#but i LITERALLY thought 'hmm no one else is home so if i get electrocuted it could be hours before anyone finds me to help' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

restapesta · 3 years ago

Note

them playing truth or dare

Tami had been the one to suggest it.

Ian found it weird that everybody just went along, minds still sane and all, eager to comply and play as if they weren't all full-blown adults with marriages and children; but a few beers in—sans Lip who was sporting a Diet Coke—maybe it shouldn't have been that big of a surprise; the kids were otherwise occupied, Liam was at a sleepover, the Gallagher house was free for them, and them only.

Maybe Ian shouldn't have balked at his husband who had enthusiastically said yes! to playing truth or dare, as if they were all a bunch of teenage girls, begging for their crushes to be revealed. Ian watched Mickey from the corner of his eye as he took a shot of vodka that had been haphazardly lying on the table for communal use—great, Ian would be getting drunk Mick tonight. They'd probably have to crash at the house. Even Ian had a beer to drink and he got hammered pretty fucking quick.

"Okay," Tami said loudly, shushing the small crowd of people who were sitting all around the living room, speaking in a frenzy, voices mushing in together so it wasn't even conversation, just fucking loud and incoherent. Her hair was clinging wildly to her sweaty forehead, strands flying around as if electrocuted, and Ian realized this was the first time after her second pregnancy she was able to really get drunk. He applauded her for it, hoping she was having a great fucking time. Over a year of abstinence and he'd go fucking crazy, probably.

Ian couldn't help but guiltily look at his brother from the corner of his eye as if he'd been able to read his thoughts. He only looked away once Mickey elbowed him, whispering lowly how Ian should probably slow down with the drinks. Wouldn't want you to faint in ten fucking minutes and need me to drag you back home, said the man that was drunk off his ass.

Even inebriated he worried.

"Hey!" Tami shouted until all eyes went to her and the voices drowned out, dissipating into murmurs, one of them being Ian telling his husband that, it was so cute you're worrying about me, earning himself a middle finger in the face. She continued, seemingly pleased with herself for shutting a bunch of Gallaghers up, a feat not easily accomplished (what she didn't know was that everybody was still talking, just discreetly enough for her to not hear).

"Since I was the one who came up with the idea," She said proudly as if playing truth or dare was the smartest, coolest idea ever. "I think I should have the honors of starting."

Lip snorted beside her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're drunk but okay." His head was shaved off completely, prompted by lice Fred had brought back home from day-care.

They were both sitting on two cushions on the floor, leaving Debbie on the sofa near the door, and Carl on the couch next to Ian and Mickey. His Coke can was so close to his leg, just begging to be spilled. Ian fought the urge to tell him to just move it to the side, but well, everybody else was practically drunk, so it didn't seem too fair. He was forced to endure a bunch of assholes while sober; the least they could do was offer him more Cokes and leave him to ruin his stomach in peace while they all ruined their livers.

"Shush!" Tami swatted at him, a concentrated look on her face. "We're playing."

Lip raised his hands in surrender just as Ian turned to whisper into Mickey's ear, "This is gonna be a shit show."

It was Mickey's turn to shush Ian, swatting him gently on the arm, focus solely on Tami and her upcoming question. He looked genuinely interested in what Tami had to ask—maybe he was looking forward to some juicy questions. Ian thought she'd be the one to ask the blandest ones.

"We're playing," Mickey said once Ian leaned in again to tell him just that, and Ian just shook his head lightly, biting his lip to stop from smiling.

Tami moved her eyes from her boyfriend all the way to Debbie who was fucking around on her phone, typing away slowly. Ian knew she was paying attention, but he also knew that her new girlfriend and their "relationship problems" probably exceeded the game right now.

"You ready, Debbie?" She asked, eyes dropping in sympathy. "This first one's for you. You said you needed to get your mind off of things."

Debbie lifted her eyes from her phone, eyebrows going up, biting her lip. She shut the screen off and crossed her legs, nodding to herself. "Shoot."

"Okay, so—"

"—What’s the most embarrassing thing that turns you on?"

Lip groaned along with Ian at the question. It didn't matter if they all knew everything and anything about each other's sex lives—Debbie talked about hers in a way that not even Ian and Mickey do. So Ian just squirmed in his seat, grimacing and then shooting a glare towards his husband who snickered at his facial expression, and they all sat and waited for their sister to start talking about sex as if they were begging to hear about it. Ian was mentally preparing for having his ears bleed.

"Hmm," She said. "Probably thighs."

They collectively blew out grateful breaths that she didn't feel the need to explain her answer. Ian still squirmed, because, well—why the fuck did he need to have that in common with his little sister?

"Carl," Debbie said, fiddling with her phone again. She probably got a new message she would need to send a ten-paragraph rant over. "What's the worst thing about sex, in your opinion?"

Ian eyed Carl beside him as he shrugged. "Not getting any."

It was Mickey who reached over Ian to clap him on the shoulder, grin wide on his face. He really was drunk. "Good answer, kid."

Ian turned to look at him, face scrunching in confusion. They literally had sex before they came over. "What are you talking about? You haven't spent a day in the past, like, four years not get any."

Mickey shrugged, sipping on his beer. "There were times I wasn't gettin' any."

Ian rolled his eyes. He knew Mickey inside, out—that man always got some, whether it be with Ian or without. So he asked, "When?"

Mickey looked at him, eyes clearer than before, still drunk but sober enough to answer Ian's question earnestly.

He cleared his throat, then sucked on his teeth when he saw Ian really was looking for an answer.

When the fuck did Mickey ever do celibacy shit?

"Look, man," He said. "sex," He annunciated the word. "isn't really the same when it's not with the person you want it to be with. It's weird and mechanical, and knowing what sex you could be having instead of the robotic fucking makes you hate it." He looked over at Carl. "I get what you mean by not getting any because I hadn't seen Ian for two fucking years before prison, and most of that time I just thought I'd have miserable, loveless sex for the rest of my life, so," He shrugged, again, settling back into the cushions. "Not getting any isn't just not having sex. It's not having sex with the only person you want to have sex with because you'll never see them again for the rest of your life."

"So," Lip started, a teasing air around his words. "Pointless fucking equals not getting any, and lovemaking with Ian here equals you bitches are soulmates?"

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, fuck you."

He then, probably noting how Ian was staring at him, completely flabbergasted, met Ian's eyes.

There was a second of them just staring at one another, Mickey's eyes quickly going up and down Ian's form in the most loving/sexual way, before he averted them to Carl again. "Come on, man, who's next?"

Carl grinned wickedly. "Ian,"

"Yeah?" He finally forced himself to stop staring at Mickey who was now placing his hand soothingly over his thigh, silently saying, You know what I meant. I know you know what I meant.

Carl's question was quick.

"Do you believe you and Mickey are soulmates?"

Ian's right eyebrow went up—he'd been practicing after a heated discussion with Mickey at three am on a Wednesday about who had better eyebrows. He was a sore loser.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well," Carl said. "You've just broken up more number of times than I've had girlfriends—"

"We've always come back to each other," He interrupted, tone defensive; slightly frustrated. Mickey's hand squeezed, warm through the fabric of Ian's sweats.

