#marrow thank you for being easy to draw

[seasicksilver]

bring back this duo RWBY and my life is yours!!!!!!

[loony-lupus]

@dearest-and-nearest thanks, boo. I spended 3 hours ot this. Btw where is Lyv - SICARIUS ?? It's so good!

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following...

Event that defines your character's past: Brolly - Hello Hell

Goodbye halo, hello hell I know you all too well So long sunlight, welcome night You break my legs if I try to run and fly Hell, hello hell Hell, hello hell Goodbye rainbow in my head I know the words you said You'd never flood this earth again But my world is sinking

Her formation was a process of disappointments and the influence of Jean Van Burren, but his rejection of her (quite justified, by the way) after her act of "protection" solidified everything. She was adopted and returned back to the orphanage multiple times and sank deeper into detachment and somberness each time. I kind of wanna draw this. Orphanage wasn't the great place either.

How your character sees themselves: Nicole Dollanganger - Beautiful and Bad

Cause beauty don't mean shit to me Only when it's a weapon and deadly Think you're big and bad but you Got nothing on me And the next time you hit, I hit back Do you hear me, motherfucker? Can you dig that?

Appearance is a sore subject for Amber. And although she is painfully takes care of it, she does not like doing it. Just as she does not like compliments only about her appearance from people she barely knows. In addition, she considers herself truly evil and she has diligently rid herself of empathy and other "weaknesses" over the years, adopting cynicism and machiavellianism. She was generous giver in her early youth and attracted selfish takers with her softness and unability to say "no." Aside from heavy things that happened to her, long story short she convinced that being selfish and harmful is the only way to thrive alone in life. She is straightforward as she doesn't like to dance around the subject, cold, and at times aggressive (especially towards men because she is a misandrist). She pretty self-aware about all of that all, her personality is a choice mostly. Sometimes she reverts back to softness, but quickly relapses into cynicism.

How others view them:

Victims: Set It Off, Ft. William Beckett-The Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

So tell me how you're sleeping easy How you're only thinking of yourself Show me how you justify Telling all your lies like second nature Listen, mark my words, one day (one day) You will pay, you will pay Karma's gonna come collect your debt

Yeah she is pretty naughty

2. Her "Obsessions" - Flower Face - Spiracle (more like from her to them, I can't find reverse song)

I want the parts of you you only show To the corner of your bathroom mirror I want the parts of your hand-grenade heart That beat slowly with anger and fear I want the parts of you you only show To the birds outside your bedroom window I want the teeth that you lost as a child That you hide in a box under your pillow I want your quiet, your screaming and thrashing The salt on your lips and the hands that God gave you And I want your violence, your silent sedation Your moon eyes, your telescope, morbid fixation And I want your pyro, your born-again virgin Your hands on my insides, your fingertips crawling And I want your Jesus, your suicide mission Your lips on the microphone, soft disposition And I want your parties, the shark in your water The scrapes on your knees and the blood that spills over And I want your zeroes, your polluted marrow The sweat on your palms and your surveillance shadow I want your secrets, your clementine fields The ropes that you climb up, the parts that won't heal I want your safe word, your passive resistance The sickness you foster, your favorite addictions And I want your nightmares, the ghost in your doorway Your paralyzed sleep and your- I want you, butterfly, I want you, sailor I am your lover and I am your jailor

I was inspired by the image of a "fan" when I created her. And fans often fall in love with their idols and want to know everything about them (so many magazines with interviews about the personal lives of media personalities/characters and all sorts of little things!) From Amber's side, it looks creepy. In her free time from working in the police and collecting information, she often crushes on various interesting personalities and stalks them. Since her "crushes" are often involved in lawlessness (she has a type it seems), she comes to them and offers them help with information for free, in exchange for personal stories, answers to her questions about them and just spending time with them. She does not cross the line (no sex and she gave up kissing long ago because they always ruined her fantasies with their insincerity). When they bore her, she ghosts them and moves on, like some of us ti the next "fandom" or f/o. She always keeps them on hand's lenght, because overall it's her way to compensate for the lack of any meaningful relationships that she somewhat humanly craves.

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic):

Platonic: Hidden Citizens - Don't Speak

You and me We used to be together Everyday together always I really feel I'm losing my best friend I can't believe This could be the end Looks as though you're letting go And if it's real Well I don't want to know

Jean Van Burren, the only true friend she had growing up, had a profound effect on her like no other. A victim of sexual abuse, Jean had great social problems. When he met Amber, an orphan from an orphanage, he may have seen a kindred spirit. They were outcasts, but they got along well. Because of the horrible atmosphere at home, Jean developed a cruel streak and a dark outlook on the world, inspiring Amber to see the world the same way. Bullies often got to them. They beat Jean up and take away Amber's money (Jean stole coconut candies for her so she could eat. Not much, but still). Jean stood up for Amber, despite the bullies' obvious overpower. To put it simply, Amber lured the main bully into her clutches of child molester. Being a victim of such people, Jean cut all ties with her. Jean's sincerity, care and selflessness towards her, made her develop high standards in friendship and love (but overall she growed up being very attractive with unberable personality as an opposite to her beauty, haha).

2. Romantic: Katy Perry (Cover by Megan Davies) - Dark Horse

I knew you were You were gonna come to me And here you are But you better choose carefully Cause I-I-I I'm capable of anything Of anything And everything Make me your Aphrodite Make me your one and only But don't make me your enemy Your enemy Your enemy

Did I mention she's a yandere? Anyway, the most neutral song about her romantic love, haha. The downside is that her character is unbearable - constant paranoia makes her look for flaws in people, machiavellianism reminds her that true love is almost impossible, and cynicism tells her that love passes and turns into routine and painful days of tolerating each other. Plus, misandry towards men feeds all of the above. So getting to her heart is an annoying journey. I ship her mostly with Edward Nashton/Nygma aka the Riddler (this lover of difficult puzzles is the only one who has managed to tolerate her and not give up). But when it comes to Arkhamverse Riddler it's a bit more complicated, so more songs for them, but I'm too lazy to include them all. xD

A major fight scene: Sting - What Could Have Been

I am the monster you created You ripped out all my parts And worst of all, for me to live I gotta kill the part of me that saw That I needed you more I hope you know we had everything And you broke me and left these pieces I want you to hurt like you hurt me today, and I want you to lose like I lose when I play What could have been Oh, what could have been Why don't you love who I am What we could have been?

I feel like all of her "big fights" have been verbal (except for one dark-and-gritty AU where Amber actually the one who kills the Father). So this song fits her feelings for Jean perfectly. Why do I always choose this song for my OCs? Because it's awesome.

End credits song: Blonde Redhead - Elephant Woman

I can see myself in your eyes Angel, won't you feel for me from your heart Do return my heart to me No, don't insist, I'm already hurt --- You never return it Well I wouldn't miss it I shed no tears for broken me You never know it my peace of mind Now inside and outside are matching

Okay, this was hard. Depending on the verse, she has different fates. In the dark version where she kills the Father, she dies herself. There are also happy endings with the Riddler (and there are many, because I love them). So I chose a song that describes the end of her childhood and the beginning of her journey as the most sought-after informant known as "Stalker." I wanted to choose less edgy song, but I don't have any T_T

@wandamayday @lilwngz @stargazingdustbunny @ everyone who wants to have fun with this! xD

[robo-milky]

“Hey, Carrots!

No need to look so offended, I’m not here to cause any trouble, you know~. No favors to ask of either. It’s your special day, isn’t it? It is! So I came by to give you a present.

…Yeah, okay, it’s not really much, but it’s a gift nonetheless. Coupon for a special pop for the birthday girl~. You have a favorite flavor or something? I’ll try making it into a pop for you. A dozen for free! I’m real kind, I know.

Oh, and before I forgot. You know Ashi, don’t you? Poor girl couldn’t make it today, so she asked me to hand you a gift bag in her stead. Proves my trustworthiness, doesn’t it? Heh.

No need to worry, I didn’t peek at it… Hold some higher standards for me, would you?”

Niko hands over the bag. It’s a cute, pink, petite bag with cat decorations on it. It holds some resemblance to the feline holding it herself.

Grabbing what’s inside, there’s a little drawing with a note attached. It’s written with words and symbols that seem impossible to verbalize, but somehow it’s easy to imagine a certain brunette bringing life to them…

Clochey! HBD fam!~ Super bummed I couldn’t make it, but I hope this prezzie has enough of my energy baked into it that it feels like I’m there! LMK ASAP ☆

I wanted to send you a cute lil’ message ‘cuz I’m real thankful for us being friends, YK? Even tho we aren’t super buddy buddy, I still totally enjoy your company. Eppy tells me enough about you that it basically feels like I’m hanging with you myself!

Anyway~ I wanted to gift smth more personalized for you, so I drew up a little drawing! It’s kinda like a postcard, but I tried putting one of your fave things on it ♡ I hope you enjoy!~

We should SO get talkin’ again soonsies! Wishin you a happy birthday and many more with a certain huntsman <3

Sincerely, Ashi ♪

Cloche hears a chuckle after she’s done reading the note.

“Wow, Carrots, your face is a little red… Wonder what Ashi stirred up for you to get you, the cold clawed kitty to get lookin’ like that. Well, privacy is privacy. Guess that’s my cue to leave.

Here’s hoping you catch a break from all the trouble around campus, hm? Enjoy your day~.”

