and I fucking walked out of that God forsaken hospital with my walker and my family.

That was six years ago. My body is still healing, and I've had plenty of physical and psychological horrors since ( ie. Kathleen aka 'The ex that raped me last year', my mother becoming even more abusive towards me, to the point of egging me on in cutting myself, and losing most of my cats because they were outdoor and we weren't around enough for most of them to want to stay, for starters. Fortunately, the one that did stay was my kitty, Alice. She moved into my current house with my dad and I after my dad won sole custody of me during their divorce (those two NEVER should have gotten married, they hate each other so fucking much.), and she's been a driving force in my will to live and fight ever since. The week she went missing was the most miserable week of my life.) the beginning, but I've got something I never had as a child now; a will to live. A reason to live. It's honestly the reason I still believe in God, as twisted as that sounds. I had actually been begging God to just kill me and get it over with in the weeks leading up to my diagnosis, and though it seems like being told you have terminal (which, just incase some of you guys don't know this, does not actually mean that you're totally deadsies; it means that there are no approved treatments or treatments that are proven to be effective, so you have the two options of going home or staying in the hospital while they make you as comfortable as possible as you wait to die a slow, horrible death of cancer; or you subject yourself to potentially deadly, painful, and horrible experimental trials to try and find a cure for yourself and others like you. Guess which one I picked! Ahh, the stories I could tell you... I'd be willing to write another one of these if anyone is interested in my hospital horror stories.) cancer would be your answer in the affirmatory. But for some reason, that's not how I took it. I took it as a sign that I'm supposed to live, at least for as long as I'm needed to do something to make the world better. It sounds crazy; superstitious; egomaniacal to say this, but when I think about everything I've been through, the multiple attempts at killing myself yet living through each time, and the overwhelming feeling I got when I was told I was as good as dead, but I honestly feel like I'm supposed to do something big, even mildly so. I don't know what, but that thought drives me every day to quite literally be that change that I want to see in the world.

I haven't made a suicide attempt ever since diagnosis; I rarely try or succeed to hurt myself anymore, and when I get in that state, my first move is to call up my sister Lilly, or talk to @typical-atheist-scumbag, or even talk to my dad nowadays, rather than just go ahead and grab a razor blade. I'm entirely about absolution and forgiveness as long as a person is genuine, and I try to be as passive and understanding – yet not quite neutral – to other people's beliefs as I possible can be. I stretch myself thin trying to help other people, but I honestly feel all the better for it.

This lovely little “inspirational” (*eyes roll into the back of my head*) piece isn't even half of it, but it's the major stuff. I included that bit at the end to show that even though I've had a pretty bullshit lot in life, I absolutely refuse to let it kick me down.

You may laugh at how stupid and pretentious I sound now.

[yamlog]

met mj for dinner jn (we meet 2-3 times a month now - we’ve grown p close since last year and i think we consider each other Staples, like how some people you meet them once a year and it’s ok, others maybe a few times a year, but some ppl you HAVE to meet at least once a month or u feel a bit unfulfilled? those ppl r staples. like rice.) and even though she saw me just a week+ ago / she saw my class videos, she was shocked and said i lost a lot of weight seemingly over the weekend?? which just confirms my suspicion that my illness taking a turn for the worse is bc of my emotional state. i rly do not have the time or energy to be running a fever for a month again so im just going to focus on getting over the recent event. like for real, not repressing it and having it push back in the form of my body killing itself. as it is i cannot afford to lose any more weight from feeling sad. i need to be healthy so i can do my presentations and go back to dance and finish my crocheting project for school which is hella tedious and laborious bc of the scale and material.

i think ive more or less cried myself dry. i can look at things or remember his voice without crying for hours on end. for now. and i think my period is coming maybe tmr or the day after because the entire section involving babymaking HURTS like fuck when i least expect it. like a sudden attack, when im walking home, or sitting on the train, or buying food. what the fuck lah. i thought the implant was supposed to reduce pain?? if this is pain reduced i rly dk how i survived my cramps from before a year ago.

over the weekend before i had the good sense to eat painkillers (im afraid ive grown dependent on them the way i did my antidepressants when i was 16 - they just make me feel much better and happier and less shitty i rly dk how to describe) i was lying in bed unable to sleep eat drink or even watch shows just crying and wondering if i should just jump. it’s been awhile, and i don’t miss the feeling. it always feels unbearable. and the thoughts keep coming. what if he never wants to see you again, what if he falls for someone better/smarter/prettier/kinder/funnier than you, what if you’ll have to hear about his wedding from a 3rd party, do you really want to carry on knowing the news could come any day, don’t you think it would be wiser to just exit your life so you dont have to find out unexpectedly and go through the unimaginable pain? wouldn’t death be the ultimate protection from suffering? jump lah v fast one then u no need to think abt him alr. it just keeps coming. and it’s tempting. it’s always tempting to escape. not giving in is to consciously choose to ache and yearn every single waking moment. why would i choose torture? and yet i do. because i have parents to support.

made amends w MR over our spat during xmas szn. i mean we still got along but nvr rly talked abt it until he suddenly said that he wanted an apology for what i said. which told me that he had been thinking abt it still bc it was rly hurtful and it matters to him what i think. i apologised, he apologised. things are ok but not ok. but he and i have always been very good at carrying the mess and the ugly and moving on. i think it is a precondition of our friendship. i still resent that he cancelled last min and caused so much trouble for my tita. but it doesnt remove any of the care or affection i feel. i think it’s like that for him too. i said some rly nasty things that day, like i chose my words carefully and they were calculated to hit where it would hurt most. it’s something you can do only after knowing someone for many many years. i gave into my anger. and he forgave me for that. i think that in itself makes it easy to forgive him for wtv irresponsible shit he’s done. i guess we’re actually more similar than i thought?? not that i’d ever admit it to his face.

[sweetbunnykook]

For cramps, I second the ibuprofen. I take 2 advil pain relievers and it helps ALOT. I started taking them because I have an extremely messed up sleep cycle+before I got a job, I used to go 2-3 days without eating. I was malnourished and had chronic fatigue, so I'd get killer headaches and cramps, ya girl went through it. After many tricks, the only thing that'd numb the pain was advil. Eating chocolate helps too, at least for me. Cooking is also hella therapeutic. Try to keep ur mind off it.

Oh my, I’m so sorry you went through that. I hope you’re taking better care of your body these days. I feel you on that lack of food/sleep cycle; back in high school I used to be able to skip most of my meals and function on little sleep for them scholarships and top grades. Once I started college, I went crazy with painkillers too (advil, mostly) which gave me stomach ulcers (which my doctor never tested me on, but gave me meds for). It’s hard for a habit like that to disappear when you’ve developed a cycle of popping pills as soon as your brain tells you you’re in pain. Not doing well with sleep either, but stress-eating at least gave me an excuse to eat well. 

I’m going to keep some chocolate bars in my room ❤❤ thank you so much for your tips!! I’m kinda too broke to buy ingredients to make food with so having a few chocolate bars in my drawers sounds like a great plan. 

