#i am going crazy looking for this stupidly affirming shit.

[feral-ass-raccoon]

i cannot find the post but i saw the most life changing fucking thing ever holy shit. it was abt the whole "burnt out gifted kids who don't realize ____ thing is actually Okay", and it said something along the lines of "what you need to realize is that youdont need to give 100 percent. if you only have 70, or 50, or 30 percent thats okay." 'n it listed things you could do that arent as much effort as the full task, but still count

i feel so fuckign attacked but like in the good way, please for the love of everything if you know the post, please share

[letstalkaboutsebbaby]

I Fell

Ransom x you

I had this on my head yesterday...so, it goes to the gorgeous @helenaeisenhower

The first time he told you you are different, you thought it was just a line; something people say when they want their partners to feel special. You like to know Ransom wants to please you and make you feel good with him, but now you also know exactly what he meant by that. After 3 months dating, plus 5 in a serious relationship, this is the first time you visit his family, and it's overwhelming - not in the best way - to see the way they talk to one another. Even though Ransom tries to shield you from the mess, you're not used to anything other than a loving family. The fact that his mother invited his ex, affirming she didn't know they weren't together anymore, cause he's been just so distant...you want to leave, but you also want to show him you're strong and can deal with it.

So, for the last half an hour this skinny perfect blonde woman keeps talking to his mother and looking at you no matter where you go or what you do, it's uncomfortable and the only thing reassuring you is your boyfriend's hand on the small of your back as he keeps an investment talk with his father. You watch him trying to end the talk a couple of times, only to have his father ask something else, as if the only reason for this talk is to keep him from having to interact with the rest of the family. Ransom brings your body closer and slides his hand up to caress the nape of your neck, your head resting against his chest when you see the irritation in his ex's eyes. Is he aware of it? Is he doing it on purpose? You don't know, but when she drinks her wine like a shot and walks away from the living room, you feel some relief.

Between cousins, uncle, parents and 'the help' as you strangely hear Ransom say sometimes, the only person interested in getting to know you is his grandpa - but you're way too intimidated to even look him in the eye. It's Harlan Thrombey! You've always wanted to be a writer, but ended up translating other writers' work to your first language - italian. It was how you and Ramson met, their publishing company was looking for someone to translate a series of books and after a reunion to discuss it, you got a job contract and a dinner invite. Is what you tell the old man when he manages to usher you away from the father/son discussion, bringing you to his library, where you both sit as you try not to look so stupidly amazed by all the books there.

"So it was a nice dinner, then?" Harlan asks with a welcoming smile that makes you open up.

"No, it was horrible. He was...such a pain in the ass! I'm sorry for the language but I don't know how else to say it. He was just an arrogant prick and I told him so." You still remember the way Ransom looked at you, as if you were crazy.

"What changed, then?"

"Him. I was given an office to use as I worked with your company and your grandson would leave a little origami flower at my desk everyday for a month, until I agreed to give him another chance."

"Am I right to assume he made a better impression on the second date?"

"He was a gentleman. A smart, attentive gentleman. We dated - like old fashion lunches and dinners - and got to know each other better for the following 3 months I was there, then he asked me to be his girlfriend."

"Three months dating? No funny business?" He asks surprised, but his eyes were not on you, so you turn your head to see what got his attention. "No funny business" you hear your man saying from the door, he was leaning on it, as if he has been there for a while. You wonder if he heard the conversation. 

"Would you both want something to drink?" "Yes, bring us champagne" He tells Ransom, who leaves to get the beverage. "I've seen my grandson having affairs, partners of some kind...but never a serious girlfriend, and no one like yourself, young lady." He smiles and starts to stand, so you assume the conversation is over "He stopped with the origami flowers?"

"No, never. I have a box full of them." "So, what? 9 months...about 275 flowers?" "A bit more, some days he gives me more than one."

After getting a book from his vast collection, he gives it to you. Opening the old thing, named 'I Fell' you see a lot of pages are missing, almost half of it, and recognize the paper as the same as your flowers. You look back at him, shocked. 

"I've never published this but I'll send you a copy so you won't need to undo the flowers to read it."

"Thank you"

"Thank you for what?" Ransom says, back in the room.