HAPPY BDAY CHRIS!!!!!!! I HOPE YOUR DAY AND WEEK AND TBH MONTH IS SO BANGER. ITS SO DESERVED!!!!!!! 🫶 it’s been SO nice being your moot for like?? WHAT??? TWO YEARS OR SMTH??? TIME IS SO CRAZY. it’s been such a treat being able to interact n talk w you since the beginning!!! I GET SUPER HAPPY WHENEVER I SEE YOU IN MY NOTIFS <333 HBD again and I hope life treats you well!!!!! 🙏 blessing your pulls and turning them into pomepulls……….. tehepero

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash] *them referring to our dear freshmen

Okay first of all… ASHIIIIIII YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME I SWEAR !!! THE FACT THAT YOU SENT THIS SO EARLY??!?! THE INTERACTION IS EVERYTHING! I JUST LOVE HOW THIS PLAYS OUT SO NATURALLY- Fr, Niko just waltzing into Ramshackle then dipping- aND THE GORGEOUS GORGEOUS ROOKLOCHE ART- LITERALLY SCREAMING OVER THE POSE AND DETAILS- YOU SERIOUSLY OUT DID YOURSELF FOR THIS ONE! Rook carrying her and Cloche grabbing on to him to get closer- SAVANACLAW ROOK MY BELOVED- Muscle man frrrr- Ashi really caught on to the cat maid’s staring during Chapter 7 huh. AND THE DOODLES ON RHE SIDES ARE TOO CUTE- 😩

Epel yapping on about Cloche and totally not suspiciously asking Ashi about her roommate- Ashi internally sweating bullets when Epel doesn’t realize that everything he describes is the cat maid making up excuses to avoid him-

Also take this… Cloche walking up to Niko days later and asking for a bone marrow pop, and it takes Niko a few seconds to realize it was a joke 😭😭 Slow burn friendship trust-

Really, it’s so wild that it’s been 2 years- So glad to have you here and to celebrate with you again !! I think you really blessed my pome pulls with this one- seriously- man came on the 30th pull twice- Ilyyyyy If makes me super happy to see you in my notifs as well and may we continue to interact in the future!

[roadkill-frankenstein]

hi im pastelspooks' mutual please tell me everything about Teeth i love his design /np /gen

Hi hi!! I would be honored to Teeth is everything I want to be!!

So Teeth is a being of indeterminate origin. The form you see - aka the vaguely humanoid forms, with varying degrees of monster - is what I've coined his "calcified" form. His true form, his "marrow" form, looks something like this.

Not so convenient for interacting with people. Teeth is an amorphous blob of what can be best described as long-legged insects that were dropped in a blender and have returned for revenge. He takes his various calcified forms to interact with others, and can take any form he so wishes - though the forms that come most naturally to him are the ones I draw the most. Teeth can look like just about anyone he wants to, and the only real difference will be his eyes!

Teeth lives in a tree in the centre of a dark forest, where he hoards cool things he finds. These things can range from the bones of animals that he's found and scavenged, cool rocks he picked up, or trinkets he stole from humans. Since he isn't a human himself, he knows very little about them or how they work - he does have a strong desire to BECOME a human though. It's why he's so fiercely protective of any human who's nice to him! He can learn from them!

Some folks have compared Teeth to a demon, but I prefer to call him a cryptid in all honesty. He's the kind of thing you see out in your late night walk that appears out of the corner of your eye, steals your wallet only to take the shiny coins out, then disappears into the woods.

Even in his calcified form, Teeth is still an amorphous blob underneath the solid outer form - it's visible in his ref without clothes, with the dark splotchy patches being parts he simply chose not to turn to flesh. This means he's largely impervious to any forms of damage, because he has no blood, bone, or organs - if you were to unzip him like a plastic bag, you'd see he's just a dark, writhing mass underneath his artificial skin. Every part of him is very much alive and feels pain, and can turn back to the blob at any time - he uses this as a quick defense mechanism, because that means he can turn injured parts of his body into gigantic clusters of spikes.

Overall, he's a very chaotic good guy. He means well, really, he's just a bit oblivious to how humans do things. He's very easy to make friends with, and he protects people he considers his friends with everything he has.

Thanks for showing interest in my OCs and my work!! I appreciate you! Teeth is very special to me as my persona, and a lot of his little quirks are inspired by my own quirks. It makes me happy to know people like him!!

[timeguardians]

Admiration floods Dawes's eyes as they return to him. "Don't you ever take a day off?" She goads softly. Of course, she knows it is a question he could just as easily ask of her. The weight of his burden is easy to empathize with, for she too carried Gotham upon her shoulders. Where his more notable battles for Gotham were more private (unbeknownst to her), her battles were laid bare, in an open courtroom. Being an Assistant District Attorney gave her very little in the way of free time.

"I've missed you." There is no way to bleed the yearning from her tone. Perhaps, such a confession is uncalled for. Yet, it seemed wrong not to say it now, when she is apt to have his ear. "I kept meaning to visit, just - never found the time." Somehow for the abundance she is gifted every day, Rachel always felt like she was coming up short.

Wayne is far too aware of the kinds of elements that exist in the underbelly of Gotham. She is blessed that he would not surrender nor willfully subject her to it as well. "Thank you, Bruce. I mean it." The gratitude for his help is felt in the marrow of her bones.

Her eyes widen considerably. Special to him? Dare she hope that it meant everything she wished it did? Did Bruce know she felt the same about him? That his influence upon her life had been immeasurable? Her heart thrums with nervous energy, one she can not easily swallow down.

Wayne's smile, though tinged with softness, draws another one upon her own lips. "They're some of my most cherished too." She utters. "Even the time we broke down, after midnight, in the worst of Gotham's allies, and had to call for Alfred? I swear, he encouraged a love of lexicon that night." She admits. "Remember how I did my very darndest to plead our causes. We still ended up having a chores list about three miles long." A titter of laugher escapes her. She had long outgrown the days of sillier debates. Yet, there is a warmth that comes from recollecting them. Lord, just being here with him, it made her feel like she was at HOME again. A place that felt cozy and safe. His presence always had made her feel secure.

The people who roamed her inner-circles these days oft demanded a deliberate level of elegance and decorum. "I do occasionally see the papers," she utters. Of course, their easily digestible trash is hardly to be believed. She is glad he is not nearly as fussy as his lavished lifestyle would indicate. "Well, then, we'll have a wonderfully informal dinner like old times." She murmurs. The thought alone THRILLS her!!! Rachel can not remember a time when she could shed the pretense of a higher life with anyone, especially over food.

Her head of ebony-hair ducks bashfully at Bruce's inquiry. "No. Unfortunately, I haven't had anyone special enough to share it with." She confides with a subtle shrug. Her dating life had been quite stale for years. Not everyone was keen to have a lawyer present at dinner. "Tonight, however, might be the perfect occasion to crack it open." Rachel offers with a note of promise to her voice. Dawes was certainly offering him; Offering him a refuge from publicity, from the headlines (she hoped).

"I would." She murmurs sweetly. "You're a mystery, Bruce, and mysteries are usually worth all the hype they're given," she adds energetically. "Besides, I know you. I don't think you'd be super happy living a boring life." It was just an impression she had gotten when they were younger. Of course, she could be wrong now. "At the very least, you must regale me with your business ventures." Dawes sets her imploring eyes upon him. "And if it's not that interesting, just tell me what you think the papers would say." She laughingly adds.

"Here." Her trembling hands extend to him her briefcases. The manner in which it is extended, offers to allow her to brush her fingertips along his, should he reach for it. "My apartment hasn't changed much in years. Still has a nice view of the city." It boasted a pleasant view of Wayne Tower from her kitchen. It's small. Pleasant, but cramped. She's working on saving enough to get better accommodations. She mused over when the last time he visited. "It was likely when I first moved in," she regrettably considers. "God, Bruce, has it truly been that long?" She pauses. "When was the last time I got in your car?"

"It's usually business when I'm gone." Bruce said. Though Alfred was always saying he should take a vacation, but there wasn't often time for him. "Helping Gotham certainly keeps me busy which would explain why we haven't run into each other." Bruce said.

A nod from him. "Of course I would." He said. A shake of his head. "I don't want your money Rachel. I would do it just because you're special to me." Bruce said. A soft smile from him as he nodded. "I remember. They are some of my best memories." He said. Hands slipped into his pockets. It had been such a long time since he actually thought about it, but he had especially when it was going to be a long night.

"You're welcome." Bruce said. He was usually doing his best to be busy. After everything that had happened in Gotham he was doing his best to help. To do better after not catching the bigger problem.

"What makes you think that I need anything fancy?" He asked. "No occasion to drink it yet?" He asked. "Take out would be fine." He said. "If you're offering I won't say no." He knew that some of the press were starting to pick up on his few dates. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with that aspect.

"I don't know if I would call myself exciting." He said. He was doing a bit more to be out, but that didn't mean he couldn't tell her some stories. He could come up with something she hasn't heard.

"You're welcome. That's fine." Bruce said. "Do you need me to help you move anything into the car?" He asked. He leaned into his car a little. "It's been a while since I've been in your place. I don't know if I remember the last time I was there."