- 🐰

[canaryatlaw]

alright, so today didn’t quite go as planned but it was good nonetheless, for the most part at least. I woke up briefly just at 8:30 because kitty knocked something off my windowsill (she seems obsessed with windowsills and sinks for some reason) which made a noise when it hit the floor and startled me awake. I checked my phone quickly and saw Jess had messaged me like two minutes ago saying she was getting a really bad headache and couldn’t go to the ren fair as planned, which was honestly okay with me because I went to bed with terrible cramps and woke up with terrible cramps, and pretty much all I wanted to do was curl into a ball with my two heating pads and stay in bed. so I went back to bed, waking up periodically, and eventually becoming worried the pad I was wearing was going to leak, so I actually got up around 12:25 or so and it was pretty full, so probably a good call. I had taken a shower right before bed last night but I just felt really icky from my period and there being so much blood I just wanted to shower again so I would hopefully feel somewhat clean, so I did, then got dressed. I got the thingy for cramps and tried to turn it on, but for some reason it didn’t kick in right away (the way it works is that you press up the level of it until you can feel it, and I didn’t feel anything so I kept turning it up) so I kept pressing and then it kicked in really hard, but then went out again and just wasn’t be consistent and would just stop after a while, and like I tried to get it to work every way I could think of and just nothing worked, so I ended up just putting it back on the charger and hoping it was a fluke. So I just had my heating pad and painkillers to work with and they were just not really helping very much. I started getting kind of annoyed at this point with everything because like, I bought this stupid thing to supposedly make my periods not really have cramps to deal with so I wouldn’t have to be on birth control but like, I don’t really have a problem with being on bc (other than it sometimes makes me more emotional, but I’m already a very emotional person so that’s kinda hard to judge) but my mom really doesn’t like it, so when I saw this thing I showed her and she was all for it, so I tried it but I was using it yesterday and still getting cramps and now it was just straight up not working and I’m just like.....is this really worth it? wouldn’t it be so much easier to just be on bc? like, yeah it was kinda expensive (after insurance it came out to like $50 a month, which is more than any of my other meds) but it would be a hella lot easier than this....so idk, I’ll ponder this. It’s usually only the first two days that I really get cramps so I may not have to try it again until next month (or in three weeks cuz my body sucks) so we’ll see what happens. Anyway, I settled in on the couch and went to watch the last three episodes of the baking show I’ve been watching on netflix. my two favorites actually both made it to the grand finale, my second favorite ended up winning but I was fairly satisfied with the results. I’m just glad that douche I was talking about next week got kicked off. I don’t remember exactly what I did after that but at some point I was feeling a bit better and Jess texted me asking if I wanted to make ice cream, so of course I said yes and suggest we go back to my apartment afterwards to binge more Supergirl and play with NICKZANO of course. so we met up and walked to the ice cream place, whose staff like, knows us at this point which is kinda sad lol but they’re all very nice. I got cotton candy again, though there is another one I may try in the near future, we’ll see. We ate our ice cream and then went back to my place and turned on Supergirl, while Jess tried to get the kitty to let her pet her lol. I think we got through 5 episodes or so, up through the episode where Winn’s dad dies, so a good way though the series for two days, anyway. It’s so funny that it’s really the side plots and supporting characters that gave us the best storylines of the season, like the Kara and Mon-El shit is boring as hell, but the Ruby and Sam stuff, or the J’onn and My’rnn stuff was great. We decided we’re gonna go to the ren fair tomorrow, so after that last episode Jess headed home since we’d have somewhat of an early morning. Once she left I watched last night’s episode of Wynonna Earp, which felt a bit freakier to me than normal, veering somewhat more into horror film territory (like with the “killing tree” and the more or less jump scare with the demon behind Waverly) which I’m not a fan of, but most of their stuff they pulled off pretty well. I just wanted something light after that so I watched a few episodes of 30 Rock, during which I was trying to figure out how to get a replacement for the surge protector I bought off amazon back in June that came with a 5 year warranty but stopped working last week, so I had to go through two different customer service departments but to their credit they were both fairly efficient and helpful, and I was able to get it done, to kudos to them for that. After that I pretty much started getting ready for bed. I’m probably going to set my alarm for 9 so I have time to shower and get dressed, then walk to Jess’ by 10, and go to the ren fair from there, should be good. It’s almost 1 am now though so I should be getting to bed, so I’ll be doing that now. Goodnight dearies. Have a lovely Sunday.

[robustcornhusk]

hysterectomy recovery

probably just going to do the first week, since so far it’s seems mild? and i guess i’ll throw in the followup appt i’m supposed to have eventually.

having said that, i can still write excessively about it

descriptions of bodies, pain, fluids, etc below

day 0:

we got home around 7:00pm, i want to say. the first thing i noticed on getting home was how much more mobility and energy i had this time rather than last time? like, last time it hurt to get up off the couch, i had to roll out of bed rather than sit up in order to spare my abs, i could only shuffle down the hall. this time, none of that. my abs were a little sore, but really, just a little.

cohuman went out right away to fill the scripts that had been included in my discharge stuff, because damnit, they’d sent off my prescriptions to the wrong pharmacy. 

(no one at the hospital asked where i wanted them to go? so they sent it to a nearby, but kinda not-good pharmacy, rather than the nice delivery pharmacy i prefer. the not-so-great pharmacy is not so great because they close kinda early, it’s really rundown, there’s usually a long line to drop off and pick up scripts, they don’t call when they fill your script, and a couple of times when i’ve walked home from there people have assaulted me in the street.) 

cohuman managed to come back with the Prescription Ibuprofen (???) and the stool softener (colace?), but they weren’t able to fill the oxycodone script or the Prescription Tylenol (???) script. (dr. rowen wanted me to have plain-oxycodone rather than the kind with tylenol mixed it, so that i could try to stick to tylenol and ibuprofen and only add oxycodone as needed)

one of my other housemates was home and served as Responsible Adult Supervision while my other other housemate ran out and got me some gatorade to drink. as soon as housemate came home, it was 7:30 I think? so I took the colace, 600mg of ibuprofen, and at 8, (it having been 4 hours since i was painkillered in the hospital) i took 2 tabs of my old hydrocodone. I also totally downed the whole bottle of gatorade and a bottle of soylent since by calories for the past 24 hours had been “two graham crackers” and “a mini can of gingerale”. (i kept asking for more water please, more ginger ale please, i’m so thirsty, my mouth is made of sand, please give me more to drink)

someone asked if i had weighed myself before and after; it turned out that i gained 6lb, which sorta makes sense: i went from being hella dehydrated to having been pumped full of iv fluid and gatorade and soylent and hadn’t been able to urinate.

i was attempting to talk to people via laptop, but i kept falling asleep, so after a bit cohuman + housemates were like “we’re not letting you drop another laptop, go to bed”, despite it being only 8:30. but getting in bed woke me up again, so i did try to talk to a friend, except i kept falling asleep during that, too. whatever. 

laying down, it seems, moved something around, and so i got stuck in a 15-minute cycle of lay down, sleep for a few minutes, “hey, i have to pee”, go to bathroom, sit there for a bit doing exactly that (but so slowly), lay down in bed, ... this went on for like two hours.

cohuman tried to transfer my scripts from (bad pharmacy) to (nice pharmacy); unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to transfer the oxycodone script due to it being hella controlled.

right before cohuman and i went to sleep, for real, at 11:30, i took more pain meds (2 hydrocodone) and some otc stuff to help me sleep. i woke up like … 6 times anyway, to pee, but it was fine. it went from being “oh my god, i have to sit here and strain to get it out” to “this is a lot slower than usual”.

day 1:

i woke up and sat in bed for a bit being all it’s sore and i don’t like it it and then cohuman was like “take your drugs?” which helped a lot. having said that, this is more like my level of pain at least a week after top+lipo, i think. 

i got a robocall from the hospital being like “do you have all your information? we’re going to give you a robo-survey except it’s actually not going to be used to inform us what we can do better next time, but instead we’ll have nurses call you if you answer bad things like ‘i was confused by what was going on at the hospital’” but they didn’t say the “except it’s not actually” so when it said “Oh, you were confused by discharge instructions? we’ll have a nurse call you” i had to figure out how to say NOOOOOO because i really don’t want more phone calls thanks.

even after drinking another 40oz of fluid, my mouth was still really dry? 

one of the things they handed us on the way out of the hospital were more pairs of the mesh underwear and a bunch of maternity pads. i had been annoyed at the time because it seemed that they didn’t have any adhesive and just kinda ... floated around, fell in the toilet, etc. i discovered this morning, while getting dressed, that they /did/ have adhesive and just the nurse last night hadn’t bothered to take the adhesive-peel off.  

dr. rowen also called to make sure i was doing okay: told me the surgery went well on their end, asked if i was having difficulty with urination, said i should schedule a follow-up appointment in 4-6 weeks. 

housemate’s datefriend is working from our place and being my Responsible Adult Supervision today (and probably tomorrow). with the aid of my Responsible Adult Supervision, i managed to walk over to the pharmacy and not get harassed on my way there or back and successfully retrieved my Actually Prescribed Painkillers. the line was long enough that i did have to sit on the floor, though, while waiting, because i was sorta dizzy.

took 1 additional oxycodone at noon; took another 600mg of ibuprofen at 2. experiencing a little bit of running-cramp like pain in my right side, and a little bit of pain in my shoulders. at 4 i took two oxycodone; at 8 i took another 2. 