"Yeah, but—"

"There's no question about it, Carl. If there's anybody in this world that's literally meant for me, it's Mickey. I've loved him since the very first day I met him, and I'll love him until the day I die." He meant it with every bone in his body and he just wished somebody would put it in question again, after all they had been through. Wasn't that proof fucking enough that if there's anybody in this world Ian loves more than Mickey, it's Mickey loving Ian back?

"That answer' your question?" He asked, chin jutting out.

His hands went up in surrender as he lowly whistled. "Got it, chief."

"Yeah, Ian," Tami said, eyes rolling animatedly. "We get it—you love each other most in the world, blah, blah, barf."

Mickey choked out a laugh. "Come on, Red," He said, looking again towards Ian, gaze soft. "Next question."

So they played on.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless us #fan fic #*ficlet #this was supposed to be longer but i decided to cut it off here because i felt like adding to it would make it drag #first thing i've written in a month #had no school today so i just spent seven fucking hours studying #pleaseeee recommend some good fucking fics in my inbox. i need some shit to read tonight. tyyyyyyy #ficlet #emina answers

123 notes · View notes

calaemonssi · 4 years ago

Text

Itaru Chigasaki fan-fiction #1

(This kinda has some smut so UH warning I guess LOL)

IZUMI

It was another long day of hard work for Izumi, as the director of Mankai Company. I'm so bored...ahhh!

She checked her wall clock and found that it was already 2AM. Oh crap, I stayed up late again. Azami and Yuki would laugh at my skin tomorrow.

Stretching, she stood up and decided to get some water from the pantry. Right after going out of her room, she heard the entrance door click. Someone came home? Maybe it's Chikage? Or Matsukawa, for whatever reason...

Izumi peeked and saw Itaru taking off his shoes. "Oh, Itaru, it's you!"

Itaru turned around, his face seemingly startled at first, but then broke into a smile. "Hey, Ms. Director, I'm back."

"Welcome home! You must be tired." Izumi replied with a smile.

He laughed bitterly. "Definitely, but I still have enough energy to play, so it's all good."

Izumi sighed with a chuckle. "I...see. Well, do you want anything? I was planning to get some water, but I could prepare some coffee for you."

Itaru smiled and walked over to her. "Oh, really? That would be much appreciated."

She felt a bit shy with him a bit close to her so she idled away some. "Yeeeeah, I'll bring it to your room, so you can go ahead."

"Alright then." He simply replied and went ahead to his room. Once he was out of sight, Izumi heaved a sigh. Why is my heart racing this much? Weird...and I see topless guys all the time in this dormitory. Then again, when I do see them they're usually acting like weird hooligans so there's not much to feel nervous about.

She prepared two cups of coffee for the two of them. Once she was done, she went ahead to Itaru and Chikage's room.

Upon entering, the whole room was much cleaner in comparison to when Chikage wasn't there. I guess he makes him clean up from time to time. Chikage's barely home half the time so this is still basically just Itaru's.

Izumi knocked on the door, which caught Itaru's attention, who was busy tapping away at his computer. He immediately smiled at her when he looked over. "Hey there, director." He greeted.

"Hey, here's the coffee. Should I leave it here...?"

Itaru shook his head. "Please place it over here." He gestured to the small table near him. "Oh, alright."

She went and carefully put down the coffee on the table, but accidentally she knocked it over to Itaru's socket extensions.

"Crap!" She screamed, however it was too late. She heard a loud sound, which was none other than Itaru's PC shutting down very suddenly. "Wh- Fuck!" Itaru shouted in frustration.

He turned and met her eyes, his face seemingly bearing many emotions, as if he wanted to be angry but couldn't. Izumi was speechless - she wanted to speak and say sorry, but was at shock too. "Move away from there, you could get electrocuted." Itaru told Izumi, to which she immediately obliged.

"I - Itaru..." She squeaked. Crap, I'm so guilty and scared, is he gonna get angry at me? I want to cry...

Itaru opened his mouth, which made Izumi wince. Oh my gosh he's angry--

He suddenly burst into laughter. Izumi was confused, but laughed along nervously.

"You look so cute. Are you scared? Of me?" Itaru asked with a chuckle. Izumi's cheeks tinted red. "W - I was scared -- I mean, I thought you were gonna be angry at me! I'm sorry - I didn't break anything, did I?"

Itaru smiled in a seemingly amused manner. He leaned and rested his cheek on his palm. "Weeell, other than my magnificent combo and my extension, possibly, not much got broken. So don't worry, okay?" He said and chuckled. Izumi heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god, I was so worried."

He tilted his head and smirked. "Oh, what are you getting all relieved for? You broke my extension, you know? How am I getting all my daily tasks done now?"

Izumi's eyes widened. "Ah, um, uh--well, I..." Wait, do I have an extra extension in my room...? No, I don't, what would I need extensions for anyway? Should I ask the other guys...it's too late, like literally. I can't just barge into their rooms in the dead of night. Oh crap...

"Well, how are you planning to make up for this?" Itaru asked, still smirking. "Um, uh...for starters, please stop staring at me!" Izumi looked away, her face burning red.

Itaru laughed again. "Why? Can't think straight?"

"Anyone wouldn't be able to when you're staring at them like that!"

"Like what?"

Stop asking, I don't know why too. She thought and shook her head. "Just, stop, please, I'm trying my best here..."

Itaru laughed and leaned back to his gaming chair. "Hmm, well, if you're having that hard of a time, I could suggest an idea for you."

Izumi's eyes widened. She leaned in interest. "Please tell me! I'll do anything, even give up some expensive curry spices I have!"

He chuckled at her once again. "Lol, what would I need curry spices for? Silly."

"T-then what? I can't think of anything better than that. I could buy you a new extension tomorrow too!"

"Yeah, but the fact that I broke my consistent log-ins and daily task completions due to our sweet director's clumsiness will never be erased, right? Some of them got to my clothes too. As an adult, you have to take responsibility to the fullest."

Izumi shyly nodded. "Right..."

"But," He suddenly held her hand. "you did make me that coffee, so I'm not that mad and you don't have to do anything," He smiled genuinely at her. "Thank you for the coffee, Izumi. It's a shame I can't drink it now, not with the risk of getting electrocuted anyway."

Izumi giggled a little. "Don't drink from the floor regardless!"

Itaru laughed along, "Oh, but it's your special coffee. I have to make sure it doesn't go to waste."

The pair laughed together. "But I still feel bad, Itaru. I barged into your room and spilled coffee on you and your extension. I bet your game was hard too!"

Itaru rested his cheek on his palm. "Hmm, yeah, but it's no big deal. I can do it some other time, as well as those other games I had to do tonight too."

"Wait, there were others you needed to log into as well? Crap, I'm so sorry!"

Itaru laughed again. "Come on, it's okay."