"I'm just praising your girlfriends' beauty and intelligence" Harlam compliments.

"Fair." He looks at you with a soft smile, giving you the flute of champagne. "The dinner will be served in 10 minutes."

"I'll let you enjoy the silence for a bit." The old man excuses himself from the library, giving Ransom a pat in the back before going out.

"Is everything okay?" he says sitting at the big chair his grandpa was using before

"Yes, I like him." you tell him, taking the hand he offers to sit on his lap.

"Good, I'm sorry for the others, though"

"It's okay..."

"I know it's not what you're used to"

"I'm sorry that it's what you are used to" and you really do. You know the arrogant prick you first met is the result of this environment.

"It's a reason to make it different" he gives you a peck and smile as you get another gulp of the golden drink.

"You look amazing"

"Not as stylish as your ex..."

"She's not my ex. We've never been serious"

"Well, she's beautiful"

"She is...but you are gorgeous and have a lot of other qualities that I appreciate. She got nothing on you" 

"Thank you."

"Want to leave?” the mix of mischief and despair in his eyes something you would never be able to ignore.

"The dinner will be served..." you try to reason.

"I don't care, I feel like I'm poisoning you by keeping you here. You're too good for this shit show. Let's get some take away and eat by the fireplace, what do you say?"

"Burgers?"

"Anything you want with double bacon"

"You're my knight in shining armour, let's go." 

[dest-iality]

I’m Thinkin’ I Love You - Ch 1/4

HERE WE GO:

Summary: You and Bucky are paired up on a mission to take down a final HYDRA holdout base. Should be easy, but of course things don’t go how they’re supposed to.

It was supposed to be a routine mission, you were never supposed to end up at some random safehouse in the middle of nowhere. When Director Fury mentioned he was looking for two volunteers for a quick in-and-out takedown of a small HYDRA holdout, you jumped at the chance to get out of the tower. You had been cooped up for far too long, nursing a broken ankle for weeks. If you were being honest, it still twinged when you ran, but the urge to be back in the field made you keep that tidbit to yourself. Unsurprisingly, Fury had a hard time talking anyone else into volunteering; who would want to head out on a boring trip to God-knows-where to take out a few low-level HYDRA operatives?

The answer? Bucky fucking Barnes. When you heard his affirmative ring out from behind where you sat on the couch, you cringed inwardly for two reasons. One, Bucky was responsible for your broken ankle. The two of you had been sparring and you were holding your own for majority of the match, up until you got too cocky.

“That all you got Barnes?” you teased as you flipped him to his back, straddling his chest and holding his arms on either side of his head.

You knew you fucked up when he flashed that perfect smile and a playful glint appeared in those amazingly blue eyes. With the smirk never leaving his face, he whipped his metal arm up and around you, turning you ass over tea kettle in an action that would have been crazy sexy if you hadn’t pulled your leg under yourself in the process, effectively greenstick fracturing your left ankle in two places. The resulting moans were of the non-sexy variety, of which you would have been thoroughly embarrassed by if your ankle didn’t hurt so damn much. Bucky, ever the gentleman, was appropriately mortified and carried you bridal style all the way to the infirmary wing. He must’ve apologized a thousand times while you were getting your stupid orthopedic splint put on, and another hundred times as he helped you hobble back to your room.

“Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean to actually hurt you,” Bucky repeated for the nth time.

“Barnes, for the last time, it’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose. All you really did was give me six to eight weeks of vacation, so I really should be thanking you.” you said reassuringly. Stopping outside of your bedroom door, you turned to look at him fully. He leaned against the door frame with his head hung, the dark locks framing his perfect face. When he raised his head slightly to look at you, his blue eyes were filled with remorse. It broke your heart to see him feel so guilty over an accident. Your eyes drifted downward as he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth. You wondered fleetingly what he would taste like if you grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him close to press your lips to his, willing him to forgive himself as you had. You nearly moaned at the thought. When you met his eyes again, he was looking at you with interest, clearly noticing you staring at his mouth.