it seems the pain has been ramping up a little bit over the course of the day; sorta crampy and my shoulders hurt and it’s probably the gas that they put in me that’s doing this. 

i felt good enough to make lunch (Responsible Adult Supervision came with me, which was actually a mistake, because it meant I missed a package by three minutes) and to make dinner (tomato soup + waffled grilled cheese sandos; also a mistake, because we were eating right after i took pain meds and i accidentally dropped my phone in the soup).

also there are goofy pictures of me in a cat kigurumi with a cone of shame.

around when cohuman and i were going to sleep, 11-12ish, i was actually in a fair bit of pain and it sucked: in my shoulder, around my ribcage, right side of my stomach, The Place Where My Cervix Used To Live. So at 11:45ish, I think, i took two oxycodone and the advil and the tylenol, then cohuman and i watched anime together until it kicked in enough to sleep

day 2:

felt better when i woke up; cohuman told me to take some gas-x because apparently that’s a Good Thing for post-laparoscopy gas pain; i took ibuprofen + 2 oxycodone right when i woke up, at 9.

picocat decided to sit on me this morning which never ever ever happens so i allowed him to press his little toothpick legs into my tender and sore abdomen for 15 minutes. i love this cat.

housemate’s datefriend is battling a sinus infection with codeine, and i’m recovering from surgery with oxycodone, and what i mean is there was No Responsible Adult driving the car today. the metaphorical car, i mean, i just sat on the couch all day.

i made weenie noises at my weenie cat all day, because he was super cute most of it and sat next to me on the electric blanket that a friend brought me last night .

at 1pm it hurt, so i took 2 painmeds; i was sorta sleepy and dizzy all afternoon but the pain went away until around 5. i took 1 then; i also pretty quickly felt kinda sick? i laid down on the couch and sorta slept with picocat (he never does this) for an hour until it felt better. 

cohuman came home near to 9; i took an advil right before we ate dinner. i didn’t have much of an appetite, though.

most of the pain i experienced today was in my shoulders, i think? 

day 3:

i took one pain object right when i woke up, at ~9:30, though this might not have been necessary. (also colace and gas-x) and i took advil at 2. the pain seems to have mostly stopped! hooray! 

rainy, though, so i didn’t actually do anything today.  my housemates and i alike were trapped inside for a nice day of anime (yuri on ice!), curry (tofu katsu, i cooked), and zaireeka.

my throat/the back of my mouth was still hurting, and in one specific spot only, so i took a lot in the mirror. it wasn’t from the surgery; it was a blister from me burning the shit out of my mouth with the soup i ate on day 1. i have no idea when it will stop hurting, but hopefully soon.

i am still bleeding from The Place Where My Cervix Used To Be, but less. it hasn’t really ever been much. the hospital-provided maternity pads remain not very good. the hospital provided mesh underwear also remains not very good. if it were more than hardly any blood, i would care.

(while going to bed, a little bit of pain again, but it stopped like 30 minutes after i tookm more advil)

day 4: 

advil at 10 and at 4, probably again at 11 for sleep. it’s not strictly necessary but also why not? pain today was /minimal/. the advil at 10 was pre-emptive “what if it hurts when i get up?”; at 3:30 i noticed a bit of mild, mild cramping, which is why i took the 4pm dose.

like, the day of surgery when i woke up was peak pain i think, which was on par with “the worst menstrual cramps i had ever had, but not more than that, and also they gave me the good drugs”; today was “hey btw your uterus used to be here, do you miss it? no? okay we’ll see ourselves out”. 

the worst part has been the shoulder pain! (holy wow that was awful at first.) and that’s mostly gone. today i got a couple of occasional twinges.

24 hours out from my last dose of *codone, the gastro-intestinal effects began to become undone. i regret eating curry for dinner. i think my doctor said to call if this hadn’t happened by the end of day 2, but also i was pretty sure it would happen within a day of going off the pain meds, so whatever.

i had expected to be swollen for a few days after surgery, but i wore my normal clothes on day one (to get meds) and today (and my pants nearly fell off...) so maybe not so much, at least not outside of my midsection.

i was pretty sleepy all day but i think that’s just because it was rainy and i was warm and stuck inside. felt a little nauseated at one point but it might’ve just been the heat (electric blanket, sweatpants, normal blanket...). the like, mental fuzzyness/sleepiness without the actual wanting to sleep part seems to be gone now.

day 5:

ibuprofen morning and evening. i didn’t have very much pain during the day, but had a little bit when i went to bed. 

this is probably TOTALLY UNRELATED to how last night i was like “you know my doctor specifically said that non *iv sex is totally fine, right”

also i pulled a muscle in my shoulder and it probably has nothing to do with how i spent 5 days on the couch with a lapdesk and the world’s worst posture. 

day 6:

so over this halfassed bleeding. so over these hospital provided pads. i should like... go to walgreens or somewhere and get some not terribad ones, but also i can’t bring myself to buy 50 (or 30, or 20) or something that i need 5 of.

day 14: 

i am still bleeding. 

pads are the worst and the wings keep wingdingin’ around and they rotate 90 degrees in my clothes and fold over and turn upside down and fuck it i hate these so on day 8 i just started bleeding on my clothes. fortunately, blood washes right out of my hella-synthetic underwear (thinking back to the long times i would spend scrubbing underwear as a teenager... cotton underwear feels like a conspiracy.). 

did i mention the blood also comes out in big, thumb-sized clumps. because it does exactly that. like tbf i have kinda small hands so my thumb-sized objects are like not so big, but nonetheless, it was a little alarming the first like... 10 times.

it’s almost convenient, like a period egg. except they keep coming and coming and coming. the rest of the time it’s just a little bit of blood.

i’ve noticed that after orgasm, it seems there’s less bleeding for~12 hours.

i’ve not been taking any painkillers, including ibuprofen, for obviously-surgery-related pain, though i occasionally get a momentary twinge where my cervix used to be. i’m getting cramps when i walk or bike too fast (like running cramps, in my side, not intestinal or uterine). my doctor okay’d me for biking after a week, as long as i promised to not go too fast.

another side-effect i didn’t notice immediately: sitting up for long periods hurts. i have horrible sitting-up-straight muscles to begin with because i slouch constantly, but like “sitting up in a movie seat to watch rogue one” left me in deep pain at the end on day 10.

so i guess i was taking ibuprofen for surgery-related pain, but it was a few steps removed. that’s been mitigated for now, by doing any sort of writing work laying down with my tablet and a piece of paper masking-taped to a lapdesk. it works.

day 21

still bleeding! (though fortunately, no more clumps.) still occasionally getting awful but brief pains where my cervix used to be!

so done.

day 29/followup

the bleeding stopped sometime over the weekend.

mostly not in any pain. when i walk like a mile or two i feel kinda squiggly on the inside, like a running cramp, minus the pain.

had the four week followup! the cohuman came with me, for both moral(e) support and also being the Insurance Dealing Human. doctor seemed apologetic that i had bleeding until the weekend, then i got to have my one and only speculum-aided exam (since all the stuff they did while i was under turned out negative. good. the not-bad outcome.).

the exam took all of two minutes: scoot up, a little further, all the way to the edge, don’t fall out of the stirrups, oh you fell out of the stirrups, that’s my hand, that’s the speculum (hey cool it has a flashlight attached!), you’re going to feel some pressure (YEP), going to swab with a qtip and it might feel weird (YEP), okay, we’re done.

(”hey so i don’t have a cervix, and i’ve seen pictures of what it looks like when there’s a cervix, but what does it look like now?” “like a wall of flesh”)

(i got a speculum! i really wanna see what my wall of rococo flesh looks like)

there is some silliness with insurance because they took the ovaries and that means it couldn’t be done as a plain ‘ol hysto. gotta get that sorted, with letters.

[madisonsclarks]

Sing About Tragedy

Summary: Abby finds out Marcus’ name wasn’t on Clarke’s list and must deal with the consequences of what it means for her relationship with her daughter and with the man she loves. Set in some alternate S4 future after Abby returns from Becca’s lab and Marcus gets out of whatever mess he’s in with Azgeda. :/

Author’s Note: This is the angsty-est 8,000-word thing I’ve written in a long time, but I just couldn’t let that list plot go without exploring the idea that Abby might find out he wasn’t mentioned. Don’t hate me. Cry with me instead.  

