#in my heart. the reason why Monty is so fucked up in ruin is because roxy did that to him

[yogurthoopsart]

I'm glad people are liking my trans roxy agenda!!! Join us. It's totally canon. I promise.

Anyway. Elaborating. The reason Faz Ent. goes along with the Roxy transition is bc the rest of the animatronics accept Roxy immediately and refuse to do otherwise. This is their good friend, of course they'll accept her. It would be too expensive to rewire the AI's of all the animatronics, so faz ent just rolls with it.

In fact, they start playing around with the idea of new characters, since Roxy is taken so well. They experiment with endo AI stuff and get Monty as a result. Roxy is stoked that there's a new guy. Until her dad dies and the new guy takes his place (she probably doesn't know it's his fault, but he's still being an ass to her other dad so she's justified)

[rvb-canon-grimmons]

RVB RESTORATION THOUGHTS!!!!

LONG POST IM SO SORRY I HAD A LOT OF FEELINGS

(Im so sorry this got so long, but i got emotional while writing it so please bear with me, read this like its the morning paper while u eat breakfast or something i have alot to say)

Before I go into the things I didn't like I do want to focus on some positives.

-Like I said in an earlier post, Geoff's acting…he absolutely killed it, and maybe this is because I'm a little bit Geoff/Grif biased but he was giving so much emotion and everyone else felt a little bit flat. Also only he could have delivered the "Come with me" line with so much Homoeroticism -I Had a pretty fun time watching the fight in the second half, The references to Monty we're sweet and getting to see Tex and Carolina fight together was pretty epic! -A good handful of jokes got me good. "23rd in my class" Shelia translating Caboose's Spanish to Lopez

Ok……. the next bit of this will get a little bit negative, but I do want to say this is coming from a place of deep love and care for this series. I have run this blog for like 6/7 years now and I've been a fan of this show for double that. My biggest fear is that fans get the same treatment we did when no one liked RVBZero. I have criticisms. This is a 21 year old series that so many people have had a part in and so many have loved. I was not looking for perfection, I wasn't even looking for something good. I was looking for an ending to the stories of characters people have held in their hearts for 21 years. Unfortunately, what I feel we were left with was a hastily thrown together hour of basically nothing.

-Why weren't they friends…..Why weren't they friends…No one cared for the others. I understand that we have semi warped perceptions of the characters from fanon works and things of that nature. But even in canon, the reds and blue care about each other. On their own team and the other team. Simmons, Grif, Tucker, and Caboose spent MONTHS together in chorus and same for Donut/Sarge/Wash. I've recently rewatched blood gulch and Caboose and Sarge have a great dynamic! Tucker and Grif canonically get along pretty well. Simmons was ON BLUE TEAM for like a hot minute there. THEY KNOW EACH OTHER AND CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. This was zero percent present in this film. No one had any motivation to look for Tucker. No one cared that it was Tuckers body inside the suit. THE REDS LEFT CABOOSE FOR DEAD!!!!!! THEY JUST LEFT HIM!!!!

-Tucker, I'm so sorry baby girl, this was supposed to be your arc, your moment. You were hardly in it. No build up to how he became the Meta. The scene where he breaks out of it to not kill caboose was the best part of the arc. And he just wakes up and remembers it "like someone elses Nightmare??" ok sure

-Wash………………WHAT THE FUCK???? WHAT THE FUCK???????????????? WHAT THE FUCK??????? WHAT THE FUCK???? TO RUIN THIS MANS ENTIRE CHARACTER ARC BY MAKING HIM COMPLETELY OBSOLETE. PUTTING HIM IN SOME RANDOM HOSPITAL FOR AN UNKNOWN INJURY THAT HAPPENS OFF SCREEN AND ISN'T EXPLAINED. HAVE HIM HALUCINATING DOC FOR SOME FUCKING REASON. HAVE HIM SHOW UP TO THE FINAL BATTLE AND DO ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING BUT JUMP OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND NOT SAY A WORD TO ANY OF THE RED AND BLUES I AM LIERALLY ABOUT TO FUCKING CRY TYPING THIS I AM LITERALLY SO FUCKING PISSED OFF. AGENT WASHINGTON, THE CHARACTER THAT WAS SO HAPPY IN THE SEASON RIGHT BEFORE CHORUS JUST TO BE ON BLUE TEAM AND HAVE A FUCKING FAMILY AGAIN. JUST SIDELINE HIM FOR NO FUCKING REASON AND THEN NOT LET HIM SPEAK TO ANY OF HIS FRIENDS EXCEPT CAROLINA AND DEAD DOC. AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FACT THAT TUCKER BEING THE META WAS LITERALLY A PLOT POINT CATERED TO HAVE WASH BE INVOLVED. THIS IS LIKE AGENT WASHINGTON ANGST BAIT 101. YES IM A TUCKINGTON SHIPPER BUT PUT ALL SHIPPING ASIDE, THEY WERE STILL FRIENDS, THEY WERE FRIENDS THEY WERE FRIENDS.

Grimmons. I am disappointed. But really not surprised. Honestly for everything I disliked I thought Grimmons was handled ok… at this point im like….. they couldn't even throw us a bone. company was dying, final season airing, and they couldn't even throw us a solid Grimmons queerbait joke. Its whatever….I don't wanna get too upset about shipping because at the end of the day, ships becoming canon isn't what shipping is all about (says Tumblr user "RVB-Canon-Grimmons) you get what im saying.

-Donut…..where was he…..Fucking Homophobic honestly

-DOC IS DEAD?????????????????????????????? FUCKING WHY???

-Sarge's death was fine, I'm not upset by it I just didn't feel like it was emotionally satisfying. Especially after the shock of them leaving Caboose and the much better scene of tucker fighting the meta's control over him to not hurt caboose.

-PEOPLE CALLED U SIR ALL THROUGHOUT CHORUS SIMMONS WHAT THE FUCK??????????? WHY IS SIMMONS PROMOTED AND INCHARGE OF NO ONE???? WHY DID GRIF LEAVE HIM???

Im sorry………..this is so long………just remeber this is only my opinions and if u don't agree thats totally ok!!!!! I am just a critical bitch….

[voids-call]

whats your favorite fnaf character from each game and why

(this is me asking about blorbos)

YIPPEEEEEE !!!!!!!!!!!!

FNAF 1: Foxy! Silly pirate fox I love him sm. Nothing super of note I just like him.

FNAF 2: Withered Bonnie. Haha you have no face!! Toilet headass, least we can't tell you have no eyebrows anymore...

FNAF 3: SPRINGTRAP!!!!!!!&(&;&;&;&@:&::&&: I love this bitch. Silly silly bastard. Villain moment. I love the fact that the game highlights how dangerous he is, he's not the only threat to you, but he is the only one that can kill you. I love it. SO MUCH.

FNAF 4: I will say Nightmare Foxy, as he's probably the most tolerable (not enjoyable) of the nightmares. Not exclusively of the nightmares though? Springbonnie. Mostly because I despise the nightmares because they SUCK (they scare me to this day), but also because eeeeeeeee murber rabbit.

Sister Location: I'd have to say Funtime Freddy. Honestly it's a hard decision between him and Ft. Foxy. I say Freddy cause he's just.... idk I like him, I guess I just look at him and go "HA. SAME!" Like he's so quick to jump the gun.. Also in my head he's just a silly lil man. So- yeah same.

[SHAKES YOU] Pizza Sim: HOW DO I CHOOSE SEND HELP- UHHHHHHHHHHHH............. UHHHHHHH- CAN I HAVE TWO? IM ANSWERING WITH TWO. Rockstar Foxy, for because silly pirate fox reasons. AND ALSO LEFTY. LEFTY JUST.. LOOK AT HIM. HER? THEM. I DONT KNOW- THE L O R E........ I LOVE LEFTY SM.

Does help wanted even count?.. I'm saying it does: VANESSA. MMMMMMMM L O R E. ALSO FUCK THAT RAT LOOKIN ASS BITCH I HATE HIM.

[SHAKES YOU EVEN HARDER] SECURITY BREACHH: dissolves. I dunno it's hard to pick.. But unsurprisingly I'll say Monty. He's such a fuckin asshole on the surface and then you actually pay attention and it's a whole other story of "oh he's a little fucked up actually". Poor man gets absolutely cucked and honestly he doesn't get enough attention for the character he is.

[EXPLODES] RUIN!: ..Does the rabbit count? Which one? The blue one, of course. MXES is cool and all but I love Glamrock Bonnie. He gets a few lines about him total, but I love that fucker. I don't care how dead he is hES OK IN MY HEART ALRIGHT- actually he's not even dead. He's just immobilized. SOBS. I love this tragic fruity rabbit, he makes me so upset and I'm going to study him under a microscope.

[saltyxtides]

MONTGOMERY WARDEYN.

Bayden was one of the most cuddly people on the planet despite his off putting personality and when he finally put his arm up around her Monty felt more signs of him. Between the home-spun gifting so simple and the quickness for affection she had no reason to suspect anything was up in this room.

Until he refused to dance. 

Celeste told Bayden she wouldn’t try to ruin his life with family, but it seemed her own stubbornness couldn’t help itself. 

Celeste said to Bayden Monty would sniff it out because she was a witch too. Nah. She could sniff it out because Celeste couldn’t follow one simple lead set before her. 

When families have traditions you don’t break them. She even just heard Monty say out loud Bayden was the one who made up this tradition giving Celeste the biggest clue how important this was to Bayden and Monty really comes here every year just for him to do this. Celeste was fucking up by not just going through the motions and moving along. She was tipping Monty off is what she was doing sucking at acting like Bayden at all.

Why does it matter if we don’t do it this year?

“Because it’s what we do. It’s our tradition. It’s how I know you love me. You’re acting weird. Not your regular weird. Actual weird.”  

She shook her head no. She wasn’t going to stop.

Then up she went forced off his lap. As her mind was reliving the Valentine’s Day the tradition was made up she almost became turned into a boiling pot of rage because she knew things right now Celeste did not. The Bay turned this into being worried for mommy. She narrowed her eyes at him. She stood there with little white knuckled fist balls at her sides and straight arms. It was the only thing he could have said to simmer her down and make her believe in any sort of way something might have been more important than the dance. The stupid mamma’s boy. Thank fuck he was so that he was so easy to manipulate. They did need Jude alive.

“Fine, but we’ll dance in the house before I go. I’ll hate giving mom the satisfaction of knowing how mushy we get, but I’m getting my dance. I blame you. My date can wait. I’m worth it.”

Personal life? Shrugging her off and going vague with terms like personal life? Who did he think he was talking to? He wasn’t an employee speaking to a boss. This wasn’t work. This was his sister. They didn’t have boundaries like that. Personal life? That’s what she came for so he could talk to someone for real because he lied to all the doctors. They both knew that. She was who went to about his personal life. So this instantly made no sense now. She was his real person and now he was going to suddenly build a wall?  – At least, Monty thought she was his real person. Truly, she was. At least, Bayden attempted to make a real person out of Rowan because of the things he couldn’t open up to Monty. But, Rowan started to be a sucky friend too. You know you’re a sucky friend when Bayden decides he likes his sister better than you.

“What personal life? Look, if this is about Janet again her husband doesn’t know. If she’s acting weird again she’s just scared of getting caught, but that’s half the thrill for her anyway. I have already gotten the last janitor that was going to file a report fired. I said he touched me. I did a mind wipe on her hubs before he could confront her. He’s never going to confront her, Bayden. I got ahead of it all. Really. You’re in the clear. Fuck nurse pussy to your heart’s content. She had a hysterectomy. I don’t really give a fuck if it gives you some excitement in these boring walls and I don’t become an auntie. Just try to be discreet. Just tell me if you think someone saw you guys again so I can deal with it. You know it just snow balls into a bigger mess when you stall.”

He danced with a girl before?

She laughed as she gathered up her gifts and his gift basket so he could go through it at the house.

“Yeah, I know all about your dates to all those medical conventions and galas Mom paid for so you could appear like a nice young man that knew nice girls back when she paraded you around like a patient monkey in a suit. You cleaned up real nice too. Remember the one in the red dress with big puffy brunette hair? The convention you accidently got burnt down? I helped pick her out. She seemed like your type. But you always told me those girls didn’t count. It doesn’t count when your mommy pays them to be on your arm.”

Then she thought about his moments he escaped and his hallucinations. She better check in to be sure he’s okay. She waved them on.

“Change of heart? They count now? Or is my big brother keeping a secret from me?” She started to smile like come on. Let it out. Spill if there’s something’s to tell.

Getting through the hospital and loading up the car would have to go in relative silence because even though much of the staff knew what was going on so Bayden wasn’t unaccounted for during head counts there was still an obscurity to taking a patient with a life sentence without parole dropped in this program off grounds, even if it was just up the hill to the director’s house.

Bayden would be forced to lie down in the backseat where he wouldn’t be seen as they drove up the hill. He knew the routine, but if Celeste messed anything up along the way Monty was sure to remind him. Once safely stowed away she’d say, “Remember the first time I drove you and we snuck away first to get ice cream and Indian food? We laughed so much and you wanted to run away. I asked how we would live. You said I don’t care as long as I have ice cream, and Indian food, and you, every day forever you thought it was so good. I’ll be good I swear. I kept telling you you were good. Mom was so mad by the time we finally went home. I’m surprised she ever trusted me to drive you, her precious boy, ever again.”

But boy oh boy if the real Bayden could read minds. Thank goodness he couldn’t. If he knew Rowan-Celeste-Whatever-She-Wanted-To-Be-Called was judging him all the time the way she was, judging his family, just fucking all of it, daring to act like she had room to judge as if Celeste had a normal bone her body worthy to cast normal judgement… that’d be last she’d ever see of him. Luckily, he could not read minds.

Instead while Celeste was avoiding the dance with his sister the real Bayden was dreaming of it, wishing for it, and missing it so greatly stuck in Rowan’s body he’d… she’d nearly be having a breakdown of their own in silent tears by themselves avoiding everyone for the rest of the day because they were close. Monty and Bayden were close. That was the problem here. Celeste was somehow missing even though they were putting Bayden through all this she was all he had in the whole world. She was his everything. Of course they were close. She was his one and only visitor in the entire fucking world. If the girl wasn’t intelligent enough to figure out these two were close she was going to ruin his life before the day was through because Monty didn’t have to be a witch to figure out something was wrong with Bayden if this was going to keep up.

( @montywonmom​ )  

      THEY tested the water’s that they treaded on.  Montgomery just happened to be the current that demanded there full attention or so god they would certainly find themselves in deeper water.

      ‘ The trick, ’ said the voice in there head, ‘ is to commit your sins in plain sight. ’ as if the voice read there mind.  They needed to switch to there p l a n B.  Not that they were happy about having to do it.

      Sadly.  They fingered the hidden package in the leather jacket’s hidden upper pocket.  That they managed to hide, as Montgomery almost found it earlier if they didn’t stop her from patting his stomach.  Soreness is one factor, as there was also something they didn’t want them finding.  Though they hoped they could have given it to Clarissa, but it was still made with Montgomery in mind, in case they had to go with PLAN b.

      “Ok.  Then what about sibling code of conduct?”

      “If you don’t want me to be salty next year little sister then here’s a solution.  Once a month.  Preferably any sunday.  Call me.  Believe it or not I have a phone.”  Pulling it out && wiggling it to show her the proof that she must already knew about.  Yet there was still another in assistant living house too.

      “Since you’re the one with the busiest schedule.  It’s easier for you to make the call first.  Yea?”  Since being in Bayden’s body a little over a month, they’ve learned a thing or two about them just from observing alone.

      “&& you can start on how much of a DWEEB you’re d a t e was.  Tonight.”  Emphasizing older-ly brother distaste of her date she was going to have tonight.  Bayden’s sister so happily brought to the conversation.  Along with portraying selfish-concern.  After all she was meeting a total stranger that just might psychologically be more fucked up than her.  It’s not that impossible to imagine that Bayden could be worried about there little sister’s well being.  Along with the teasing that it wasn’t SUNDAY but t u e s d a y.

       But using dramatic means to make a point, but underlining that they must miss there younger sister, &&. be concerned all on top of it all, while wishing to connect more felt stronger in leads of Bayden’s side of a brother.

      They could only hope by the time Montgomery calls next time she’ll actually be talking to the real Bayden.  If Montgomery ever called again - one visit a month wasn’t enough effort for them to accept.  Cause regardless of her attitude now, the real Bayden deserved better, && needed more.

       They knew Bayden was SALTY but his sister was certainly s n a p p y.  Couldn’t help but admire the ORIGINAL-d u e t of the Wardeyn siblings. Feeling a grin tug at the corner of there lips.  “What are you talking about Monty?  WE give m o m the satisfaction every year.  Every dance — ” pointing at the ceiling, rolling there finger &&. whistling for dramatic effect, as if circling the surveillance not just from the camera’s around the room, but some of the nurses capturing the successful valentines day event they so provide at Briarcliff Asylum DR.W a r d e y n could use for publicity.

       “I know it’s our TRADITION , it’s i m p o r t a n t to me , && I know it’s important to you too.  Despite everything , we still have each other — ”  

      “ — It’s just this year I wanted . . .  to surprise you?  Do something DIFFERENT for y o u that can’t be done here but you’re hella impatient.  You deserve better then paper doilies && dancing under construction paper hearts Monty. ”  They didn’t lie, going into damage control mode - as they had a plan in mind in case the nuclear reactor was over-heating they thought it through since Christmas.  That’s how far along they planned this in case they had too.

       It also was a drop of a hint. A big brother ruffling his younger sister’s feather’s on the outside playing on her impatient weaknesses.  Only they tested what was possible && what wasn’t from the inside as they were learning as they go.  There not Bayden because in the end, no one could replace the original, but there not dumb enough going into this blindly, they had a little more creativity/planning it was always something that felt familiar to them. 

       Slowly turning around, walking backwards as there hands would jam into the front pockets of Bayden’s signature leather jacket.  There was something soft.  A soft muffling clanking sound being jostled around in that LEATHER j a c k e t of his that clearly would peak Montgomery’s interest as they wouldn’t have stopped until she had recognized the sound was coming off them.  As they wouldn’t give it/reveal it until they got back to the house it seemed.

       They hoped the little hints being dropped might lower there blood pressure, cause Montgomery couldn’t hide her anger veins if her life depended on it!  All they could HOPE for was that they border lined thought — maybe she just got to close to something Bayden didn’t want her to find so quickly > That sitting on his lap might have made them overly nervous — Could have outright panicked && moved her without thinking twice about it > doing all they could to try to cover for it only saying the first thing that came to mind.  H o p e f u l l y.

       . . .  They were silent for a moment as they pivoted forward, as they were wanted to be angry but couldn’t.  Bayden’s own sister talked about a cheap version of what happened to her own mother when there where plenty of other ways - tactics - to get someone fired.  To carelessly use sexual assault as a means of an end knowing the person they are talking too?

‘ ...I was never wanted just some accident of rape okay ’   ‘ ...I don’t belong on this fucking earth. I shouldn’t fucking exist ’

       It was like going back as they saw the ghostly visage of that night play in the back of there head.  Remembering the pain in Bayden’s face as Rowan, hearing the hurt in his voice as Rowan that night.  Worse they couldn’t get mad — not for what DR.W a r d e y n or for BAYDEN been through because of it.  