You coughed in the silence, “Ahem, alright Barnes, thanks for the escort, I think I can manage it on my own now.” You abruptly turned and fumbled with the door handle, letting it slip out of your hand at least twice as you desperately tried to get into the safety of your room. The brief exchange was already getting you hot and bothered; once you started thinking about having your way with Bucky, it was impossible to stop that train. You needed some privacy and you needed it fast.

“Wait, Y/N, I just wanted to say that I…” he seemed like he was weighing what he wanted to say next, running a hand through his dark hair, eventually settling on “…I am really sorry I hurt you today.” With that, he turned on his heel and speed-walked down the hall before you could reply. You looked after him, well really his ass, until he turned the corner out of sight, then retreated to your room, locking the door behind you. The rest of the evening was well-spent with your elaborate fantasies starring Bucky and your vibrator.

Reason number two you were reluctant to go on the two-man mission with him? You were totally, unrequitedly, stupidly in love with Bucky Barnes.

-

The Quinjet landing pad was quiet in the early morning fog, the birds hadn’t even started singing yet. You were overlooking your gear, doing one last spot check to make sure it was all in working order. As you slipped the clip back in your glock, you felt a cold weight on your shoulder. Startled, you whipped around, weapon raised and at the ready. Before you could even say “what” you were disarmed and on your back with the wind knocked out of you. A loose hand around your neck and knee pressed lightly on your chest told you all you needed to know. You made sure to file that image away for when you were alone later.

“You shouldn’t point guns at people, doll.” Bucky said matter-of-factly.

Pushing his hand off your neck and kneeing his thick frame away from you, you gave him a dirty look while trying to suppress the sudden arousal from being so easily dominated by him.

“Most decent folks don’t go around sneaking up on people with their super sneaking abilities, now give me back my gun.” you bit out. You weren’t really angry with him, but with yourself for letting your attraction distract you so much.

“Sorry sweetheart, you’re just too easy to get sometimes. Let’s get all this shit on board and get going, it’s cold as fuck out here.” Bucky hoisted your bag over his shoulder and walked past you onto the Quinjet. You watched him walk away, admiring his muscles tensing under the weight of the gear, wondering how those metal fingers would feel pressing inside of your while he whispered dirty little things into your ear, gently kissing your neck as he moved them in just the right way.

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled, pulling you out of your reverie. You shook yourself hard, willing the thoughts away. You just had to get through the next few days, then you could put as much distance as necessary between you and Bucky.

“I am well and truly fucked.” you whispered to yourself as you walked up the ramp, pressing the button to close the jet and settling into the pilot’s seat next to Bucky. His flashed you that paralyzing grin as he started up the engines and got the jet moving. Yep, you thought, well and truly fucked.

[chronictonsillitis]

If I Could Do It All Again (I Shouldn't Still Want This) -Chapter 1/? - Bellarke (exes, college AU)

One brown eye opened blearily from where his face was pressed against the toilet seat, then closed again in a second.

She shook him more firmly. “Come on, Bellamy, I know you’re awake.”

He lifted his head slightly from the toilet seat, fully opening his eyes. Bellamy gazed balefully straight at her. Clarke stared back.

Bellamy grumbled and lowered his head back down. “You’re not here.”

*********

Clarke and Bellamy had a thing, until they didn't. But she's a medical professional and she's not gonna let him aspirate on his own vomit just because they aren't friends anymore.

(Ao3) or

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

Clarke glanced sideways past Zeke at the dark head slumped over the toilet. “Did you consider that Campus Safety might be better equipped than I am?”

He shrugged. “Safety will just call an ambulance and I don’t know if he has insurance. You’re an EMT right?”

She was. Clarke had spent the last two years volunteering at the local ambulance company, packing her resume for med school, and in that time she’d seen her fair share of crazy shit, so really a drunk person shouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah but—“

“Plus you know him, right? You were both on the same freshman hall as Raven.”

Clarke sighed heavily. Zeke had transferred junior year so she guessed he didn’t know quite how loaded that question was.

“I used to.”

Steeling herself, Clarke pushed fully into the stall, coming to stand over the toilet and its current resident. She looked back at Zeke, still leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Do you know how much he had to drink? Or when?”

He shrugged again. “No idea. I came in here to take a piss before going out and found him. I called you right after.”

“Great,” Clarke muttered under her breath. “You can go if you want to, I can take it from here.”