"Please? I'll do anything! At all!"

"Really?" His smile had faded.

Izumi nodded. "Yeah!"

He turned a little bit to the left and sighed. "Hah, you're honestly so clumsy. You can't just throw around those words, especially with a guy."

Izumi was a bit confused. "Huh...? What do you mean by that? I'm an adult, so I have to take resp--"

He leaned close to her, to the point that his face was just a few inches away from her. "Anything...?"

Izumi could hear his heartbeat. He probably could hear hers too. "I- Itaru-?"

He suddenly broke into a smile and leaned back. "See? You can't just say 'anything' when others could use that to their malicious advantage. It's alright, just go back to your room-"

Without a moment's hesitation, Izumi leaned to his chair and gave Itaru a kiss.

It was a soft lock at first, but soon Itaru ducked his tongue into hers, and their tongues were all together and dancing in harmony as she fell and sat on his lap, her legs spread on his.

Izumi pulled away, revealing a confused and blushing Itaru.

"I- Izumi, why did you kiss me?"

She felt embarrassed, looking at the floor. "Um, well..."

He held her chin with his one hand and made her face him. "Look at me when you answer, please."

Her cheeks became even more red, seeing his pretty pink eyes made her heart beat even faster. "Err...I..."

Izumi's eyes landed on Itaru's soft lips, making her feel more embarrassed, her heart pounding more and more.

She felt something on her thigh, but before she could ask, Itaru spoke with a seemingly ragged voice, "You look so pretty right now, Izumi...you have to tell me, or else I won't be able to bring myself to stop."

He had sweat on his neck and some on his temple, his eyes were staring dead into hers. How could I answer him? I don't even know why myself...

So all she could reply was; "What's stopping you?"

V - ! SMUT WARNING ! - V

Itaru sighed. "I'm going to make you tell me, you know?"

Before she could reply, he already went and kissed her, ducking his tongue in and kissing her deeply. She felt his warm hands come up her shirt, the calluses on it making it feel a bit more sensual. His long fingers reached to her bra and he unlatched them with ease.

Just how many times has he done this...I wonder.

He pulled away from her and pulled up her shirt, he took off his jersey and t-shirt right after. Izumi felt shy, and he may have noticed this, so he pulled her in and kissed her forehead. "If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?" He whispered to her ear.

Itaru had always been a gentleman, even when he was being his usual geeky self, he always managed to be mature and kind at the same time. Izumi always, always noticed that...she always, always noticed him...

She felt his soft, wet kisses on the skin of her stomach, making her feel ticklish. "S-Stop kissing me there...it tickles..." She whispered, unable to construct a full sentence because of various reasons. Itaru chuckled, simply replying, "Okay then."

Itaru kissed her neck, her arms, her cheeks, his hands busy with her lower region. "Hey, do you have a...?" He asked Izumi, gesturing a box shape. Izumi blushed and shook her head no, "No! I've never thought I needed it..."

Itaru smiled and kissed her cheek. "You're so cute, Ms. Director. Don't worry, I've got some."

He took one out of his small drawer. "Y - You have it out in the open?!" Izumi asked in shock, to which Itaru laughed at. "Chikage put some there as a joke. He apparently got some for his...travels."

He began putting it on, so Izumi shyly looked away. She heard him chuckle, "I'm done."

Itaru leaned down on Izumi and kissed her passionately. How is he so good at kissing?

He soon placed himself on the middle of her legs and went inside of her.

"I - Itaru...," Izumi whispered, hugging his neck as he pressed deeper into her. "Izu...mi...," He replied in a ragged voice.

He went in and out of her, moans and groans spilled out of his mouth as he did. "D- Don't be so loud...," Izumi told him, holding his mouth. "The other guys would hear us...-"

Itaru suddenly thurst inside her, making her yelp. "Ahh!"

He held her mouth this time, shy as she felt his smile under her fingers. "Be quiet, Ms. Director."

They kept on and on, kissing and playing with each other...

"I - I'm coming-!"

before they knew it, it was already morning.

Itaru hugged Izumi's bare body the whole time after doing...that. Izumi woke up earlier than him, so she went and wore his jersey then plopped back into bed, snuggling into his arms. She stared at his fair complexion, his long eyelashes elegantly placed on his eyes. His dark blonde hair was strikingly pretty...If only your eyes were open right now, I could appreciate the whole set.

Just as Izumi thought of that, Itaru slowly opened his dark pink eyes. When they met her bright hazel ones, he immediately broke into a smile and supplied her with a gentle peck on the lips.

"Good morning, Izumi, do you want to go for some coffee?"

At that moment, everything Izumi felt finally made sense.