       “ You know this conversation is starting to snow ball into an avalanche, because I’ve temporarily taken a hiatus on nurses.  FOCUS l e s s on Janet - that was so last month but don’t quote me on it cause it’ll probably be back in next month.  BUT concentrate m o r e on the pressing matters that my life right now is glitteringly — coarse && rough && irritating && messily everywhere && not worth much to bother about. ”  It’s basically like glitter. If it was a feeling, that’s how they felt.  The problems they struggled with as they couldn’t exactly tell Monty everything, but they also couldn’t lie either or be damned by getting caught by a Witches intuition.  They met in the middle of things.

       They had forgotten about that.  Briefly remembering seeing Bayden dress up a couple times in a PENGUIN-s u i t e /  FORMAL-s u i t e as all that sounded a lot like glorified torture, && it made a little more sense as they snorted with humor.  “ I looked liked Oswald Cobblepot on a bad day. ”  They wanted to smile, the kind of smile that would reflect that they were thinking of someone that they liked-a u g h aware of?  Bayden stature in a suite reminded them of cosplaying Oswald Cobblepot, the Robin Lord Taylor version, at least.  They wanted to be mean && tease him about it now.  Feeling a massive curiosity too, unfortunately they couldn’t tap into memory's of Bayden to pry what Montgomery meant when — convention you accidently got burnt down.  Feeling instantly && unreasonably annoyed but it didn’t change a thing about themselves to show it.

       “Keep taken cheap shots at me aye?  Is it about time I tell you?  SHOULD I s p i l l?”  Obviously as they where baiting Montgomery, while they were thinking about what to even say!  That memory was something that Bayden didn’t even tell his sister, regardless of him not believing they were real.  They didn’t want to tell her.  They liked that she didn’t know.  Until the answer came out all on it’s own solving itself.  

       “ TSK. T s k.  Tsk.  You forgot I used to work at Hotel Cortez — && I danced with one hot mamá.  One HOT d r u n k mamá — ” to be fair, if there was someone Bayden would dance with.  They could certainly visualize Bayden doing something that near amusing anyway.  If he locks DJ’s in bathroom’s to heist the music playlist there’s wiggle room to work with here. “ — but don’t go telling MOM t h a t.  That’s just stays between the two of us now. ”  All jokes aside && banter with Montgomery there was a feeling — a feeling that caused the hair on the back of there neck to stand up.  Alarmed by it.

       For a long moment they’re demeaner changed after reaching a certain point with Montgomery as it obviously made them feel the weight of it.  Slowing there steps enough to have them walking side by side, slowly falling a hair behind her so she was in front.  Not sure how to act . . . but they didn’t ignore what they felt && kept a solemnness to them.  Committed to the silence, even it wasn’t what Montgomery was used to.

       They did not know the weight of the danger Bayden was in, but they could understand what they where getting themselves involved.  Only it didn’t stop the skin prickling along there back, as it wouldn’t have made sense to sit somewhere like the front.  Honestly, regardless of them doing it wrong.  They seemed to prefer the backseat.  There could be a lot of Karen’s out there, && being in Bayden’s sister’s car, no doubt would have a lot of EYES on t h e m.  Regardless of having to take a moment to lie down --- holding there breath as they hid the painful soreness erupting from there abdomen until they where flat on there back.  

       Those words rang in Bayden’s brain.  They felt themselves sinking in the backseat as there was no recollection.  There mind was numb && the body fluttered with minor panic.  It’s not something there used to.  The concept of family.  The concept of being raised properly, as it’s easy to tell DR.W a r d e y n loved them in her own way.  There are some holes in there memory right now though they hope to fill in the gaps with Rowan’s casefile sooner or later, but they know, Bayden had it better growing up.

       A reflexive smile reached there lips, as they suppressed a laugh, leaving a groan like sound as it sounded like the struggled not to laugh. “ It’s memories like those Monty that make it all worth it, you know . . . almost as good as . . . my little sister’s company, ice cream, Indian food, && mom scaring the shit out us!  DDAAMMNN.  That’s c o l d.  ICE c o l d that you’d think mom wouldn’t ever trust you with me after that.  It wouldn’t ever be the same without you.” 

[reducttiddi3es]

We will get through this together

Summary: the reader walks out of home because of a fight between her parents and meets monty who is also there because of his abusive dad.

"I'm fucking done with you guys. Y-you guys have ruined my entire childhood, my life... I just can't do this. Not anymore." with that, you walked out the door, eyes bloodshot, tears blinding you, head hurting, but you couldn't care less. You just needed to get as far away as possible from that hell house. Your house.

This was not the first time you had walked out of your house angry because of your parents' fight. This was a weekly affair. But this was the first time you actually spoke and it had taken a lot out of you. You walked swiftly in towards your car but soon realized you didn't have your keys and abruptly began to walk towards the lake. This was your place. The place where you could let out and cry freely without anyone ever noticing. You were going through a lot but you never could let anyone in. You always kept to yourself. You didn't see the point in charging others with your problems, it wasn't like they could do anything about it either. So just deal with it now and put the "my life is beautiful" facade in the morning. You knew it was bad for you but you didn't care.

You reached the lake and sat on one of the benches and thought about the number of times you had been here and instantly broke down. You were now uncontrollably sobbing. Tears streaming down your eyes, you felt a burden lift off your shoulders but your heart hurt. It felt heavy. You began screaming in pain. Your voice broke but your heart was broken far more. 

When you finally softened down, you were breathing heavily and it seemed as if that was the only sound for miles but, then you heard someone shouting and that someone was near. You were scared, it could be anyone, a murderer or a rapist or even a broken soul like you. So you decided to check it out. You walked slowly and quietly as if afraid to wake a sleeping beast. You came upon a figure of a boy around your age. He was well-built but, you couldn't see his face but you could tell he was angry. He was yelling and hitting the wall aggressively. You were close to him now. He sensed your presence and turned around.

What you saw left you astonished. It was Montgomery De La Cruz. The Monty De La Cruz. A jock. A sarcastic, arrogant, playboy athlete. What could he be possibly angry about? He was probably pissed about some baseball shit. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Y/n. Fuck off ", he growled.

But you were in no mood to listen to anybody right now. You were pissed, "You don't fucking own the place, Monty. I'm fucking fed up don't make me more pissed" you replied your voice giving away the fact that you had been crying. 

" What are you doing here anyway?" you asked when he didn't say anything. Monty moved forward and you could now see his face clearly in the light. His face was covered with fresh cuts, blood, and his cheeks were swollen red almost turning purple. He had obviously been in a fight. You were troubled to look at his face. You slowly stepped forward and put your hand on his cheek. He squirmed with pain. "Does it hurt?" you asked him gently. 

Monty was shocked by the sudden change in your demeanor but very soon felt at ease because of your genuine concern. "Ye-yes," he said.

"Then maybe think twice before getting into a fight," you said. "Y/n" he whispered clearly hurting. And he hugged you and buried his head in your shoulder. You hugged him back partly because you wanted to console him but more because you also needed some consoling after what happened earlier today and for whatever reason Monty felt safe. Both of you began sobbing because this was the first time in a long time both of you felt loved and cared for. He was moving his hand up and down your back and you were clutching his flannel tightly.

*****

You both were now seated on the benches close together comforting each other. Both of you had not said a word but knowing that he was with you comforted you to a great extent. And he felt the same.

"What happened Y/n...? You don't seem fine," he asked breaking the silence. You looked up into his eyes which were filled with pure solicitude. It made your heart melt and you were immediately filled with the desire to confide in him. You told him about your parents' continuos fights that you were a witness to since you were little. The abuses and curses they threw at each other and how it would eventually make its way to you. How they cursed you of ruining their relationship. How your mother would throw things at you and your dad didn't even care if you were alive.

"I have been dealing with them for a long time and today it just got a little out of hand and I flipped," you now began to cry over your selfish and irresponsible dad and controlling abusive mother while Monty hugged you as tight as he could as if protecting you. You felt safe in his arms. Monty and safe were two words you never thought went together but here we are. You looked into his eyes again and you put your hands on his face caressing his now purple bruises. His eyes filled with tears with your gentle touch. " M-my dad hits me," he said almost embarrassed. You are shocked but you don't let it show you move closer and hug him tighter.

 " He comes home drunk and hits me. Even this is going on for a long time. But it's not like I can do anything, he is my father after all", you scoff at the truth in his words. " That is why I act like such an asshole in school. It's all this anger in me that I can't let out. I don't want to do that but I just can't control it," he says and cries again. You comfort him as tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

"You don't deserve it but it'll be alright okay?" you say in barely a whisper. But he hears you and nods, Suddenly pulling away he looks you in the eye and says" You don't deserve all this either. You only deserve the best. Thanks for being here with me Y/n. and also thanks for letting me in. You know I 'll be here for you whenever you need me." 

You were so overcome with emotions at his care and concern that all you could say was " Same".

" We will get through this together okay?"

" Thanks, Monty. For being here and listen to me. I'll always be here when you need it. We will get through this together." And for the first time that night, you smiled. And so did Monty. 

Both of you had found what you called a savior because if it had not been for Monty you don't know what you would have done that night. As for Monty, he found his happy place in you. The place where he no longer needed to put up a facade. You both knew that that night was the night a beautiful bond of love and friendship was formed. A bond that would not necessarily remove all problems from your life but one that would give both of you the strength to overcome all the shit that life threw your way.

Hey guys, this is my first ever imagine. I hope you like it. Requests are open for 13 reasons why characters. I enjoyed writing this. Hope you enjoyed reading it😁

[keichan]

Running Through the Night Tsukishima x fem!reader  Part 6: First Sight

You and Tsukishima have been friends for as long as you two could remember. With a very unexpected confession, how will this affect you two?

Authors note: This is just angst with a sprinkle of angst

Word count: 1544

Genre: college au, unrequited love, angst, best friends to lovers, fluff somewhere in there, mutual pining

Warnings: manga time skip!!! swearing!!!

Send me a message or ask to be added to the taglist !

masterlist・previous・next

It has now been four days since you have seen or heard from Kei. Four days since the confession. He hasn’t returned your phone calls. He hasn’t opened any text messages. Every time you’ve driven by his apartment his car is absent from the parking lot. The guilt was slowing eating at you. Only if you would have reacted sooner in that moment. If only you would have realized the way you feel.

It was now Wednesday morning. You strolled into the lecture hall for your 9am communications class fifteen minutes early. Yamaguchi waved to you as you slumped down in the seat next to him. “Y/N are you okay? You look like a dead man walking.” He leaned forward onto the desk to get a better look at your face. Yo came to class dressed in your pajamas. An oversized T-shirt, with loose sweats and your hair messily thrown up. You waved your hand nonchalantly at him. “No, no, I’m okay. I just haven’t been sleeping well these last few nights.” You offered a not so convincing smile.

You were a piss poor liar and Yamaguchi knew it.

“Y/N, I know when you’re lying. There must be some reason why you look like a walking dead extra” he nudged your elbow in an attempt to make you laugh, but nothing came. You didn’t even look in his direction. You pulled your laptop out of your bag and set it on the table. Class starts in 10 minutes. You open the screen to see the lock screen of you, Kei, and Yamaguchi smiling at your graduation ceremony. Your eyes began to water when your eyes met with Kei’s picture. You quickly typed in your password and opened the internet browser so you wouldn’t have to stare at it any longer.

Luckily for you, Yamaguchi may be shy, but he isn’t dense. “Y/N, I have never seen you like this before. What’s wrong. Did Tsukki say something to you?” Your body tensed up and that’s when it clicked into place for him that it was indeed Tsukishima’s doing. “He didn’t say anything rude did he? I can talk to him Y/N I-“

“Kei confessed to me and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t realize my own feelings and now he won’t talk to me!” You said in a harsh whisper so your classmates wouldn’t overhear. At this point tears were brimming your eyes. Yamaguchi quickly bunched up his sleeve and used it to wipe your eyes as quickly as the tears were falling. “You’re acting like Tsukki hates you since he’s trying out the whole giving space thing. Tsukki could never hate you, Y/N. He’s probably taking it hard in his own way like he did with Akiteru.” 

“I just want to be able to talk to him but I can’t. It’s like he’s fallen off the face of the planet. I miss him.” 

“Do you wanna cut class? We can go sit in the courtyard? It’s not quite fall yet so the weather is really nice. I’ll buy you some Starbucks from the student union.”

You nodded, “I would like that.”

You and Yamaguchi sat on a park bench in your university’s courtyard. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest with an ice coffee in your hands.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Y/N. I’ve been wondering if Tsukki was ever going to confess to you. I gotta say that I’m proud of him” Yamaguchi let out a light-hearted laugh. “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t kiss him back, you kinda flirt with him a lot.”

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder, “Shut up, Yama. I never considered my scolding flirting.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence.

“Ha! So I’m right!”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi!”

“See! You two are the same! Match made in heaven.” You both laugh together at the dumb joke. Talking about everything with Yamaguchi calmed you and made you feel more at ease about what was happening. He got to tell you his end of things from all these years. He chose not to intervene or push it at all because he knew it wasn’t his place. You couldn’t help but see the proud father look in his eyes when he talked about you and Kei. It made your heart warm.

“It’s my first day on campus this week, have you seen Kei at all?”

“Nah I don’t usually run into him on campus until Thursday because we’re in the same building. Unless he asks me to meet up.”

You nodded at his response, “I usually meet up with him in the mornings so he can walk me to communications, but he wasn’t in our spot by the union so I just went straight to class.” You sighed placing your feet on the ground.

“Do you know when he gets out of class today? You know he’s never truant.”

“Mhmm,” you pulled out your phone to check the time. “He gets out of anthro…. Now.” You looked up across the courtyard to the General Ed building to see a Kei dressed in all black sweats and his headphones covering his ears. Yamaguchi put a hand on your back and pushed you forward. “Go.”

You ran across the courtyard towards the tall blonde. 

“Kei!” 

At the sound of his name he lowered his headphones around his neck. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to see you and quickened his pace. You caught up to and grabbed his wrist with both of your hands, making him turn around. Your eyes laced with concern as soon as you saw his face. He looked like a ghost. His face was hollow and his eyes had deep circles around them. He looked down at you with dead eyes. He looks as sleep deprived as you.

Your hands slid down to his and you squeezed it tightly.

“Kei, why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been so worried trying to get a hold of you. I thought something happened to you. I just wanted to tell you-“ he cut you off by firmly yanking his hand from your grasp.

“Don’t touch me.”

Tears burned your eyes and you tried to reach out for him again before he slapped your hand away, “I said don’t fucking touch me. Why are you even here right now? Leave me alone.” He sneered. You looked up at his face wiping away your tears, “I want to tell you that I l-”

“That you what? That you what Y/N? That you don’t give a shit about me? It’s pretty clear since you couldn’t even give me a clear answer! You could’ve just said no for fuck sake! That’s better than no answer! And now you’re fucking my best friend?!” By now the courtyard was becoming empty as students fled to their next classes. No one paid the two of you any mind.

“No, Kei. That isn’t it at all. Just let me-”

“I can’t believe I’ve wasted my whole life chasing you! I’ve spent all of high school following you around like a stupid dog. Was I just someone convenient to keep around so you wouldn’t have to deal with yourself? Is that it? I can’t believe I put up with a bitch like you for the last 15 years.”

“Kei, I know you don’t mean that.” You choked back a sob just to see him smirk. 

“Of course, I-”

“Tsukki, you’re taking this too far.” You didn’t have to turn around to know that Yamaguchi was standing behind you.

Kei let out a laugh like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard in his whole life.“Oh this is rich! Yamaguchi Tadashi is here to save the day! Look Y/N isn’t this your lover? Go run to him and forget about little old me anyways! I would never need anyone like you anyways.” He adjusted the headphones around the neck. “Have fun with her Yamaguchi.” he walked past you bumping into you hard enough to make you stumble. 

“If you shut up long enough for me to talk then I could’ve told you that I feel the same way and that I love you, but that doesn’t matter since it’s coming from a bitch like me, right Tsukishima?”

Tsukishima froze in his footsteps. Hearing his surname roll off of your tongue sounded foreign. He can’t even think of a time where you haven’t called him Kei. Behind him he heard your sobs piercing the silent courtyard. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, he knew that he took it too far. He fucked up.

He turned to look at you but you’re already walking away with your bag on your shoulder.

Yamaguchi looks back and forth between you and Tsukishima before focusing his gaze on the tall middle blocker, “To be clear, I’m not fucking Y/N, we were trying to plan your fucking surprise birthday party, but not only did you ruin your chance to be with her, you ruined your surprise as well. You’re literally my best friend. You really think I’d knowingly take away the love of your life?” 

Yamaguchi turns away on his heels before calling one simple word over his shoulder.

“Pathetic.” 

taglist: @pipsqweaks | @pperapear | @kapuching | @luvmonie | @bumbledunce | @a-listaire​ | @ysasian​ | @kodzu-ken​ | @montys-chaos​

[pikapeppa]

Samson/f!Hawke angst and smut: Hurt

You know how Hawke's LI shows up at the mansion to comfort them after Leandra's death? This chapter shows how Samson does his best to comfort @schoute‘s distraught and dysfunctional Roman Hawke. 😭

Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to call this chapter dubcon. Very mild dubcon, though, I think. The usual tags apply for these two: some BDSM tones, pain kink, some spanking this time, and rough sex.

Also, CW for addiction issues - alcohol for Romie, and lyrium for Sammyboi. 😭

~8300 words; read on AO3 instead.

********************

- ROMAN -

Roman’s throat was sore. 

It was the screaming. She knew that was why her throat was hurting, and why it tasted like blood. At least the blood she was tasting was her own and not this sick fucker Quentin’s, thanks to Anders’s quick thinking.

Anders lowered his hands with a sigh. His barrier disappeared, and the suspended haze of blood that the barrier was holding back spattered to the ground. 

Roman curled her lip at the blood. It was all that remained of what had once been Quentin’s heart and rib cage. Fenris has nothing on me, she thought viciously, and she spat on the puddle of blood. 

“Maker,” Anders said softly. 

She rounded on him, prepared to tell him off if he said one fucking word about the irony of her using blood magic to kill the blood mage who’d killed her mother, but he wasn’t looking at her; his eyes were on the body crumpled on the ground — the body wearing the wedding dress. 

The body that was not her mother. 

Roman didn’t look at the body. She stared at the pool of blood on the floor and tried to ignore the nauseating thrumming of her heart. Two seconds ago, that thrum had been a loud and roaring beat: a bloody beat in her ears and on the inside of her left forearm where she’d drawn her power from. But that beat was gone now, leaving her with a faint and familiar sting of pain on the inside of her arm where she’d drawn her own blood, and an all-too familiar heavy ache in her chest that matched the ache from when Father and Bethany— 

No, she thought viciously. No, no, she wasn’t going to sink into this pit again, not again. It was too awful and it hurt too much, and she hadn’t been able to prevent it no matter how fucking hard she tried… 

“Hawke,” Aveline called.

She forced herself to look at Aveline, who was kneeling with Anders beside the body that was not Leandra Hawke. “What?” she said.

“She’s still alive,” Aveline said.

Roman’s entire body froze. She stared wordlessly at Aveline, whose expression made it clear that Leandra might be alive right now, but not for long. 

She stood there like a fucking golem until Varric came to stand in front of her. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Are you–”

“I’m fine,” Roman said automatically. Then she forced her wooden feet to approach the limp body in the wedding dress. 