“Thanks, Clarke.” Zeke smiled gratefully, pushing off the doorway. “He’s real lucky to have a friend like you.”

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. “We’re not—“

The thump of the door swinging shut cut her off and she slowly let out the air she had taken in.  “Friends,” she finished quietly.

Turning her attention back to her patient, she rolled her small medical bag off her shoulder and squatted down beside the toilet.

Tentatively, Clarke reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. “Bellamy? You gotta wake up now.”

One brown eye opened blearily from where his face was pressed against the toilet seat, then closed again in a second.

She shook him more firmly. “Come on, Bellamy, I know you’re awake.”

Blindly, he reached up and laced his fingers tightly around her wrist, stilling her. He mumbled something unintelligible.

Clarke leaned closer and tried not to focus on the way his rough fingers felt on her skin. “What was that?”

He lifted his head slightly from the toilet seat, fully opening his eyes. Bellamy gazed balefully straight at her. Clarke stared back.

Bellamy grumbled and lowered his head back down, releasing her wrist and closing his eyes again. “You’re not here.”

Clarke sighed. “Sorry, buddy, I wish I wasn’t either,” she replied, and reached out to take his wrist, finding his pulse. It was strong, but slow. “How much did you drink?”

He did his best impression of a shrug. “Some.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Did you throw up?”

He grunted affirmatively.

She gently reached out and pushed his hair back from his face. “Do you think you’re gonna throw up again?”

Bellamy shook his head and Clarke retracted her hand, mentally cursing herself.

“You’re not here,” he said again.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again and sat back against the side of the stall, leaning her head up against the plastic.

“Well if I’m not here, where am I then?”

She could hear him shifting slightly, but she kept her gaze up, silently counting the ceiling tiles.

“You’re at a party,” Bellamy mumbled. “You’re at a party, and you’re dancing with your friends, with what’s-her-name, that girl you’re with. And you’re happy.”

Clarke looked at him curiously. “What’s-her-name? Who’s that?”

He cracked an eye open again briefly.

“You know who I mean,” he said petulantly. “What’s-her-name. With the dark hair and the like leather and stuff.”

“I honestly have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Clarke wracked her brain for who he could possibly be referring to but drew a blank. She hadn’t been with anyone lately, let alone anyone Bellamy would’ve seen her with.

“The short one. I saw you kiss her hair.” His voice was awfully accusing for someone she hadn’t spoken to for over a year.

“I have no idea who that—“ she stopped short. “Wait, Madi?!”

He shrugged impassively.

“Ew, Bellamy. Madi is one my freshman orientees. She’s like my kid.”

Clarke pushed herself up off the ground and wipes her hands on her pants. She could feel anger bubbling up inside her and she tamped down on it, going to lean up against the counter, facing away from him.

She had left the stall door open and she could see the reflection of Bellamy in the mirror, his face still pressed against the toilet seat and his legs sprawled out into the stall next to him.

“What I do is none of your business, okay?” She reminded him quietly.

Bellamy grumbled noncommittally in reply.

“Bellamy.” Her voice was sharp, shaper than she intended. It had been years, but he was still a sore spot for her.

“Murphy said you were happy.”

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, and?”

“That’s good,” Bellamy mumbled. “That’s really good. I want you to be happy.”

Clarke spun to face him. He opened his eyes and looked at her lazily, a small smile cracking across his face. Her expression hardened.

Clarke opened her mouth to say something cutting but was stopped by the appearance of a group of giggling girls bursting through the door. She glared at them, pushing herself up to sit on the counter with her back against the mirror.

One of them went to use the stall next to Bellamy but found his legs intruding on the space. Clarke snorted.

“Try the third one down.”

The girl nodded gratefully. Clarke waited as she did her business, quickly washing her hands and collecting her friends. They burst into laughter as they left and Clarke grimaced.

“You should go with them. Go out and have fun.”

Clarke gave Bellamy a doubtful look. “Yeah, I’m not leaving you alone when you’re drunk like this.”

“I’m so fine,” he slurred. “I’ll just go back to my room.”