[iliveiloveiwrite]

baby, baby, sweet baby // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Heyyyy! May I request an Anthony Bridgerton imagine where Anthony is a new dad and it’s really fluffy. I love husband Anthony as well as dad Anthony! - @elennox03 

a/n: Thank you for such a sweet request! This isn't overly long; a snapshot into Anthony’s life as a father. The lullaby I mention is Brahm’s Lullaby - something that Anthony wouldn't have heard but I couldn't not use it. Title: Aretha Franklin - Sweet Baby (inspired by a scene from New Amsterdam)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, marriage and children, female centric labels - mother, wife.

Word count: 1.2k

“He’s so small,” Anthony murmurs quietly, marvelling at the sight of his son in his arms. A small, pudgy arm swings out of the blankets; a tiny hand reaches for one of Anthony’s fingers, the fist wrapping around the digit, holding it ever so tightly.

You smile from your place by the bath, indulging in the sight of your husband already so devoted to his heir. “Your mother and I were certain he would be bigger with the way I was carrying. He’s still perfect regardless.”

“Just like his mother,” Anthony compliments, lifting his eyes from his son to meet yours.

“You’re a flatterer, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Only for you, Lady Bridgerton.”

You tut, rolling your eyes playfully at your husband. Anthony turns his attention back to the bundle of blankets in his arms. The pregnancy had come as a surprise, no real decision to have children had been made, but ten months into the marriage, you announced you were expecting. Anthony never expected his life to change so drastically within a year, but twice now had it happened.

Anthony freezes momentarily as his son fidgets in his arms. His heir stretches his arms, his lips puckering as he tries to decide whether sleep or consciousness would be better. To Anthony, it seems the former wins as his son falls asleep, slow, relaxed breaths leaving him.

“It’s time for his bath,” You murmur, pulling your hand from the bath, satisfied that the water was the perfect temperature for your child.

Still so young, bath times had quickly become your favourite time of the day. After his birth, Violet and your mother had stayed for the first month, helping you both fall into a routine with your son. They had been there for his first baths; showing you the best way to support his head as you cleaned him. After their departure, the staff had asked whether you would like help, but you had declined, wanting to keep the moment for both Anthony and you.

The staff didn’t need to know that Anthony still worried.

“Are you sure he’s going to be okay?” Anthony asks; his tone giving away the worry currently knotting in his gut.

“Would it help if you got in the bath with him?”

“What?”

“Get in the bath, Anthony. Hold your son so I can wash him.”

Anthony doesn’t waste another moment; handing you your child before pulling off his shirt, stepping half-dressed into the tin tub. The water splashes over the edge of the bath as Anthony gets settled; frowning at the feel of his breeches sticking to his skin, but he would do this for his son. He holds out his arms, waiting for you to place his heir into his hold. His son coos as you adjust him in your arms; the soft blanket being pulled away, leaving him vulnerable to the cold of the room.

His son is solid in Anthony’s arms; reminding him of the fact that he is indeed a father – he has an heir, he has solidified the Bridgerton line for the future to come.

The water soon grows cold. His son is clean, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, cooing softly at his mother. Anthony’s heart squeezes tightly in his chest as he watches you duck your head, rubbing your nose softly against your son’s nose.

Anthony reaches for his child; feeling more himself when he holds him than he does when his son is held by another. He hadn’t expected this strong paternal instinct; of course, he was protective over his siblings – particularly the youngers one, they hardly remembered their father and when Anthony prematurely inherited the peerage, he had no choice to step up as their adoptive father. However, the urge to protect and love his son rivals what he feels for his siblings. He didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as he loves you, but the moment he felt his son kick against your stomach, his heart had stretched – making room for the overwhelming adoration for his son.

He cuddles his son close, ignoring the cold now seeping into his bones from his wet trousers. Silently, Anthony rocks from side to side, watching you amble about the room, gathering your son’s nightclothes.

“That wasn’t so scary, was it?” You tease, an amused smile on your lips as you take your son from Anthony, letting him change into dry clothes.

“I’m your husband, you’re supposed to bolster me. Not make fun of me,” Anthony sniffs, crossing his arms.

“But you make it so easy, my love,” You laugh quietly, taking care not to disturb your sleeping son.

Anthony brightens at the use of the term of endearment. He would always be your love; you would always be his darling. He finds dry clothing in a nearby drawer, dressing himself robotically as he watches you bounce your son in your arms. Anthony’s eyes follow you as you wander the room, humming a lullaby, your voice gentle enough to soothe even the angriest of men to sleep.

“Let me take him,” Anthony whispers, doing his best not to disturb the sleeping infant in your arms.

Standing on your tiptoes, you reach up, placing a soft kiss onto Anthony’s cheek, jawline. “Fatherhood suits you,” You compliment, drawing away from the love of your life to change into your own nightclothes, ready for the day to be over.

“Motherhood suits you, darling,” Anthony returns, beginning to walk around the shared bedroom. Anthony smiles to himself when he catches sight of the faint flush to your skin; his words having settled within the marrow of your bones.

The room falls into comfortable silence as Anthony continues to walk around the room with his son in his arms. He hears the rustle of bed covers, your contended sigh as you slip underneath.

“Does he have to sleep in his own cot?” Anthony asks, breaking the silence as he glances between the lonely cot and the inviting bed.

“Both our mothers said it would best,” You murmur, following Anthony’s gaze to the off-white cot. Plush toys fill the corners, and a comfortable mattress covers the slats of wood holding the cot up. Yet, it looks so lonely and to leave your son there for the night… it makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“When have we ever listened to our mothers?” Anthony states with a quiet chuckle.

At his words, a large smile breaks across your face. You pat the empty side of your bed invitingly. “You’ve got me there,” You laugh, “He can sleep with us tonight.”

Anthony smiles as if he’s won the greatest prize on earth; it sets your heart pounding in your chest and briefly you wonder whether life would always be like this – your small family and the love so clearly obvious shining from your every pore.

The covers are pulled away; Anthony slipping under the covers, taking care not to wake the sleeping babe in his arms. His son is settled on the pillows between you; the both of you turning to face the infant, drawn to him. You place a single hand on the infant’s stomach, feeling the soft material of his nightdress.

It’s as if Anthony cannot help himself; he runs a finger from his son’s forehead to the tip of his nose, whispering, “Baby, baby, sweet baby.”

The baby stirs for only a moment before slipping back into his slumber filled with nothing but sweet dreams and happiness. Anthony meets your gaze over the slumbering body of your child; a smile break across his face, so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle from the force of it. Pure happiness displayed on his face as Anthony’s hand covers yours; pure happiness, pure love.

******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ @iammirrorball​ 

taglists are open, drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

[enderparty101]

”FINAL SONG OF THE NIGHT! GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!”

(This was started in a Tethertale server stream, but I finished it offscreen due to anxiety XD)

Y’know.. what to say in a livestream, being too personally quiet unless there’s other talkative people in the voice chat, taking too long in the drawing process, and being easily overwhelmed in general. I wish HARD that this entire thinking process didn’t blast my mind every time I start a freaking livestream, but here we are. Unless it’s purely doodles, I might not streams these kinds of things anymore. Of course, this is the present me saying it. All of this might flip on its head in the future.

And of course, there’s also me wanting to talk about things I’m hyper fixated on and my inspirations behinds these characters, but I know more often than not that many wouldn’t be interested in it. That’s natural. It happens, though that’s never to say it doesn’t effect me..

I guess that’s why I draw the Mettatons so much. It’s easy for me to imagine being like them, not worrying a single minute of what it’d be like without being autistic... Not to mention that I’ve preferred more and more to work on my Tethertale content than the skelebros. Simply put? There’s thousands of things created for Sans and Papyrus, Underverse, AUs, things surrounding them already. I thank those who’ve enjoyed what I’ve contributed in terms of that. Reading the comments and connecting with others through it will never not bring a smile to my face.

But I do wanna do things outside of that. There’s thousands of skillful creators already doing that, and I encourage everyone to explore them all! Personally though? Drawing those comics (even Suho and Wally) have brought tremendous anxiety onto me. I’d constantly think: Am I getting this right? Does this look weird? Am I respecting the original creators behind this character? Is my interpretation too OOC and such? (To answer that, I already know my past Horror Sans interpretation was OOC as HELL. Sorry Sour Apple Studios XD) I’d always think about that when making that content… And then the thing about drawing the skeletons’ noses too big? That’s weighed on me to this day, too. Back then I’d bark my mouth off about it being “jUSt My aRtsYle!”

…it’s a major yikes on my end. And now, y’know, I know better, and I’m still growing past that stingy habit. Eh. ALL of this just built up over time to the point of me not wanting to draw Marrow Manor content anymore. I’m still developing Suho and Wally in the background, but those same questions earlier stated pricked away at me, too..

As well as that? I think I should’ve stated WAY far at the beginning of sharing Tethertale that I want my intended audience for it to be late teens and up. It’s not because of what’s usually seen in NSFW (and to this day I’ll keep that content OUT of my own art oof-). It’s just that whenever I wanna draw scary/gorey stuff and/or darker topics, I feel unable to due to how many younger people see my art. I’d get uncomfortable with that… As for the audience intended? I’ll keep placing content warnings for you guys just in case, of course!