She knelt in front of the body, and her stomach roiled. Quentin had stolen her mother’s face. Her mother’s face on this haphazard puzzle of other women’s bodies… 

A pulse of rage throbbed in her ears, so scorching and sudden that it was disorienting. Then Leandra’s mouth moved to speak. “You came,” she rasped, and then she seemed to run out of air. 

“Of course I came,” Roman said. She brushed a stray lock of hair from her mother’s face. “You went missing, for fuck’s sake. Of course I fucking came.”

Leandra winced at Roman’s rough language, and the expression was so very much her mother that Roman’s entire chest seemed to seize. Slowly and painfully, Leandra drew a breath into the lungs that didn’t belong to her, and Roman tensely waited for her mother to speak again. 

“Don’t be angry, love,” she whispered. “I’ll be all right. Don’t be angry.”

“Are you kidding me?” Roman burst out. “How can you tell me not to be angry? Look what he fucking did to you!”

Leandra didn’t reply. Her eyes were vacant and unfocused, and with a lightning bolt of shock, Roman realized that she was dead.

She sat there for a long moment without moving or breathing. Then Varric touched her shoulder. “Hawke–” 

She flinched from his hand and shoved herself to her feet. “Don’t touch me,” she said.

Anders stood up with her, and Aveline lifted the body into her arms as she rose. “I’ll take her to the Chantry,” she said. “The Grand Cleric—”

“No,” Roman snapped. “No fucking Chantry.”

Aveline’s lips tightened slightly. “She was a devout lady. She would have wanted—”

“I said no!” Roman roared. “She’s not going to the fucking Chantry!”

“I’ll take her,” Anders said loudly. “I’ll take her to the clinic and prepare her for… for whatever means you want to… send her off.” He raised his eyebrows at Roman. “Is that all right?”

She nodded brusquely, and Aveline carefully transferred the body to Anders. Anders looked at Roman. “You can come see her tomorrow, if you like.”

She nodded again. Then Aveline spoke up. “I’ll escort Anders back to his clinic to avoid any further incidents. Then I’ll go make a report.” She took a step toward Roman. “Are you sure you’ll–”

“I’m fine,” Roman said loudly. She turned on her heel and strode toward the nearest exit. 

She made her way through the dank and roughly-hewn stone halls of the abandoned foundry, barely paying attention to where she was going. For fuck’s sake, she could barely think. 

No, that was the problem — all she could do was think, and the thoughts she kept conjuring were horrible ones. Her mother had been abducted by a mage who wanted to reconstitute his dead wife? That’s what her mother had died for? For some fucking sad-sack asshole who couldn’t get over his fucking wife? 

The more she thought about it, the more her pulse seemed to beat in her ears. He did all this just to bring back his wife, she thought. Quentin had killed multiple women, waited for years, hid out in this disgusting fucking cave, and attempted some hack job necromancy shit that only Nevarrans knew how to do, all for the sake of bringing back his dead fucking wife?

If that’s what love turns people into, then all the more reason to avoid it like the fucking Blight, she thought. She climbed up a ladder and carefully shifted aside the manhole cover, then climbed back into the humid nighttime air of Lowtown. 

Before she could slide the manhole cover back in place, she heard Varric’s voice echoing up the shaft. “Hey, slow down,” he called. 

Roman slumped in exasperation, then waited impatiently until he clambered out of the sewer. Once they were both standing in the street again, Roman scowled at him. “I’m fine,” she said, and she turned away from him and began striding back to her house in Hightown. 

Varric caught up with her and continued to jog along beside her, and Roman shot him a filthy look. “I said I’m fucking fine. Go away.”

Varric glanced at her. “At least let me get you as far as your house.”

She glared at him with increasing frustration. She’d told him to go away and to leave her alone with her own shitty problems, so why wouldn’t he just do as she’d asked? And why was he looking at her like there was something wrong with her? 

Her chest and throat felt like they were burning, and her gut was roiling like a kettle ready to boil over. Before she could say something cruel to Varric that she’d really regret, she set off at a run.

She ran all the way back to Hightown, not stopping even when her lungs and her legs began to burn from the strain. The burn was good, in fact — it pulled her focus from the despicable spin of thoughts on her head. But as soon as she got to the mansion, the horrible reality of the night’s events returned.

Gamlen was in the house, pacing back and forth in the study. When Roman stepped into the doorway, he looked up, and the hope in his face made the twisting feeling in her gut grow stronger. 

Gamlen took a step toward her. “Did you find her?” he asked eagerly. “Is she – where…” He trailed off, and his face went pale as his eyes darted over her filthy clothes and the cut on her arm, which was crusted now with blood. 

Hie eyes darted back up to her face, and he froze. “No,” he whispered.

She could see the accusation in his face. Fuck, she thought, and she turned on her heel and went to the kitchen.  

She wrenched open the high cupboard over the oven pulled out one of the bottles of rum she hid there. As she pried off the cap, it occurred to her with a pang that she didn’t need to hide any of the booze anymore. Her mother wasn’t here to nag her about it. 

Her heart twisted as though a giant fist had gripped it. No, she told herself viciously, and she took a big gulp straight from the bottle. 

Gamlen shuffled into the kitchen. “What happened?” he said plaintively. “How did it… what happened?”

“She fucking died. It doesn’t matter how,” Roman grunted. For love, she thought angrily. Because some disgusting twisted asshole loved his wife so much that it ruined him, just like it ruins everyone. She took two more gulps from the bottle. 

“It was magic, wasn’t it?” Gamlen asked. “That’s why you’re not telling me. It was a mage who did this to her!”

A breathtaking rush of anger twisted in her chest and rippled through her limbs. “Get out,” she said in a hard voice, and she raised the bottle to her lips. 

Gamlen let out a dry sob. “A mage. A mage killed Leandra! Maker…” He sobbed again. “Maybe the Templars are right. Lock the mages up! Throw away the key!”

Roman spun toward him. “Get out!” she bellowed. “Get out of my fucking house!” 

Gamlen recoiled, his face twisted with tears. That was when Roman noticed that Varric was standing in the kitchen doorway. 

Her rib cage seemed to swell, and the swelling feeling was expanding to her throat and burning up toward her eyes. “Get him out of my house,” she said to Varric. She grabbed the bottle of rum from the counter and shoved past Varric and Gamlen both, then made for the stairs and took them two at a time.

She strode into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. In front of the fireplace, Monty yelped and sat upright, then gave Roman a worried look when she plopped down on the bed. 

She glared at the mabari. “She told me not to be angry,” she told him. “That’s the last fucking thing she said to me. ‘Don’t be angry’.” She put the bottle of rum on the bedside table and hauled off her boots and socks, then haphazardly shed her pouch belt and her staff and her vest.

Her mother wanted her not to be angry after she’d just been killed for the stupidest, most pointless reason in the world? Fine. There was only one way that Roman could dull this horrible fucking feeling in her gut that was threatening to turn into yet another raw and gaping wound. 

She picked up the bottle again and sat heavily on the carpet beside Monty. She uncapped the bottle once more and tossed it in the fire, then raised the bottle to her mabari. “Cheers,” she said, and she gulped a third of the rum down in one go. 

- SAMSON - 

“Move your useless arse. Now.”

A dull thump of pain shot through Samson’s hip. He grunted at the rude awakening, then pried open his gritty eyes and peered through the dark at his assailant. 

It was a city guardsman: one of the not-so-nice ones that the guard captain hadn’t sniffed out yet. Samson carefully rolled his tongue around in his mouth – Maker, his mouth was so bloody dry – then gave the guardsman a pitiful look. “Can’t a man get an honourable night’s rest in the street?”

“You wouldn’t know honour if it kicked you in the face,” the guardsman sneered.

Takes one to know one, Samson thought. An observant man could pick up all kinds of tidbits here in the slums if he listened hard enough, and Samson just happened to know that this particular guard had a sidepiece here in Lowtown that his lady wife certainly didn’t know about. 

But Samson didn’t say anything. That kind of information could turn into coin someday, after all, and coin was in short supply at the moment. 

He thought morosely of the nearly-empty little envelope in the inner pocket of his vest. Then the guard kicked Samson’s hip again. “Move your arse. I mean it. Unless you really want me to give you the boot.”

“All right, all right,” Samson grumbled. There was no point complaining that he hadn’t been bothering anyone, nor that there was hardly anyone around at this hour of night for him to bother. That would just earn him another kick or a cuff in the face, and getting struck didn’t quite glance off of him the way it used to when he had a Templar’s suit of armour to his name. 

He pushed himself upright, then ambled away in the opposite direction that the guardsman had been going. He turned a corner and slipped into an empty alley – empty aside from a few dilapidated crates and a broken barrel, at least – then leaned against the wall and sighed. 

Maker, he was jonesing. He had hoped to get at least one more full night of sleep before the shakes got him, but that blasted guard had ruined that. 

He stuck his hands in his pockets and tapped his foot. I can’t take it now, he thought. If I take it now, that’s it. No coin, no dust, nothing. He usually kept just enough powdered lyrium to tide him over until the next time he made a little coin, but he’d tried something different last week, and… 

Maker’s balls, he shouldn’t have bothered trying. He’d never heard of any Templars going off of lyrium and not losing their minds, so he didn’t know why he thought he’d be different. 

But still, he’d tried. Last week, he’d tucked his lyrium stash into his special hiding spot in Darktown and tried to go without. He’d spent his coin on food instead and had enjoyed a few days of meals that he’d paid for himself instead of scrounging from a bin or wheedling the cook at the Hanged Man into giving him. And when Roman came by with her usual sneer and a ‘leftover sandwich that I couldn’t fucking finish’ — a leftover sandwich she’d clearly made just for him — he was proud to tell her that he didn’t need it for once, since he’d already eaten that day. 

That pride hadn’t lasted long, though. Two days after trying to quit, the headache started, followed shortly by tremors and the sweats. The fourth day found him prying his lyrium stash out of its hidey-hole in Darktown and inhaling a third of it in one go. He woke up a day later while some urchin was stealing coin from the pouch on his belt, and he counted himself incredibly lucky that he hadn’t been robbed of his lyrium as well while he was out cold.

Ashamed but not surprised by his own failure, he’d taken some of his scant remaining coin to the bathhouse and paid for a rare bath, then changed into one of his two remaining clean-ish shirts and returned to his usual routine of taking a little bit of dust every day. Why break a routine when it worked, after all? Some people like Roman might have the balls to pull themselves out of the gutter and start over, but Samson clearly wasn’t that type of man – not when his balls were held in the iron grip of the tiny almost-empty envelope in the pocket of his vest. He didn’t know why he’d even bothered, really. 

He leaned his head back against the wall and thought of Roman’s pitch-dark eyes – eyes that seemed to hold all the darkness of a starless city night. Eyes that caught and held on his face instead of skipping over him like he wasn’t there. 

Damn Bird, he thought. He imagined the look she’d probably give him if she ever found him crumpled and shaking in a puddle of his own vomit and sweat: that snakelike, flat-eyed, non-judgmental stare with her dark, dark eyes.

It was that imagined look on her face that tipped him over. He was used to pity and disgust, but if Roman ever saw him looking that pitiful and disgusting, she’d never touch him again, and that would be a bloody shame.

Not that he cared particularly what Roman Hawke thought of him. She was a cranky bitch, after all. But she was a firecracker of a fuck, and he still couldn’t quite credit his luck that he was the one she kept coming back to. 

He sighed, then dug into his pocket and pulled out the precious envelope of powdered lyrium. Just as he was about to inhale it, he heard voices approaching. 

Two voices, both men. Samson sidled further into the shadows of the alley so as not to be disturbed, but then when one of the voices said her name, he paused to listen. 

“I’m telling you, the body was Hawke’s mother. That doctor and the big guard-captain one was carrying ‘er up from the sewers. The sewers, I tell ya! What d’you suppose they was doing down there?” 

“Merde. I can’t imagine,” the second voice said. “Wait a minute. The body? Was she dead?”

Samson’s shoulders tensed in surprise. “Dead as a doornail,” the first voice said. “Worse yet, she was wearing a wedding dress.”

“Wedding dress?” the second voice exclaimed. 

The first one hushed him, and Samson shifted slightly closer to the mouth of the alley to hear. “Keep your voice down! But yeh, a wedding dress, all right. The doctor said ‘e was going to ‘look after her’ for Hawke, but what d’you suppose that means? He’s a mage, isn’t he? You don’t think… blood magic–”

There was a dull thump and a yelp of pain. “Shut your mouth, idiot,” the Orlesian voice hissed. “That mage-doctor’s the only one who heals us without asking for nasty favours in return.” 

“All right, all right. You didn’t have to hit me, though.”

The two voices moved away. Samson stood in the alley chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment. Roman’s mother was dead? They found her in the sewers? Did Roman know about this? She must know about it, or else why would Anders and the guard-captain have Leandra’s body?

He thought hard for a minute. Then he set off to the Hanged Man. 

He quietly slipped inside of the boisterous tavern. A careful glance around the room told him that Roman wasn’t here. Instead, he spotted Varric sitting at a table at the center of the room, but Samson’s sense of foreboding only worsened at the sight of Varric’s expression.

He looks as grim as the bloody Gallows, Samson thought. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Varric Tethras wearing anything other than his usual ‘I’m-everybody’s-best-friend’ smile. 

Samson slowly sidled around the edge of the room to get closer to Varric’s table without being seen, and all the while, he berated himself about the fact that he was even here. What was he going to do — ask Roman’s best bloody friend for gossip based on some bullshit he’d heard while skulking around in a dark alleyway?

Asking Varric wouldn’t be the strangest thing in the world, he thought. It wasn’t like he and Varric had never spoken before the Hawke family had come to town; Varric had paid Samson for information a couple of times here and there. 

But this was different. This wasn’t the exchange of a tip or two for a silver; this was personal. But why was it personal? Why did Samson even care? It wasn’t like he and Roman even liked each other. Every time he saw her, they ended up in some sort of argument that ended more often than not in a fuck. Not that Samson was complaining about the fucking, but the fucking didn’t cover the fact that she thought he was scum, even though she kept on coming back to talk to him. It also didn’t make up for her being so bloody bitchy, even if she brought him food or coin or both every time she saw him. 

It didn’t cover up the fact that he was starting to wish he didn’t need the coin or the food, and that she would keep coming to see him anyway. 

Damn bloody Bird, he thought irately. He slumped down onto the unoccupied edge of a bench and tried to figure out what the fuck he was thinking by coming here.

A minute later, Isabela swanned over to Varric and leaned her elbows on the table, and Samson watched from the corner of his eye as she nudged Varric with her shoulder.  “Listen, I was just at the Rose, and Hawke’s uncle is there bawling his eyes out,” she said. “He was really carrying on. ‘Leandra’s dead, mages should be locked up, why didn’t Hawke stop it,’ blah blah… It was really souring the mood.”

Her tone was playful, but she looked worried — even more so when Varric sighed. “We probably shouldn’t talk about this right now,” he muttered.

The pirate’s eyes went wide. Then she sat beside him. “Is she all right?”

“Would you be?” Varric said dryly.

Isabela snorted and lifted Varric’s stein to her lips. “You’ve never met my mother.”

Varric smiled faintly and held up a finger for a waitress to bring another drink. Samson, meanwhile, had heard enough to get a broad picture of the situation. Roman’s mother was dead, her uncle was wailing about mages in the Blooming Rose, Anders and the guard-captain were looking after the body while Isabela and Varric were here…

She’s alone in the house, Samson thought. And when catastrophic things happened to Roman Hawke, there was only one way she knew how to cope. 

Samson stood from the bench and sidled toward the exit. Just before leaving the Hanged Man, he glanced back at Varric’s table. 

Varric was looking at him. When their eyes met, Varric nodded a subtle greeting.

Canny bastard, Samson thought ruefully. He nodded in return, then left the Hanged Man and made his way to Hightown.

He was careful to keep to the shadows as he entered the nicer part of the city. He knocked on the door to the Amell mansion, expecting the Hawkes’ little elven housekeeper to answer the door. 

Instead, the door was thrown wide by Roman herself. Her face fell into a look of shock, then twisted into a sneer. “What do you want?” she slurred. 

She was completely fucking plastered. Her eyes were red and swollen, and there was a mostly-empty bottle of rum dangling loosely from her hand. The door was supporting most of her weight, yet she was still managing to sway in place. 

“What?” she barked.

He gathered himself and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I heard about your mum,” he said.

If possible, her face twisted even more. “How the fuck did you hear?”

He gave her a reproving look. “I live in Lowtown, Bird. People aren’t exactly quiet.”

She stared at him silently. And for the first time since he’d known her, the twisted look on her face started turning into something other than rage. 

Misery. She looked completely miserable, and a painful feeling wrenched inside of his chest. Then Roman shuffled away from the door. “Go away,” she spat, and she tried to slam the door in his face. 

Instead, her hand slipped on the edge of the door, and she tripped over her own feet and fell heavily onto her side. The bottle hit the floor beside her and toppled over, spilling the remainder of its contents on the carpet. 

“Fucking fuck,” she complained, and she tried to push herself upright. 

Samson stepped into the foyer and carefully closed the door behind him, then reached down and took her hand to pull her up. 

Naturally, she tried to fight him off. “Don’t touch me,” she railed. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Her waving fist and feet were feeble and uncoordinated, however. Samson pulled her up, then looped his arm around her waist. “Come on, you bloody wildcat,” he muttered. “You need to sleep this off.” With no small amount of effort, he hauled her toward the stairs. 

She was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. “Fuck you, Raleigh Samson,” she slurred. “See, I know your fucking firs’ name too. How d’you like that, you smug asshole?”

He grunted wordlessly. In truth, it had been so long since he’d gone by anything other than his surname that his given name barely sounded like it belonged to him anymore. 

By the time he managed to drag her uncoordinated body to the base of the stairs, he was breathing hard. He eyed the stairs with no small amount of bitterness. If he was still a Templar, he’d be strapping and strong, and carrying Roman up to her bedroom would barely be an effort. Hell, when he was a Templar, he would have been strong enough to carry her across half of Hightown without batting an eye. Now, however… 

No bloody choice, he thought. He blew out a sharp breath, then quickly scooped her up and started up the stairs. 

“Hey!” she blurted. “Put me down, you fucking — you shithead!” She wriggled in his arms and pushed his chest, and he stumbled against the bannister.

“Damn it, Bird, settle down,” he snapped. “You want me to break both our necks?”

“What if I do?” she shot back. 

He gave her a flat look, then shook his head and started up the stairs again as quickly as he could. Thankfully, she didn’t wiggle anymore, though she kept on cursing him and striking at his chest with her limp fists. By the time he was stumbling into her bedroom, she had pried open the loose neckline of his shirt and was digging her nails into his chest.

He clenched his jaw and dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed, then looked down at his chest; it was peppered with little half-moon marks from her nails. 

He scowled at her. “Next time I’ll leave you on the bloody floor,” he threatened. 

“Good,” she said belligerently. “I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask for your fucking help. Where’s my rum?”

“You spilled it when you fell over,” he said.

She glared at him. “I want it. I want my fucking rum!”

He wilted. “It’s spilled on the floor, Bird,” he said in exasperation. “You going to suck it out of the carpet?”

“Why not? It’s what you would do,” she said. Rather unkindly, in Samson’s opinion.

He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I would. But you’re better off than me.”

To his surprise, her face suddenly twisted with rage. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not better than you,” she yelled. “I’m not better than you!”