- end.

~~~~

that’s it, that’s the post. HSAHJDGJASGD yeah hello tumblr.

ANYWAY I hope u enjoyed my 1) first post on tumblr (and it’s a smut fanfic haha,,,) and 2) attempt to write a one-shot fanfiction about our dear otaku actor here! It was fun and kinda embarrassing but I hope u guys liked it anyway :D

I’m really sorry im so embarrassed pls be gentle with criticisms...

#a3! itaru #a3! fanfic #a3! act! addict! actors!#smut fanfiction #a3! fic #a3! fandom #itaru chigasaki #itaru x izumi #itaru

14 notes · View notes

bellamygateoldblog · 4 years ago

Text

The 100 7x01: Discussion

My general takeaway from the episode can be summarised like this: Echo is spectacular. (I might’ve said “oh my god look at her!!!!!” and “ugh she is just The Best” too many times to count).

This is long-ish because I really just wanted to consolidate my thoughts in one place. Bitch it’s me i got a lot to say!!!!!

The Good Parts

— The farmhouse setting. While it’s existence is strange and “a sore thumb” and worked to further push Sanctum being the abomination born of clumsily mixing genres and time periods in terms of construction/costuming, making everything appear disconnected and obnoxious, it was still a nice change. It made me feel warmer and more comfortable as a ‘modern’ viewer. It’s a breath of fresh air from the constant dark element: dilapidated post-apoc buildings falling from their foundation, endless woods, and equally cold-feeling labs and skeleton dungeons.

— Echo. This was a damn good episode for Echo and every second reminded me of why she’s my favourite. She’s a badass. I always love to see her falling naturally into leadership of her little ragtag groups who accept it wholeheartedly. From the “testing a theory” moment where she went ‘when Gabriel doesn’t speak >>>’, to right at the end when she killed the solider about to “eliminate” Hope (hesitation is death...oh no he can’t hear us he’s got airpods in oh my god). It was Echo that got them through the whole sequence with the anomaly, Echo who figured shit out, Echo who quickly judged the situations and formed plans to overcome the obstacles. In other words: she did THAT.

Favourite scene: Echo coming face-to-face with the projection of her own insecurities in the form of Roan and Echo 1.0, and physically overcoming them (shooting them down), along with the trauma and pain that they both represent. The perserverence and getting the job done despite the emotional torture felt like a callback to the Psychosis episode of 6x02 when she was clever enough to sedate herself to silence the voices in her head. I also think the dialogue chosen was also foreshadowing that she would become a leader by the finale (commander?) and i love to see it!

— Clarke and Madi’s conversation. Oh Clarke, you just keep reinforcing and validating my perceptions of who you are as a person over and over again lol. In all her self-importance failing to remember that Madi, in fact, had and was raised by her biological parents for half of her life (and the new knowledge that she spent six years telling her little mind tales from the book of her life whilst apparently never taking the time to learn about Madi’s or acknowledge/honour her birth parents in any way) is “yeah that’s about right” to me. Sure you could say she was still reeling from the events of six and her death-almost death-almost death again. But I’ve always had this Thing about the relationship between Clarke and Madi. And i’ve seen some of the lighthearted humourous reception that scene got from fandom, “#where do you think the child CAME from?!” which only served to remind me of my own impression that Clarke views Madi as wholely ‘hers’, as if Madi’s existence was tied to Clarke, but i might elaborate in a seperate post.

This scene was a lovely display of self-awareness I’ve rarely seen on Clarke (never even got it when she electrocuted said child two seasons ago- however that absense of apology and acknowledgement of the sheer wrongness of that action also fits very nicely with my view of her lmao, still though, a weird choice for your ‘heroine’).

— Clarke’s “feels like a different world.” Felt romantically-coded. I think Gaia/Clarke might be the most convinient relationship to transform into romance at this point. However I’m sincerely hoping this road they could go down won’t reduce Gaia to a crutch/accessory for Clarke, and that she doesn’t become merely a love interest. I’ve seen talk already of Gaia being “Clarke’s happiness” etc.. which is already confirming my worst fears. Sigh.

This moment very much felt like found closure and the turning of a page. But i will say it was a very sharp turn from the three seasons of shoehorned-in mentions of Lexa, and last season’s emphasis on Clarke’s very-much intact emotional response to her memory- “it’s why you cry when you think about Lexa”- to her looking at an image of Lexa’s memory of her, reminicing but having no emotional response to it, and brushing it off while sharing a soft look with Gaia (and this is a few days since s6? I don’t know how this timeline is working but Tbh it’s not like these writers ever concerned themselves with ‘realistic time frames’ anyway lol). Yep, Jason’s seasons are individual “movies,” alright.

Other *nodding approvingly* moments

— Raven’s subtle “elevator eyes” on Clarke when she started giving her orders again. I see you, Miss Reyes, and I appreciate you.

— Raven + the foot in her mouth and the cute way she catches herself both times. I just love watching characters fail at existing LOL. She was feeling more human than stereotype or plot device this episode.

— "Mommy and Auntie O” and the implication that Hope is a child inside an aged-up body.

— This quote: “I know what it’s like to lose your family 100 years ago and yesterday at the same time.” It’s so literal but I like it a lot.

— Clarke being ��leader’ again is, as usual, solely a matter of convinient (and familial/love) circumstances and it felt very true.

The Rest

— The Eligius Situation. So Clarke and her inner circle conquer and live in a nice home, and we’re specifically told Clarke takes the master suite (and the dog), and I was like ‘fair enough’ but then she orders prison labour. She tells them to build her a compound that they won’t actually get to be apart of, and to live in tents while they do so. They aren’t getting anything out of this (before they resist and set their own terms). This is slavery. Also, those aren’t her people to boss around, look down on, and use accordingly for her own gain (in fact they barely know her or why she’s gone from being that one unloyal woman who executed their men and got herself captured like an idiot, then couldn’t make up her mind about which side she wanted to kill- to one in the uppermost position of authority...like...they woke up yesterday) But, then again, that never stopped her.

— Too much and not enough at the same time. The pacing of the episode in general was awful. Too much happening in quick succession, no breathing room, too many factions (no, actually Raven, where is ALIE when you need her? smh). I blink, I miss an entire scene and a character is now beating someone else up. Amazingly, i was still bored 90% of the time.

— The Children of Gabriel calling themselves “The Children of Gabriel.” It was always goofy, even more so when a grown man is saying it.

— Murphy + his self loathing over Abby’s death. Did I miss the part where she was ever good to him? One of their final moments together was of her telling him he deserved to die over Clarke after she spent the entire series treating him like he was inferior and disposable. uhhhhhhhhhh.

— The picnic scene. Jackson’s sudden violent outburst was unearned (it wasn’t even set up???), and also disrespectful. Wrong place, wrong time, bro. He’s grieving? Okay. But when Abby’s daughter is sitting right in front of you, making this about you, ruining a perfectly good toast in her honour with your uncomfortable accusations loses you points you never even had to begin with. And this is a ‘me’ thing but I can’t be bothered to be sympathetic when this is about Abby Griffin.

Also, I have to say it. Eliza’s acting took me out of the scene every time I looked at Clarke. I couldn’t for the life of me work out what those expressions were supposed to be.

— Russell, his manpain, and a fury over the consiquences of his own actions that could rival the grounders (”my brother died in your ring of fire [while he was trying to murder you all]” hmm sounds like a you problem). But the worst part is, I simply couldn’t tell where he stood or what he was feeling. He’s so one-dimensional. He’s an evil man (so much for ”grey morality”).

— Clarke + Jordan. A small point to make but all Clarke has done since Marper made her ‘Godmother’ of their son has blame him for everything bad happening lol. Marper loses a lot of my respect as time goes on for that choice. As much as I dislike Jordan’s presence in the show, still not a great pattern to have noticed.