….all this to say to you guys, HELL no I’m not staying away from Candy Chronicles. Yanbunny’s still my son XD. But I’ve needed a break from the AUs outside of Tethertale, if the absence of said AUs on my account lately didn’t convey that. At least with Tethertale characters themselves, I know them inside and out because I created them. If I wanna be cringe with ‘em, there’s WAY less anxiety to do so… Now, uh, how does one end this vent- 😂

✨ANYWAY ENJOY THIS DRAWING✨

[lycorsa]

can I plz get some hcs about widowmaker, mercy and sombra with a fem S/O that has the powers to turn invisible and shift through objects? ( kinda like ghost from the antman movie )

Pairings: Mercy x Reader, Sombra x Reader, Widowmaker x Reader

Was this requested: Yep, thank you for the wonderful request.

Notes: Kinda came out sad on Mercy and Sombra's so a slight warning for mentions of Reader death. But hey, I didn't write them dying so 😶👍 I also have no title for this so fun times

Mercy

-She was most likely standoffish when you first met. Powers like yours can just so easily be used for terrible things. Of course, that doesn't mean she isn't friendly with you, she's only professional. 

-But things don't really stay professional because it's her job to make sure your physical being isn't unstable. Damn you, Jack.

-Long conversations in the medical ward put her fears aside and she feels silly for doubting your good intentions. 

-Doesn't mean she appreciates all the times you enter the infirmary unscheduled. A bullet grazed your side or your ears are still ringing from an explosion too close for comfort. 

-"You're quite literally a ghost, how did you manage this?"

-If your body begins to become unstable, it doesn't take Angela long to find out. Between biweekly tests and visits in between, you can't hide the way your hands flicker under the light in the right conditions. 

-She'll scour nearly all plains of knowledge for a way to cure your condition.

-But your case is a rarity, even Lena's can't compare.

-When her search yields nothing, you're there to comfort her though saying it aloud seems more like you're trying to believe it yourself. 

-Neither of you will give up though. Whether you find a way to stabilize yourself or not, you'll continue your work beside Angela and Overwatch.

Sombra

-Likely had some knowledge of you before your first meeting given her reputation. This means she will never stop asking questions about your abilities and where they came from (whether from birth or an experiment). 

-She needs blackmail on everyone, you included. 

-Does rope you in on playing tricks on her fellow Talon members. 

-There's a rookie who's heard ghost stories about the showers being haunted? Yeah, they're gonna get the fright of their life when you pop your head through the wall and scream before disappearing out into the safety of the hallway. 

-She enjoys having you on her missions. If you happen to raise an alarm, she can easily use her translocator to escape while you simply phase through the walls while invisible. 

-Does like to use your abilities for nobody's gain at times. It's so easy to walk into a store and grab what you need while never being seen.

-If you begin to unstabilize, it takes some time before she sees the signs. By then it's a bit too late for anything normal to be done other than leaving you to Moira for a few weeks for experimentation. 

-The mad scientist draws blood, collects bone marrow samples, and just about anything else that involves being poked and prodded. 

-When that yields no success, she'll try some rather controversial experiments. Controversial experiments that Olivia in no way agrees in. Before Moira can turn you into a walking experiment like Gabriel, Olivia steps in.

-That is that. If a world-renowned scientist is unable to find a way to fix it, you're not sure anything else is possible. Oppositely so, Olivia reaches at every resource she has–every high-ranking person she's got dirty information on and they all come back empty. 

-She's experienced loss but it's hard to see her partner in crime flicker away into nothingness day by day. 

-She'll stick with you through it all. 

Widowmaker

-She appreciates your help on missions. You don't make a fuss or complain about nights spent waiting for the perfect short like Sombra. Nor do you become such an angsty pain in the ass like Gabriel.

-You're there to beat the shit out of people, get information from them, and then disappear. 

-She's there to finish the job from a distance.

-Not much of a conversationalist, she expresses herself with actions more than words. You're no exception. 

-French chocolates only found in the smallest shops can be found in your room every so often. 

-Equally so, you repay her in whatever oddities you surround yourself with. 

–If you enjoy cooking or baking, baked goods will suffice. 

–If you're a collector, she keeps a small drawer full of things that remind her of you (she'd never tell you about it though).

-Late night dinners spent in a private dining hall within Talon headquarters where you do nothing but enjoy the sereneness of the silence. 

-She teaches you ballet and I will not be taking arguments. You perform for each other, sometimes visible, sometimes not but over time, she learns to appreciate the way you misstep and she's forced to catch your invisible form. 

-"Careful, dearest, it would be a shame if I could not catch you."

-Widow gets a no-death ending because why not. 

[talktomeinclexa]

On the Ground All Can Hear You Scream

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Blood and Violence (not in this chapter)

Status: WIP

Summary: Novitiate Lexa is captured by reapers and wakes up locked in a cage, not knowing that the blonde who finds her there will change her destiny. Unless this enemy turns out to be who Fate had in store for her?

***

Chapter 7: Jus Drein, Jus Daun

Tears pooled at the bottom of Jake’s eyes. He should be used to the harsh, unnatural light, having spent his entire life deprived of the sunbeams. But as he stubbornly refused to blink, they dried his corneas, reddening the sapphire orbs his daughter had inherited. What if the worst happened and she missed her last breath? What if, despite Abby’s efforts, Clarke quietly slipped away? It was too soon to know if Lexa’s bone marrow was working, and none of the people in the medical area dared to look away.

The only temporary distraction the man allowed himself was to summon Bellamy in the middle of the afternoon. Something needed to be done to ensure his daughter’s safety.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Despite trying his best to focus on Jake, Bellamy couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over Clarke, concern evident on his face.

It was no secret that the two of them had had an antagonistic relationship for years. Bellamy supported President Wallace and Charles Pike, while Clarke did everything she could to undermine their authority, especially among the teenagers. They had argued more than once over the months leading to the rebellion, and Jake was certain that Bellamy blamed his daughter for turning Octavia — his younger sister — against his leaders. Since then, however, their relationship had improved. Between the time they spent together training with Lincoln and Octavia’s growing friendship with Clarke, they tried to put their differences aside. Until the day they admitted wanting the same thing — to protect those they cared about — and finally stopped being at each other’s throats. The atmosphere at Mount Weather had been far quieter since, and Jake knew that Clarke considered him a friend.

“Yes. I would like you to discreetly investigate who had access to the hazmat suits recently.”

Bellamy’s dark eyes widened in surprise as he caught up with the implications. “You think someone tampered with them?”

“It’s a strong possibility.” Jake took a deep breath, his heartbeat quickening. If he was right, there could be terrible consequences to the peace inside Mount Weather. What if another rebellion loomed on the horizon, this time led by opponents to the accords with Trikru? “The hole was too neat to be an accident, and someone put tape over it to hide it. Clarke always uses the number 4; it would have been easy to try to kill her that way.”

“I will see what I can find.” Bellamy half-turned around before stopping and facing Jake again. “How is she doing? Any improvement?”

“Not yet. But she’s still fighting, so that’s a good sign. Abby gave her blood, and we’re waiting to see if it helps her heal.”

They hadn’t discussed it yet, but Jake had a feeling Lexa wouldn’t want people to hear about her special blood. Based on her companions’ reaction, it was something important to Trikru. Possibly to the other clans as well. Considering Lexa had trusted them enough to not only mention it but let them draw her bone marrow, Jake had no qualms about keeping her secret.

Bellamy pinched his lips and nodded after one last glance at the bed Clarke lay on. “We all hope she gets better soon. O and the others are outside, waiting for news. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate.”

“Thank you, Bellamy. I appreciate it.”

The hours passed so slowly in the pocket of space they were in, time seemed to have stilled. Each breath felt like a small victory, a sign that Clarke wasn’t ready to give up yet. But was she healing, or were they postponing the inevitable and prolonging her pain? Abby constantly checked on her, measuring her heart rate, cleaning her wounds, monitoring her temperature… She paused for a few minutes to lean against Jake’s chest and gather strength before resuming her professional dance, looking for the slightest sign of improvement.

On the other hand, Lexa remained glued to her chair by Clarke’s side, so immobile she could have passed for a statue. She barely said a word, but Jake saw in her tired green eyes the same agony he felt eating at him. The same hope that Abby would achieve the impossible and heal Clarke. The same silent prayer, even though Jake had been a staunch atheist his whole life. Please, don’t make her suffer. I will do anything you ask of me; please give her back to us.

Keep Reading

[creativeashproductions]

Charlie’s New Friend // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Charlie’s fallen for the casting director and Kenny’s right hand for Julie and the Phantoms. After a day doesn’t go the way it should the cast meets a little newcomer changing the dynamics with Charlie.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, single!parent!reader,  pure fluff

Words: 5.3k

A/N: Hi! In this fic there’s a stuffed animal and it’s important to speak about in this note. I found the stuffed animal on a website for Canadian Wildlife Federation that uses the money from each purchase to support the research and programs for species at risk. The Snowy Owl stuffed animal features in this fic has the proceeds go to protect the Canadian Arctic!

Website to the Canadian Wildlife Federation Adopt an Animal

Masterlist

Everyone has bad days when it happens, you often blared ‘Bad Day’ by Daniel Powter, in their lives. No stranger to those days it seemed today was the recent worse one when your coffee machine broke, your tea cabinet was barren, and Faye decided to dirty your shirt. Then the daycare called informing you of necessary renovations to bring it back to Code. That left you to do the one thing you really didn’t want to do.

You had to bring your daughter to work on the set of Julie and the Phantoms as Faye’s father was filming in England. You had no doubts he would have dropped everything to care for her if he was in the same town let alone state. The positive was that Kenny was aware of your situation and had pleaded for Faye to visit set.