He recoiled slightly at her sudden temper. “That’s not what I said–”

“I’m not better!” she screamed. “I’m not better than you, and I need my fucking rum!”

“All right, all right, calm down,” he said loudly. “I’ll go get it. Maker’s fucking balls.” He turned away and trudged down the stairs with no clear idea what the fuck he was doing, either in an immediate sense — the rum really was gone — or in a longer-term, ‘why did I come to Hightown in the first place’ sense. Roman clearly didn’t want him here, and the last thing he needed was to be screamed at by a mean drunk. If he wanted to be treated like this, he could just go back to Lowtown and sit down across from the bloody Hanged Man.

He sighed and meandered into the kitchen. Maybe there was another bottle of rum here somewhere. He started going through the cupboards while vaguely hoping that none of the household staff would show up and throw him out like the vagrant that he actually was.  

A moment later, Monty wandered into the kitchen with his tail between his legs. Samson tensed for a second — Maker, this mabari was fucking big— then gave Monty a knowing look. “Where’s the booze, then, eh?” 

Monty cocked his head unhelpfully, and Samson sighed and continued his search. Eventually he found a half-empty bottle of whiskey at the back of the cupboard above the oven. He pulled the bottle out, then made his way back up the stairs to Roman’s bedroom with Monty in his wake.

She was passed out on the bed. One of her legs was dangling off the edge of the bed while the other foot was on a pillow, and her face was half-obscured by her long raven hair.

He eyed her for a moment with an odd heavy feeling in his rib cage. He put the bottle on the bedside table, then rearranged Roman’s body so she was lying on her side with her head on the pillow where it belonged. 

By the time he’d repositioned her, he was breathing hard again from hauling her dead weight around, and she was still completely unconscious. But at least now she wouldn’t choke on her own vomit, if she did end up vomiting. Samson had seen people who’d died that way after a heavy night out, and it was an ugly way to go.

He sat heavily on the edge of the bed beside her and sighed. He was exhausted, and the trembling in his hands and arms weren’t entirely from the need for lyrium. 

Now that Roman was asleep on her bed, he should probably leave. She’d told him she didn’t want him here, after all, and he wasn’t in the mood for any more of her shit. 

He sighed again and looked at her. Even in her sleep, she still looked like she was frowning; something about the sharp angle of her eyebrows or the pout of her full lips. She wasn’t what most people would call a beauty, especially with her sharp and lanky body that was all knees and shoulders and no tits to speak of. But Samson continued to gaze silently at her, marveling at how young and… oddly vulnerable she looked in her sleep. 

She was a pretty bird, lying so still and limp like a sparrow that had slammed into a windowpane. 

He gazed at her for a moment longer, then stood up. He made his way to the other side of the bed, then kicked off his shoes and lay down. Might as well take advantage of a bed while I’ve got the chance, he thought, and he closed his eyes. 

A moment later, a heavy weight bounced onto the bed beside him.

He jolted in alarm, then relaxed; it was just the bloody mabari settling in right between himself and Roman. 

Samson shot Monty a resentful look. “Just don’t breathe in my face, all right?” he whispered.

Monty let out a very quiet woof, then settled his chin on his paws, and Samson sighed before closing his eyes once more. 

A moment later, he fell asleep — and the unfinished envelope of lyrium dust in his pocket didn’t even cross his mind.

******************************

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

For the second time that night, Samson jolted awake at the sound of an abrasive voice. 

He sat up abruptly and peered at Roman. She was sitting upright in bed and glaring at him.

He sighed. “Say no more. I’m going.” He shifted toward the edge of the bed. 

“You don’t have to leave,” she said. “I just asked why the fuck you’re here.”

He paused and glanced at her. She really didn’t remember why he’d come? He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, given how much she’d drunk. “I heard that your mum died,” he said. He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “I know she carried on at you, but your mum’s your mum, so…”

Her face closed up. “I don’t need a fucking hug or a pat on the back. I’m fine on my own.”

All of a sudden, he’d had enough. He shoved himself to his feet and glared at her. “Fine. I’m off, then. You go crawl back into your bottle.” He waved angrily at the half-finished bottle of whiskey on the bedside table. “I brought it up for your ladyship, all right?” he said sarcastically. “Enjoy.”

Her lip curled. “Fuck you.”

“No, Bird, fuck you,” he retorted.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that!” she yelled.

“Then give it a rest for one night, eh?” he yelled back. “Just give it a rest! Aren’t you tired? I’m bloody tired, and my mum didn’t get murdered tonight.”

Her face puckered, and Samson immediately felt bad. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Look, Bird, I didn’t mean… Maker’s balls.”

“Come here,” she said quietly. 

He narrowed his eyes. She still looked angry, but at least she wasn’t yelling anymore. 

He slowly and warily approached the bed, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “What?”

She patted the bed beside her. “Sit here.”

He eyed her suspiciously, then sat beside her. “What–”

She suddenly slapped him across the face. Shocked, he brought his hand to his stinging cheek. “What the–”

She raised her hand again, and he snatched her wrist. “Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll keep ‘em for you,” he threatened.

She leaned closer to him. “Try it, asshole,” she hissed. “Just try me.”

He growled in frustration, then shoved her back onto the bed and pinned her hands above her head. She bucked and kicked his shin, and he crawled on top of her and straddled her waist so she couldn’t kick.

“Stop it!” he yelled. 

“You can’t make me!” she railed. “You can’t do anything! You can’t protect anyone, you can’t keep anyone safe, you can’t — you can’t… Fuck you!”

He narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t convinced anymore that it was really him that she was insulting. “Tell me what happened tonight,” he said.

“No!” 

“Tell me!” he yelled.

“A mage turned my mother into a fucking rag doll made of other people’s body parts, all right?” she bellowed. “That’s what fucking happened. And now she’s dead, and I blew that asshole into a million pieces, so fuck you!”

Some of his frustration left him. No wonder Roman was such a mess right now. “She was killed with blood magic?” he asked.

“Is that all you give a shit about?” she shouted. “The only thing that you can think is that it was fucking blood magic?”

“That’s not–” He broke off. There was no point. She was looking at him now with so much rage that he might as well have killed her mother himself. 

He released her wrists and shifted off of the bed. “Look, Bird, if you just want someone to yell at, go pick a fucking fight at the Hanged Man. I’ve had enough.” He stalked toward her bedroom door, but before he could open it, she strode over to him and grabbed his arm. 

He twisted his arm out of her grip, and she grabbed the collar of his shirt in both hands. “Fuck me,” she said.

He gaped at her. “What?”

She lunged toward him and nipped the side of his neck, and he gasped and flinched. “Ow!” 

“Fuck me!” she insisted, and she reached down and rubbed her hand over his hard cock — wait, why in the Maker’s bloody name was he hard?

He stood there stupidly, unable to breathe from the pressure of her palm on his cock. She pulled insistently on the collar of his shirt. “Fuck me, Samson,” she said. “Just fuck me.”

He sighed loudly. “Bird–”

“Fuck me!” she yelled.

Frustrated now, he grabbed both of her wrists and hauled her back to the bed, then pushed her down. “You hit me and scream at me, and you think I should fuck you?” he said incredulously.

“Yes!” she snapped. She pulled her shirt off and threw it on the floor.

Maker’s balls, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Samson dragged his eyes from her nipples back up to her face. “Why would I fuck a mouthy bitch who bites me like a bloody wildcat for no reason?” he demanded.

“I don’t know!” she bellowed. “I don’t know why you keep coming here and spending time with me. Probably because you’re fucked in the head from lyrium. But you keep showing up here and hanging around like a bad rash, so while you’re here, you should fuck me.”

“I keep coming ‘ere because you keep asking me to come!” he shouted. But even as the words left his mouth, he knew this wasn’t true this time. This time, he’d shown up here of his own accord.

Sure enough, Roman latched onto this flaw in his reasoning. “I didn’t want you here for this!” she railed. “I don’t want anyone here for this! This is — I’m too — just—” She broke off and swallowed hard, then stood up and started unbuttoning her pants. “For fuck’s sake, will you just fuck me?”

He glared at her, and she shoved her pants and smallclothes off. “Come on, fuck me!” she taunted.

He stared stupidly at the damp patch of midnight-black curls between her legs. Maker’s bloody balls, she was wet already. This made no fucking sense. He opened his mouth to tell her so.

“Fine,” he said instead. “You know what, fine, I will.” He stalked toward her and wrapped her hair in his fist, then yanked her head back.

She gasped and grabbed his shirt, then dug her nails viciously into his chest, and he gasped as a rush of pain and pleasure spilled through his chest and down to his groin. “You drive me bloody nuts, you know that?” he snarled.

“Good,” she panted. “Maybe you’ll fuck me hard enough for once, then.” 

He curled his lip at her insult, then pulled her head back further and bit her throat, and she moaned and grabbed his throbbing cock through his pants. He gasped against her neck, then shoved her back into the bed, and a few frenzied heartbeats later, he was naked and she was on her hands and knees, and he was behind her and shoving her down even further onto the bed— 

“Get flat on your chest, Bird,” he ordered. “Lift that ass for me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, but still she did as she was told and laid her chest and her cheek on the bed. 

“You’re always telling me what to do,” he retorted. He put on a mocking high-pitched voice. “‘Get my rum, fuck me, get out of my house.’ Maybe it’s my turn now to give the orders, eh?” He pulled her hips up and suddenly spanked her. 

She yelped and jolted, and Samson squeezed her buttock. “You want me to fuck you?” he said. “Maybe you should be polite for once and say ‘please’.”

She scoffed. “I’m not going to beg you to fuck me, you piece of shit!”

“You’re not, are you?” he said snarkily, and he spanked her again. 

She cried out and arched her spine, and his cock pulsed at the lustful sound. Maker, she looked so damned good with her back all curved like a cat in heat and her pussy slick with how badly she wanted his cock, and Samson stared greedily at her for a moment before spanking her again, this time on the other buttock. 

She mewled and twisted her hips and clawed at the bed, and Samson bit back a groan. “Say ‘please’, Bird,” he taunted.

“No!” she snapped.

Her voice was breathy with lust. Samson gripped his cock and shifted closer to her, then slid his length teasingly along the slick cleft of her pussy. “Say it,” he threatened. 

She bucked her hips back toward him. “Never,” she moaned. “I’ll never fucking beg you for a f-fucking thing… ah!” She cried out once more as Samson’s palm met her butt with a sharp crack. 

“Say it!” he barked. 

“Fuck me!” she blurted. “I need you to fuck me!”

“That’s not what I want to hear,” he growled. He slowly rocked his hips toward her, and as her smooth heat coated his cock, he pressed his lips together hard to stop himself from moaning at how bloody good she felt. 

She mewled and arched her spine, trying to twist and take him in, but he gripped her hips firmly so she could only have what he was teasing her with. Roman panted and growled and clenched her fingers in the sheets, and Samson stared at her, enraptured by the sight of her devolving into a nearly feral state of lust. 

He kept sliding his cock through her folds until he was panting too, then spanked her once more, and she jolted. “Please!” she cried. “Just fuck me, please!” 

He gaped at her in surprise, then eagerly gripped the root of his cock and positioned himself behind her. “I knew you couldn’t hold out,” he gasped, and he slammed into her in a hard thrust.

“Yes!” she screamed, and Samson groaned in ecstasy; she was so bloody tight and wet. He held still for a moment to gather his wits, but Roman was already wiggling her hips.

“Samson, come on, make yourself useful and fuck me already!” she ordered.

He blew out a sharp breath. “Give a bloody minute, will you?” he panted. “I need a minute, or this’ll be over before I get you halfway there.” 

“Who cares? Just fuck me hard!” she snapped.

He eyed her in puzzlement. She didn’t want him to make her come?

“Fuck me!” she yelled. “Fuck me, fuck me–”

He drew back and slammed into her once more, then again and again until her bed was shaking with the force and speed of their fucking, but it still wasn’t enough for Roman; she pressed her chest more firmly into the bed and lifted her hips higher. “Harder!” she cried. “I need you to fuck me so hard it hurts!” 

He stilled at this. What the hell did she mean by that? Sure, he and Roman had always engaged in a certain degree of scratching and biting and the occasional slap during sex, but that was different. That felt… Maker, it felt strange to admit it, but that felt good.

The way she’d just said to hurt her… something about it gave him a chill.

Her voice interrupted his troubled thoughts. “Samson, for fuck’s sake–” 

He slammed into her once more, then held still. “You’re not the boss of me,” he said roughly. “I’m the boss, and I say you’re going to come on my cock if you want me to fuck you any faster.”

She whined and bucked back, but Samson dug his fingers into her hips and slowly withdrew from her. “Touch yourself,” he commanded. “Do it now.”

“Fuck you,” she gasped, but she slipped her hand down between her body and the bed and started caressing her clit. 

“That’s my pretty bird,” he taunted. “Make yourself come on my cock, or I won’t fuck you anymore.”

She gasped and tried to twist her hips in his grip, to no avail. “I hate you,” she moaned. 

He clicked his tongue. “Rude thing to say to the man who’s balls deep inside of you.” He drew back and slid inside of her slowly, and she let out a broken little cry of pleasure. A minute later, her breathing was coming in short sharp pants, and when she came, Samson felt it in the pulsing of her pussy around his cock.  

“Ahh, fuck, please!” she sobbed.

He drew back, then slammed into her and fell forward onto his palms so he was looming over her prostrate body. “Let’s make something clear,” he said in a hard voice. “I’m not hurtin’ you to punish you, Bird. I’m hurtin’ you because you bloody well like it. Understand?”

She clenched her jaw, then sobbed again. “Shut up and fuck me!”

He flexed his hips, and Roman gasped and arched back to meet him, and soon their bodies were striking together with a hard and rapid smack of his hips against her upraised ass. He dipped his head low and bit her shoulder, and she cried out his name, and Samson continued to nip her skin until the pulsing of pleasure in his own body was almost too much to bear. 

He gasped and pressed his forehead to her shoulder blade, then groaned and shuddered as his climax rippled through his abdomen and his limbs. For a long moment, he simply lay there with his sweaty forehead pressed to her skin as he gasped for air. 

In the stillness and silence of the aftermath, once he’d caught his breath, he spoke. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said. 

He felt the slow expansion of her ribcage as she inhaled. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “You didn’t do anything.”

She sounded calmer than she had all night, and Samson was so surprised by this that he didn’t reply. In the ensuing silence, he eventually realized something odd: Roman wasn’t shoving him off the way she usually did. She was just lying there, crushed to the mattress beneath him, and there was something passive about her pose that suddenly made him feel bad. 

He released her and sat back on his heels. “Can I sleep here?” he asked. “I’ve got a pain in my hip from getting kicked earlier tonight.”

She frowned as she pushed herself upright. “Who fucking kicked you? I’ll stab them.”

He gave her a knowing look. “What, you give a rat’s ass now what happens to the likes of me?”

Her frown deepened into a scowl. “No, I… fuck you.”

Her voice held no real anger, however. Samson smirked. “A real knight in shining armour, you are. Can I stay, then, or…?”

Roman scowled at him for a second longer, then shrugged. “Stay if you want. I don’t care.” She pushed back the rumpled blankets and slid beneath them, and Samson crawled under the blankets as well.

He flopped onto his back with a weary sigh. Roman rolled onto her side facing away from him, but as she settled onto her side, her foot brushed against his calf. 

Samson waited for her to move her foot away with some snarky comment that he was taking up too much space on her bed, but she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t move her foot.

He lay there for a minute just staring at the velvet canopy overhead, but his attention was on the warmth of Roman’s foot touching his leg. Then he sighed internally. Fuck it. What’s the worst that can happen? he thought. She kicks me in the balls and kicks me out? I’ve had worse things happen. Before he could think too much about the painful possibility that she might do just that, he rolled toward her, then shifted close and gathered her against his chest. 

Her whole body stiffened, but Samson wasn’t deterred; he pressed his chest against her spine and tucked his arm around her waist. 

She stayed stock-still and stiff for many long moments before speaking. “You smell.”

His heart squeezed. Was he imagining it, or did she suddenly sound a little like she had a head cold? “I know, all right?” he said quietly. “Some of us don’t have fancy Orlesian bathtubs.”

She sniffled very quietly, and his heart throbbed again. When she spoke again, her tone was snarky once more. “You should take a bath with me in the morning.”

A bath with her? His belly did a funny flip. “Fine,” he grunted. He settled his chin against her shoulder. 

“And you should shave,” Roman said. She shifted her shoulder irritably. “Your fucking whiskers are scratchy. They’re going to give me a rash.”

He sighed loudly. “Quit breaking my balls for one second, will you?”

To his surprise, she fell silent. Gradually, very gradually, her body relaxed, and Samson felt his own body relaxing along with hers. 

He was half-asleep when he heard her voice again – a soft murmur, so soft that he wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a dream. 

“Thanks for the fuck,” she said. 

“Anytime, pretty bird,” he mumbled.

“I’m not your pretty bird,” she retorted.

He tsked. “Go the fuck to sleep, Roman.”

She growled and shifted in his arms – shifted closer, so she was tucked tightly against his chest. Then she fell still again. Minutes later, her breathing was deep and calm, and he knew she was asleep. 

He closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. Bloody bird, he thought. Then, with his pretty bird in his arms, Samson fell asleep as well. 

[kob131]

Geez, this person really went all out with this BS rant against the show/staff. www(.)reddit( lcom/r/RWBY/comments/kiqatg/why_rwby_will_always_be_an_okay_show/

... You know I have been trying to step away from directly addressing RWBY bullshit. But...fuck it here.

If you ever talked to me about how I felt about RWBY, I would say that RWBY pre-Volume 8 has been a touchy subject for me. I felt very validated by two videos, "Why RWBY is Disappointing" and "The White Fang Problem".

Yes yes, and people with parental issues feel validated by their abusive spouse. That means nothing, especially given that one of those videos you mentioned is riddled with bullshit.

"Why RWBY is Disappointing" validated my criticism of RWBYs writing. The fact that Miles and Kerry can't and refuse to take any kind of criticism that doesn't hurt their feelings is complete [insert bad word here]. All criticism is going to hurt your feelings. Yes, you should probably ignore the long winded rants that make themselves out to be self important- why is there a mirror here? But there is truth to all criticism.

And there’s a kernel of truth in the best lies- they’re still LIES.

Not to mention the video you mentioned here (which I am assuming is Hbomberguy’s) pulls the SAME SHIT it calls out. Like say...decrying critics pesonally attacking the writers...while proclaiming Jaune and Neptune as self inserts even though Miles AND Kerry is on the record saying that at least Jaune isn’t written by his voice actor.

I'm currently learning about Branding and how important it is to know your audience. Take self.care breaks, talk with someone you trust. Someone who isn't Miles or Kerry! If your reading this. An outside perspective can help. The reason I say that is because if you two constantly talk to each other you're going to end up in an echo chamber. TALK TO FIONA! She's literally your target audience!

Because hey, a man who contradicts himself numerous times and made personal attacks on the creators that only the most malicious and self righteous do is SOOOO trustworthy right? 

Remember that tweet Hbomb brought up in his video as an example of criticism the creators should listen to? The one that demanded Miles get back to work and tried to use the catchphrase of his dead friend to manipulate him?

What a fucking target audience.

I know they mentioned ‘Fiona’ (likely the character’s voice actress) but there’s a supposed fan, one that pretty much sums up the critics, and a perfect example why it gets tossed out.