He lifted his head off the seat and made to get up, then paled, slumping back down. “Or I can just stay here. It’s all good.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She’d dealt with his specific drunk mess more times than she’d admit, and if she was honest she used to find it endearing.

Back in their freshman year, before winter formal, Bellamy and Murphy had gone out to pregame with some of their rugby buddies and by the time they came back, Bellamy was belligerent. Clarke ended up having to escort him back to their dorm, him leaning heavily on her as she struggled with his weight and her heels.

When they got back to their dorm, she’d had to help him unlock his door, right next to hers.

He had flopped into bed and she’d gently removed his boots. Clarke felt her heart skip as she remember the feeling of him running a hand along her hair. She’d looked up to see him grinning lazily at her.

You look really pretty, Bellamy had said, then his expression had shuttered. He had been with Gina then, and even though their relationship was strained by distance, he’d never cheat. You should go back out and find a nice person to hook up with. You deserve someone nice.

She’d jokingly assured him she would. Bellamy insisted on locking his door behind her and Clarke had laughed but allowed it. The lock had clicked shut and almost instantaneously she’d heard him slam into something.

He blamed it on taking his contacts out and she’d laughed and left, her heart warm and full.

That night she hooked up with Lexa for the first time.

Another time, at the end of the next semester, after Gina had dumped him and they’d started hooking up, he’d come back from yet another rugby party plastered and had barged into her room and flopped onto her bed beside her.

They had kissed for a while and then laid face to face in her bed under the covers. His eyes had been bright and his grin dopey and then slowly his face had changed.

His eyes ran over her face, searching. He must really like you, he’d said. Clarke asked who he meant. Your summer boy.

He meant Finn. Clarke had laughed at that. She’d told him before about how she and Finn had been hooking up every summer for a while at her lake house.

Trust me, he definitely doesn’t. He just liked fucking me. Clarke had replied.

It was true. She’d had such a huge thing for Finn until he brought his girlfriend up for a week. Raven had been so excited to meet her because they were going to the same school, and Clarke was fucking her boyfriend.

Can I visit you over the summer? Bellamy had asked plaintively. Clarke nodded firmly.

Can I sleep here? He’d asked and she agreed again. Thirty minutes later he’d bolted out of her bed, down the hall to the bathroom, presumably to throw up. When she heard his door open and close, she’d gone to sleep.

He certainly hadn’t visited her over the summer. Instead, he’d sent her snapchats of him and Gina dancing at concerts and making breakfast and kissing. She should’ve known better.

Clarke sighed and scrubbed her hand across her face to drive the memories away. She doesn’t like to think about freshman year, or how they’d been friends or how happy she’d been when she’d thought he’d liked her.

When they came back for sophomore year, he'd been single again, and stupidly she started hooking up with him again. He'd ended it via text message while drunk at a party.

She'd thought he was too emotionally compromised over Gina to be in any kind relationship, but then he started fucking the girl she lived next to. It turned out he was ready to be in a relationship, just not with Clarke.

She’d mostly gotten over it. She wasn’t depressed anymore, didn’t have panic attacks when she saw him or Echo, didn’t avoid going to rugby parties just because she knew he’d be there, but it wasn’t good for her to remember being his friend or his lover.

He’d never really liked her, Clarke reminded herself. She was just a very conveniently located lay.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said again, straightening up slightly.

Her eyes flashed.

“Don’t.”

Bellamy looked confused. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t pretend you care. Don’t pretend you ever cared.”

“I care.” He pulled himself off the ground and stumbled towards her.

In an instant, Clarke was on her feet, wrapping an arm around his back under his shoulder and gently helping him back to the ground. He leaned back against the plastic stall divider.

“I miss being your friend,” Bellamy slurred. “We were good friends.”

Clarke could feel tears building behind her eyes but she blinked hard, refusing to let him see her cry.

“You weren’t a good friend to me.”

He nodded in agreement. “I fuck everything up.”

She choked out a laugh. He grinned up at her then his eyes slowly fell shut, his head slumping against his shoulder.

“You passing out or falling asleep?” she asked, an undertone of worry coloring her voice.

He held up two fingers without opening his eyes. She snorted again. “How about we get you to your room first?”

He nodded and she was moving to go help him up when a Campus Safety officer came through the door.