Pairings: Kabby, and hella implied Raveric/Puppy Mechanic because I’m TRASH NOW AND THE TRASH CAN IS WHERE I RESIDE

Abby smiled as she moved through Medical, taking care to keep her steps as quiet as she could. For the moment, her only patient was Octavia Blake – freshly returned from another brush with death, which seemed to be a talent of hers – and two members of their camp had hardly left her side for the day’s duration.

Bellamy had set up a chair next to his sister’s cot, sat down, and proceeded not to move an inch for at least three hours. Octavia had yet to awaken – she’d been bruised pretty badly, and one of her legs had been fractured – this was, of course, factoring out the stab wound she’d sustained from Echo. With her hair fanning out in all directions like a raven waterfall, she appeared the most peaceful Abby had ever seen her. No matter how ardently she reassured her older brother that she was going to be fine, he seemed determined to be there the moment the anesthetic wore off.

“They’re both asleep,” Jackson noted, his gaze drifting from Bellamy to his companion as his lips formed a wry smile. “Didn’t you offer to let them know when she woke up?”

“I did,” she sighed, a slow quirk at the corners of her lips forming a mirror image of Jackson’s expression. Of all the things that had surprised her with the oncoming nuclear meltdown, this wouldn’t have come close to making the list. “They didn’t listen.”

Jackson’s smile widened. “As long as they’re resting,” he said, his focus switching to the test tubes of Nightblood they had managed to manufacture in Becca’s lab. Or rather, the person standing next to them, drumming her fingers absentmindedly against the countertop. Jackson asked permission with a glance, and Abby nodded. There was nothing more he could do for Octavia: now it was a waiting game to see how she felt when she awakened.

Abby watched as Raven met Jackson with a smile, and they began an animated discussion about the contents on the counter in front of them. At one point, she thought she even heard Raven laugh – a welcome change from her demeanor only weeks ago. Jackson, it seemed, had that effect on her. Thank you, Jackson.

Abandoned by her assistant, Abby’s gaze drifted to the man sitting in a chair on the opposite side of Octavia’s cot. Marcus had tried to find things to do in Medical for the past few hours as the sky darkened, for what Abby guessed was a two-pronged reason: to spend time with her and to be there for Octavia. The majority of his day had been spent in meetings; time with Clarke, Jaha, and others. Now, it seemed, the steady flow of duties had slowed to a trickle, and he had time to spare in awaiting Octavia’s recovery.

He hadn’t had time to tell her the specifics of what happened, but it was obvious enough that he and Bellamy had thought she was dead. From the weight in his tone and the regret in his eyes, she guessed their last conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. It was a sharp, white-hot pain Abby knew all too well; when she had been in space and her daughter on the ground, regret and grief had almost swallowed her whole, sanded down the edges of her will to keep fighting for what was right.

Thankfully, she thought, they managed to salvage their relationship and come to an understanding about what happened to her father. To realize Marcus had gone through a similar stage, all while being captured by Azgeda…it was almost too much for her to bear. Octavia might not have been his daughter, but he certainly loved her like one: his relief at seeing her alive was enough to prove it.

As if her soft stare was enough to wake him, Marcus blearily lifted his head and found Abby looking at him from across the room. Instinctively, they both smiled. In the past she might have been embarrassed for him to find out she’d been watching him sleep. After all, it was an intimate thing – in sleep, he appeared weightless, unburdened, calmness and tranquility having filled in gaps where stress and anxiety vacated – and while she couldn’t say she’d never done it before they were together, it meant something different now. Every touch, every glance, every word was a treasure.

He meant something different now.

Marcus stood slowly, wincing, and Abby gritted her teeth. She wanted to tell him to stay in the chair, but doing so would require her to shout from across the room – a sound that wound undoubtedly wake Bellamy, who hadn’t been roused from his slumber by her gaze. Thankfully the moment passed quickly, and Marcus made his way over to her with no more outward indications of a pain she hoped he no longer felt.

Wordlessly, he opened his arms and she moved into them. Faintly, Abby could hear Jackson and Raven deep in their discussion. They had moved out of view: the potential for embarrassment was low. Not, she thought, that embarrassment was something about which they needed to be worried. Not after their reunion.

She nearly laughed when she remembered how she’d greeted him, half her heart limping and twisting and barely beating since he hadn’t answered his radio a few days earlier. All pretense of decorum evaporated, she’d sprinted toward him and all but thrown herself into his arms, all sounds of hammers on metal and buzzing conversation drowned out by the loudness of his presence.

His arms felt like home, his heartbeat a symphony, and she’d leaned away just enough to kiss him – passionately – in front of an unwilling, clueless audience.

She could still hear John yelling at them to “get a room.”

The memory brought a muted giggle from between her lips as she leaned into his embrace, composed more of a sigh than emotion. But Marcus knew her well enough to know what it meant, his steady hands stilling on her back.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly, still holding her close. Honesty, she decided, was the best policy.

“What I’d do if anyone walked in on us now,” she said. “Then I remembered…” she trailed off, and it was his turn to give a sigh of a chuckle.

“I don’t think we need to worry,” he said. “Unless you’d rather we didn’t-“

There was no way in hell she’d let him finish that sentence.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmured, pressing herself more fully to his solid form, and earned a real chuckle for her trouble.

A loud chorus of laughter shattered the intimacy of the moment, and Marcus pulled away to look in the direction of the explosion.

“Raven and Jackson?” he said, his tone asking a question his words hadn’t. Abby shook her head.

“I don’t think so. Not that I know of, at least. But you’re assuming they’d tell me.”

“Jackson would.”

Abby considered for a moment, decided he was right. Spending five years as someone’s assistant gave them an all-access pass into one’s personal affairs, whether or not you wanted them to have it. Jackson had known about the two of them long before the rest of Arkadia, had been aiming knowing smiles in her direction every time Marcus wandered into Medical. It was only fair, she thought, that she could make the same conjecture about him and Raven. If there was a conjecture to be made.

“Probably,” she admitted. “But for now, I’m just happy she’s happy.”

Marcus nodded. “I haven’t heard her laugh in…” he trailed off, the sound of Raven Reyes’ laughter falling outside the parameters of his memory. His sentence was finished by another source: a quiet groan from across the room.

“Octavia,” he said, every muscle in his body stiffening at the sound. Abby removed herself gently from his arms, and he all but sprinted to the cot. Naturally, Bellamy had awakened at the moment a sound came from his sister’s cracked, dry lips.

“O,” the boy said said, leaning over her as her eyelids opened, desperate to be the first thing she saw when she returned to the world of the living. “Octavia. Octavia.”

Marcus approached slowly, placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder as the girl before them took a deep breath. His posture revealed his emotions, the stiff line of his back and slump of his shoulders betraying guilt. He truly hadn’t thought he’d see her again.

She mumbled something Abby could barely understand from her position in the room, barely able to make out “was nothing,” and “had worse days.” Her sentence must have been fully formed from where Marcus and Bellamy stood, because she heard them both give low chuckles.

Reluctant to intrude on the moment but knowing her duty required her to do so, Abby slowly made her way toward her patient and her visitors.

“I need to check on her,” she said, her tone conveying the depth of her understanding. Marcus stepped back first, and reluctantly, Bellamy followed.

Octavia regarded her wordlessly, moving to sit up: a motion Abby halted by placing a gentle, but firm hand on her shoulder.

“You need to rest,” she said. “Lie back down, Octavia.”

The girl gave her a glare that said she’d certainly attempt the same maneuver later that night, and Abby wondered if she’d have to spend the night in Medical to keep Octavia Blake from further injuring herself. If she had to, she would.

She asked the girl questions about how she was feeling, each of which were answered with a short, “fine.” She was feeling fine, her head felt fine, she felt fine now that the painkillers had worn off.

As satisfied with her answers as it was possible to be, Abby stepped away. Tempted to aim her words at Marcus – as she was always tempted to do whenever he was in her proximity – she instead turned her head to regard Bellamy.