“I need to go to the store after work.” You mumbled over the irritating children’s music that Faye adored. That or the flashing lights on the television during the half-hour each night you got supper ready.

Parking in your assigned spot you made quick work of release the baby carrier from the secure bucket. Faye slept through the entire transition to the stroller with the component that locked the car seat on it.

“Let’s rock ‘n roll Tink.” You told the sleeping infant with the baby bag slung over your shoulder and the pretty light purple blanket covering Faye’s tiny body.

Now while Kenny knew about your daughter, the rest of the cast was definitely unaware given you often passed on dinner. The few times you had joined was when Faye’s father was in town to see your shared daughter.

“Who’s this cutie?” Tori asked, stepping in unison with to view the adorable little baby with brunette curls hidden by her little toque.

“This is my daughter Faye.” You whispered as a suckling sound came from Faye’s open mouth as little snores came out, “Daycare is closed for renovations, and I don’t have a backup plan.”

Tori’s eyebrows raised as you dropped a somewhat surprising fact about part of your life you kept quiet. In no way, shape or form did you feel ashamed by Faye’s existence. Faye’s father was hands-on and very supportive, even if Faye had been a surprise.

“I never knew you had a child.” Tori blinked melting as the infant cooed in the stroller hidden from the sun via the visor.

Tori’s scrutiny of the little baby allowed her to catch the similarities such as the nose and mouth, but the rest was the father. There was something in Faye’s features that tickled her mind as if she had seen them before.

“It’s not something I like to flaunt. I prefer keeping my work life separate from my personal life.” You informed the seasoned dancer and choreographer.

A few more words of conversation commenced until Tori was called over to Paul with a clipboard in hand. The incessant feeling of eyes peering at you on the walk to the modest trailer you shared with Tori. It was easier for crew members to share trailers with the little time you typically spent in them.

With practised ease, your hands unstrapped Faye from her stroller into your arms where she cuddled into your neck. For the most part, Faye was an easy-going baby with an affinity for cuddling, but of course, that didn’t make her perfectly well behaved.

“Best be getting over to the office.” You cooed at the suckling sound Faye made with her fist pressed against her open mouth.

Kenny had personally hired you after working on Descendants as a casting director with healthy mutual respect. Often if at the time you were free, you found yourself working with the legendary man. He was lenient with the new addition of Faye as well, going as far as to see he was a great-uncle.

“Would this be Miss Faye?” Kenny asked from his seat at the head of the table with a handful of filled cars.

Jeremy, Owen, Madi, and Savannah sat with the newest script for the next episode leaving you to avoid looking at Charlie. Now it the typical Wattpad storyline you had fallen for the Canadian actor who reciprocated the feelings. A few hangouts and flirting, but he had no clue about the most significant piece of your life.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t have a sitter, and the daycare had unforeseen extensive renovations.” You spoke softly bouncing as Faye’s little body tensed up with a whimper.

“I’ve been begging you to bring her on set. It’s about time.” Kenny retorted walking swiftly to coo over the little girl. His action bringing the cast members closer, Charlie’s solemn stare never leaving as he came closer.

“She’s so cute! How old is she?” Savannah questioned as the brown-eyed little girl blinked at the multiple faces.

“Eight months now. My little surprise.”

“Definitely a surprise for sure,” Charlie mumbled just on the cusp of everyone being able to hear, but Faye had all the attention.

Within seconds Faye had found herself in the arms of Owen with funny faces to get the little baby to laugh. Savannah, with your permission, had started snapping pictures of Faye’s interactions with everyone. Kenny had retreated to his computer while Charlie pulled you just outside the door.

“You have a kid?” Charlie hissed keeping distance between the two of you as the situation settled, “We’ve been on a handful of dates, and you kept your baby a secret?”

Your heart sank, “Do you know the chances of a guy dating someone with a kid? Joshua Jackson’s character in Mighty Ducks talking with his coach? Guys left his mom in the dust when they caught a glance of him.”

“You know me.” Charlie stressed glancing over his shoulder at the distracted group of young adults. Faye’s giggle drawing awes from every single individual in the room, even Charlie’s lips quirked at the sound.

“Charlie, that little girl is my blood. Every single decision I make has her in mind. I wasn’t keeping her from you maliciously.” You informed him trying to meet his gaze, “Her name is Faye Eloise. She adores music and this tiny fox her uncles got her.”

Charlie’s shoulder lowered slightly, “She is pretty cute.”

“Her laugh is my favourite sound in the entire world. She’s a replica of her father more than me.” Your lips lifted gazing over Charlie’s shoulder to Kenny, engaging in a one-sided conversation with Faye.

Charlie’s green gaze examine our expression pinned on the tiny little human you had bonded for months with. The pure adoration coating your features softened the ball of anger in Charlie’s belly, that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. But seeing the fundamental protective instincts you displayed, your body coiled to dash to Faye. Your gaze that periodically ensured Faye was safe.

Charlie saw the maternal love that poured out of you that he often caught in his own mother’s eyes. That very thought led to an in-depth conversation with his mom later when he was in the safety of his bedroom.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jeanette spoke with her phone on speaker. The silence drawing her concern, “Charlie? Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure. That girl I’ve been seeing?”

“Y/N, she’s on the crew with Kenny. She’s all you’ve been talking about lately, and you’ve already told me she may be The One.” The words caused Charlie to involuntarily smile at the call after the second date with you. Charlie didn’t feel half-hearted, he felt with his entire soul.

“I still think she is, but she’s a package deal,” Charlie admitted scrubbing one hand through his hair sending the bandana keeping his hair out his face to his lap.

Jeanette took a moment in cleaning her kitchen to sit at the island to click the phone off the speaker. The phone resting against her ear, she gave her full attention to her youngest son.

“Charles. I don’t want to ask you this, but is she pregnant?” Jeanette questioned, holding her breath in complete anticipation. She’d like a few grandkids but preferably when the time was right for her children.

“No. Mom! I didn’t get her pregnant.” Charlie groaned at the hesitant toe tipping into a conversation he’d rather not relive from his teens, “She has a daughter.”

“And? Is that a deal-breaker for you? You talk like she’s the love of your life Charlie, you’ve never spoken about any of your previous girlfriends like that. You’re not even officially dating her either.” Jeanette replied, watching Meghan settle in for an episode of her current favourite show; the only Gillespie child visiting at the moment, “Are you willing to walk away because she had a child?”

“Faye is absolut-“

“-sounds like you answered the question with the adoration in your voice. You don’t have to run to the nearest chapel to get married. If you love both of them, give it a shot.” Jeanette advised her son smiling when Charlie’s breathing evened out more.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Jeanette knew in her very marrow that in time she would meet little Faye, call it mother’s intuition but she was sure of it.

It was the week of hell with the daycare still shut down, your back up babysitter on vacation and Faye upset. Charlie barely spoke to you as he tried to find his footing in the new dynamic and the space he had rightfully asked for. It was hell seeing him at work and only speaking for work requirements.

“Sh.” You hushed bouncing with Faye curled in your arms as her mouth twisted, “As a casting director and Kenny’s complete faith in me. I made a suggestion to Soyon.”

A line appeared between your eyebrows as Faye’s snuffled against your soft hoodie while trying to focus on the cast. The boys, Madi and Booboo sat in the room for a short meeting during the time the next scene was being set up.

“Kenny and I talked about your personal connection to your characters. There’s the smallest disjoint some of you have. Kenny’s always preached about everyone having a voice and to make suggestions.” You could cry as the ache in your arms increased from holding Faye, she’d cry every time you tried to put her down.

Mom life when you can’t put your baby down to pee alone in peace. Faye getting her shots and recovering from a stomach bug didn’t help.

“Are you okay?” Madi asked, catching the expression that came and went in seconds. The cast watching as you continued to walk around the room with Faye.

“I’ll be fine.” You shrugged the concern off closing your eyes to ground herself once more juggling the concern for Faye with your job, “Soyon and I want you to put a personal detail in your character’s style. If you think of anythi-“

Faye’s sharp cry echoed in the room, “Shh. I’m so sorry guys. I’d put her down, but she won’t settle-“

The cuts ended when Faye was gently tugged from you into a warm chest and soft coos in the little baby’s ears. Your sore arms dropping as Faye’s weight was coaxed into Charlie’s body and your jaw dropped. Charlie’s rhythmic pace and soft coos turning into a lullaby easing the baby.

“Wha-“

“-can’t have the little boss upset.” Charlie shot a coy smile resurrecting the confidence in the relationship. The smile grew when Charlie’s tiny nod at your unspoken question eased you.

“Is there anything you’d like added to your character? Outfit suggestions?” You inquired catching the hesitant gaze of the young actress.

The Puerto Rican teenager had quickly become a game-changer for the production as a first time with such an incredible talent. The second you saw Madi’s audition tape it had sealed the most critical role; Kenny adored the audition tape you had forwarded so fast.

“Could we do something for my mom?” Madi asked, biting her lip as your eyes encouraged her to delve deeper into the request, “My mom is in the army, and I’d like to pay homage to her?”

Your hand landed on her own in a squeeze, “We can absolutely do that. Head over to Soyon when you have a moment. What about you, guys?”

The three boys had gone quiet as Faye settled into a sleep you had been begging for since she missed her morning nap. Charlie had gone from softly singing to humming in the infant’s ear while Jeremy and Owen watched.