The officer’s eyes flicked between them. “We got a report that there was someone passed out in the bathroom.”

Clarke winced. “No, Officer. He just had a bit too much to drink, but I can handle it.”

The officer nodded. “No need, ma’am. We called an ambulance for him. They’ll take good care of him.”

Clarke’s eyes darkened. “You called an ambulance just based on a report? What if he hadn’t been here? He doesn’t need to go to the ER.”

“Sorry, ma’am. It’s policy.” The officer shrugged. “They’ll meet us up here.”

“It’ll be easier if we bring him down and meet them there. He can get down the stairs.”

The officer looked at her patronizingly. “I think we can let the professionals decide what’s best, yeah?”

Anger bubbled up in her and she was about two seconds away from ripping into him when the crew arrived.

“Oh, hey Clarke. Long time no see.” Her co-worker Jackson grinned at her. She’d worked a shift with him earlier that day, but Diyoza had replaced her for the overnight.

She grinned back but sighed internally with disappointment. If it had been Jackson and someone else they might have let Bellamy stay with her, but Diyoza was a stickler for the rules, and altered mental status, aka being a drunk ass, was an automatic transport.

“This little lady here thinks he can walk down himself,” the officer said pompously, “But I thought I should get a second opinion.”

Diyoza nodded and looked at Clarke. “No stair chair?”

“Not unless you really want to,” Clarke replied.

“No stair chair then.” Diyoza nodded again and turned back to the officer. “I think we can handle it from here.”

He looked taken aback. “I’ll need to get his info to write a citation.”

“He’s over 21.” Clarke said, rolling her eyes.

“I can’t just take your word for that.”

Diyoza stepped in between them. “Clarke is one of our most promising volunteers. I think you can trust her. Now, please, let us do our job.”

Wordlessly she led him to the door. Diyoza had a way of making people do what she wanted.

“Alright,” she said brightly. “Should we go? We can check him out in the back of the truck, but I’m sure you’ve been doing fine.”

Clarke nodded and went to go help Bellamy up. “Come on, Bellamy. Let’s go.”

He nodded slowly and rose, leaning heavily against her.

“Let’s go,” he repeated.

They moved slowly through the hallway and down the stairs, Diyoza and Jackson providing support in case they fell.

“So this is the famous Bellamy,” Diyoza drawled.

Clarke flashed her a warning look. Long hours at the station had a way of making people overshare, but she didn’t want Bellamy to know she’d discussed him.

Diyoza raised her hands in surrender. “Bellamy who I have never heard about at all in great detail.”

“Me neither,” said Jackson.

Clarke groaned. “You guys suck.”

“I don’t suck,” said Bellamy. Clarke exchanged a look with the other two.

“Sure you don’t,” replied Jackson. “You seem totally nice and responsible. That’s why they called us.”

Bellamy grumbled from his position slung across Clarke’s shoulders. “I’m tired.”

They came to a stop in front of the stretcher. “That’s why you’re gonna sit down here for me.”

He nodded, and then almost fell. Clarke caught him

“Whoa! Okay, Bellamy. How about you just hold on to me here?” Clarke shifted her arms so that she was chest to chest with him, her hands looped behind his back.

His hands grasped tightly around her hips. “Okay.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Great. Jackson, could you move the cot behind him?”

Clarke tried not to think of how familiar their position felt but she couldn’t help it.

The first night they had hooked up, they had been partying before spring formal with the hall. For one second he had stood intoxicatingly close and pulled her hips to his. I shouldn’t hold you like this, he’d whispered in her ear. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

His big hands had seared through the fabric of her dress, burning her skin deliciously. She’d ghosted her lips over his jaw. Trust me, I don’t mind.

This time, she helped him sit down. Bellamy looked at her so softly she had to turn away.

Jackson loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and started taking Bellamy’s vitals.

“You coming with us?” Diyoza asked Clarke.

She wrung her hands, gazing at Bellamy where he chatted dopily with Jackson. “No, I shouldn’t. Echo—his girlfriend—should go with him.”

Diyoza nodded and called out to Bellamy. “Hey buddy, where’s Echo?”

He laughed bitterly. “Probably fucking my best friend’s ex-girlfriend again.”