“Not too late,” she said. “She needs to sleep so she can heal.”

Abby couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard a snort from the direction of the girl’s cot. Bellamy was less obstinate in his response, giving her a nod before practically sprinting to his sister’s side. Marcus lingered by her side a moment longer, pressed a chaste, quick kiss to her temple.

“I could say the same for you,” he said, reminding her Octavia wasn’t the only one who needed sleep. There was an offer in his gaze, a question in the softness of his touch that made her skin buzz and her stomach flip. She knew where his room was, and sleeping without him after Polis would feel too empty, her old room too dark to let her close her eyes.

She had always needed a little light to fall asleep, and Marcus Kane was that light.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, meaning every word. He beamed, the clouds of guilt and remorse lifting for a moment as his brown eyes shone. For a man who had spent the better part of nine days holding her, exploring her, making love to her in Polis, he still acted as though she were a breakable, fragile thing. As if assuming too much might shatter her and render everything between them useless. Abby knew that no matter the height, no matter how steep the fall, what was between them was unbreakable.

Watching him with Octavia – the gentleness in his voice, the tremor in his apology – it was profoundly private, and she turned away.

***

“Doctor Griffin?”

Abby had been on her way out of Medical for the night, handing control over to Jackson for the next few hours so she could get some sleep. She had asked him if he wanted her to take the late shift, but he vehemently denied – and it was hard to keep her brain from making a connection between Raven’s hours in Engineering and the overlap they shared with the late-night Medical shift. Probably nothing, she decided, but it was nearly impossible not to speculate.

She’d been set to leave, hanging her lab coat on the hook next to the sliding doors, when Monty Green appeared. To her observation, he didn’t look injured: that said, his expression was ashen.

“Monty,” she said, doing her best to hide her chagrin. “Can I help you?”

Marcus was waiting for her, and although they likely wouldn’t do anything but sleep tonight – she thought he was likely too weary from his latest brush with death – she reminded herself she also hadn’t thought he was the type to make her late for meetings by kissing his way down her neck, her stomach, and burying his face between her thighs. The uncertainty made her all the more eager to go to him, and Monty was…well, getting in the way of having her questions answered.

“I, um…” he trailed off, fidgeting a little under her gaze. “I’m not injured or anything.”

“Is it Jasper?” she asked, her brain defaulting to the next most likely alternative. While Monty was careful about avoiding anything that might be affected by radiation, Jasper was…less so.

“No. I’m here to talk to you, actually,” he said.

Abby couldn’t help herself: she frowned. In all their time on the ground, Monty Green had spoken all of perhaps ten sentences to her, many of which involved either Clarke or Jasper. What could he possibly have to tell her, and why did it need to wait until midnight?

He looked so uncomfortable her heart was swayed to pity him, and she invited her young guest to step inside.

“Octavia’s asleep,” she said, regarding the unconscious brother-sister duo at the other side of the room, “so we need to keep our voices down.”

“Right,” Monty said in something that was decidedly not a whisper. “Understood.”

He was nervous, and Abby felt her stomach clench. Had they found a problem with her Nightblood?

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, waiting for the blow that would send the rest of her perfect night reeling. Would it have been too much, she wondered, for her to go to Marcus and curl up in his arms without drama finding its way back to them? Was one night too much to ask for?

“It’s about Clarke,” he said, then backed up a step, shook his head. “Well, it’s not really about her. It’s about the list.”

The frown that had recently vacated her features returned in full force. “The list?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice down. “What list?”

“Oh. Shit,” Monty breathed. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looked vaguely as though he were considering sprinting out of Medical and abandoning the conversation for good. “She didn’t tell you.”

“I don’t know anything about a list,” Abby said, nausea making her stomach sink lower and lower as the gears of her brain turned.

“You…you might want to sit down, then,” Monty said.

Abby remained standing as he explained what, exactly, “the list” was – a group of 100 people whom Clarke had deemed the Ark would keep safe from the nuclear radiation when the time came. She sensed Monty’s frustration through the tightness in his voice, the stiffness in his posture: for good reason, she thought. Her daughter had no right to play God in that way. To determine who lived and who died. They’d done that in space, and to this day her memories of that time left her weary and exhausted.

He also explained that they’d come up with an alternative. Now, at Jaha’s suggestion, they’d be holding a lottery to determine who stayed on the ship when the time came. It was fairer, he said, and it had gotten everyone working again.

“Clarke put your name down first,” Monty said, conflicting Abby’s emotions even further. “Which makes sense. You’re our best doctor, and her mom. But…”

He trailed off, swallowed hard.

“What is it, Monty?” she asked, already half-enraged with her daughter and half-exhausted by the thought of seeking her out to have this conversation at well-past midnight.

He looked at her with an apology and said the words she hoped she wouldn’t hear.

“Kane wasn’t on it,” he said quickly, as though the sentence burned him as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Doctor Griffin. I just thought you should know, in case you wanted to talk to her about it. I just-I saw you guys today, and-”

The world faded in and out of a blurred haze, her lungs shrinking in her chest as she struggled to breathe. There was a ringing in her ears that came from no specific source.

Marcus wasn’t on it.

Part of her wanted to believe it was a joke – apparently Jasper and Monty had taken to reviving some of their antics now that the world was strapped to a timer – but there was nothing but sincerity to be found in the boy’s gaze. Abby prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw in Monty Green told her he was giving her nothing but the truth.

How could Clarke do this to him? Even if that paper was now null and void, if those plans were long-gone, how could she have…after everything Marcus had done for her, for their camp, for their people…

A vision of him stumbling through black rain, choking in the poison fumes, shoved through the jumble of her panicked thoughts and she tasted bile. She hadn’t let Pike execute him, and she sure as hell wouldn’t let her daughter do the same.

“Thank you, Monty,” she said sharply, hoping the boy knew her tone wasn’t directed at him. “I’m happy you told me.”

***

She found Clarke in the Chancellor’s office, sifting through a stack of papers that dwarfed her tiny frame. Under typical circumstances, Abby would have felt a twinge of pity, of sadness: she was only eighteen, but the world wanted her to be so much older. Her people wanted her to be so much older.

Now, she felt only a white-hot ball of rage in her chest, a squirming, pulsing thing that she didn’t know what to do with. Being angry with her daughter was a thing foreign and strange to her – they’d rarely argued on the Ark, and even here their disagreements had always reached a timely and decisive end. But this felt like a betrayal in more ways than one, and Abby reached for words that were well beyond her grasp.

How to ask her daughter why she’d condemned their Chancellor, their former Ambassador, the man she loved with her whole heart, to death? How could her lips even begin to form those words?

The absence of her wedding ring and the ring around her neck felt palpable now, a weight on her being that shortened her steps and slumped her shoulders. Part of her hoped Clarke would deny everything, tell her it was a joke from Monty and Jasper’s twisted imagination, that Marcus had been on the list just below her name.

And part of her knew that would be a lie.

“Clarke,” she said, using all of her willpower to keep her voice even. Her daughter turned to her, the look in her sea-blue eyes – her father’s eyes – expunging her last hope.

Her daughter knew why she was here.

“Mom,” Clarke said, her voice wavering in a way that split the rage in Abby’s heart down the center, gave part of it over to sadness and left the rest to fester. “I can explain.”

Abby took a deep breath. “Can you? Can you tell me why you wouldn’t think our Chancellor is worth saving? The man who saved my life?”

She rose from her chair then, shadows crawling across her youthful face in the dim light. Her eyes were already red-rimmed, and Abby wondered if she’d been crying long before she entered the room. Caught between drawing her into a hug and walking away, she found a middle ground in remaining where she was.

Clarke bit her lip. “You and Jaha were both Chancellor before Kane,” she said. “Jaha has experience in Engineering and could help if anything went wrong before five years was up. You’re a doctor. Kane…” she paused again, looked away as though summoning every last bit of her strength. “Kane’s a guard. We have plenty of guardsmen. I didn’t-“

“Marcus,” Abby said, feeling the need to emphasize his first name, to make him more than just the authority figure her daughter knew by last name and last name only, “is the head of the guard. He knows the position better than anyone else. He’s more than just a guardsman, Clarke.”