Moving on, the other video validated something I wish it didn't. "The White Fang Problem" brought to light something I knew was there but either ignored or I wasn't thinking. The White Fang has always made me a little uncomfortable. As a minority, it didn't translate well in my head. The minority are the bad guys. The Civil rights group were the bad guys. I brushed it off for a long time but after that video I couldn't.

Ah huh. So uh, the existence of Blake, Ghira, Kali, Sun, Illa, Velvet, Neon ect. is just incovienable to you huh? And don’t give me that ‘But civil rights group!’- The first episode had them break up a peaceful protest and it’s repeatedly hammered home that the current White Fang doesn’t give a SHIT about equal rights. And no, that concept is not racist- Judging from a story I read, that happened to the New Black Panthers in REAL LIFE.

It became a moral issue. Watching RWBY became a moral issue. RWBY is still pushing right wing talking points.-

Being right of you is not right wing, Especially given how you just acted.

I dont believe Miles and Kerry are racist. I do believe that Miles and Kerry both hold skewed beliefs in what right and wrong is.

Projection.

The way Miles and Kerry treat self defense and protest shows that they know nothing about being Black. They didn't do their research. They didn't talk to minorities about how they were being portrayed. They simply believed that they were right and we were wrong.

Ah huh, ah huh, ah huh-

Monty wrote the White Fang this way. You know, the ASIAN man of FOUR NATIONALITIES. So uh, congrats on saying at the absolute most- Nothing.

Now these two videos are old news. They've been posted on this very same subreddit. But you can't go around and say how much of a progressive and open minded individual you are when the fact that RWBY is a racist show and treats minorities very badly. So no one talks about them.

Or that, as I showed: these videos are bullshit.

Also its kinda homophobic too, not because of Bumblby but because despite Tera and Saphorn being a happy married couple they never kiss on screen. Have you seen happy married couples? Have you seen gay happy married couples? They literally do nothing but kiss. Its cute and adorable and deserves to be spread as far and wide. Despite the show having two straight couple kisses, granted one was in Volume but still, they couldn't get the married couple to kiss? Just saying.

... And not all gay couples are the same, even if I’m sure you’re thinking of TEENAGERS.

You know, judging people based on a preconcieved notion (AKA stereotyping) is pretty fucking bigoted itself...

Watch people be in the comments typing away that this isn't a romance show and how I shouldn't expect romance in an action adventure show despite the long list of evidence to the contrary.

Ah yes, that long list of ONE kiss by a TORPEDOED SHIP.

Such convincing rhetoric.

So you can see I was not coming into Volume 8 with my rose colored glasses. I'm sure many of you hate me because of all my comments, but I don't care. I was ready to leave RWBY. I didn't care. RWBY had taken up so much of my life but I don't care. I was not going to support a show that didn't improve.

Ah huh-

You just came in with jade-colored glass and accepted anything that validated you instead of questioning yourself. You talk about branding but that’s ALL you’ve branded yourself as.

So I watched. And something happened. Something strange. RWBY was moving in a direction I didn't expect it to. Oscar got what he deserved. The Heros were oblivious to the danger that is Salem. Things were headed in the direction that would change the characters forever. It'll be just like Beacon but better. And then they had to ruin it.

Oh we are about to get some real bullshit.

Oscar somehow convinces Hazel to betray Salem. What could have been an avenue to a multi season story arc for Oscar that included the stories villains became a shitty uninspired redemption arc. Kill me.

No he didn’t and this has been something hinted at since Volume 4.

There's still hope for the season but at this point I lost all hope. 

This is the scene that killed Volume 8 for me. Oscar should not be the one who defeats Salem. In fact he should be an avenue to learn more about the villains. He served his purpose with the heroes, now he has a new arc with the villains. Oscar doesn't turn evil, but he's like a conscious. Salem doesn't want to kill him because he can be useful in finding the last remaining relics and maidens.

Assumptions.

Oscar has a heart to heart with all the villains including Salem. Oscar learns to be his own man and accepts he's now one with Ozma but he doesn't have to be another Ozma. He doesn't have to make the same decisions.

Its a great Arc for Oscar. It also makes sense for his character. Ozma feels Salem is pure evil but Oscar can learn for himself.

Headcanon.

But they won't do that. Instead they're going to take the easy way out. Like always.

Bias getting in the way.

Miles and Kerry love wrapping up each season in a little bow. This is why RWBY is so okay.

They say as every RWBY Volumes ends in a cliffhanger.

This is Beacon but if Miles and Kerry thought that RWBY should still be in Beacon. This is Beacon but without major character death. This is Beacon but the main villain loses because the heroes can't lose. Cinder isn't threatening. None of the villains are. Salem is in a Grimm! She should know everything! Why is there no creativity? Why is she not an over powered mess in A GRIMM!? Her own domain?! Why are the writers writing her not as a powerful goddess reaffirming her as a threat but as a human being. Yes I know what that sounds like but hear me out.

‘None of the villains are threatening!’

‘WHY IS THE MAIN VILLAIN NOT BEING TREATED AS THREATENING LIKE I THINK SHE IS!’

‘Why is there no creativity?’

‘DO THE MOST UNCREATIVE THING POSSIBLE!’

How about I keep mocking you?

If Salem can be out smarted by a 10 year old boy, why did it take Ozma so long to defeat her? Oscar should fail. RWBY should fail. They should go through character arcs that help them better understand Salem. Because that's how you defeat Salem.

Pushing your own thoughts onto the show. Also assumptions AGAIN.

I always believed that Ozma and Salem are very similar to Ruby and Weiss. Yes I know how it sounds but it makes sense.-

Too bad your AU fanfic doesn’t matter.

But they won't. Miles and Kerry will use Oscar to defeat Salem. Why? Who knows at this point. I dont know why Miles and Kerry keep pushing Oscar into the spotlight. Its exactly how they treated Jaune Pre-Volume 7. Jaune had to be the focus so often we hated him. And they're doing it again with Oscar

Ah huh. You know, the whole NOTHING Jaune did in Volume 6 was SOOO spotlight stealing, along with his REMOVAL FROM THE CAST FOR SEVERAL EPISODES.

Wanna bet this is another case of ‘penis on screen, me hate’?

They refuse learn and they refuse to improve. If Volume 8 doesn't improve im leaving RWBY. It doesn't matter to any of you. I'm saying it more for myself. So I don't continue with a show that constantly disappoints me. But more so, I don't support a show that views people like me as lesser. If the writing improves it proves that they can grow and get better but if it doesn't it means they will continue to treat Faunus as misguided and horrible characters. And I refuse to support a show that uses my likeness to get brownie points from people who are unaffected by such messages.

A. No, that’s who refused to do self reflection and improve.

B. Should have done that in the first place.

C. No, once again- You blind yourself from the shit that disproves you.

D. You heard him- Treat the Fanaus like shit and make the humans in the right. You know, the opposite what the show is doing now since it’s SOOO horrible.

E. You are not the center of the universe.

[reachexceedinggrasp]

Fated to Love You here reaffirming my long held conviction that no pure romance drama should be 20+ episodes.

This show is... really something. It is, in the fullest possible sense, A Lot. It starts out as an all-out screwball comedy wrapped around a troperiffic romance fluff plot. Wall to wall clichés, but not in a bad way; in a meta, self-aware, peak performance, finest Velveeta way. And if you’re not familiar with screwball comedy, think ‘light-hearted crack fic with slapstick and farce’. There is nothing believable or grounded about any aspect of it, it starts at Bonkers Level: Platinum and it only climbs higher as it goes on.

(On a side note, this results in the leading man being possibly the most memorable love interest in romcom history. His introduction scene is nothing short of batshit insane and you can't reliably predict how he will respond to anything. I have never seen a main character like this, he is all over the shop and utterly singular. Your first reaction to him is ‘wtf?’, your second and third reactions are ‘really?! this guy??’, your fourth reaction is ‘okay he do be mad hot tho’, your fifth and final reaction is ‘I cannot believe this performance exists, I have no idea what he is doing, but it is amazing.’

Appropriately(?) the actor who plays him is an uncanny Korean doppelgänger of Johnny Depp and- between the resemblance, the mannerisms, and the fearless total commitment to a bold as fuck acting choice with the very serious chops to back it up- I’m not convinced they aren’t half brothers separated at birth.

They do sabotage my happiness several times by starting to randomly style his (long, beautiful) hair very weird, fixing it right when the plot is rapidly circling the drain so he looks his hottest just as the show becomes briefly unwatchable, and then ruining him for the entire second half of the series by shearing it all off. WHY, my anguished cry goes up. Why do you do this?! Why does he have like seven hairstyles over the course of the show? Much later they even briefly give him that ubiquitous Kdrama Second Lead haircut with weirdly forward combed fringe in a solid straight line across the brow all the way back from the crown. It looks terrible on everyone and I hate it so much. This version was less bad than most but it is still bad. Anyway.)

So it’s an incredibly fun time to start but there are some problems with the tone and plot even in the first 9 episodes, including when the lovers start getting along really well right away and they’re both thoroughly decent people so there’s nothing keeping them from having a lovely time together making the best of the circumstances (forced/fake marriage). And, instead of introducing new conflict or advancing one of the dozen conflicts previously established and actually moving forward, there is a painfully contrived rehash of something they already dealt with which is then just never resolved. They make the hero leap to a conclusion his wife is nefarious after he’d already decided once that she isn’t (though it was completely reasonable for him to think she was- the fact that he decided to trust her so quickly just speaks to what kind of person he is), never try to find out more or talk to anyone about it, start pushing her away because of it, and have all this come to absolutely nothing. It only exists so he’ll stop being so incredibly nice to her and they won’t fall in love too fast.

You’d think they would have to eventually clear the air before the romance advances right? No. It wasn’t a real plot point, it was just a reset button to get them estranged and hostile again after they connect over their kindred spirits and we’ve spent a bunch of time showing how profoundly supportive and honourable our hero is. He’s being beautifully mature and selfless because he’s a really good dude (unusual for a romcom drama, right? for the main guy to be nice and considerate? to accept responsibility even if he doesn’t have to? Gun’s weird but he’s wonderful), but the writers need him to be cold and standoffish, so they just make him act like an unreasonable idiot for a while. He’s been thus far hugely proactive and direct and honest about everything, it’s one of his most prominent character traits, but suddenly he’s going to avoid confrontation in favour of being super passive aggressive?? Then the writers never solve it. Never! It just goes away. He got over it, I guess? He decided he doesn’t care if she’s a gold digger who deliberately trapped him? God forbid we have motivations that make sense and organic character drama, right? It's not like he didn't have totally valid reasons to be suspicious that could have led to legitimate conflict our heroine would struggle to vindicate herself from.

But anyway, apart from that kind of lazy bullshit, it’s a fine romance plot with extremely endearing characters who have great chemistry. They are fun and well-rounded and incredibly human despite all the silliness and OTT antics. Their relationship is hugely, hugely engaging and the dynamic is perfect, they really complement each other as characters and organically drive each other's arcs. There's the genuine depth and warmth and quiet pathos so often lacking from this kind of show. Things progress at a semi-reasonable pace. They work up to confessing their mutual feelings and get into some cute shenanigans before making out. It happens soon enough that you are not frustrated, but there's still plenty of build-up. Then- uh oh! We’re only 9 eps in and we have another 11 hours to fill with this fluffy plot!

Time for a bunch of absolute fucking nonsense. Time for our show, which has been so goofy and removed from reality it occasionally resembles a Monty Python skit, which has been so light it asks you to ignore the frankly incredibly fucked up implications of its premise for the sake of comedy (they were both drugged and proxy raped resulting in a pregnancy- the FL was a virgin prior to this and Gun had a girlfriend he wanted to propose to- and it was the FL’s family who did this to them: SUPER FUCKED UP), so farcical that it makes Some Like it Hot look like a gritty crime drama, that show to cover a bunch of serious heavy shit.

First, the rankest of melodrama. The families and the world all turn on our couple, but their love is true and will conquer all- UNTIL, he randomly collapses and gets convenient Soap Opera Amnesia. He’s forgotten their entire relationship and a series of coincidental pieces of misconstrued evidence, the machinations of his scheming ex girlfriend, the Soap Opera Doctor’s advice, and his closest confidants all going along with this conspire to make him believe (AGAIN) that his wife just wants his money.

This whole terrible episode is mercifully brief, but it just gets worse after his memory returns. This is where we get into the Noble Idiocy. The ‘pretend you don’t love them to “save them” from getting hurt by hurting them and making their important life decisions for them as if they don’t have a basic fucking right to decide that themselves’ kind. Which goes on for three FUCK years in the show. He wastes three years of their lives they could have spent together because he’s worried he might die young (in a terrible way) and doesn’t want to put her through that. And, of course, they inevitably get together later, so all he did was make it infinitely worse for her either way. To say nothing of how he thus couldn’t be there for her through the loss of their child. Possibly my most hated fucking trope of all time when done this way.

And, yep, you read that right. This show that has the single most batshit bonkers over the top slapstick I have ever seen in a kdrama, this show has a storyline where the fluffy romcom trope accidental pregnancy ends in massive trauma. Because she was standing around in the street after realising he does remember her (he continued to pretend he had amnesia after his memories came back, it’s all part of the stupid noble idiocy so I glossed over it) and gets hit by a car in the middle of their angst staring.

It is nearly Meet Joe Black levels of hilariously abrupt and incongruous.

so, blah blah, they lose their baby (there’s a very stupid whole thing about her telling everyone to save the baby instead of her- the baby is not far enough along for this to have been remotely viable. She is like 3 months pregnant. They all act like there’s a choice to be made between them and she’s mad at her husband for choosing to save her, but there was NO CHOICE. Either she lives or they both die! ffs I’m so irritated about this) and then he dumps her ~for her own good~~ because he loves her too much to make her go through losing him? So she loses him sooner?? right after their baby died???

Why do people in these stories always think being betrayed and abandoned for no reason and being incredibly angry at someone you love while also not getting to be with them is somehow less painful than making the best of your life together and then losing them against their will? ‘I will make her hate me and then she won’t be sad we broke up/I died!!!!’ is such a fucking galaxy brain take and I despise it with the heat of ten thousand suns. Fuck you, Spider-Man. You aren’t protecting anyone, the villains still know you love MJ and will still use her against you, you clod. Emotionally torturing the person you love is not going to make them not a target because the villains are not as fucking stupid as you two. Anyway.

Amnesia was right where I started fast-forwarding and skipping around (because I couldn’t bear it), but it only goes downhill from there. Maybe I would have toughed out more of the wretched middle part plot twist if they hadn’t cut all the hot guy’s hair off. If I’m going to watch total nonsense tedious melodrama, I need it to at least be pretty. I understand it was a Symbolic Haircut but damnit! Let me have this!

And it ultimately does the thing that kdramas seem obsessed with and which makes me want to claw out my own eyeballs with frustration. There’s a giant time skip, the female lead gets a personality transplant, all narrative momentum is lost, and the characters who eventually (at ENORMOUS length) get together permanently are essentially completely different characters with a completely different dynamic than the couple you were shipping for 90% of the story. It is so FUCKING unsatisfying and it is EVERYWHERE.

Not so much with this one because this one still had a lot of very romantic scenes late in the game, but most that do this, it’s also like all the romance is sucked out of the post-time skip episodes and the ending is a consolation prize instead of a triumphant culmination. Inevitably, the heroine abruptly cools off and is suddenly wary of the hero and wants this Important New Career she never mentioned until the penultimate episode but is now her one true life’s dream. What the apparently irresistible appeal is of these contrived separations and demure conclusions is I CANNOT FATHOM. I’m here for the fucking romance guys, you have not made Citizen Kane, please just indulge me with a big schmoopy finale.

And if not that, it’s frequently that there’s been so many random mood swings and so much shitty behaviour by the end that the relationship doesn’t make sense and you don’t know why they even bother to get back together.

I’m not inherently against all misunderstandings (they are the bread and butter of low stakes romance let’s be real) or attempts at noble idiocy from misguided characters, but the duration and seriousness of the drama these generate needs to be in proportion to how ridiculous they are. If your entire plot can be solved by a thirty second conversation there is NO REASON not to have and the continuation of the misunderstanding is a result of someone just NOT SPEAKING UP when any functional human being would have spoken up seven times by now IT’S BAD.

Do little cliff-hangers, whatever, but don’t draaaaagg out silly misconceptions into Shakespearean tragedy, it’s just wearying. It makes me hate the characters for acting like emotionally constipated toddlers with terminal stupidity. If there is so little trust, so little understanding, and so little basic patience between these people, they probably shouldn’t be dating, so try fucking harder, writers. And noble idiocy that is more than an impulse they fairly quickly see the error of is just insulting. You are not helping the other person, you are being domineering and selfish. I have a whole complex about wasting time and seeing endless parades of characters flushing years down the toilet for literally no reason gives me hives. Especially when the whole issue is about time!

(And, btw, so much of the plot is about how desperately the family needs an heir and everyone still wanting them to have kids the second time they get together- while the ~dilemma used to keep them apart is a GENETIC DISEASE which could STRIKE AT ANY TIME. Do you SEE THE PROBLEM WITH THIS WRITERS????? NO, I KNOW YOU DON’T. ommmmmmmmggggg that’s awful! So they’re just dooming more kids to Soap Opera Brain Disease? And maybe growing up without a father just as Gun did? And no one even considers suggesting adoption??? He never considers that he shouldn’t have biological children despite thinking he shouldn’t have a wife?)

ANYWAY. Please do watch the first nine episodes and the last three, it’s bananas. They are cute as fuck, Gun is The Best, and the tropey romance scenes are top quality. You don't get those things executed so well, it doesn't happen, so you need this in your life. The acting is of a calibre you never usually see in modern romcoms; these are people at the top of their game committing utterly and taking these characters completely seriously. In that way it is pure wish fulfilment for me as someone who loves romance and is almost always disappointed by popular romance media, and thus the show is incalculably special. But skip the middle. Just skip it. It's not worth the suffering. I find the tone whiplash honestly just this side of crass.

I’ve been thinking about it for over a week and I truly love the main characters so it did plenty right, but I just cannot with wedding the two things this show is trying to be together, especially when it goes so hard in two mutually exclusive directions. but also the Meet Joe Black sudden car accident device is not redeemable under any circumstances. Can we never do that again, please.

[bellamyblake]

Hi just wondering why it's easier for you to write for bellamy and not Clarke? Just curious in how you connect with him <3

That’s more of a me problem than like the way the characters are written/presented problem. 

I’ve always since I was a kid, related more to boy’s characters than girls (on very rare occasions girls), it’s just...Idk it probably sounds very weird since I love strong female characters, god I hate that expression if I have to be honest, cause all the wrong things are implied to it and not always what makes a woman strong and badass, but the thing is that I just...I guess I’m weird like that? I’ve related to fewer girls characters than I’ve related to the boys. 

Strange Idk...I’m fucked up in many ways this is one of them.

And with Bellamy I don’t know I just relate to this inner struggle that he has, that good and bad kind of deal that I just...he wants to do the right thing but he is in the wrong circumstance, he loves so deeply so passionately but sometimes it gets overbearing or can be too much (in terms of protecting his sister). 

I have the same questions he has-am I a monster? Am I horrible saying and doing the things that I do-I ask myself that all the time, even asked that myself today. 

I am careful to let people in but when I do they mean the world to me like he was with Clarke and the rest of his people. 

I can be reckless and do stupid stuff, end up in the wrong side believing it’s the right. I can be stubborn...so damn stubborn. 