Diyoza looked at Clarke, amused. Clarke shrugged, her mouth agape.

“I didn’t—“

“Yeah, I bet,” Diyoza cut in. “You coming?”

Clarke nodded jerkily and Diyoza clapped her on the back. “Great. You’re up front with me.”

By the time Clarke got through helping the hospital reception with his registration, Bellamy was asleep.

She lurked around the emergency department for a while, before coming to rest on a chair by the door in his room. Clarke gazed at him, still in the bed, his chest rising and falling. The heart monitor beeped evenly.

She texted Murphy what’d happened and settled in to the chair. Slowly, she let the beeping of the monitors lull her to sleep.

She woke around six to gentle chatter. Blearily she stretched out and opened her eyes.

A beautiful brunette was standing next to Bellamy, quietly scolding him. Clarke recognized her from family weekend, freshman year. Octavia, his sister.

Bellamy glanced at Clarke uncomfortably and Octavia’s eyes followed.

“Oh!” She exclaimed brightly. “You’re up.”

Clarke nodded and looked away from Bellamy’s gaze, smiling slightly at Octavia. “Did Murphy tell you what happened?”

Octavia snorted. “He sure did. Thanks for taking care of this idiot for me.”

Clarke nodded again. “It’s no problem. I’m an EMT so I’m used to this kind of stuff.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Bellamy said. His voice was low and quiet, and Clarke fought the urge to shiver.

She stood up and shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah I— I should probably go.”

“Well, thanks again!” chirped Octavia. “Bell’s really lucky to have you as a friend.”

“We’re not—“ Clarke stopped short. She caught Bellamy’s eye for a second and then looked down. “Yeah. No problem.”

She turned and slipped out of the room, weaving through the ER, a sob resting high in her throat.

She ran headlong into Murphy as she burst out the doors.

“Whoa, Clarke.” He held her by her shoulders and looked at her. “I was just coming to see if Bellamy needed a ride. You okay?”

She nodded and felt tears start to fall. “He’s fine, Octavia’s with him. Can you take me home?”

She tried and failed to stifle another sob.

Murphy pulled her in for an uncharacteristic tight hug. Quietly in her ear he said, “Bellamy is my best friend, but he’s an idiot. He doesn’t deserve you.”

He released her. “Let’s go.”

Two hours later she received a text from a number that wasn’t in her address book anymore, but she knew who it was. It said: Thanks.

She didn’t reply.

[thebuffalohuman-blog]

Stories from my history: 9/20/17: The Sand Pits

So, laying out my entire life, (or at least my most interesting stories) in blog form might take a while. I have many of them. I will avoid doing them chronologically at times. This particular one is the story of how I got myself into deep shit (actually sand) and through persistence, sustained belief in my abilities and some help from my friends, I was able to have a fantastic night that affirmed my self confidence AND extricate myself from a tricky, potentially costly situation.

So, it was about a week before my birthday last year and I had recently met my then-lover, Crunchy. We had hung out a time or two before that and just chatted in my car at the beach (my 1978 Buick Century Station Wagon, Frank)... but this time we had our first real adventure. I’m pretty sure the first part of the adventure consisted of walking around near Longwood Estate and then visiting Gotham Smokes, rolling a blunt and getting extremely stoned in Frank’s front bench seat. At this point, it was starting to get dark and I proposed we go take the Buick into an off the road kind of dirt path that I had discovered nearby when I was in High School. Obviously Captain Crunchy was as adventurous as I, so we took the Buick down that back road and parked it on the edge of the path, about 100 feet down the path alongside the road. We then rolled UP the windows, because the mosqueets were kind of annoying and smoked ANOTHER blunt.

Fast forward a little bit, we got out of the car and walked sky-clad amongst the trails of the Pine Barrens and the fresh feeling of the Early Autumn winds against my stony skin was such an incredible experience and I was tremendously grateful to share the moment with someone else, other than the mosquitoes. Staring into the sky at the clearest stars in the area, we had such a great time sharing space and affection that night. (The Earth was, that night to turn its cycle further into the harvest season and bring us into Mabon.)