— Raven seeking approval from Clarke (specifically) for the Prime idea was...weird and very bad. When has Raven ever cared for Clarke’s validation, especially in the last few seasons?

Was also taken aback by how Indra and Miller are both suddenly so protective of Clarke, like i can make sense of the Indra part even though it relies on me making things up that aren’t supported by what’s on screen, but Miller?

— (Bonus moment that was bad for me, but not for the same reason it was for the rest of you: the scene of Hope finding the message in her arm. When she was removing the blood-soaked bandage I freaked out because I thought she was peeling her skin off. You’re welcome for that visual.)

The Mixed/No Feelings

— Clarke’s full-dark-no-stars. How many times have they told me now she’s “the head”? LMAO.

I have no actual formed opinion on it. Only disjointed thoughts. Like i might’ve just gone “good for her” if Clarke wasn’t the person she is, with the history she has.

I appreciate the idea, to have her spend the whole episode declaring she is, in fact, completely fine, to end it having her explode with the repressed pain.

I mean...i realise the cognition behind it, but it’s eye-roll inducing at this point. This- kicking Russell to death (giving him exactly what he wanted and set out to provoke), and burning down a palace she promised to keep intact, once again going against the group to do her own Thing that they all ultimately have the suffer the consiquences of and help clean up- is just a repeat of past patterns, and Monty’s “do better” mantra that she desperately clung to like she owned it last season is nowhere in sight.

(Also, I can’t be the only one who spotted her physically smacking that Sanctum girl as she walked onto the balcony? Not cool. Wasn’t cool when Murphy acted like a dick to one of them either this episode.)

The rushed switch did a number on me, too, like Jackson’s did. Literally five minutes before she was preaching about a peaceful life for Madi that doesn’t take revenge (I think I know what they were going for with that but it just left me feeling confused and frustrated).

Furthermore, I’ve seen talk that this was her “burning down of a symbol of oppression”, something she experienced first hand (not so unlike Blodreina and the bunker she desperately wanted to escape and deliver her people from), but there was no noble, calculated intention there. She burned the palace accidentally in her rage because she was in pain and disorientated. The moral stuff was just an after effect.

The speech was also very ‘Clarke’. Feeling entitled to and making decisions on who lives and dies right after declaring this wasn’t their kill to make. She wasn’t the only person hurt by the Primes (but we’ve also been given no reason to care about any of the other victims- the manipulated, enslaved population have been turned into a joke and a punching bag for the main characters which...isn’t great either). And the castle could’ve been used to shelter some of the “too many people” we had problems with through the episode (or used to harvest resources from). It really comes down to if i think the situation justifies the reaction and if i hold her wholely responsible...and this is the part where i reiterate that i have no intact opinion and don’t actually care to have one either ha.

#the 100 s7 #7x01 discussion #the 100 7x01

19 notes · View notes

heather1815 · 8 years ago

Text

My little test subject: chapter 7

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, and Chapter 6

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

WARNING! This fic contains: Foul language, torture scenes, blood, use of medical tools, drug use, suicidal tendencies, self-neglect, violence, self-harm, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Tord was leaned back in his recliner chair, feet propped up over his desk and gaze fixed on the ceiling fan of his office. His lips were pursed with both arms crossed behind his head in boredom as he suffered through one of Patrick's lectures. This time, the Polish soldier was pacing around the room and ranting on and on about his treatment in regards to Tom, all the while Paul watched the argument in the far corner of the room; fiddling with his fingers, gaze cast downwards and completely silent as if he was afraid to speak up. This might take a while.

"I can't believe you've done this! After I pulled you out of the room to talk privately, specifically told you about my concerns regarding his weight loss and to take it easier on him; you just went ahead and electrocuted him!" Patrick exclaims angrily, still pacing from one side of the room to the other.

Tord shrugged. "Oh stop exaggerating, Pat!" He sighed exasperatedly. "It was just a controlled shock; the voltage isn't even that high. He was clearly struggling against the two of you so I thought it would've been much easier if he were unconscious. No need to get your panties in a twist. Geez!"

"I don't care what you thought, because you clearly didn't!" Patrick snapped. "Tom is incredibly underweight for someone his size and age, this leaves him very frail and extremely weak. If we are not careful, we could accidentally kill him without even going through any of the procedures." He warned.

Tord blinked at him deadpanned, sitting straight in his chair. "Alright Pat, you got a point. I will go easier on him from now on." He sighed. "But if he steps out of line, I will discipline him if necessary." He warned, turning his chair to look at the mirror on his left, immediately running his robotic hand through his hair and fixing his fringe.

"For our sake Tord, I do hope so. Tom might be our last shot of success in perfecting the serum. If we lose him, the project you worked so hard on will be no more." Patrick states angrily. "I recommend we give him a special diet before the procedures, enough for him to gain back the lost weight and build up his strength to resist blood loss." He advised.

"Very well, you go on and do that. For now, we'll leave the serious experiments for when Tom has a full recovery." Tord says, still looking at his reflexion.

"I'm afraid my hands are full on this matter, sir." The soldier grumbles, causing Tord to glance at him through the reflection.

"Hmm?"

"With all due respect sir, you already put me in charge of taking care of his mental health. I am no psychologist, so I have to read everything and anything on the matter to accomplish this." He elaborated. "You, on the other hand, put yourself in charge of his overall health. If anyone should plan his diet it should be you."

Tord glared at him clenching his fists but sighed in defeat as he realized the soldier's words did have truth in them. "Fine, I will take care of his diet. You can go on with your lessons, just don't forget to check the test results for his blood and spinal tap." He murmured. "Paul, you and I will take test subject #1826 for some light physical activity tomorrow, so I suggest you come up with something for then."

"Yes, sir!" Paul saluted.

"Dismissed." Tord ordered, his back still turned to them but watched them leave his office through the mirror.

Once they left and Tord was finally alone, he dropped the authority posture and allowed himself to relax. What a busy day. He thought tiredly, walking to his chair and leaning back as far as it would go, stretching his limbs.

He opened his computer with a frown, typing in the password and gaining access to all of the base's personal files and reports. But he was not interested in any of that at the moment. He was currently more preoccupied in finding ways of recovering Tom back to his proper health.

I don't understand. How could he have gotten to this condition? He's barely just skin and bones, there is literally nothing in him. Tord thought worriedly, researching different sources and pages for the absolute best. Did he do this to himself? If so, why? I need to keep a close eye on his condition…

Tord's thoughts drifted into various directions and possibilities. For now, he will give Tom the benefit of the doubt that he just has a terrible sense of self-care, and hopefully, nothing deeper was going. But then again, he's dealing with Tom. There is also a catch.

He is hiding something, and if Tom won't admit it, then I will figure him out myself. He vowed silently.

(Later…)

Blurry images were flying through his mind, but they were so fuzzy he could barely make them out. Blood rushed through his ears, drowning out the noise; his heart hammering in his chest. Stop.

He could faintly see a few places that looked familiar to the depths of his mind. A park, an alleyway, the bar… a yellow house. Stop it.

Next thing he hears are screams; shrills of panic and horror all around him. He tries to understand what was going on but all he sees as his vision clears are people running away from something. He looks behind him but there was nothing there. He realizes then that these people were running away from him. Stop it!