I have always been relating to him in the sense that he does not think of himself as deserving of this life, he does not know what to wish for, he has always lived for someone or something else, maybe sometimes living without knowing why he lives at all but pushing stubbornly nonetheless. 

I relate to that too.

A lot of reasons why I love him is because he grows as a character. Something that people don’t talk about enough or even blatantly hate.

That was most prominent in the season 5 scenario where he stepped back and used his head as well as his heart and tried to be a Clarke person and people judged him because they didn’t want him to grow from a rebel, reckless person into a more full-grown character, into a person Clarke would be proud of (and yes I know season 5 was a mess but that was still the message). 

I also hate that they don’t understand what’s happening to him now and WHY it is happening and how it is for me the most logical thing for him to go through-something that happened to other characters too like Monty for example or Octavia but yes while through a cult, the core of it is still there-he wants it to end, that violence, that fear, that horrible killing. 

I love writing about him as a kid because I feel like his life is much like Taylor Swift’s song seven-I hit my peak at seven, cause he did, he was a child before that and then O was born and that was it.

I like thinking of his life as a flower cut off before it had even bloomed a tree cut down and then little tiny branches perking up but not enough, never enough, unfulfilled not truly complete, like his own life. 

He’s an unfinished sentence that nobody knows if it was even supposed to be started. His life has no meaning, no purpose. 

I’ve always wanted him to have one purpose-himself, not even Clarke and definitely not his sister, but himself. 

I like thinking of him being a baby in his mom’s arms, how much he was loved, how much he was curious as he was growing up. I like thinking he had a father too, who loved him a lot but died before he could remember him. 

In many ways his life is a tragedy for me. I’m not saying Clarke or anyone else’s is easy, no, it’s not but Clarke had a loving family at least until she was 18, she had a good life and then yes things fucked up but Bellamy’s tragedy is inborn, he carries sadness within him.

I guess that speaks to me.

I think it’s very true what Doucette told him-and yet there’s something missing inside you. 

Yes, there is something missing, he’s never had so many things-a real childhood, a truly loving parent because I know aurora loved him but so much of his childhood and their relationship was tied to FEAR from the moment O was placed in his arms that it just ruined everything and he had been in canon denied true real love, a good relationship (

I’m excluding Clarke, I love bellarke but clarke has had l/xa, octavia has had lincoln, jasper has had maya, monty has had harper, murphy has had emori) and bellamy has had no one truly and i’m sorry but e/cho does not count. That’s not how you do it, how it you develop it. It’s not real, not in the sense all the couples I just pointed out were.

So I guess that’s it why I find it easier for him. I don’t have his life but I relate to some aspects of it, to this sadness, to this emptiness inside him, to this struggle to do the right thing, to thinking himself a monster, to making mistakes and then learning and then GROWING and then wanting peace. Just peace.

I just love him. I can’t explain it hah, I think a lot about him, meta in my head. Just love that boy. In a way I have not other characters. Do I judge him? Do I see his flaws? of course. His mistakes? Absolutely. I am not blind to that. But I think because I relate to them and try to figure them out that it is also why he’s so important to me. 

[clairvoyantsam]

13 Reasons Why S4E3 Thoughts

1) Is ... someone really calling Clay or is it all on his mind??

2)Jessica acting surprised when Alex refuses to go with her to the Valentine’s Day dance. I mean ... really?? She cheated on him, ditched him and ruined his allibi for the night Bryce was murdered, why would he say yes?!

3) Clay angering Zack on purpose so that he’d get punched ... This boy is gonna collapse or end up in a hospital, if he doesn’t I will be surprised.

4)Tyler telling Toni “I can’t just be there every time you need me.” Uh, hello?? Toni has ALWAYS been there for you??? If it weren’t for him, you’d either be dead or in jail??? That was rude AF, didnt’ expect that from Tyler. And then he brushed both Toni AND Clay at the mall. Wtf is up with him???

5)Charlie St. George is an actual ANGEL <3

6)Alex kissing Winston .............. I mean ... they do fit?? But I hate the fact that Winston is playing everyone and he’ll likely break Alex’s heart. If not, then cool.

7)The voice at the other end of the line with Clay ... I may be crazy but I think it IS Clay’s voice .................... Idk how, it doesn’t make sense but a lot of things don’t so far!!! And if you notice the accent, even behind the altered voice ... it fits Clay’s ...

8)”If you love someone, you’re going to lose them.” CLAY, NO ;_; He’s talking about Hannah ...... I’M CRYIN. He’s afraid to let himself love again because he doesn’t want to lose anyone ever again ...

9)Diego calling Charlie gay or bi JUST because he’s a genuinely kind & nice guy who respects men and women alike ... Fuck off, dude.

10)Coach being supportive of Justin and being at that group meeting with him, warms my heart <3

11)Okay, I AM MAD!!!!!!!!!! JUSTIN IS TRYING SO HARD THIS SEASON TO DO GOOD, TO GET BETTER AND HE’S THE LONELIEST HE’S EVER BEEN. Nobody’s giving him a fucking chance!!!! WTF IS WRONG WITH EVERYBODY

12)HUH?! Tyler and Alex’s dad??? What’s that about?? He’s working with the police?!

13)Clay in the showers ...???? He needs fucking help immediately... Seeing blood coming out of those showers and seeing himself getting soaked in that blood??? Damn ...

14) The field scene ... I think Clay can’t get past the fact that Monty is dead (maybe?) because of the false accusation ...  The “blood” in his hands, he literally can’t wipe it off, at least in his mind. I am not even sure the jocks where actually there, probably not. And holy shit ... he went back to the dance looking like a crazy person, his shirt full of paint/blood and holding a knife or whatever that was ... IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE SCHOOL ... I’m so damn scared for his life.

[katahnisharma]

the press tour [11 pt. 1] | t.h.

Word Count: 1.9 K 

Warnings: Because Claire @neverlandparker​ is a cutie and gave me the idea of splitting up chapter 11 into two parts, the second part will be out Tuesday!

Summary: You’re a new, inexperienced actress plucked from the obscurity of everyday life to play the lead in the reboot of a famous British Jane Austen novel, and Tom Holland just so happens to be playing your love interest.

A/N: This is a little shorter but I wanted to get into Tom’s head a little and have you guys understand him a bit :) I’m a little down so if you could just tell my if you liked this or legit even hated it I’d love the feedback! Also Tumblr apparently won’t let me link things so if you’re looking for my masterlist, playlist, taglist, or writing challenge it’s in my bio ♡

“Haz, I would come to the pub quiz, but we just went on a double date and I don’t really want to spend anymore time with him. It bothers Adrian.” You were on the phone with Harrison the Saturday after the date, which had ended as awkwardly as it began. After Tom and Adrian came back from the bathroom, you could tell they had fought over something. Tom wouldn’t look at you the rest of the time, and he barely said two words. Adrian kept a possessive hand on your thigh, which only made you uneasy. Zendaya, though she gave it her best effort, couldn’t salvage the night.

You were so relieved when it was over.

“Ah yes, the dinner date from hell. How was it? Tom wouldn’t say much about it.” Harrison laughed, shooing Monty away from his feet. You were in LA and he was in London, but he’d been trying to get you to visit for weeks now. You knew you couldn’t keep putting it off.

“It was terrible, the whole thing was so awkward. Poor Z tried to make it work, but Tom wasn’t having it. He and Adrian were in the bathroom together for a while so I know something went down, but Adrian won’t tell me anything. Of course, it’s obvious he has a problem with Tom and I just can’t handle the stress.” You whined, collapsing on your couch and avoiding Bailey’s piles of paper everywhere. She’d been in the process of a massive reorganization and your house looked like a bomb had gone off.

“See, this is why you need to get away. Just come over for the weekend, let Adrian sort himself out. It’ll be fun, I promise. And Charlotte misses you, she says you’re more fun than Tom and I.” Harrison pleaded, his voice dropping a bit when Tom came into the room. He raised an eyebrow at Harrison and mouthed Who’s that?.

“You know, I’m going to regret this. But fine, I’ll come this weekend. I need a vacation, even if staying with you is more like being your maid.” You sighed, getting up to go pack. Tom sat next to Harrison and pretended like he was on his phone, but he was really trying to listen in on the conversation. The voice on the other end sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Great, everyone will be so happy! Monty is excited, I can already tell. Fly out tonight and I’ll come pick you up at the airport. And don’t worry, I’ll leave you-know-who behind.”  whispered, shoving Tom away who was trying to listen in. You chuckled and found your suitcase behind your closet, taking it out and checking to make sure it was big enough.

“Thanks Haz, I’ll see you soon.” You hung up and started folding clothes to take, texting Bailey to let her know you’d be leaving and to tell Adrian. It had been weird between you two after the date, and you knew it should have been you telling him but you didn’t want to deal with the fallout. Bailey would be able to talk him down.

“Who was that?” Tom asked, trying to be nonchalant about it. Harrison rolled his eyes, knowing that he was secretly curious, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to tell him about you. Tom would definitely not be calm about it.

But then again, you were going to be here in a couple of hours.

“Um, it was Y/N. She’s coming here for the weekend.” Harrison said, ignoring Tom’s open mouth. Tom felt his heart drop and race simultaneously, not sure how he was going to handle seeing you. What was he going to do, just avoid you the entire time to ignore his feelings? Tom hadn’t spoken to Zendaya in days, and even she knew the reason why.

“Oh, um, that’s cool. Cool, yeah, you know….Y/N’s cool. Great, I’m gonna go shower. Maybe...uh...I can come with you to the airport?” Tom stuttered, trying to hide his nerves. Harrison wanted to laugh, but restrained himself.

“If you want? I mean, just don’t do anything stupid please.” Harrison said, getting up to change. Tom nodded silently, his mind racing with all the things he had to do to get ready. He’d need to shave, change his clothes, appear like he wasn’t a nervous wreck. Appear like he was over you, when he’d fallen deeper. It was like fighting his heart, and Tom was losing

Shit, why did you have to come and make everything difficult?

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while” Bailey was quick to give you her opinion while you were packing, and part of you knew she was right.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Okay, thank you. Love that you’re so concerned, but I’ll be fine. If Tom is there, I’m just gonna ignore him.” You said, zipping up your bag. There wasn’t much to take for the weekend, and you never packed much to begin with. Bailey opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind at the last minute.

“Alright, everything’s done. My flight is in an hour and a half, so I’m gonna head out now. You’ll be okay alone, right?” You teased, watching her roll her eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a big girl, I think I can take care of myself. Keep me updated, okay? And if it gets too weird, just come home. Harrison will just have to deal with Tom on his own.” Bailey replied, helping you carry your purse downstairs.

“Seriously, what’s the worst that can happen? He tries to kiss me or something, which we both know will NEVER happen. We both don’t like each other, Tom will stay away from me I can guarantee it.” You said, waving to the driver outside and giving Bailey a quick hug. She squeezed you a little, watching you get into the car.

“Did you tell Adrian?” She called from the door, and you froze for a minute. You had not, in fact, told your boyfriend you were leaving for the weekend. To spend it in London with a friend that wasn’t a girl and his apparent enemy. You hadn’t even told him you were free for the weekend.

Well, too late now.

“Yeah, of course.” You lied, watching her relax a little. She waved from the door as the car pulled away, and you sat back in your seat as the driver kept his eyes on the road.

You really should have told Adrian.

“Mate, you didn’t need to get all dressed up for her. She’s got a boyfriend.” Harrison sniggered when Tom came out looking very dressed up. It was something he’d worn to Jimmy Kimmel once, and Harrison could see Tom’s face burn at his words.

“Shut up, it’s not that fancy. I know she’s got a boyfriend, he threatened me in the bathroom last week.” Tom grumbled, taking his phone from the table. Harrison quirked an eyebrow, but he didn’t push it. This was the first he was hearing about an actual confrontation from Tom, but he wouldn’t have put it past Adrian. He didn’t much like your boyfriend either.

“Can I ask you something?” Harrison ventured, testing the waters a little. Tom rolled his eyes, putting on his shoes by the door.

“Can I even stop you?” He groaned, standing up and crossing his arms. Harrison got his keys from the couch and moved closer, studying Tom’s face.

It was nervous, he knew what Harrison was going to ask.

“Are you in love with her?”

Tom’s eyes widened a little, but not enough to indicate he was surprised by the question. He had to have known it was coming. He looked down quickly, but Harrison caught the sight of his eyes watering a little. For a moment it was radio silence, and Harrison thought he wouldn’t answer. The tears spilled out of Tom’s eyes.

“What does it matter if I am?” Tom’s voice was quiet, like he was struggling to get it out. He knew that once he said those words, he was truly fucked. Harrison knew that too, which was why he wasn’t prepared for what Tom said next.

“I love her, Haz. And I don’t know how to stop.” Tom wiped his eyes, feeling his resolve crumble. All the days he spent telling himself to get over you, because he was the one who ruined everything. Tom had only half believed the lie, and now that the words had materialized in front of him it washed over him like a wave. The pain, the heartbreak, the intense pining and longing for someone he couldn’t have.

Because you weren’t his to want. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“I don’t think love works like that. You just have to let it go, Tom.” Harrison was startled when Tom hugged him, feeling him shudder a little. He’d known all along, that you had taken a part of him. It was so easy to see, the way you made him feel. Harrison remembered how excited Tom had been when you said yes to the date, the way he talked about you and how his eyes lit up.

Where had it all gone wrong?

“If I see her, I might lose my mind. I’ve been beating myself up over what happened, and it hurts even thinking about it. I thought if I stayed away, remembered what that prick told me, it would go away. Why does it hurt so much?” Tom cried, wetting Harrison’s shirt slightly. Harrison let him cry for a few minutes, knowing Tom would feel better after. He didn’t know what to say or do, he had yet to be in love. But this wasn’t like anything Harrison had seen before, Tom had never been this way.

What he felt was real, it was vulnerable and raw. And you meant more to him than he’d thought.

“Tom? I’m going to say something and I want you to listen.” Harrison said, and Tom broke away rubbing at his eyes.

“You need to tell her how you feel, before it’s too late. Tell her everything, or you’re gonna lose her forever.” Harrison put a hand on Tom’s shoulder, passing him to get to the door. Tom stood still, staring ahead at the wall.

“What if she still hates me? Or she’s in love with Adrian?” Tom’s voice cracked, not wanting to turn around and face his best friend. Because he knew what Harrison would say, and it frightened him.

“You have to make up your mind, Tom. Either you want her or you don’t. But you’re gonna have to fight for Y/N, she deserves a lot. And if you really love her, then you’ll sober up and join the battle. It’s your call.” Harrison sighed, opening the door and leaving Tom alone in the living room. Tom took a deep breath and closed his eyes, your face being the first thing he saw. It had been the only thing he’d seen for weeks at night.

Tom knew what he had to do. He was scared, but it was clear to him.

He had to win you back before it was too late.

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[parasympathic]

SELF PARA 002.

[ isa 💕 → monty ] sel’s already here but you’re welcome to join us...? 😁 

It was, objectively speaking, a terrible idea. For a number of reasons that came quickly and didn’t require any great amount of overthinking on Montgomery’s part this time. If it were only Isabel, there wouldn’t be a question, a promised bottle of Patron that he’d offered to bring to her tonight, a long overdue escape that he thought they both might need. Drinking with Selwyn, however, carried a number of complications, even if it was solely for her status within the Magistrate. A string he’d already pulled on a few times, bullets dodged thanks to sympathies she pretended she didn’t have. Which still didn’t make it wise to let go of his firmly held self control, not in front of a telepath or a friend, when there was an expansive list of secrets he carried, both damning and personal. 

There was one reason stacked against it, a side effect of the forced distance between himself and Emil. One he hadn’t anticipated, because it had never been a problem before, not really. He might have had a strained relationship with sleep, a tendency to overthink that kept him up until strange hours of the morning, but he’d learned to function on the bare minimum. It was time alone that was disappointing, sure, but it wasn’t an overwhelming kind, at least it wouldn’t have been before. 

Before the Institute. Before cuffs around his wrist and white walls around him, memories that crept into his thoughts when he was staring up at the ceiling in an empty bed, finding himself stretching his mind out to move the bed, or a book, or anything so long as he could assure some irrational part of his mind that there wouldn’t be a blue flare across the ceiling the second he did. Memories that found those cracks in his unconscious mind, a few confusing moments when he first awoke that he couldn’t remember where he was. A brief second of panic, of his heart pounding as he tried to blink the grit from his eyes and focus on his bedroom. Bed empty, but his, scars on his wrists, but no cuffs.

It was a reassurance that got him through the day, but hadn’t helped the last three nights, and it left him staring at his phone for a moment before he replied.

[ monty → isa 💕 ] be there in twenty, chérie. 

The game was never have I ever, and after the first three shots Montgomery decided it had been chosen with the specific purpose of fucking with him. Enough sins already shared between the two women sitting around the table with him that he suspected most of what they said was either an inside joke, or in Selwyn’s case, a chance to figure out just how much Monty had changed. Because she’d recognized a shift in him as much as he had in her, pinpointing it the first time he’d seen her at the Pit, just by the way he smiled. Even if she didn’t know why he hadn’t before, even if she didn’t know why it hurt to hear himself called a robot. And maybe it was because she’d paid more attention, because Dom had looked up to him, but not at him, and Dev might’ve forced her hobbies on him, but she’d found him boring.

“Never have I ever been arrested.” Isabel’s offering, accompanied by a muted grin in his direction. His response an easy roll of his eyes before he tossed the shot back, aware that there were three empty glasses hitting the table afterwards.

“Why Dr. Monty, I’m shocked.” Selwyn, putting a hand to her chest and looking at him with mock surprise. “Scandalized even.”

“Are you though?” Brow raised in a challenge before he nodded his head to the dark haired woman on his left. “We have the same friend.” A point proven solely by the ease of his posture, back against the chair and Isabel’s feet crossed and resting in his lap. Palm curved around her shin with easy affection he didn’t give most.

Something just as endearing in the way she cursed him afterwards. “Hijo de puta I did that for you.”

“Oh, I know, that’s why it’s funny.” A grin flashed at her that dissolved into a laugh as she kicked at his knee, and a memory of a holding cell that shouldn’t have left him with so much warm fondness sitting on his chest.

It didn’t surprise him when the game started devolving into questions of love and sex and heartbreak, and he lost track of how many he tossed back alongside them. Ignoring that three months ago he wouldn’t have been able to drink to half of them, heartsick before, but never heartbroken, a list of lovers but never in love. Somewhere along the line it drowned out some of his fear, leaving a secret out on the table among empty shot glasses. One he’d kept so long he thought it had become part of him, but there was something liberating about leaving it on the cutting room floor.

"It makes sense,” said Sel. A response that had Monty lifting a brow, a tone far too innocent as she toyed with a shot glass. “No wonder you were so oblivious to my charms.”

It made him laugh, something too relieved in the sound, head resting against the back of the chair. “Obviously. The only reason.” Because some secrets were easier to let go of than others, and he found this one didn’t hurt as much as he’d feared.

He was still grateful when they broke for food, a chance to let the tequila settle, Isa complaining about the poor quality of her weed before she remembered why, and he blamed both the liquor and the smoke hanging thick in the air instead of her for the bluntness that followed. “Tell your boyfriend to stop avoiding me.” 

“We’re too old to pass notes, chérie.” Said as gently as he could, not wanting to sit in the middle even while feeling as though it was a space he firmly occupied.