“Do you think Luke could carry the Rabbit’s Foot?” Charlie whispered, resting his head against the infant in his arms.

“I’m sure Soyon would have no trouble with that. Jeremy, Owen if you figure something out just let Soyon know. All suggestions are welcomed.” You informed the duo before starting to reach for Faye.

 Charlie stepped back while the 2/3rds of Sunset Curve left with Faye still held securely bouncing a small degree. The scene warmed your heart as Faye slept for the first time in what felt like years.

“I can take her if you want.” You told the actor with arms already reaching out to him but contradicting your expectations he’d back off.

Charlie’s green eyes focused solely on the tiny mouth opened just slightly with the soft breaths wafting from her small frame. At that moment cradling the small life the wall separating him shattered; the love flooded his veins, and he knew. He would fight anyone that hurt the little angel with no consequences in mind.

 “I’d like to hold her longer. I need the practice for when you need a nap.” Charlie replied, shifting his gaze onto your form. Charlie’s heart clenched at the unsure glint in the eye of Faye’s mother.

“Oh.” You simply spoke stepping closer to the man that had easily stolen your heart, holding your entire world in his gentle hands.

“I know it won’t be easy, but I would really like to give us a real chance. No secrets anymore. The minute I saw her, my heart melted, but I got scared, and I’ll always carry that regret in my life. I want to be here for you and for Faye.”

Charlie fell into the father figure as easy as breathing creating a bond that almost made you jealous with the ease. He adored playing music during Faye’s bath time, and in the special bath time with bubbles, he would create a beard; it sent Faye into giggles every time. He absolutely loved when you brought Faye to set.

Leaving Faye in Charlie’s capable hands, you had taken your break from work to freshen up in the washroom. Grabbing a quick bite, you rushed back to Charlie having gone over your time by a complete accident.

“I am so sorry! I got distracted by-“ You were almost surprised the sudden stop in motion would cause a burnout. Working through lines was Jeremy, Owen and Charlie; Charlie new accessory being a baby sling with Faye strapped against his chest.

“Hey, Babe! We have no filming the afternoon of Friday, it’s blocked for Madi. Jer and Carolynn offered to babysit. We could do a date night.” Charlie fully turned to face you lightly bouncing to keep Faye settled.

The sight of Charlie with Faye securely in the baby sling, one that you didn’t own and was the best one on the market, was incredibly sweet. It was at that moment that you just knew that Charlie was The One and you are deeply in love with him.

“They don’t have to. I was planning on telling you tonight that Faye’s father is in town, he has Faye for Friday to Sunday. You informed Charlie as he walked closer to tug you into his embrace with Faye.

Now while you had been dating Charlie for two months at this point, the topic of who Faye’s father hadn’t come up. It was a topic that found its way for discussion, but his name never came up; it didn’t matter.

“Oh. we should give them a moment.” Owen whispered to his fellow actor and friend. With a withering glance, they froze in their places.

“Why? Faye’s father is an amazing guy. He has a specific time for calling Faye, we have a group chat for Faye. We send pictures and updates to him.” Charlie informed them, “There are no hard feelings. We all trust each other even if I’ve never met him.”

When Friday came along, it sent Charlie into a near-constant state of panic with the thought of meeting Faye’s father. He couldn’t sit still, well it’s Charlie he can’t sit still, but this was nervous energy. He’d contribute little to the conversations with eyes periodically checking the time.

Charlie was alone without you or Faye on set, you had let Kenny know the significance of the date. Charlie had left your apartment with a kiss from both you and Faye in order for the apartment to be cleaned up.

“What’s up with him?” Madi inquired as her tray made contact with the table shared by her ghostly trio. Jer sent a look to Owen before answering.

“It’s the weekend that Faye’s father will be in town. Charlie’s freaking out about meeting him.” Jeremy supplied typing a reply to Carolynn from just before lunch.

“Oh, is he worried about Y/N getting back together with him?” Madi asked jabbing the straw into her drink. Her brown gaze watching Charlie’s leg bounce like a jackhammer.

“No. Not about that. His scenes are done so he’s waiting for Y/N to pick him up.” Owen stated, leaning back as the man in question took off running in his street clothes to the parking lot, “Did he leave burn marks with that sprint?”

In the typical routine that never stopped the flutters in his stomach, you leaned over to hum into a kiss. Breaking apart Charlie caressed your finger gently before straightening into the passenger seat. Out of habit, he checks over his shoulder where Faye was strapped in her car seat.

“Oh, one moment,” Charlie exclaimed jumping out of the vehicle to open the back door. He quickly in to kiss Faye on her forehead, “I missed you Bug.”

Faye’s giggled in response as Charlie closed the backdoor to return to the passenger seat with a beaming grin. Charlie loved his girls with all his heart even in the short amount of time he had been in their lives.

“We’re meeting at his place.” You told the Canadian actor focusing on the drive, “He’s been renting a place since Faye was born. It’s easier for everyone to not stay in a hotel or an apartment.”

Charlie hummed in response, watching as you left the general vicinity of the set for one of the gated communities. It wasn’t the incredibly high-end community, but it was on the pricier side, but it was safe. His eyebrows raised at the houses the vehicle passed as he sang for the baby in the back.

“This is where he’s renting?” Charlie scoffed scanning the vast neighbourhood of houses, “Whoa.”

The chuckle fell from your lips as you pulled into the driveway of the address you had received via text messages. You had barely stepped out of the vehicle when Charlie already had Faye’s car seat in his arms. Cradled in the crook of his arm he held out his free hand to intertwine with yours.

“Any advice before we go in there?” Charlie questioned glancing at Faye gurgling with her stuffed Snowy Owl.

So passionate for nature, he had found an organization that sells the stuffed animals of animals in jeopardy. The money from sales of the stuffed animals when to saving the animal bought, so when he got Faye the Snowy Owl, it put money towards saving the animal. Faye adored her stuffed owl just as much as the person that bought it.

“Just be yourself. Tom and you are similar in terms of people down to earth and close with your family.” You informed him of pushing the button for the doorbell while Charlie stared at you.

“His name is Tom?” Charlie asked thinking back to the messages he had added as Faye’s father, he felt stupid he didn’t know the name of the guy who was a big part of your life.

“Did we never introduce you in the group chat?” You questioned as the door opened to the 5’8 brunette and glittering brown eyes.

Charlie’s eyes widened at the first physical appearance of your ex and Faye’s father standing in front of him. Tom was the same height as Charlie with brown eyes and a pale complexion but a childlike aura. Tom’s eyes met Charlie’s before they beamed down to the happy baby.

“’ello. Come on in.” Tom ushered you and Charlie into the home straight to the living room, “I’m Tom, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Charlie.” The Canadian actor spoke, shaking his hand with an equally welcoming smile as you gently took Faye out of her car seat.

“Hi, little Holly.” Tom cooed as his now eleventh-month-old child lunged into his arms with loud giggles, “That’s a cute owl you have there.”

“Y/N!” The overjoyed announcement came from Tom’s young brother Harry holding the camera that you’d never seen more than a few metres from him.

Faye’s uncle quickly squeezed you in a tight hug before pulling away to scan your form as if something drastic had changed. Charlie awkwardly watched as he settled into a little family, he wasn’t familiar with.

“Charlie, this is Tom’s younger brother Harry. Harry this is my boyfriend Charlie who I met on the set of his show.” You gestured for Charlie to come closer and just like that the three guys acted like they’d been friends for years.

You and Charlie didn’t linger at Tom’s house more than an hour to give Tom’s the entire weekend with his daughter. Of course, you would worry about her the whole time, but you also knew Tom didn’t need any help. You completely trusted him, but you can’t help it when the child is yours.

“Where’d you get Faye the owl?” Tom asked, leading Charlie to beam in excitement.

“Oh! Well, I use my platform to bring awareness and support to the environment internationally. The Canadian Wildlife Federation has a website that sells adoption kits for animals. Every purchase of the animal in their Adopt-an-Animal program funds the research and critical conservation programs for at-risk species.” Charlie used his hands as he rambled on, “By adopting this stuffed Snowy Owl it further funding for conservation efforts to protect Canada’s Arctic environments.”

Tom’s lips pulled into a grin, “My brothers and I have a charity we use to host events to raise money for the smaller charities. Maybe in the future, we sit down for a deeper conversation? You can send me a few links that I can share as well.”

“We have dinner plans. Keep me posted?” You interrupted, leaning into Charlie’s warm side with a kind smile to Tom.

Goodbyes shared you left the house with Charlie to the vehicle he adamantly asked to drive with that charming smile. The radio on low you watched the scenery go by.

“Tom’s an amazing guy. Family-oriented, kind, supportive, charitable and a really nice guy. Why did you guys break up?” Charlie asked, glancing at you from the corner of his green eyes. Your eyes, however, kept focused on the blurry landscape.

It wasn’t a way to avoid the question, “We became acquainted on Instagram back before he landed the role of Spider-Man. Over time it developed into a relationship that wasn’t serious or long term. We actually broke up a week after we conceived Faye.”

The two individuals stared stock still at the screen of black, white and shades of grey on the monitor. The tiny little bean moving around with the consistent thudding in the background. Your lips parted as the doctor’s words of a positive pregnancy, repeating like a broken record. Tom’s handheld tight as he digested the news.

His ex-girlfriend of three months, you to be precise, had been the safe place for a fetus to grow. Estimated gestation of eleven weeks it felt the two young adults spiralling with the large what-ifs making their presence known.