He tries to plead for the people to stop, try and make them understand, but they just kept staring at him in horror. He clutched his head in distress. P-please no!

He hissed in pain when he felt something sharp poke his head. He was confused by this and slowly drew his hands down, only to discover that in place of his hands, he had sharp blood-stained claws instead. NO!

He thrashed and turned violently as he saw people get mutilated left and right. His claws seemed to have a mind of their own as they slashed through them mercilessly. I don't want this!

Blood and guts spilled everywhere. He felt immense pain coming from his jaws as his gums expanded and sharp teeth started to grow out of his normal ones. Something heavy swished behind him. A tail. His tail. He pounced on a frightened woman and tore her face off with his jaws, mauling her limb to limb. Make it stop!

But he couldn't stop it. He would never stop until the pain in his stomach finally ceased and his hunger for flesh is satisfied. His appetite has been neglected for far too long. A loud roar escaped his lips once his eye surveyed the bloodstained fields; no signs of life. Until he heard a gasp from behind him. No! No! No!

He turned around, slowly and rather clumsily due to his large size. Standing behind him with expressions of shock and horror were two familiar figures of a ginger and a brunet in hoodies. Something clicked in his mind at the recognition, but his stomach growled louder at the sight of them. Not them!

He crouched low on the ground, a growl rumbling through him as his eye narrowed at them. His huge claws raked the ground in anticipation. His mouth watered.

PREY.

NO! DON'T-!

KILL.

He pounced on them, claws raised and ready for mutilating as the two forms cowered away in fear. Next thing he knows; blood is soaking his form. His friend's blood.

"NO!" Tom shot up straight, sitting up in alarm. His eyes were wide and he started to pant for breath, trying to calm down from the adrenaline as he trembled in fright. He looked around frantic but was relieved to find everything he had experienced, for the most part, was merely a dream.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief, taking deep breaths to calm his rapid heartbeat. He laid back down staring at the ceiling. It was just a dream. Edd and Matt are fine. You did not hurt them, they are safe and sound back at home. The monster will never hurt them now.

As he gained back his bearings, Tom noticed the somewhat soft surface he was laying on top of. On closer observation he realized he was indeed lying on a bed. He looked around the place he was in. The room was plain gray with no windows or anything else really. Just the bed.

Last (night's?) events slowly but surely reappeared into his memory and he remembered how Tord played a stupid game with him before knocking him out via electric shocks. Tom huffed in annoyance. Dam commie. Didn't even have the guts to knock me out himself, he had to do it from a safe distance.

Tom noticed two doors, one positioned to his left; large and made out of steel, and the other in front of him at the far end of the bed. One must lead outside while the other was possibly a bathroom. Again, possibly… This is Tord he is dealing with after all.

Tom sat up again, his legs dangling to the side of the bed. He tried to get up when he felt a pull towards his wrist and a slight pain followed. Tom looked down and saw a thin, transparent line coming out of his sleeve. He pulled it up, the line going inside his veins. Tom followed the line, his eyes directing towards the rather large IV bag on a pole, connected to the lines.

"An IV?" Tom stared down at his wrist in confusion. They must've put that in while I was unconscious… right on my injured wrist too.

Tom didn't have much time to pull it off before the door to his cell slid open. Tom jumped in surprise, letting out a little yelp until he realized who was on the other side. The familiar silhouette of pointy hair was enough to tell who it was before Tord strolled into the room, a wide grin on his face and carrying a tray of, supposedly food with him.

"Good morning!" Tord greeted in a sing-song voice. Tom stared at him deadpanned, not saying anything just raising one eyebrow questioningly. "Hope you had a good night's rest, cause' today we have a lot to do."

Tom glared. Tord is never cheerful unless there is pain involved. Great. The Brit remained silent, crossing his arms and glaring at the other man. Tord's smile wavered at his behaviour.

"Ah, the silent treatment I see. Don't tell me you are still upset for me electrocuting you yesterday?" Tord says, earning a harder glare from Tom causing him to chuckle at their situation. "Really? Come on old pal, as if you were expecting anything different from me at this point!" Tord laughed, but slowly diminished as Tom remained silent and fuming. "Oh. So you are serious about this." Tord blinked in realization that maybe making fun of his only hope to get the serum done, especially when he is in such a condition, wasn't the best idea.

Tord sighed, clearing his throat. "Fine. Maybe I exaggerated and I shouldn't have been so quick to electrocute you." He apologized while avoiding uttering the specific words to his supposedly arch-nemesis. Patrick's words echoed in his mind. "As long as you don't try anything funny, I won't do it again. I promise."

Knowing this is the closest he will ever get to an apology coming from Tord, Tom dropped his arms with his glare turning to the tray of food the Norwegian was still holding in his hands.

"Anyways, I brought you breakfast." Tord simply says handing him the tray. "And please try not to take out the IV without proper assistance. I had it put in to help restore you back to health and I would hate it if you were to be stubborn about it."

Tom took the tray from him, setting it down on his lap. The food given was as simple as it could be: Just a bowl of bread chunks, a small dish of butter with a plastic knife, and a glass of water. Talk about generic prison food. But the food itself didn't really matter. Even if he were presented with a cheeseburger or a large, juicy steak he still wouldn't eat it. He can't risk getting strong again.

"I'm not hungry." Tom muttered, looking away while ignoring the pain in his stomach grow at the sight of food.

Much to his surprise, Tord laughed in response, looking down at him with amusement. "Patrick warned me you would use the same excuse twice, didn't think you actually would though." He stated. "To my knowledge, you haven't consumed anything in the last 54 hours. No normal human being can go on so long without any nourishment."

Tom inwardly grimaced. Dam, he is on to me. He glared up at Tord. "I don't have eyes, my parents are inanimate objects, and I currently have a super-potent serum running through my veins. I am by no means normal." He growled.

Tord shrugged. "True. But you are still human despite all of that, and you need to eat sometime." He says, nudging the tray.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "So what happened to the quality meal I was promised when taking your stupid deal?" He challenged, remembering the night Tord had come to him to hear his answer and told him of the things he would expect to get if he accepted his proposition. "If this is what you have for a quality meal, then I really don't wanna know what you have for your average one." He held a chunk of bread between his fingers, holding it up to his eye he inspected it.

Tord frowned. "I'll have you known that this is some of the finest bread that we have." He stated, somewhat offended by Tom's comment, as he held a lot of pride for his army. "And concerning the conditions of our deal, a change was in order." At this Tom put the chunk of bread down, looking at Tord curiously. The norsk sighed. "Due to your alarming condition I had to research and plan your diet carefully. So from now on, instead of two quality meals a day, you'll get plenty of small snacks once every two hours: Bread, protein bars, soups. Small but nutritious, and easy to consume."

Tom narrowed his eyes as his blank stare met with Tord's own gray one. He may know about his malnourished state, but he barely scratched the surface of Tom's condition; he has no idea what he is dealing with, and Tom plans to keep it that way for as long as he can. So until Tord addresses the issue directly, he will just play along.

Once again, Tord nudged the tray of food closer to Tom. "Well, go on and eat up then. When you are done, I'll escort you to the gym where Paul will be waiting for us." He ordered.

Tom looked down at the food in disdain. His stomach was growling but he went for so long without eating anything that he kind of lost his appetite due to his self-control. The chunks of bread didn't look particularly appetizing either.

Tord frowned, sensing Tom's hesitance to eat and figured he wouldn't do it on his own initiative. He sighed. "You know, there are still lots of questions you haven't ask me yet." He said, gaining the Brit's attention. "Tell you what: You may ask me any questions you want; I promise to answer them all truthfully. But for each question you ask me you will eat one chunk of bread in return."