“Dile a ese cabrón, stop being a little bitch.” A curse accompanied by a gesture of the lighter, and he knew he was drunk because he found himself biting back a laugh, even while fully aware it wasn’t funny. That his trust wasn’t the only one left shattered, too many messages in her phone that Monty hadn’t written, and if there was the faint prick of guilt that he might’ve helped ruin something between them, he couldn’t remember how to lie to her, or if he even wanted to.

It left him with a quiet longing, missing the man abruptly when he’d managed to keep himself distracted most of the night. Not for any comfort he wanted to steal, but for the absence of him, the certainty that Emil would fit easily into place around the table with them. A familiar fantasy of their lives intertwining, and after a moment he pulled himself to his feet and reached for his phone.

Monty didn’t regret the decision to call Emil, not while he was on the phone with him. It wasn’t until after, sitting there on Isabel’s fire escape with nothing but the quiet sound of voices and laughter behind him and the distant hum of a car in the distance that it finally set in. Trying to replay a conversation where already the details were slipping away, and he was just left with a growing unease and the ache in his chest, a quiet voice swearing that he’d somehow fucked up. Sinking guilt following when he thought it was for the conversation itself, Emil miles away and trying to balance his life and his family. He didn’t need Montgomery falling apart.

He was slow to untangle himself from his place on the metal grate, vertigo hitting him hard and leaving him with a hand pressing against the side of her building to keep himself steady. A brief laugh following, an instinctive reaction that lacked real humor, and then he was trying to navigate his way back through the window.

It went worse this time, one leg getting caught on the edge, body tilting to compensate for it, and ending with Monty on his back staring up at Isabel’s ceiling with one foot still sticking out into the cold air. He heard laughter somewhere behind him but he didn’t look back, a distant awareness of burning in his eyes and the sensation of something stuck in his throat. Making it harder to breathe, to talk, to think, and he couldn’t tell if it was regret or despair.

Only that it hit in waves, his own voice in his head, am I different?

Do you want to be the same?

The answers slipping in easier now, one after another, when he wasn’t trying to hold onto something more fragile through the thin connection of a phone call. I just don’t want to be weaker. I don’t want to be ruined. I don’t want to feel that powerless ever again. I don’t want nightmares and I don’t want fear and I don’t want to wake up and not remember where I am. I don’t want to wonder if everything good about myself already got destroyed years ago and if Hugo just finished the job.

I want to know who I am.

Monty’s palms pressed against his eyes, self restraint doing a poor job of holding himself together when there was so much tequila stripping it away, so he tried to cling to it with the pressure of his hands and desperate, steadying breaths that got cut off again when it just left room for something worse to slip through. Every memory he’d tried to put aside, to strip whatever useful information he could before discarding them, a month of his life that still clung to him like smoke. A logical dissection of events and an illogical shaking of his frame, trying to hold in the wretched sob that wanted to rip from his chest, because what good is that? 

“Monty?” Isabel’s voice breaking through first before he felt fingers in his hair, a soothing comfort that he flinched away from before settling under her touch. “Hey. What happened? What did he say to you?” 

“No, no, he didn’t do anything wrong.” Words that came quickly and thoughtlessly, escaping somewhere between ragged breaths to stall any anger before it came. Even if it felt like a blatant lie after it was past his lips, because Emil had left one of the deepest scars, that feeling of betrayal, of trust shattering, one he hadn’t given blindly, but with too much hope. And the man had burned it all down, maybe destroyed them both, and it left Monty with too much hurt pressing down on his chest, a brutal crushing ache in both heart and his lungs that wasn’t just for himself, his prison stark and white, Emil’s looking like a rotting mockery of his own bedroom. 

He didn’t know if he could forgive, but he’d wanted to forget, and found it still all too close the second he stopped packing those wounds with something golden and kinder. Reaching out his hand to grasp at her arm, the other dragging across his face again, trying to ignore the warm wetness slipping down his cheeks, a memory of sitting on his couch trying to stem the same flood. “Can you just... hug me?” 

There was no hesitation, just Isabel shifting behind him, pulling his head into her lap and arms curving around his shoulders. A comfort that made the shaking of his frame worse before it got better, fingers tight around her arm and wishing he could explain to either of them why he was crying. But if Emil had told him to talk about it, he couldn’t find the words, just the distant awareness of a wound that hadn’t healed and her voice, telling him “I’m here.” 

His awareness of Selwyn was just as removed, barely aware of her settling down on the carpet next to him. None of the same easy affections given, but after a moment her hand settled on his shoulder, her voice “do you want to see more of memories of you?” and no real chance given to answer before the world faded away.

Isabel’s living room was made black, soft and encompassing, like dreamless sleep, a darkness that Montgomery felt himself sinking into. Warmer for the comforting contrast to stark white, muscles untensing and going liquid as he stretched out onto the carpet. Wondering if he didn’t fall asleep in the brief moment before nothingness and the sudden emergence of memories, cast in bright technicolor even if his own were black and white. An intense projection of thought, of someone else’s life, none of the images belonging to him, and he didn’t know if it was comforting to see it all again, but he thought it was meant to be.

Because there was a version of himself in Selwyn’s memory, the version she saw, of someone calm and composed even as a child. Always the babysitter when he was older than the rest, always the one taping up wounds and skinned knees, and there was a flicker of his own memory in the back of his head, putting them on his own scrapes and scars too, but alone in the bathroom. A version of himself he’d thought was so dissonant from who he was now, but there was too much familiar, beyond the simple physicality of the boy in her memory. The starkest difference in the eyes, because they looked impossibly vacant, and part of him wondered distantly how she hadn’t seen it, how no one had seen it, why no one could hear him silently screaming when he’d still been young and new. It was a feeling that was all too familiar, like it had echoed through the years until history repeated itself, taking new form; how did no one notice I was gone?

The tug on curled locks distracted him, tipping his head back to see a smile so much brighter on Isabel’s lips as she watched the images around them, invited in by the woman who controlled them. “Look how young you were. Look at your hair,” she said. A different echo this time, like family, like a mother sharing stories about her only son, the warm smell of coffee and old books. And those were present too, an image of a lanky, teenage version of himself, still curled in a chair with a book in his lap before he was interrupted. He closed his eyes briefly to hold onto it, to hold onto Isabel, letting the world shift on its axis beneath his spine, the kind of vertigo that made him wonder if he wasn’t in danger of spilling off the earth altogether. A distant, nostalgic ache that always came with missing a home that he’d never had. 

And he knew when it faded, light pressing against his eyelids before she was prodding him gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, blinking away the darkness and left staring up at the ceiling that was too bright in comparison, but he reached out, floating the bottle of tequila off the table. Thoughtless and casual and his, no flicker of blue, no yawning emptiness greeting him in place of his gift. He wasn’t trapped, not in a cell, not in his own home, not by anything but chains of his own making, and if he’d changed, if he was different, it wasn’t the first time. A painful echo of empty eyes looking back at him, and he finally nodded his head. Tilting it back to look up at her, a grateful squeeze of her arm. 

“No,” he said. “But I feel a little better.” Sitting up slowly, hand reaching out for the bottle as it drifted into his grasp, a swig straight from it before he turned and passed it to Selwyn like quieter gratitude. Letting the taste of something sharp and sweet ease the dull and distant ache in his chest when he couldn’t quite name its form. If it was for what he’d lost or never had, if it was for who he’d never become and who he wished he was, for a moment all he had was another memory, her voice somewhere in the back of his head, and he didn’t know if it held hope or just another hurt. Although, who knew you would change so much, after all these years, making jokes and all. No longer quite the robot.

Despite his assurances, Monty didn’t feel better, not right away. Tequila that was compromising his faculties, but kept him hovering on that line between bleak despair and a reckless, boundless happiness that he’d wanted to hold onto. A quieter thought that he’d wanted to share that with Emil more than anything, a version of himself that didn’t carry cuffs around his wrists or the scars from it, but he’d warned the man about delusion and he should’ve known better. There was more comfort from simply passing the bottle around like he was back in college again, the first time he hadn’t felt like an outsider staring in from behind two way glass. 

“I want ice cream.” Decided abruptly, unsure if it was true until he was saying it.

And that was how Montgomery Lacroix ended up in the Circle K sometime after midnight, a mess of snacks and ice cream scattered across the counter, and Sel plopping down a slushie next to it. “It’s not a Slurpee,” she said. “But it’ll do.” 

This time the nostalgia made him laugh, something easy and simple from his childhood that didn’t demand anything more complex, a joy so small it hadn’t been worth stripping away from him, and he nodded his head at her once it settled into an easy grin. “Get me one too, yeah? The blue flavor.” Turning afterward to the poor kid working behind the counter, a little wide eyed as he stared at the three of them. Finding himself unconcerned for now about whatever rumors spread tomorrow, the kind of thing he’d always avoided and always feared, never letting anyone see a single crack in the man he’d made himself into. 

Ones that might all be on display, but there was something just as liberating in how little he cared, even if it was courage fueled by tequila. “Can I get... stop...” the words broken up by a short laugh and Isabel tucking sunglasses into place over his ears, grinning at her reflection in the red and orange lenses. “A pack of Camels,” he tried gain. “And these too, apparently.” Gesturing vaguely at his face, and if his eyes were hidden he decided it was enough for tonight just to know they were no longer empty and vacant.

[stars-in-my-universe]

Bad Idea: Part 5

Summary: When pop star Trixie can’t get her act together, her team makes a deal with the NHL…one that she can’t turn down. When NHL player Tyler Seguin can’t seem to get himself under control his team decides to thrust a certain Pop star into his life. Can the two play nice?

Warnings: Cussing. Eventually there will be some smutty goodness but for now enjoy the slow burn.

Note: I’m sorry for the lag guys, life’s been busy. But here’s the next part, I promise you asshole Tyler is almost over. Feel free to let me know what you think, send me prompts as well, I love writing for you guys. Lyrics are from the song Flathead by the fratellis

“She's the second best killer that I have ever seen They don't come much more sick than you I could go on if you want me to It's just so wrong, so very nice I told you once, and you killed me twice I saw you one time at the back of the club Chewing on glass and a ticket stub...”

Trixie sat at the conference table unsure of what she was supposed to say; she had her manager and her PR person on both sides not saying much. Trixie’s foot was shaking nervously up and down, unsure as to why considering for once she didn’t do anything wrong. For once she was in the clear but she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling she had in her stomach. 

Jim cleared his throat  looking down at his watch, of course Tyler’s team was also here considering it was his mess that had her sitting here so early in the morning. Looking down at her watch she realized Tyler was now 20 minutes, but it was the slam of the conference room door that made Trixie look up. 

In walked Tyler, and he looked wrecked. He had sunglasses on and grey sweat pants with a shirt, he looked like he had a long night and Trixie knew exactly why. Without saying a word to anyone Tyler sat down and leaned back in his chair crossing his hands over his chest.This was going to be a long meeting. 

Trixie bit her lip already knowing what this was about. She watched as his manager threw magazine cover after magazine onto the table in front of them. Each had some sort of headline about Tyler. There was even some photos of him at the club with his ex. Trixie grabbed one of them and traced the cover of it with her nail. She remembered getting the call about Tyler being out and drunk. 

She had closed her notebook, finally done with a new song, she just had to send it in and see what needed to be adjusted, smiling she put everything away and went to turn the lights off to go to bed until her phone started ringing. It wasn’t too late but it was still late enough so That no one would be calling Her. Picking up her phone she glanced at the screen and sighed when she saw it was Jim Calling her. She remembered being questioned as to Why Tyler was out at the club without her, how He had posted on his Instagram Already and why she wasn’t with him. 

Truth be told she didn’t even know he had went out today, they hadn’t talked Much since the barbecue, small Texts here and there and that was it. Trixie had told them that she didn’t know and that she was at home. Hanging up she went to bed but the anxiety set and she knew there was going to be hell to pay in the morning. Which she wasn’t wrong, the next morning she had six phone calls from management and two From Tyler. She called management back first who had told her that her that they were holding a mandatory meeting the next morning, which is How she found herself in the conference room.

“We are paying trixie to date you, tyler. The biggest pop star right now and you basically Spit all over her image. The world knows about you two and you decided this was the route to Go?” Monty was pissed and trixie didn’t know what to say. 

“The media never cared before,” Tyler mumbled. Trixie cringed, that wasn’t really what they were looking for. Jim slammed a hand on the table making everyone jump.

“Are you 25 or 12? You’re in the media now because you’re dating her. They keep track of her not you, the only reason why they care about you because they want you to slip up and make Her look like a fool Which you did, when you met up With a random girl and got piss drunk.” Trixie shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. Looking down at the magazine cover again she could feel everyone’s stare on her. 

“It’s not a random, it’s his ex girlfriend.” Trixie looked up and stared straight at Tyler who had a scowl on his face but the sunglasses he was wearing were blocking the glare he was sending Her way. 

“Tyler, you signed a contract you-“ 

“Then breach the contract. This is clearly Not working out. Dating her isn’t working.” Trixie thought he’d stop there. She was wrong, so very wrong. He was now Standing up, kicking away the chair He was sitting in and bracing his hands on the table staring straight At her.

“You guys expected me to date her and expected her to fix me? How did you figure! She’s not my Type at all. Her music isn’t good, I’m technically arm candy to her.” Trixie could feel her blood boil, her breathing increased and with every word Tyler spoke she dug her acrylics into The table a bit More. 

“Tyler-“

“No! I’m tired, breach the contract. I’m tired of Being painted as the bad guy here. I may have went out with my ex but Atleast I don’t open my legs for every guy that gives me attention in the club, or Atleast every hockey player...oh wait was Anderson the exception?”

Trixie snapped, she was beyond mad. Standing Up in anger she was staring right back at the hockey player. She wanted to Tear him apart, she wanted to destroy Him. 

“I told you shit in private. I told You shit so we could get through This, but guess what you fucked up Again. I can guarantee you’re hungover as hell, pissed because Ali is warming some Other guys bed and you’re so Pussy whipped from her you can’t let her go.”

It was word vomit, all of it.

“Trixie-“ she ignored her team, she ignored the plea in their voices that were telling her to Stop. 

“You went home alone again to your big empty House because guess what? Oh surprise someone Else Didn’t want You. Just like Boston, Tyler Ali doesn’t Want you! And honestly if you’re dogs could talk they probably Wouldn’t want to be around you either! Because that’s what you do Tyler, you ruin the good things around you!” She was breathing hard and you could hear a pen drop, it was dead silent. Trixie watched as Tyler’s Face Formed into a smirk. She wasn’t prepared for the next blow he was about To deliver. 

“You know you preach about not being wanted but you must know all about that, considering Anderson left you for a pretty little blonde. Some Of Your biggest hits are about him aren’t they? We’re the exact same trixie, only Difference is you can make a profit off of the broken heart your nursing, it softens the blow.” Trixie had never felt anger like this. Without thinking she leaned across the table and yanked the sunglasses straight off his Face and snapped them in half. Tyler yelled a “fuck” taking a step Back he rubbed his nose a bit but trixie wasn’t done, she went to lunge for Him but she was held back around the waist.

Tyler watched her struggle against her pr’s hold and he immediately Knew he had gotten to her. He felt proud, after all The bullshit she just spewed he wanted to Give her a taste of Her own medicine. But then trixie stopped struggling and Tyler’s face fell. Taking another good look at the popstar he knew he had fucked Up. She had tears streaming down her face, her make up was a mess and her eyes which were usually bright with mischievous were red. She had stopped Struggling and she was staring right back at Him. The room was eerily quiet and all He could hear was Trixies breathing. 

“You know what Tyler, You’re an asshole. You suck at hockey and they made a mistake to Sign you again this year. You don’t Deserve it.” Tyler flinched back At her words. He could tell She meant it, with no smirk on her face, no sarcasm in her voice just plain anger and that’s what hurt more than anything. He watched as she grabbed her Purse and walked out Of the room, Slamming The door. 

Cringing Tyler looked back At his team who looked beyond mad. Monty pointed back to the chair and mumbled out a “sit.” For once Tyler listened.

“This needs to stop Tyler. You’re not a kid anymore, you’re 25. Get it together or I’ll be forced to suspend you.” Tyler felt his blood run cold. 

“You can’t-“

“It’s my team Tyler, you’re game is suffering and it’s not getting better.”

“I’m one of your best players.” 

“So is Jamie, and rads and miro and spezza.” Tyler was starting to get nervous. He watched trixie’s manager stand up and turned toward him.

“I don’t know what you think of her Tyler, but if you give her the chance she’ll Show you why she’s good for You, how she’ll help you and how you can help her. She’s cold as ice sometimes because in this industry you can’t let things get to You. But trixie...she’s a good girl. Fix it, if you fix it and after she still wants to breach the contract then we’ll do it. But all we ask is you fix this.” Tyler sighed, he knew he had messed up badly but he was also super hungover and didn’t know how to go about fixing it. 

“This is her home address, give her today to cool off and then try again. Don’t make me regret giving you this Tyler.”

The hockey player watched as the two Teams left without saying another word to Him. Sighing he sat back in his chair and watched his phone lit up. Ali’s name Popping up on the screen making him Groan. His game Was suffering. He was hurting people he didn’t want to hurt. He was on the verge of getting suspended. He knew it was time for a change, trixie Would be his fist thing off of his list, that is if she would even give him the time of Day. Glancing at his phone again He pressed the red button on the screen sending ali to voicemail. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

[raineynight713]

Merry and Bright

Summary: Bellamy convinces Clarke to be his fake date for a Christmas party because his ex will be bringing her new boyfriend. Things don't go to plan, for a number of reasons, but it turns out to be for the best anyway.

Pairing: Bellarke

Words: 2042

This is my gift for @kombellarke for the Bellarke Secret Santa 2019 for their request of modern au fake dating. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 here

“So remind me again why I agreed to this ridiculousness?”

Bellamy looked down at her with a smirk and looped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. “Because O said Echo is bringing her new boyfriend to the party and I don’t want her to think I’m not over her. Because I am.”

Clarke made sure he saw her rolling her eyes as she huddled into him, stealing his body heat for herself. “Right, of course. And in your infinite wisdom, you decided that the best course of action was to pretend we’re dating. And somehow you convinced me to go along with it, which I’m still lost on. I think I blacked out when I agreed to this.”

“Nah, you couldn’t say no to months of massages from my magic fingers,” he told her with an eyebrow wiggle. She tried to glare up at him, but was betrayed by her mouth fighting to break into a grin.

“Could you have made it sound any dirtier? Don’t answer that,” she ordered when he opened his mouth with a mischievous look on his face. “Also, you could have easily prevented this if you had just told your sister, you know, the one hosting the Christmas party?, if you’d just told her not to invite your ex-girlfriend. But noooo, that would be too logical for Bellamy Blake, melodramatic grump extraordinaire.”

“She’s Lincoln’s cousin and the rest of their family lives hundreds of miles away. If I asked O to not invite Echo, she’d be convinced I was trying to ‘ruin Christmas’ for her boyfriend or something, and it’d turn into some huge debacle that actually would ruin Christmas.”

“And here I thought I was missing out all these years, stuck in my mom’s house not celebrating much of anything. Turns out I was just being spared the drama of friends and family during the holidays. Who knew!”

“Yeah, yeah, Princess, laugh it up, just remember to go along with it at the party.”

Clarke squeezed his fingers that were wrapped around her shoulder, feeling an inexplicable surge of fondness for the silly man. “You know I will.” 