“Pregnant. That’s a baby.” The words came out shaky on the British man’s lips, “I put that baby in you. You are carrying my child, but it’s your choice if you want to keep the baby. It’s your body going through the changes.”

“I’d like to keep baby H.” You softly responded, sharing a smile of disbelief as it settled that a life-changing event would come to fruition in six months.

“We tried to make it work, but it became obvious that the spark had been gone for too long. I’ll always care for him and love him, but I’m not in love with him.” You told Charlie as he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant chosen for the date.

“He’s a really good guy.”

“He’s an amazing father. I lucked out in the romance department, to be honest even if it didn’t work out with Tom.”

The topic was shelved for lighter conversation based on the things you missed on set today. Owen almost broke his nose in some stupid stunt that Charlie was involved in while you recounted the new music Faye had taken to.

Julie and the Phantoms renewed for a second season with a few new characters being introduced such as paramedic Lucy. Lucy would be a recurring character on the show with a connection to the boys. Julie would detest the woman that she believed was trying to replace her mother, and that would cause tension with her father. It would bring in a storyline for Ray manoeuvring his way through the guilt of finding someone attractive other than his wife. Beyond Ray, the boys would know Lucy as she was a rookie paramedic called to their accident site in the ‘90s.

With the new character and some more recurring ones, Kenny had wholly placed his trust in your again. Working from home due to the pandemic you compiled an extensive list of potential actors.

“Supper is ready.” Charlie breathed leaning down to kiss your cheek in the home office you shared together.

In his arms was Faye who had recently turned two years old with bouncy brown volumized curls with your eye colour. Faye loved being outside in the backyard or short hikes with Charlie vigilantly keeping an eye on her walking. Often you let the hiking be their thing together while you had the alone time or worked.

“Smells good.” You breathed kissing over to kiss the little girl, “Hello Tink. Are you excited to see Nana and Papa?”

“Mhm!” Faye spoke with her eyes twinkling at seeing her English grandparents with their silly accents. With her grandparents came their rambunctious uncles Harry, Sam and Paddy and her favourite family member Tessa.

“Daddy can’t wait to bring you to where he grew up.” Your fingers gently pushed the rebellious curl off her pudgy cheek.

“Then Dad and Mom can go on their honeymoon.” Charlie joked with a peck on the cheek of his little girl.

The glint of the ring on Charlie’s finger screamed at you with the recent memory of the intimate wedding. It had taken place a few months ago with your family and friends in attendance with Tom as well. He had even stood up with Charlie and even had a charming speech.

Gillespie Wedding

The Brit shuffled on the stage just before the guests all wearing masks and spaced following guidelines for the pandemic. His own black mask hung off one ear as he stepped up to the microphone.

“Hello, my name is Tom.” He introduced himself setting his eyes on the wedding party table with a grin, “Some may find it off for an ex-partner to be a guest at the wedding let alone being a part of the wedding party. Some of you know that I share an absolutely gorgeous and rambunctious little toddler with the bride.”

Faye waved enthusiastically from her seat beside her mother earning a chuckle from the attendants.

“I was blessed with meeting Y/N and having a daughter with her. We’re not like a lot of ex-couples because we remained close friends. She was open from the moment she knew there was something with a certain Canadian actor. The three of us created a group chat to share updates for Faye like when she popped her first molar tooth. The was a period I never want to relive” Tom laughed shaking his head with his deep brown eyes scanning the crowd, “Charlie had no clue that I was Faye’s father and his expression was priceless.”

“I never mentioned his name to Charlie! I never even realized until we dropped Faye off. Charlie knew Tom is an actor but not one of the Tom’s in Marvel.” You shouted over the laughter from the guests.

“We bonded, and we’ve never had any issues with our places in the lives of these darling young women. Faye has a loving mother and two fathers that will help her navigate life and protect her. I want to tell Charlie this: when Faye graduates from high school and maybe university if she decides to continue formal education and her wedding. You’ll be walking her down the aisle with me. I consider you one of my best friends, and there is no one else in this world I would trust with my little girl. I wish the bride and groom lifelong happiness in the new chapter. To Charlie and Y/N Gillespie!”

Now months later you had moved into a four-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles with Charlie and Faye. For the time being the third bedroom was rented out to Owen when he was in town to lower your rental fees and give him a stable residence. For a four-bedroom apartment, it was on the smaller size, but it was close to areas for Charlie to hike.

“How are you feeling?” Charlie murmured helping you off the couch revealing the bump you had been sporting for a while.

Baby Gillespie was healthy and robust and very much a surprise to the young couple. Charlie was sure the baby would be a boy while you full-heartedly believed Faye would have a little sister.

“Can’t wait for this little bun to be in our arms.” One hand coming to rest on top of his hand over the warm crewneck sweater.

The sweater came from a package of gifts Madison’s family had sent to celebrate the news of the baby on the way. The sweater was a light grey colour with the outline of phantom blobs with their guitars. The only addition was a baby phantom blob with over-ear headphones with a pacifier in the mouth. Absolutely adorable and a gift to be cherished.

“I still think if baby G is a girl, we name her Lucy.” Charlie teased leaning forward with the belly, keeping him at a distance.

“We are-“ The words unheard as Faye made her appearance known on the baby monitor keeping an eye on the toddler. Charlie was turning the corner from the living room to grab the little girl.

“Hey, sweet Angel.” Charlie’s soft words came through the speaker with the same care he’d shown her the entirety he’d known her.

You really did luck out with a beautiful daughter adored by both her fathers she had wrapped around her pinky. The paternity of Faye didn’t matter to Tom or Charlie, both mutually respecting each other with no ill will. The two male actors had grown a lovely friendship on mutual interests and passion for the environment and charity.

The fond smile grew as your eyes found the picture from Faye’s first birthday; her hands high in the ear coated in the smashed cake. Pudgy cheeks a rosy pink with Charlie and Tom on each side kissing her cheeks. Tom’s brother Harry had caught the candid picture with Faye’s infectious smile and surrounded by the love of her family.

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[dragynkeep]

I just realized that Weiss never apologized to Sun for being racist back in volume 1. When she wasn’t being racist toward Faunus in general, her racism was aimed directly at Sun, even going so far as to make an offensive drawing of him. While it’s great she apologized to Blake for not being a good teammate, that was only good thing about it. It didn’t feel all that genuine, partly because her development was completely offscreen. Same thing is Atlas. In stead of apologizing to any Atlas Faunus (like Marrow), she apologize to Blake. I would’ve like to see Weiss actually talk to the Faunus actually affected by the SDC’s racism. Maybe ask them how to make working conditions safer and such. Make an effort! It’s easy to apologize to someone who was not directly (or at all) affected by your (generally speaking) abuse. In my opinion, that is cowardly.

I found a YouTube video that attempts to portray a conversation between Weiss and Blake about the incident with the racist drunk man. It is far better than anything we got in the show. I would like to know what you guys think! (If the link somehow doesn’t work, it’s called Weiss and Blake dialogue- Racism and retaliation.) :D

https://youtu.be/6AF8brmVmWM

Weiss didn't even apologise to Blake at all and it's so wild. The best she did at the end of V1 was literally tell Blake she thought about it and that she doesn't care that Blake is with the White Fang, making it seem that Blake was in the wrong for being in the organisation when the original cause of the conflict was Weiss being fucking racist.

She even nearly calls Sun something derogatory again when she asks that Blake comes to them for her issues, and not "some- someone else", and this is meant to be her big moment for overcoming her racism?

It blows ass. Weiss literally compared Sun to garbage, called him filthy, assumed he was a criminal and belonged to the White Fang, and never apologised to him. Because Sun wasn't even there to say anything for himself, he was already gone, and the next time they meet, Weiss is acting as if her shitty behaviour wasn't the reason Blake ran out on them.

And that's it. Weiss never has to put any effort into changing her mentality towards the Faunus and the White Fang, she was a racist, Blake had to apologise to her because her childhood was shitty, and then Weiss starts acting as a literal White Knight for her poor oppressed friend.

Nevermind she never actually does anything to help the Faunus. If it's against anyone besides Blake, Weiss couldn't give two shits about it.

The video actually does a good job at portraying the issue without being too heavy handed. Weiss saw herself in the racist drunk and acted, thinking that throwing him in the trash was the right thing to do and Blake would appreciate it, but Blake didn't because it didn't solve anything. Weiss' racism was brought up, they acknowledge that people can change because Weiss did, and Blake still thanks Weiss for helping her either way, even if it wasn't something she approved of.

That's the nuance you need when writing heavy topics like racism. There isn't just one way to solve it, different people have different methods, and just because someone slighted you doesn't mean you can go to the extreme and throw them in the trash, especially when it's not you who's being wronged.

[ochabestgirl]

I have so many good ideas and prompts for fanfiction, and I HAVE tried my had at writing, but it never turns out how I’m wanting it to. I would love for an experienced fanfic writer who loves kachako, to maybe feel inspired to write a specific prompt that has been in my head for years.

So the story starts out with an established Katsuki and Ochako relationship.

Ochako hasn’t been feeling her best, with fatigue and weakness, wt loss, easily getting winded which has been putting a dent in her hero training. Ochako has never wanted to be a burden on anyone, so she keeps how she’s been feeling to herself, brushing off any concerns from her friends and teachers, saying she’s just been overworking herself as an excuse.