Tom rolled his empty eyes, groaning in annoyance. Leave it to Tord to solve all his problems with a deal or a game. He has been for approximately three days in this stupid base and already he couldn't stand Tord or his methods. He vaguely remembers the Norwegian's ominous words from their last game. The right question? He thought. I do want answers, and I don't know when I'll get another chance to talk with Patrick or Paul on my own; or if they will even answer me then. Tom looks down at the bowl of bread on his tray, slowly lifting his gaze back to Tord; standing in the middle of the room with his hands folded behind his back.

Tom didn't want to give in just yet, his stubborn side rising within him. "And what if I refuse?" He challenged, crossing his arms and folding his legs; careful not to let the tray fall from his lap.

Tord frowned at him. "If you don't eat, then I guess I will just have to make you." He spoke, icily calm. "And believe me Thomas, I have many ways to make you do whatever I want. I am just being nice and giving you the chance to choose to do it the easy way or the hard way." Tom wasn't fooled by his calm demeanour. Tord was practically radiating anger, he just kept it in check. Tom scowled but sighed in defeat, knowing better than to argue further at this point. "So what's it gonna be?"

Tom stared at the ground, adverting his gaze. "Fine. I'll take your offer." He muttered.

Tord smiled, regaining his posture. Good, he is learning. He thought, pleased with the result. Maybe one day he won't resist me anymore and just do as I say without protest. Hopefully.

"You may begin whenever you are ready." Tord declared, straightening his back and clasping his hands together.

Tom narrowed his eyes, remembering his previous questions and the information he learned in response. He scratched his chin and hummed.

"Alright, uhm, I assume we are currently in your army base or something…"

"One of many." Tord put in. "This one is actually my main base, and the largest of all of them. Do keep going."

Tom raised one eyebrow. Geez. How many bases does he have in total? And why so many? He thought of asking, but he shook his head. Focus. One question at a time! I can't eat too much so I have to think carefully about my questions.

"Well, if this is your main base, then how come I barely see anyone around here?" Tom asks. "I mean; I saw a few people wandering through the halls when Patrick first escorted me. But how come I only seem to interact with the three of you and no one else?"

Tord grinned, moving to lean on the wall next to him while crossing his arms. "The serum project is a highly confidential plan only accessible to higher ups and with my permission. It is a very delicate procedure that I would very much like to keep it hidden from any form of unwanted attention." He explained, an edge to his voice. "So, to prevent unqualified assistance or possible traitors to get close to my last shot in this project, I made it perfectly clear to my soldiers to stay away from the lower area, which is the entire floor you reside in and we perform our experiments. Any members of the red army found wandering about the halls of this floor without direct permission from me will be-"

"Killed?!"

"Punished." Tord finished, his grin turning into a sour frown. "I may be trigger happy, Tom, but I wouldn't kill my own soldiers for a little bit of rule breaking." He paused, contemplating his thoughts. "Well… Unless they annoy or piss me off, and break the rules far too often; in which case they lose their value and become easily dispensable. And this project is a very serious issue, so now I am not quite sure what I'll do if someone were to come down here and find out…"

Tom felt an involuntarily shiver run down his spine at the sound of that. He began to wonder what kind of punishment Tord delivers to those who break the rules. Knowing how sadistic the Norwegian man could be, Tom wouldn't be surprised if it involved medieval torture methods; or at the very least some finger chopping or back whipping. And how exactly would he dispose of the "dispensable" soldiers? Tord's favourite method of killing has always been guns, but again, he is a sadistic f#ck; he most likely wouldn't settle for just a simple shot in the head. Tom's gaze drifted down to Tord's synthetic hand, currently rubbing his chin in thought. Another shiver ran down his spine. Something told him that cold, metallic hand held a lot of deaths in its grasp. And he suspected it wasn't only by choking either.

"Regardless, you will only interact with Paul, Pat, and I throughout the whole experience and no one else." Tord declared, brushing off his previous thought.

Tom snapped out of his thoughts. "So your soldiers-"

"Ahem." Tom was abruptly interrupted by Tord's obnoxious throat clearing. The Norsk was looking down at him expectantly, but Tom just stared back in confusion. "Eat." He ordered, motioning to the tray.

Tom looked down, realizing what he was expected to do. He inwardly grimaced, not feeling up to eating anything at the moment, or ever for that fact. But if he didn't, Tord would force him to do it regardless, and he doesn't need the humiliation of having the commie force-feeding him against his will. It's just best to comply.

Tom surveyed the contents of the bowl, careful to pick the smallest chunk possible. He raised it to his eye level to inspect it. The bread is brown and white with grains in it, soft to the touch and yet held a certain hardiness to it near the border. Gingerly, he stuck his tongue out to give the bread an experimental taste. Tom clicked his tongue. Tastes like bread alright.

Tord watched him in amusement and slight annoyance, doing his best to keep from giggling out loud. He debated whether he should just tell him that the bread held no drugs or poison in it, but held back. Tord decided he found Tom quite adorable when he was suspicious and wary of things.

Tom stared down at the piece of bread for a moment longer before popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, and rather hesitantly as he rolled the bread around his mouth with his tongue. It crunched beneath his teeth, the grains making themselves apparent. The taste was rather bland. But to Tom, who hadn't eaten anything for so long he barely remembers the last time he did, the bread tasted divine in his mouth.

Still, he did not let it show he enjoyed. "Not bad." He mumbled while still chewing.

When the chunk was gone from his mouth and descended down his throat, Tom still felt the bread taste on his tongue. He held the urge to lick his lips. His eyes unintentionally fixed back on the bowl, and his hand was ready to take another chunk but he quickly reframed from doing so. His hand twitched and he clenched into a fist in response. Stay under control. He reminded himself.

Although subtle, Tord took notice of the hand twitch. Looking at Tom's facial expression he could detect a hint of hesitation, as if he was struggling with himself. Tord raised an eyebrow in interest. Hm, seems as if he's having some trouble in containing himself. Not sure if this is his stubborn side refusing to actually enjoy something I am giving him, or something else entirely… He contemplated, rubbing his chin. I'll order Pat to have a session with him tomorrow; today if possible, and see what he can figure out.

Tom managed to repress down the urge to eat more, for now, until he could ask more questions. "So how did you get your army?" He blurts out. "Did you actually get followers or did you blackmail them into joining you?"

Tord just shot him a sly grin. "I earned my soldier's respect fair and square. They approved of my way of thinking and agreed to join the cause. My cause." He declared with pride, placing the palm of his robotic hand over his heart. "Of course, I started only with a handful of soldiers; Paul included. But overtime we recruited more members to join us, and that's when Pat came in. I never had any use to blackmail anyone."

Except for me, you dumb bastard. Tom silently added, scowling. "But how did you manage to recruit more members without being tracked or found out by the authorities?" He questions. "Like, with you being wanted and all I guess it's safe to say you didn't just go out in the open to demand more members or anything. So you probably had a strategy for this sort of thing." He pointed out, recalling the time he was walking down the street with the keys of his newly-bought apartment twirling on his finger when he found the wanted poster.

No matter how much time seemed to pass since that incident, his mind somehow always drifted to the catastrophic events of that day. Sometimes he wondered what would've happened if he had never found that poster. Would Tord have turned his rage on Edd and Matt instead? Or would he have left peacefully?