“I know,” her daughter said, every word a nail through her heart. “But at his age…I weighted the list toward younger, experienced members. People with his knowledge who could help us for-“

His age? She’d condemn him for his age?

And suddenly, every bubble of anger she’d been keeping intact within her chest burst.

“Enough!” she shouted, far past the point of caring whether anyone else could hear them now. Her voice trembled, a quiver marring her exclamation as her heart shattered. How could the person she loved most have changed into one of the coldest she’d ever known? “Clarke-“

“Mom, please just listen-“

“How could you?” Abby snapped. “After everything Marcus has done for us, all the lives he’s saved, you’d leave him to die because of his age?”

“Mom, I…I didn’t…”

Suddenly, with a sickening click, all the pieces fell into place. There was a reason her excuse felt flimsy, foreign, slipped away when she tried to make it stick to her daughter. Age had nothing to do with Marcus qualifying for her list.

“Clarke,” she said, taking a shuddering breath, “tell me this had nothing to do with your dad.”

Her daughter remained silent, tears slipping down her cheeks. Each drip of water fractured Abby’s limping heart further, but her words were free now. Unbidden, they continued to flow past the dam of restraint she imposed upon herself.

“This is because of us?” she said, hardly daring to believe it. “Because of Marcus and I? Because I took off the rings?”

She stopped, nearly gasping for breath under the weight of her realization. All this time…Clarke had seen them in Polis, seen Marcus stroking her cheek, told her to go to him after the battle in the Throne Room. Could she have really despised their relationship all that time? Could she have been nurturing a hatred so sharp that she’d cut a man’s life short with it?

How could she be so cruel?

Abby was openly crying now, her own tears splashing down to the carpet to accompany her daughter’s. She couldn’t believe it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, and something inside her daughter broke.

“I can’t talk about this,” she said, turning away and sitting down in her seat with a thud. “Mom, I can’t do this right now. Bellamy and I-“

“You’re not doing anything at one in the morning, Clarke,” Abby snapped. “Tell me why your father’s memory gives you the right to condemn the man I love to die.”

“I know you love him!” Clarke exclaimed, her voice breaking all over again. “I know! I didn’t want to do this!”

“Then you didn’t have to!” Abby said, stressing every syllable, matching her daughter in both emotion and volume. “You didn’t have to play God, Clarke!” She turned away, wiped a few tears from her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve. When she turned back to her daughter, her voice was shakily measured. “I just wish that if you had a problem with Marcus and I, you would have told me. Then he could have made your list and lived.”

Clarke took a deep, rattling sigh, one that shook her frail shoulders and quelled her sobs for a heartbeat of a moment.

“Mom, I…” she trailed off, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her stained gray shirt. “This isn’t about you and Marcus. I promise. I just – he made me promise not to tell you-“

Abby felt her pulse quicken, her stomach lurching all over again.

“Who made you promise? Jaha?” she asked.

A few seconds passed, magnified by the roaring of her blood through her veins and the white noise of machinery.

Clarke shook her head. “No.”

A few more seconds of quiet.

“I’m so sorry, mom. I didn’t want to leave him off, but he told me it was better that way…that I should give the spot to someone who deserved it more than him. He made me promise not to tell you…he didn’t want you to worry about him…please believe me.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Marcus,” she breathed with the little air that was left in her lungs. “Marcus told you to leave him off.”

Her daughter nodded vigorously. “I tried to keep it a secret, but you were so upset, and I didn’t want you to think…” she stopped, her voice in danger of breaking again.

“I just…couldn’t stand you thinking I didn’t want you to be happy.”

Abby felt her tears flow anew, and knelt down to be even with her daughter’s chair. Wordlessly, she gathered her into her arms, placed a comforting hand on the back of her head.

I couldn’t stand you thinking I didn’t want you to be happy.

“It’s okay,” Abby reassured her as guilt and anger formed a toxic weight in her stomach. She focused on Clarke as much as she could, rocking her back and forth as best as their position would allow. “It’s okay. I believe you, honey. I believe you.”

But apparently, Marcus could stand her thinking he didn’t want her to be happy. Apparently, Marcus loved her enough to cement her unhappiness for the rest of her days.

***

The knock on her door was hesitant, soft, questioning. It could only belong to one person, and it was for that reason she felt no urge to rise from her bed and face its owner.

“Abby?” he said, his voice as gentle as the rapping of his knuckles against the cold metal. She turned over in bed, grimaced as the linen sheets twisted and clung to her sweaty legs.

“Go away,” she droned, her voice a soulless monotone.

He was quiet for a few moments, his shadow darkening the light beneath her door and evidencing his presence. On some level, she knew he knew what she’d learned.

“Abby,” he said, his voice considerably quieter. “Please let me in.”

She gave a long, soft, drawn-out sigh in a bed that no longer felt like hers.

“Fine.”

The door had been unlocked the entire time, but naturally, Marcus Kane wouldn’t enter until given express permission. He stepped into her room gingerly, closing the door behind him with a barely audible click.

“Can I turn on the light?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Abby snapped, throwing off the covers and moving to sit on the edge of her bed. She couldn’t handle being any closer to him right now. He had a kind of magnetism that would pull her in, his brown eyes rendering her logical thought useless, losing her in a maze that would lift the shroud of anger over her words, her thoughts, her entire being.

She couldn’t be close to him knowing he hadn’t wanted to be close to her in less than two months.

The light shone, revealing a Marcus that looked no better than she felt. His gaze was rife with guilt, his eyes lacking the spark they usually had when he regarded her. They were both empty, she thought, this news having hollowed them out in every way imaginable. And he had to know it was his fault. He had to know that if he valued their relationship more than his ever-present need to sacrifice himself, that she’d be sleeping with him instead of yanking sweaty sheets around her trembling body in a bed too big for one.

“Abby,” he breathed. “I’m so-“

“Don’t bother.”

He sighed. It was three in the morning, her body ached, her head pounded as though she were being hit with a sledgehammer. She wanted him to go away. She wanted to run into his arms. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted everything to stop.

“I can explain,” he said, and she gave a snort the likes of which she hadn’t heard from herself since their days on the Ark. It stung for him to hear, and she knew he recognized it.

“Can you?” she asked. “Tell me, Marcus. Tell me why you would let me believe my daughter didn’t put your name on her list. Tell me why you’d commit suicide instead of-“ her voice had strayed into dangerous territory, and she swallowed hard.

“Clarke and I discussed it together,” he said. “She told me there were only a hundred spots, said Raven insisted she make a list, and…there were people more deserving than me, Abby. People without three hundred lives on their hands. People who I thought should see the future of this planet, when the storm ends.”

He looked small standing by the foot of her bed, shrinking under the weight of his confession.

“So Polis meant nothing to you,” she said, hoping that pouring her pain into her words would get some of it out of her chest. “Everything we did…everything you said to me…it was just a way to pass the time until Roan needed you to get to work.”

Marcus took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It wasn’t, and you know that. Abby, please don’t question whether or not I lov-“

“Stop.”

She couldn’t hear him say it like this. The first time couldn’t be the last, marred forever by his willingness to throw himself into radiation and leave her, the Blakes, everyone who cared about him behind.

“But it’s true,” he said, a note of pleading creeping into his tone. “Please, Abby. Everything I said in Polis, everything we shared…those were the best nine days of my life.”

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and realized she’d been crying without realizing it. How long had her eyes been betraying her? How long had her heart been breaking loudly enough for him to hear?

“If that’s true,” she said, exhausted and broken in places she hadn’t known were whole until they shattered, “then you wouldn’t have asked my daughter to end your life. I shouldn’t have been surprised. You’ve always been determined to be a martyr, Marcus. Don’t let me stop you.”

He blinked, the harshness of her words taking him aback.

“Abby,” he said, taking another step toward her, reaching out to touch her. She recoiled.

“I need to go to sleep,” she said.

He understood her dismissal without an explicit statement, realized his presence was no longer needed nor wanted. Defeated, he moved toward the door with his shoulders slumped. Even in the darkness after he turned out the light, he appeared a shell of his former self. Of the man who kissed life into her in Polis, the man who electrified her with a thousand feelings she didn’t know she could still have.

“Goodnight, Abby,” he said.