What Bellamy didn’t know was that she wasn’t doing this for massages, or to tease him (well, a little to tease him). She was helping him because she loved him, and she would always do anything she could to help him with anything he wanted. If she got to cuddle up to him for a night, she sure wasn’t going to complain. Abby wasn’t the best mom, but she didn’t raise a fool.

He squeezed her fingers back, and they continued the walk to Octavia and Lincoln’s apartment in silence, trying to keep warm as snow softly drifted down from the sky.

When they arrived, the atmosphere was warm and cheery. The heater was on full blast, which Clarke’s frozen nose particularly appreciated. O had done a great job decorating the apartment festively. There were arrangements of pine, holly berries, and poinsettias tied with red ribbon. Garland with red and gold ornaments of various sizes hung over all the doorways and along the mantle, which also had stockings lined up along it. There were several small trees dotted around that were decked out in red and gold, and one huge tree in the main room that was dripping in ornaments and had presents piled under it. The air was filled with Christmas songs playing softly, and the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies. 

O had gone all out this year, and it was easy to see how she’d made a career of decorating parties and other events.

“Bell! Clarke! You guys are finally here!” The hostess herself appeared as though summoned, and launched herself at Bellamy like she was still six years old and knew her big brother could do anything.

He caught her, of course, and pulled her into a bear hug like he hadn’t seen her in years rather than two days. Clarke smiled at the scene as she unwound her scarf and took off her coat, hanging them on the coat rack by the door.

After a moment, Octavia turned to her with a beaming grin and pulled her into a crushing hug of her own. Clarke laughed and returned the embrace.

“It’s so good to see you guys! You’re the last ones to arrive, I’m sure that’s Bell’s fault,” she exclaimed all in one breath, ignoring her brother’s scoff in the background.

“It’s good to see you too, O, even though I just saw you last night you know,” Clarke teased her friend. 

Octavia was unrepentant. “Yeah, but it’s Christmas Eve! It’s the time for family to all gather together and enjoy spending time with each other.”

“Yeah, squirt, it is,” Bellamy agreed with a fond expression, reaching over to try and ruffle her hair.

Octavia leapt back with a shriek, going from grinning to glaring in a second. “Don’t you dare, Bellamy Blake.”

“Octavia?” Lincoln’s voice could be heard calling from somewhere in the apartment. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with the pie, but I don’t think it should be green?” 

“Green? It’s a pecan pie, why would it-” Octavia gasped, eyes widening before narrowing in fury. 

“If Jasper and Monty screwed with my pie, they’ll learn hell hath no fury like a Blake scorned.” With that she took off for the kitchen, hollering something back to Lincoln as she went.

“Well, that was exciting, huh?” Bellamy asked her with a grin, wrapping his arm around her waist as they made their way into the main room. Clarke wound her arm around him and returned his grin, feeling warm and happy, never having felt so content as she felt now in Bellamy’s arms.

She was about to answer when there was a soft throat clearing. They both looked up and saw Echo standing in front of them with a muscle-bound mountain of a man beside her.

“Hello Bellamy, Clarke. It’s good to see you again,” the woman said, clearly feeling awkward but determined to push through it. Clarke, despite not knowing Echo very well, could respect that.

“Hey, Echo. I’m glad you could make it tonight, it looks like O really outdid herself this year,” Clarke said with what she hoped was a friendly smile. She’d been accused in the past of having a resting bitch face, and didn’t want to make Echo feel unwelcome, despite the awkwardness of her being Bellamy’s ex.

Echo gave her a small but genuine smile, and gestured to the man beside her. “Thank you, and you’re right, Octavia did an amazing job decorating the party. I’d like to introduce you both to my half-brother, Roan. He recently moved here from Alaska and I wanted him to meet my friends so he’ll know more people in the area.”

At the words ‘half-brother’, Clarke could almost feel the question marks popping up over her head, like in the Saturday morning cartoons she still watched when she had the time. Brother? Not boyfriend? But Bellamy said…

Trying desperately to keep the confusion off her face, Clarke greeted the large man politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Roan. Welcome to town. And whatever he said when you met him, I promise Murphy’s like that with everyone.” She had no idea what Murphy had said or done when introduced, but she knew Murphy, and she knew it was probably anywhere from brash to mildly traumatizing.

The large man flashed her a smile, but was distracted by a high-pitched shriek from the kitchen. “Octavia, no please, we’re sorry, really, we’re so sorry, nooo, not the face!” Jasper and Monty had messed with the pie, then. And now were being made to regret it.

Clarke laughed and rolled her eyes at her ridiculous friends, most of whom were heading for the kitchen to watch and laugh at whatever horrors O was inflicting on the unfortunate pie-tamperers. Raven was cackling and brandishing her phone, which was no doubt recording everything, as she led the charge. Murphy followed quickly after, also with his phone out, and soon the sound of snapping photos could be heard.

It was sure to be hilarious, whatever was going on in there, but Clarke turned to Bellamy with a raised eyebrow. “Her half-brother?”

Bellamy scrubbed his hand over his face, but couldn’t stop her from seeing the blush creeping up his cheeks and ears.

“Would you believe me if I said it was an honest mistake?” he asked hopefully. She raised her other brow in answer and his shoulders slumped dramatically. It took a force of will to not smile at him, but that would ruin her interrogation.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, I’m really, really sorry. I don’t even know what I was thinking, I just- I just didn’t want to ruin anything, but I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He said all in a rush, pulling her tighter to him as though he was afraid she would try to get away. It seemed to have escaped his notice that she was still happily ensconced in his arms and would have to be pried away with a crowbar at this point.

So many emotions were running through her that Clarke couldn’t name exactly what she felt. She’d say she felt sick, but in a good way, like after you get off a roller coaster and your adrenaline is up and your heart is going a million miles an hour. Elation, joy, disbelief, excitement, determination. Love.

Despite this, Clarke didn’t say anything. She’d known Bellamy for years, and she knew by now that arguing and shouting just made him clam up even more, but silent expectation and patience could pull answers out of him like nothing else.

He buried his face on the top of her head, probably trying to hide the bright red blush he was no doubt sporting. “I couldn’t stand being so close to you but still being so far away. I wanted to ask if you would come to the party with me as a date, but I chickened out at the last second like a fucking loser,” he whispered, his hand spasming around her waist. “Only I could manage to fuck up asking someone out so badly.”

Clarke wrapped her other arm around him in a hug and leaned her head on his chest. Her voice was hushed as she spoke, and she couldn’t keep the tremble out of it. Even now that he’d practically confessed to having feelings for her, she was terrified. 

“In the spirit of confessing things we’ve hidden from each other for way too long because we’re both dumbasses, I… love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time. Since before you met Echo even, since you showed me how to shoot a paintball gun and then we won when we took Murphy out together, but I was always too chicken to say anything. I was afraid of ruining things between us, and I would rather have you as a best friend than nothing at all.”

A hand gently nudged her under the chin, and she looked up at him slowly. She’d never seen a look on his face like that before, but she liked it, a lot. Warm and fond and tender and slightly amused.

“You’re right, we’re both spectacular dumbasses. But I can’t think of a better Christmas present than this,” he said, tightening his arms around her and gazing into her eyes.

Reaching up, she slowly wound her arms around his neck and lifted her head, moving closer to his face. He stood, frozen in expectation, and she stopped a centimeter from his mouth. “Neither can I,” she whispered, before closing the distance to his lips. She’d never spoken a truer statement in her life.

Time lost all meaning for the two of them as they stood entwined in each other’s embrace, their surroundings faded, sound disappeared, and they were quite happily aware only of one another.

They didn’t even register the sound of a shutter snapping, and so missed the shark-like grin on Murphy’s face as he glanced at his phone in satisfaction before hurrying back to the kitchen. “Hey guys, have I got a Christmas miracle for you…”

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 27: Thoughts on The 100 2x09, Remember Me

...For some reason I was really angry at the beginning of this? Also there’s a lot of Lxa bashing. Sorry. And some Clarke criticism but in the latter case, I mean it well.

Also this is really long whoops.

*

So...I miss when killing off main characters was a big deal and people actually reacted to it.

I truly cannot take Lxa seriously I’m sorry. I don’t find her... intimidating at all.

I’ve already complained repeatedly about her complete bad faith deal making at every turn so I won’t go into it again but nevertheless, here she is, again, moving the goal posts of the negotiation. ‘I’ll withdraw my army if you cure the Reapers. No, if you give up your friend. No, if you give me his body.’ Clarke should have double crossed her immediately.

Also I know that I ultimately did think it was reasonable for Finn to face Grounder justice (except insofar as that justice was itself morally untenable--that is, the Torture Porn) but now that he’s dead, I think there’s no real moral argument to be made that the Grounders deserve his body. I understand their traditions, which in fact I found quite moving when I first watched this ep, but surely his people have, or could make up, some traditions for his burial also. He is still their friend. This seems like little more than an excuse to be cruel. And Clarke’s so fucking broken she just goes with it. It’s truly awful. I mean she’s doing the only thing she can do I guess but it’s laughable that she sounds as if she has any sort of upper hand, you’re getting played bitch.

(Yeah I know, Lxa is being ‘groundbreaking’ and ‘revolutionary’ by even semi-accepting capital punishment without torture and taking his body is a way of appeasing her harder line advisers but like cry me a river--she’s either the all powerful commander or she’s fucking not.)

“We want the same things.” Lol if you wanted the same things you would have stuck to the original deal. No I’m not over this at all I guess.

I also still can’t get over how Clarke has literally never earned true leadership in the eyes of her own people and yet she continues to be randomly viewed as a leader by the Grounders and thus retains pretty much full de facto control over her own people’s power structure.

Also Kane shut the fuck up. I completely forgot about this but they really did put him through an off-screen 180 where all of a sudden Lxa is a God to him and can literally do nothing wrong and to this day we have never been given an explanation how that came to be. Guess it’s easier to tell not show huh?!?

ALSO I get we’re suppose to see a sort of racism-corollary to lines like “I don’t think they know what peace is” like obviously this rubs one the wrong way automatically. But Abby’s not really wrong. And despite what Kane thinks, Lxa has given, again, NO indication at all that she is interested in peace. She has given a lot of indications that she wants to do whatever she can to wring as much from the Sky People as she can without giving anything in return and hey we’re only halfway through the season and she’s already psychologically broken Clarke (also the only person she acknowledges as the leader even though she is not, cannot emphasize this enough, the leader of anything... and thus the only person L really has to break) and sunk-cost-fallacy-ed her into submission. Now that Finn is dead Clarke would cut off her own tit to make Lxa happy because anything else is “letting him die in vain.”

...Why am I so angry lol?

I understand the positions of both Clarke and Raven in this scene, which is fucking brutal, but I sympathize more with Raven. Clarke’s basically just a messenger, but what the Grounders are demanding is (I know I already said it) cruel, and cruel to Raven above all. And Clarke is almost all business. I think that’s what she needs to be for herself but it’s not helpful to the situation.

Anyway here are my faves in Mount Weather. It’s almost hard to watch these scenes because I want to, like, memorize them. Partially for the C/M story and partially just because. Today’s adventure is getting to a radio to send a message to the Ark-wide channel, which is a term for a thing that exists. Also I forgot how snarky everyone / Miller was to Maya. Which, I get. But--are they not thinking about how her own people have experimented on her? Like she is expendable to them, this is just a known fact at this time. So yes, there is a real risk to her, Nathan.

“Oh, is that all?” / “No--there’s more.” Monty’s so one-track he didn’t even hear the sarcasm. I love him.

“Their army has been getting their ass kicked by Mount Weather forever.” Bellamy speaking the truth. Do they need the alliance, or do they just need the Grounders to back the fuck off from attacking them? (Spoiler: they do not need the alliance.)

Ah Bellarke, always quick to reassure each other. Blindly, even.

“Since I don’t take orders from you, I’m going to need a better reason” is one of my favorite lines, and underrated. Finally someone reminding Clarke she’s not actually in charge of everyone and everything all the time. (I realize this sounds like I dislike Clarke. I don’t. I just find certain traits of hers frustrating. But this just makes her a good character.) Also you can see that, rather like her moment with Raven, she falls back on being business like and direct and issuing orders to avoid talking about feelings or breaking apart.

The United States War Room survives the apocalypse.

I’m sorry but it’s ridiculous to think that Lxa invented the concept of an alliance lol.

I guess Clarke needs to go all in on the alliance because of Finn, but... I also think this is part of who she is. Her sense of practicality outweighs any human desire to hold a grudge, and I think she assumes a level of practicality in others too, automatically, such that she underestimates wariness in others. Like Bellamy and Gustus and everyone is right to be uncertain about this literally hours-old alliance--not even an official alliance, since L’s latest demand hasn’t technically been met!--and Clarke’s like ‘yeah I’ll sleep next to people who would have killed me six hours ago np!’ because now that she’s in, she’s in. She’s neither angry nor afraid.

Linctavia like “Google Earth, always taking pictures.”

Is Lincoln wearing Ark clothes?

I know Raven is made to look kind of wan and sunken and sad but yet this scene where she’s being disarmed is honestly like peak hotness for me and I don’t know why. I like my women sullen and covered in knives?

Interesting how allegedly only the warriors knew English and yet Lxa’s big announcement re: get in line with me or die is made in English. Just going to point out yet again what a big mistake that throwaway S1 line is.

What a sad life to lead, where random declarations followed by “or death” have to form the entirety of your belief system “Don’t be upset that your wife and child are dead...or I’ll beat you to a pulp.” I truly don’t understand how we were ever supposed to get in line with this society as sympathetic or interesting. So much so that they get a whole prequel I guess???

I’d rather have a Mount Weather prequel except not really, don’t ruin it for me.

I love Miller’s canonical insane superhuman strength. This is a trait often overlooked in fics.

The usual comment on Mount Weather scenes: I love all of it.

The thing is that if everyone were on board with the funeral ceremony, it is touching. Murderer and murdered together, and the people who’ve been hurt, on both sides, saying goodbye as a group. It’s just that Clarke’s people were coerced into this--they weren’t convinced it would be a fitting ceremony, just told ‘well this is how it is and if you don’t like it, we could perhaps... KILL YOU?”

Is this a new revelation that Mount Weather crashed the Exodus ship (still a really satisfying belated explanation imo)? Or did we know that because, unlike Monty et al, we knew about the jamming signals already? Can’t remember.

You can see how L came to believe what she believes but nevertheless this is bad advice lol. “Don’t care about other people.” Okay, I’ll just stop doing that then.

Mmmm, a feast in a subway station. Delicious. Fucking full pig head as the centerpiece. Very DC.

Kane (handing over pure space moonshine probably): Just don’t drink too much of it. Clarke (five minutes later): Guzzles whole bottle at once. #partygriff is officially canon.

Waiting until tomorrow to start the war? Procrastinators. Clarke didn’t kill Finn for this.

I love Certified Dramatic Ho Bellamy knocking the cup out of Clarke’s hand even though she had made no move whatsoever to drink it.

“When you plunged your knife into the heart of the boy you loved, did you not wish that it was mine.” Lxa, also a certified Dramatic Ho.

Clarke kinda deserved to be punched in the face given that it wouldn’t actually make sense for Raven to try to poison Lxa--and make Finn’s death mean nothing? And put them all in danger in enemy territory? Nonsense. Nevertheless it’s hard not to feel bad for her when she follows this accusation up with a psychotic break.

Hmmm, do I think Abby turning in Jake was the same as Clarke killing Finn? Not really. She didn’t directly kill Jake, that was Jaha, and Jaha is who Clarke should really be mad at. That said, I don’t think she was really saving anyone in the direct way Clarke was. So, apples and oranges. Crazy awkward moment to bring it up, though lol. “Oh Clarke, you’ll feel better eventually--remember that time I killed your Dad? I got over that! Wait--does talking about your dead father upset you? That’s a surprise!” Nevertheless I appreciate major actions having consequences as that’s a semi-rarity on this show.

Monty Green: hero.

“Lxa needs this alliance as much as we do.” - True, if she intends to get her people out of MW. “She’s shown herself to be flexible.” - Not true. She’s given the bare minimum of concessions. Kane, please crawl back out of her colon for like 5 seconds, get some air.

Interesting that Raven and Bellamy are chilling near each other. I wonder what they were discussing. Tbh Bellamy’s feelings on everything in this episode are rather opaque. Other than understanding why Clarke mercy-killed Finn and being skeptical of the alliance.

“Kill one person and destroy the alliance” is literally only merciful because the default in this society is “kill everyone all the time for any reason.” Like, I guess??? That’s mercy by comparison?? But forgive me if I am not moved to admiration.

“This time justice will be done” says the woman who used the barest sliver of evidence to decide that a random person was guilty so she could have a public execution. A public execution to replace the other public execution, in fact, not to avenge a death because Gustus isn’t dead. (Yet.)

Kane’s really okay with letting Raven be tortured to death, huh? Gah he’s fucking annoying.

Bellarke: Crime Solving Duo. That’s some satisfying teamwork. Clarke figures out how the scheme worked. Bellamy figures out who’s behind the scheme. With all the evidence put together, the motive becomes clear. (Honesty, they should have been suspicious that the poison not only didn’t kill Gustus, it barely harmed him lol.)

Check out all the Department of Homeland Security stuff on Monty’s computer. This is perhaps Dante’s log in? There’s a set of “personal” files too. And a set of President’s Office files, which one would assume not everyone would have.

Anyway, I have a Thing for tense sequences of hackers...hacking.

When I first watched this season I was often so tense my whole body hurt and it’s mostly because of MW scenes like this one where Monty is caught. Like aaaaah it still gets me. He almost makes it... and then almost makes it again, with his silly little salute... (Never forget that he is A Dork.)

On the one hand, Raven being tortured and then seeing Gustus tortured to death allows her to see why Clarke killing Finn was an act of mercy, to forgive her, and to move on, so the narrative can continue with them as allies and nominal friends. And it works, basically. But I also think there’s something to the theory that they were never the same, that the wound never really healed.

I’m sorry but Octavia’s face when Clarke’s like “Yeah B, you’re expendable, go get yourself killed, have a map!!” is hilarious. Like, he’s just said that Gustus doing anything for Lxa made sense, and Octavia responded with “Look at the thanks he got” which seems to me like She Knows and then 5 seconds later Bellamy is basically thrown away by the person we all know he’d do anything for... I mean the face is fair. Also this is Bellamy’s idea and it’s a good idea and so he was right before and Clarke is also right now, but it’s still so... annoying.... like “okay, I’m done caring about you lol bye.”

And Raven’s just totally confused. It’s been a damn long day I guess.

Why are they all such fucking hotties? It’s hard to pay attention to “the plot.”

So the ashes Abby tries to give to Clarke are the same ashes, perhaps, that Jasper scatters in S3? This vial looks smaller. Why did she not immediately give them to Raven? That would seem to be the obvious thing to do.

And here we see Clarke, under L’s direct influence, becoming Increasingly Insufferable. I love her but this is obviously supposed to be her descent into the abyss: she treats her friends like little expendable minions, she turns her back on Finn’s memory, and then she ends the episode by dramatically walking into a dark room in slow motion to creepy chamber music. I mean this is the hero’s fall guys!! That’s what it always was!!!

If only they’d handled Bellamy’s hero’s fall in 3A, and Clarke’s rise again in 3B, as well.

That ending is a straight up horror movie thanks that’s why this is my favorite season.