So, around 1am, we walked back to the car and Crunchmaster suggested that we go home. Now, for whatever the fuck reason, I thought it was a good idea to put the car into DRIVE instead of reverse and go explore the trails IN A REAR WHEEL DRIVE BUICK. So, obviously as we rounded the first sandy-pit turn, the rear tires dug themselves into the sand and BAM, I was stuck with the first woman who had liked me in any reasonable capacity in a vehicle that I had stupidly dug into the sand pits at 1am.

Now, trying not to panic, we start throwing around ideas on how to deal with it. She had AAA and I had no such thing, so we call that and sit there for about an hour before the guy comes down the road backroad. I see him, hail him and he pulls over and asks me where the car is. I push open the gate and he gives me a look like I’m fucking crazy (which is true, but doesn’t excuse him not doing his job.) I assure him that it’s actually quite a wide path and that his tow could easily fit in it and that the ground is quite well packed until you reach about 500 yards in (or something like that...) He backs his truck through the gate and goes about 50 feet in before he stops the truck, puts it in drive and yells out his window that he’s sorry and that he can’t help me and that he will call his friend, but he’s not sure they can help and that I should just “call the cops”... then without calling his friend, he drives his vehicle continuously out the gate and down the road, far the fuck away from where I was standing, slack-jawed. I didn’t know if he called the cops or his friend or why the hell he just SCATTED. I knew the woods were somewhat of an intense experience (I had seen spirits there before, but nothing too terribly crazy), but I didn’t think a grown man would run away from helping out another in need of his services. Either way, I was stuck.

Now, I walk back to our little “camp in the sand” with the bad news. Crunchy had been asleep in the car, as she had to be up at 5:00 in the morning. I didn’t wake her. It was now 2:30am. Trying to keep panic at bay, I did my best not to worry about the potential fines for both “trespassing” and towing or what my beautiful friend thought of me after this whole ordeal on what was, essentially, our first date. Instead, I focused on solutions. I tried to run the car on some cardboard, on some wood slats I had found, using a tire strapping technique I had learned on youtube, considering if there were “off road” towing companies, like my other friend, QBall had used when he drove his mini-van into the woods and destroyed his entire transmission and front axle... I didn’t think he would answer me at 2am and I couldn’t find an evidence of such a thing existing... so I figured he had probably just “known someone”... then I realized... wait... I know someone.

I called upon my LONGEST STANDING BUT VERY HERMIT-Y FRIENDSHIP, with my friend, Deutsch. Deutsch had a four wheel drive, built as hell jeep with EVERY POSSIBLE survival tool I could imagine. I couldn’t think of a person who was more prepared if shit hit the fan. Conveniently, Deutsch also doesn’t have a normal sleep schedule and is more or less completely nocturnal... so this time, it worked out in my favor. She says she will be there in 45 minutes.

She shows up, Crunchy is still asleep and I am more stoned than before. She puts on a tow strap, tells me to put my car into reverse and drive... she cranks me out of that sand like my car was a ladle out of a cup of soup (YAY WEIRD ANALOGIES)... boom. I am at the top of the hill, tires freed with a wonderful, still running car and a sleepy passenger. I thank Deutsch, give her some cash for her time and am RIGHT THE FUCK OUT OF THERE. I drive Crunchy home or to her car or whatever she wants.. and somehow, she seems completely unphased. Now, I was thinking this was some kind of “calm before the storm” and that somehow I was about to get my ass chewed out the next time we spoke... Obviously this a thing I’d want to talk about right there, rather than let it sit. I ask her how she felt about the whole ordeal.

SHE SAYS TO ME THAT SHE TRUSTED ME MORE AND HAD GREATER RESPECT FOR ME MORE BECAUSE I MANAGED TO GET MYSELF OUT OF THAT SITUATION AND HANDLE IT ON MY OWN. She then kissed me and fell into my arms for a moment before we parted ways.

That night, I drove home in a total fog. I didn’t understand how she appreciated me after the shit that I got us into. I deprived her of many hours of sleep when she works such hard hours. I felt like such a fuck-up, but somehow the glimmer of hope in the situation was her, loving me anyways. The next few months we spent together we transformative for me and her. I have a tremendous amount of respect and love for her soul and our friendship still stands strong, though we are no longer lovers.