She didn’t answer.

***

Dawn broke coldly over the horizon, yellow light chilling her to the bone. She hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep thanks to the constant buzzing of her thoughts and the weight in her stomach, a kind of pain caused only by a careful mixture of regret and desolation. A glance at the clock told her her alarm would ring in an hour, and she leaned over to switch it off anyway. Sleep wasn’t coming. It had never been invited.

A long, slow sigh brought her into the land of the living and she slid out of bed, wincing as her feet collided with cool metal. The discomfort seemed to shake off the few cobwebs that had formed around the edges of her memory, and her pain returned stronger than ever.

He had really been willing to let himself die. And he had convinced her daughter to go through with it, convinced her it was necessary, remained stubborn in his insistence to keep Abby in the dark. His expression last night – the genuine regret in his eyes, the haunted lull in his voice when he told her goodnight – there was a remorse inside them that couldn’t be faked.

That didn’t mean it was able to be forgiven.

Moving around slowly, as though the memory sapped her of her strength, Abby picked her tank top, henley and jeans up off the floor where she’d tossed them last night and began pulling them on. Her muscles felt sore for no apparent reason, and she winced as she raised her arms above her head to dress. Her breaths were ragged, uneven, and a lump had formed in her throat.

No more of that, she decided as she swallowed forcefully: no matter how she was feeling, she had a duty to her people. There were bigger things at stake than her relationship with Marcus.

A knock on the door startled her as she brushed her hair, and she decided not to acknowledge it. If he thought night would sand down the edges of her fury, he’d thought absolutely wrong. If anything, hours of consideration had sharpened it. What he’d done…it approached a line she thought she’d never see him cross again. And it sickened her to know perhaps he’d never really left it behind.

Another knock, harder, echoing through her tiny quarters. He was determined. But so was she, and of the two of them she wholeheartedly believed her will was stronger. Marcus Kane wouldn’t get a single word out of her this morning. Loudly, so he knew she was inside and in no mood to talk, she slammed her hairbrush down on her dresser and pulled her chair out from her desk for no good reason. There. Good morning, Marcus.

“Mom?” a voice at the door asked, and Abby flushed red with shame. “Are you in there?”

“Clarke,” she said, realizing her assumption couldn’t have been farther from reality. “I’m here.”

She crossed the room in three steps, pulled open the door to reveal her daughter standing in the Ark’s early morning white light. Her fingers curled around a single sheet of worn paper, and Abby could only guess as to what was on it. There was no desire within her to see the document he hadn’t requested to be on. The document that could have – and still very well might, in a different manner – separate them forever.

“Mom,” Clarke said, sounding relieved, “can I talk to you?”

Abby smiled, combatting a wave of self-hatred for the way she’d behaved toward her daughter the night before. Emotion had gotten the better of her, erased her clarity of thought, but she should have known Clarke wouldn’t try to sabotage her happiness.

“Of course,” Abby said, inviting her in and closing the door behind her. The chair came to good use, then, as Clarke seated herself in it and unfolded the document, spreading it and smoothing the creases on the solid wood of Abby’s desk. The yellowed paper did indeed contain a list of a hundred names, starting with her own: just as Monty had said.

Abby Griffin.

Eric Jackson.

Thelonious Jaha.

Raven Reyes.

The list meant as much to the future of her relationship with Marcus as it did nothing to the one between her and her daughter. Although Abby felt it had been wrong of her to create it, it was apparent from the guilt in her eyes that she saw the error of her ways: a lecture wasn’t what she needed. A lesson had been learned.

“I thought about what happened last night,” Clarke started, her voice even and measured. “Jaha had the list, but he gave it back to me. I wanted to show you this.”

Abby followed her pointer finger to the final spot on the list, a name written in capital letters. A name decidedly not printed in her daughter’s hand. CLARKE GRIFFIN.

“I know you’re mad at Marcus,” Clarke started, and Abby interrupted.

“You don’t think I should be?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Of all the things she thought Clarke might have come to her an hour before her shift in Medical to discuss, her relationship with Marcus Kane hadn’t made the list. “He was going to sacrifice himself, Clarke. He didn’t tell me, and he left that burden to you.”

Clarke shook her head. “Let me explain,” she said.

Her finger still resting on the name that was both hers and foreign, she continued. “I wasn’t going to put myself on the list. That last spot…it was going to go to one of our people. I hadn’t decided yet whether it would be a guardsman, or an engineer, but it wasn’t going to me.”

All the breath drained from Abby’s lungs. Not only could she have lost Marcus, but she could have lost her daughter, too? Why bother putting her on the list, then? Why offer her salvation when her heart had already been destroyed?

“After the things I’d done…the pain I’d caused…I didn’t think I was worthy of a place here,” she continued. “I had every intention of being outside the doors when the end came. Just like Kane.”

Her hands shaking, Abby clung to that name as a reminder her daughter would have been indoors. Somehow, she’d made it onto the list. The image of Clarke trudging through black rain, suffering through ARS, her pale skin marred by lesions and lumps…she couldn’t even consider it.

“You deserved to be on the list,” Abby insisted, all thoughts of Marcus expunged for the time being. “Honey, you’ve saved us all more times than I can count. You should have been first, not me.”

Clarke shook her head. “I didn’t come here to talk about me.”

Abby frowned, tempted to interject, but let her daughter keep going.

“If Bellamy hadn’t been with me, my name wouldn’t be on that list. And it didn’t mean I don’t care about you, or Raven, or him. I do. But I made a choice for my people, and I was determined to see it through. Even if it meant sacrificing myself for them.”

“But Bellamy was there,” Abby said, all the pieces of the puzzle falling together. “And he wrote your name.”

A nod from her daughter’s golden blonde head, painted with streaks of white in the early morning sun. “And if things had been different…if it had been you and Kane making the list…you would have written his name in capital letters, too.”

Understanding washed over her like a ray of sunlight, illuminating her questions about her daughter’s presence.

“You think I should forgive him,” she said.

Clarke was quiet for a few moments, her gaze transfixed on the list of names that meant everything and nothing.

“He made the same choice as I did,” she said. “And I understand why. He didn’t do it to hurt you, mom.”

Abby hadn’t often considered the parallels between her daughter and Marcus, although now they appeared in ink before her eyes on that yellowed piece of paper. Both she and him suffered over their past deeds – things they’d done for the greater good – things that resulted in losses of innocent lives. Neither of them had yet found the strength to fully forgive themselves. And it was her duty, then, to support them until that blossom of self-forgiveness could stand on its own.

“But he had to know,” Abby offered. “He had to know how I would feel.”

“I knew how you would feel, too,” she said. “But I hoped you’d understand. And so did he. If you can forgive me for not writing my name, you should forgive him for telling me not to include his.”

Taken aback, Abby stared at her daughter while she tried to come up with something coherent to say. And to think she’d thought this was because she didn’t approve of Marcus – that she harbored resentment because of Jake. How wrong she’d been, only mere hours ago.

“Of course I forgive you,” she said finally, moving closer as Clarke stood from her chair. “I’ll always forgive you, Clarke. You’re my daughter.”

Clarke smiled, a brief flash of sunshine-infused joy that reminded her of her father. Abby moved forward to enclose her in an embrace, and Clarke held her back just as tightly.

“So you’re going to forgive him, too,” she said, her tone making it sound as though a conclusion had been reached. “You can’t forgive me and not him, mom. Not when we made the same choice.”

Abby’s shoulders rose and fell in an exasperated sigh, knowing she’d been backed into a corner by her daughter’s logic. Yet another thing that reminded her of Jake: their ability to win an argument by sheer, solid, foolproof reasoning. As annoying as it was, it was hard to keep yelling at a damn good point.

Clarke stepped away, a question in her blue eyes.

“We’ll see,” she said. Clarke gave her another short nod, unwilling to push her further. Only once she’d left did Abby notice the list remained on her desk: a reminder of what the two people she loved most had almost done out of another kind of love: a love for their people. It was an aching kind of poignant, one that forced her to fold up the paper and shove it in the crack between her wall and the desk. She had no desire to look at it again.

When all was said and done, she looked at the clock.

We’ll see.