Tord's grin widened. "Very clever Tom, maybe you aren't as stupid as I thought you were." He purred in delight, motioning with his hand to the bowl once more. Tom got the memo right away and took a small chunk of bread; eating while he listened to his answer.

"Yes, I had to work around the issue with the authorities in order to expand my numbers. So we were very careful when selecting our members; only choosing those who held special skills and stood out among the rest." Tord explained. "But overtime as our organisation grew we became more open to members, but still careful in our selection to make sure we don't get any spies or undercover cops. So now we have a new system of selection."

"Which is?" Tom questioned, glancing sideways and taking note of the small tray of butter to accompany his meal. He gingerly grabbed the plastic knife and proceeded to swipe it over one piece of bread.

Tord smirked. "Our pub of course! It turned out to have more use for the army aside of just financing our organisation." He exclaimed. "We keep an eye out for frequent clients; the ones who seem miserable and have a reason to come so often. One soldier goes to them undercover, gain their trust, gets info on them, and we offer them a place in the group. If they refuse, we erase their memories from the event; but most cases they are willing to abandon their lives for this new style."

Tom swallowed another chunk of bread, rolling down his throat with great difficulty. It's been a while since he last did this. He grabbed the glass of water and took a sip, still paying attention to the details.

"But it's not just the pub that we use. All soldiers are equipped with fake names and identities so that they may interact with the outside world whenever they want. If they were to stumble upon a person of interest that fits in with our requirements, they are offered a place as well." Tord went on, seemingly not minding in giving away even the most secretive of details regarding his army. He held a lot of pride for his hard work and wasn't afraid of showing it. "Most of the people who take our offer like to delete their previous lives, either by hacking the systems or just simply faking their own deaths; taking entirely new identities as their own and committing themselves fully to the army."

Tom looked up at him. "So your soldiers are basically dead to the world." He concluded grimly.

As much as he disliked Tord and everything he stands for, including the whole army thing, he can't really blame the people for joining him. They must've had their reasons for abandoning their lives. Sure, there could be the occasional communist prick like the leader himself, but what of those people that were in a similar predicament as him? Depressed and lost. Maybe they were in the brink of death before a second chance showed up to them. Tord and the army could be bad but maybe it was the only chance these people had of living.

Tom shook the thought off his head, repressing it down. No person associated with the army deserve his sympathy no matter what their reason was. Himself included.

"Does that mean they all live in the base? Or bases, considering you seem to have more than one." Tom mumbled, taking another sip of water.

"Most of them, yes. But there are those who still hold on to their everyday lives. Think of them as the ones who have a foot in each world. The blissful ignorant world of today's society, and that of the red army's." Tord continued. "They work mostly as spies; feeding us any and all intel they may acquire during their outings, then sneak back to the base and report everything. Most of these types of soldiers have a lot of use to us with their positions: Doctors, bankers, and especially cops."

Tom nearly choked on his drink, but managed to place the glass down and swallow the liquid before it could take effect in his lungs. Tord had a lot more power than he initially imagined if he had undercover soldiers working in important positions. Even if by some miracle he were able to escape, Tom would never be able to go out again; else he will get easily tracked down and just brought back. Heck, after learning this tad bit of information can he trust anyone else ever again? After his experience with the pub, definitely not.

"Are all of your soldiers just that? Soldiers? Or are there different positions?" Tom asks, calming down before glaring daggers at the norsk. "And what about children? Do you take them in as well? I bet you brainwash them in following your messed up ways you sick, communist, bastard-"

Tord pursed his lips, narrowing his eye as he raised one finger to silence him. "Despite what you might think of me, Thomas, I do not take in children. Never had, never will. Only individuals above the age of eighteen are allowed to join. Sure there are some smartasses who think they can fool us into believing they are above the age, just because they think being in an army sounds cool. But our system never failed to detect them, and we erase their memories from the event. But we do keep a tracker on them for future reference." He explained, standing up from his spot against the wall; walking closer to Tom. "And yes, we do have other positions in the army: Doctors, nurses, scientists, engineers, cooks, cleaners, etc. Not all of the people we take in share the same enjoyment as me in going on a killing spree. Anything that can benefit the army in any way possible."

Tom followed his movements as Tord got closer to him. He was baring his teeth into a scowl and his eyeless gaze set into a glare. Tord stopped, towering directly over him.

"I believe those were four questions, so… Eat up!" Tord pointed out.

Tom growled. "I don't feel like eating anymore." In a sudden burst of defiance, he shoved the tray of food off his lap; splattering the remains on the floor. His gaze not once leaving Tord's.

On the other hand, Tord was fuming silently, anger boiling up inside of him ready to burst. He felt the urge to hold Tom in a choke hold in order to teach him a lesson for his defiance. His hands clenched, ready to lash out when Patrick's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of his predicament. Tom is his only and last shot, as much as he hates to admit it. And he can't be too rough on him or he will get damaged in his current state.

With this in mind, Tord takes a deep breath to calm down. He smiles down at Tom, taking him by genuine surprise.

"Tsk tsk, oh Tom, always making a mess of things." Tord cooed, shaking his head.

He extended his robotic hand out towards Tom, making him flinch and try to lean back; but at the same time, he didn't want to show signs of weakness and urged to stand his ground. Tord leaned closer, his hand just inches away from his face. Tom kept his gaze fixed on the Norwegian's single gray eye, completely still.

When they come in contact with each other, Tom grit his teeth and grumbled in irritation. The robotic hand ran through his hair and ruffled him. He hated the touch, it felt like Tord was possessive of him somehow. But strangely enough, it felt affectionate as well. Tom almost leaned into the touch if it weren't for the fact he kept reminding himself as to whom exactly it was ruffling him in the first place.

Tord grinned. "Well, I am glad you took such an interest in my line of work. I hope the information I provided you with was enough to change your mind about a few things." He murmured, still running his robotic fingers gently through Tom's messy brown locks. "Overtime, who knows? You might actually start seeing us as your friends. Maybe even your family perhaps-"

Tom grabbed the robotic hand firmly, halting it in its tracks as he glared up furiously. Tord stared down at the dark sockets, surprised by the rage fuelling behind them.

"Forget it, commie!" Tom snarled, pushing the hand away from him. "I might be your little test subject for your sick experiments, but I am most definitely not part of your stupid army. You are not my leader, and neither are you or anyone else around here my friend." Spitting out each word, Tom shoved him away, making Tord almost stumble back.

In the action, Tom took note how almost effortlessly he managed to shove the other one away. He hadn't felt this strong in a long time. It felt good, but at the same time he knew it was bad news.

Tord recovered from the move, staring back at the brit wide eyed. For someone who is so underweight, he sure is strong. He regained his composure, fixing the collar of his uniform while throwing a little smirk in Tom's direction. "Whatever you say." He chuckled, making Tom fume.

Tord cleared his throat, turning his back to him and sliding the door to the cell open. "Come along now." He glanced sideways back at him. "We have important things to get to. The sooner we go, the earlier we get things done."

Tom grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Joy." He muttered in annoyance, following Tord out the room. "Can't wait to see what kind of torture you'll put me through first."

"Oh, you'll see."

#tomtord #ew tom #ew tord #eddsworld

80 notes · View notes