***

Abby stood in the hallway, hesitating as the hum of machinery whirred around her. There was no reason, she told herself, to be this timid. Discussions like this could go one of two ways, and there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

That said, her stomach felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.

Banishing her uncertainty to a dark corner of her head, she raised her knuckles and slammed them against the door. Her heart wouldn’t be able to handle a non-response, so she added her voice for good measure.

“Marcus,” she said, knowing fully well she might not have been the only one who rolled out of bed this morning in no mood to talk. “Are you-“

The door was yanked open before the end of her sentence.

It was as though he’d spent the whole night waiting, she thought. He didn’t appear to have removed any of his clothes or attempted sleep, his bed perfectly made and his jacket zipped. He looked at her with a mixture of hurt and regret, sending shockwaves of emotion through her as she stood before him in the Ark’s snowy light.

“Abby,” he breathed, as though her name pained him. After last night, she couldn’t blame him if it did. “Come in.”

She walked through the door and heard it close behind her, felt his gaze on her as she leaned back against his metal table. They both began talking at the same time, words flying as he made his way toward her.

“I’m so sorry-“

“Clarke told me-“

Then they both stopped, aware of what they were doing.

“You first,” Abby said with an ember of a warming smile, curious as to what was on his mind. Her heart would forgive him, as it always did, but it would do her good to hear him apologize.

“Abby, I’m so sorry about the list,” he said. “About everything. I should have told you from the start what was happening – not only what I was thinking, but what Clarke and Raven were thinking, too. We’re a team, and it wasn’t right of me to leave you out.”

Abby nodded, took a step closer to him. “We work better together,” she said, remembering the long nights when the chancellorship had been a burden shouldered by them both. “But that’s not…” she paused, struggled to find the words that best conveyed the swirl of emotions in her chest. “Marcus, just promise me something.”

“Anything,” he blurted, his brown eyes wide.

“Promise me you won’t do this again,” she said. “I’m not talking about sharing everything with me. You’re the Chancellor. You don’t have to tell me every detail of every negotiation. But the thought of being without you…that you could want that…your penchant for self-sacrifice doesn’t just affect you.”

He nodded so vigorously Abby thought she heard his neck crack. “I won’t,” he said. “I don’t want to be without you, either. I never want to leave your side again, Abby. Those weeks when we were separated…they were hell. And the decision I made regarding that list was wrong. I hope you can forgive me.”

She smiled, a real, full one then, stepping forward to close the distance between them. Their proximity was practically intimate – she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension his question wove through the air between them.

“Clarke came to talk to me this morning,” she said. “She told me she wasn’t going to put her own name on the list, either.”

Marcus frowned. “That’s absurd,” he said. “Clarke should have-“

“It doesn’t matter now,” Abby interrupted, firm. “Bellamy was there, and he wrote her name. And she made me realize you two are more similar than I thought. You have the same tendencies. Her name wouldn’t have been on the list, but Bellamy wrote it down. In the hundredth spot.”

Marcus appeared relieved, although they both knew the list was no longer meaningful. “Of course he did,” he said. “Anyone would have. Clarke deserves to survive.”

“Her point was, Bellamy wrote her name,” Abby said, “and I would have written yours. Her choice wasn’t made to hurt the people she loves, and neither was yours. I understand that now.”

He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time, dawn breaking through the gloom of his features. As if he knew, for the first time since she stepped through is door, that there was a chance he’d be forgiven. That everything would be okay.

“Although I do wish you’d given me a little more consideration, Kane,” she said. His surname was accompanied with a wry smirk, a gesture that made it clear she was joking. He breathed a laugh, wrapped his arms around her as she pulled him close and buried her face in his shoulder.

He smelled like home.

“Abby, I…” he whispered, anchoring her to him with his hands pressed against her back. His voice shook, and she felt that all-too-familiar tightness in her chest that threatened sobs. “Thank you. I won’t do it again.”

She pressed her lips to the tiny expanse of his collarbone exposed by the neckline of his shirt, suddenly overwhelmed by how deeply she’d missed him. How empty her life had felt, even for those few hours, knowing there was a fraction of a possibility everything could end between them. How dark things had been then, how light they were now.

She leaned away, reaching up to brush a soft curl of dark hair away from his forehead.

“I missed you,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side as she leaned forward again. He met her in the middle, brushing his lips against hers in a gesture that was half apology, half yearning.

“I missed you, too,” he said when they broke apart, their mouths still only inches from each other’s. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Abby grinned. “Me either. I think we formed a habit in Polis.”

Her laugh was contagious.

“Good or bad?” he asked.

“Good,” she answered. “Except for when you make me late to important meetings.”

She leaned in again, giving him a kiss that was decidedly less gentle. The shape of his mouth betrayed a smile, and when they parted there was a familiar gleam in his eye. A laugh worked its way up her throat before she could stop it. She knew that look.

“Marcus, I’m supposed to be in Medical in ten minutes.”

The look remained, tantalizing and reverent and adoring all at once.

“Then we have ten minutes.”

His fingers found their way beneath the waistband of her pants, teasing her, skimming her sensitive skin and forcing a gasp from between her lips. Already heat had begun coiling low in her stomach, and she realized she’d missed more than just his comforting presence beside her in bed.

By the time he stepped forward to kiss her again, his mouth insistent and hungry, she was already lost.

“You…” she started as they moved in the direction of his bed, shedding clothing in graceless piles as they went. His kiss cut her sentence short, and she felt the smoothness of his comforter brush against the back of her knees.

“Are a terrible influence?” he finished for her as she lay down with her head on his pillows, amazed by how comfortable his bed was. It was smaller than hers but softer, a true threat to the luxury they’d experienced in Polis.

“The worst,” she murmured, sighing as he peppered hot, slow kisses to the pulse point of her neck and worked his way toward her lips again. There was no way she’d be on time to Medical, but as she had the morning before she was called to meet with Roan, she couldn’t quite locate the part of her mind that was responsible for caring. “The absolute worst.”

***

And so that night, right after she’d said goodbye to Jackson and Raven, Abby made a beeline for her quarters. Naturally, she and Marcus would be sharing a room – publically because it created more space, and privately because they found they couldn’t sleep without each other now – and she threw open the door to her room with a sense of urgency.

Tonight was the do-over for last night, a reset button for all the rage and anger that had been shoved in the place of love and tenderness, and she intended to do it right. But she’d still need her clothes in the morning, her things…she had no intention of being taunted by Monty and Jasper when they saw her making her way back to her quarters after spending the night with Marcus Kane.

The simpler solution, then, was to just move in with him. Which was exactly what they intended to happen.

Thankfully, her possessions were meager: a few shirts, a pair or two of pants, the only other tank top in her possession. Things that could fit in a bag, at least for now. For tonight, she’d take what she could carry. This was only the beginning, she thought with a smile.

She reached up to grab her favorite book – a cheesy romance novel with a revealing cover that she knew would earn her a playful ribbing from the man she loved – and threw it in the bag. Clothes, book, toiletries…it was enough for now. The rest she could come back for later, if she felt the need.

In the process of turning away from her desk, Abby’s gaze fell on that familiar space between wall and wood: a space she knew held something more than open air. It was unimportant, and altogether preposterous, and part of her knew it would be better to burn it and put the list to rest once and for all. At some point, she thought, she might ask Marcus what he thought they should do with it – how best to dispose of it.

Fishing around for it in the darkness, her fingers finally closed against the smooth paper. She pulled it out and slammed it on her desk, as if intent on making it feel the pain it had caused her, her daughter, her love. Such an outpouring of emotion for such a small, meaningless, irrelevant thing.

For now, though she was thankful it was no longer their solution to the apocalyptic problem at hand, she had unfinished business where its black-inked page was concerned.

Rummaging through her drawers, her fingers scraped wood and various office trinkets until she landed on what she was looking for: a pen. Pulling it out from the blackness, she slid the drawer closed and uncapped it in one fluid motion.

They might have only planned for a hundred, but Bellamy Blake had been a stowaway.

It was only fair, she thought, that the same rules should have applied on her daughter’s list: intended for a hundred, given an extra one. So, on the bottom of the list beneath her daughter’s name, Abby Griffin wrote one more in bold, swooping letters.

MARCUS KANE.