Things then take a turn for the worst when she passes out after giving blood at the yearly blood drive that pops up at UA every November. Nobody really thinks anything of it, since it is a normal reaction to donating blood. She wakes up in recovery girls office 4 hours later with a passed out Katsuki in the chair next to her bed. He wakes up and is worried but she eases his worries and sends him back to his dorm room after recovery girl comes in to check up on her. Once their alone, she informs her that after running a few tests on some of the blood she had donated, they discovered that her labs showed an increased in the number of leukocytes which point to one think, leukemia.

Recovery girl wants her to run more tests and have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm and come up with a treatment plan but Ochako is in denial. She can’t possibly accept the fact that all her hard work the last two years at UA could all be for nothing, so she goes harder than ever and does her best to hide it from everyone, including Katsuki.

After getting pared up with Kirishema for a class hero project, Ochako starts having worse symptoms, like bleeding gums and nose bleeds. Recovery girl says that this is a sign of worsening leukemia so she gives her an ultimatum, she either go’s to get her biopsy done or she was going to tell Her teachers, HIPAA be damned.

Reluctantly she agrees, but on the days following, Kirishema notices that she’s been slacking and feels frustrated to be the only one doing the work. On the day of her biopsy, she dips out of training early. Kirishema, having had enough, confronts her saying it wasn’t fair to him if she wasn’t going to take their assignment seriously. Ochako ends up having a compleat meltdown saying, “ you wanna know what’s not fair, I have cancer!” Kirishema in shock tries to respond but she cuts him off “ I’m going to my first bone biopsy today, that’s why I had to leave early, I’m going through this alone, but I’m sorry if all of this is an inconvenience to you!” Tears rolling down her face she turns on her heals and walks away, leaving Kirishema standing there speechless.

After a few moment he takes off to recovery girl desperately looking for answers, now extremely worried about his friend. He grills her for answers. Recovery girl, not able to give him much information, tells him what she can. That Ochako isn’t wanting to tell anyone or be compliant, and where her biopsy is taking place.

Ochako is on the table and they are about to start but before they even take out the needle a nurse walks in and whispers something to the dr. He nods his head and the nurse leaves. She doesn’t thank anything about it, until the door opens and Kirishema walks in. She is confused. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone.” He says shrugging his shoulders with a wary look on his face and tears in his eyes.

He sits by her side holding her hand and brushing his fingers through her hair as she gasps and cries in pain. Tears both running down their faces.

* I don’t have much in between this part and the next. Mostly just Katsuki  worrying to death, seeing the bruising on Ochako body and the amount of weight she has lost, not to mention her lethargic behavior, and Kirishema wanting to tell him what’s been going on but not being able to because it wasn’t his place. Ochako swearing him to secrecy, wanting to be the one to tell him but not feeling ready, so she keep putting it off.*

Kirishema has enough when Ochako passes out during breakfast, right in the middle of eating. Katsuki beside himself with anxiety and worry, urging her to take it easy. Ochako looks at Kirishema, noticing the terrified look on his face and excuses herself to go to her dorm room, but not without giving her boyfriend a calming kiss saying she was going to take a nap. Katsuki watch’s her disappear through the elevator doors, with a hopeless look on his face. Kirishema has made up his mind and sneaks off after breakfast to confront Ochako.

They end up getting into an argument and Kirishema says that she has to the end of the week to tell Katsuki or he was going to and storms out of her room, leaving Ochako sitting on her bed staring off into space completely spent with the day already.

Katsuki comes up after cleaning up the dining area to find Ochako passed out rather uncomfortable looking on her bed. He adjusts her to where her head is on her pillow and draws the covers up over her shoulders. She is shivering so he looks for another blanket in her dresser drawers only to find a large plastic bag full of an assortment of colorful pills. (Ochako put them in a plastic bag so she could hide them better.)

Completely shook, thinking that Ochako has a drug problem, he takes the pills and leaves, and in typical Katsuki fashion with no warning or tact, confronts Ochako in the common room after dinner in front of all his classmates. Completely consumed with worry, frustration, anger, concern and sadness, he doesn’t even think that he probably shouldn’t have approached it the way he did, but he was too desperate to care.

He throws the bag of pills out on the coffee table in front of Ochako. “Care to explain why I found a bag of pills in your dresser?” He asks with so much tension he is shaking a little bit. “I should have noticed sooner, it makes so much since now.” He says to no one in particular.

“Katsuki it’s not what you think, let me explain, I….”

“Don’t even fucking lie Ochako, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, I’m sick of it damnit!” He is shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m telling Aizawa, and we’re getting you into the first rehabilitation facility we can find that has an opening!” He’s so unhinged that he doesn’t even notice the stunned looks of concern on his classmates faces.

“Ochako, is it true?” Mina asked with both hands cradled to her chest. “ If it is, we all love you and want to help you.”

At this point Ochako is slumped over with her face in her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She had been sitting between Deku and Iida, who are now rubbing her back with worried looks on their faces. “Ochako we will get you help, everything will be okay.” Deku says with tears in his eyes and voice thick with emotion.

Ochako springs off the couch so fast it startles everyone. She’s pacing around the room, and the color looks to be drained out of her face. She’s breathing heavy with tears in her eyes, borderline panic attack mode. Katsuki’s face softens and he approaches her, arms lifting like he was going to try to calm her down.

Kirishema then decides to speak up “ Chako, I think now is the right time to tell him.”

Katsukis head snaps up and his eye meet the ones of his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about, you knew what was going on this whole fucking time, and kept it from me?!”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything bro.” Kirishema responded with regret.

Small explosions leave katsukis palms as he leaps over the couch grabbing onto Kirishema’s shirt getting a few punches in before Deku and Sero pull them apart. Katsukis is still thrashing trying to get out of Dekus grip.

“I have leukemia!” Ochako screams loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. She then falls to the ground curling into herself sobbing.

Everyone and everything just stops and everyone freezes, Kirishema is laying on the floor rubbing his face while katsukis just stands there, with a blank look on his face directed at Ochako.

“Leuko-what now??” Kaminari asks from his place beside Kirishema.

“But that’s” Deku starts “ That’s cancer right?”

A strangled gasp is heard from Tsyu, who is trying not to cry.

“How can this be? Your so young, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Iida says like he hasn’t processed the information yet.

This comment causes katsuki to spring to life, “ w-why the fuck are you still here then, we need to get you to a hospital! Som-someone go get recovery girl! Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy! She needs to go to a fucking hospital!” He’s not pausing for breath and in a half second, he is crouching down next to Ochako, ready to pick her up and bolt to the closets hospital himself. “ W-whatever, I’m going to get Aizawa myself!”

“You can’t!” Ochako desperately clings to katsukis arm, both trying to ground herself and to stop him from leaving. “You cant tell anyone! N-none of you all can tell anyone.” She looks like a cornered animal.

Katsuki looks at her like she has grown a second head. “what the hell are you talking about?! Do you even get how serious this is?! You could fucking die Ochako!” He’s panicking now “ That is not a risk I am willing to take!”

Anger boiling up inside her she yanks her hands away and stands up, causing katsuki to fall over.

“This isn’t your decision ‘Bakugou!’” She seethes. “I have worked so hard and I have come so far! I can’t give all that up! I won’t!” She is standing so still, fist clenched and shaking slightly.

“Chako, you have to-“ Kirishema is silenced by Ochakos loud “No!”

“I don’t Have to do anything! This is my decision!” Ochako starts backing away, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape. “It’s my decision…” she whispers once more before she bolts to the door leading to the outside, having jumped over the couch in the process. By the time anyone had realized what had happened, she had already disappeared through the doors vanishing into the night.

The class explodes into a frenzy.

“What is going on down here.” Came the calm voice of their teacher from the elevator doors.

“Mr Aizawa…” Kirishema takes it upon himself to explain everything that had happened, all the while katsuki curls more and more into himself. He is still on the floor, head between his legs and hands in his hair.

Deku is close by, trying to talk to him but it is lost on def ears, he can barely make out the panic in his voice.

Trying to get control over his breathing he starts in though is nose and out through his mouth. He is filled with so many emotions he doesn’t know which one to focus on. Angry tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He is aware of Kirishema’s face replacing Deku’s, and the ringing in his ears has stopped enough to hear him say that Aizawa, Mina, and , Tsyu have went after her.

He doesn’t remember when or how he winds up on the couch, and he doesn’t even care. He feels hands push him down so he is laying down with his feet propped up, and a cold washcloth is placed on his head.

By the time he starts to breath normally, he’s not sure how much time has passed. When he opens his eyes, he sees that some people were still lingering. Kirishema was sitting in a chair next to him with his head in his hands. Deku, Iida, and Todoroki were hovering by the door, looking for any sign of their return. Sero and kaminari sat on the love seat across from katsuki with sad, forlorn expressions on their faces.

When he slowly sits up, Kirishema lifts his head. Looking him dead in the eyes, katsuki asked, “Did all of that really happened? Is this really happening?” Katsuki hates how his voice cracks.

“ I’m afraid so.” Kirishema says gaze lowering to the floor. “ listen man, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

“ I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay.” Kirishema looked like he wanted to say something to that but suddenly the door opened.

Katsuki shoots up from his seat on the couch and faces the door.

Tucked underneath Mr. Aizawa’s arm was a rather small looking Ochako. Face puffy from crying, and bags under her eyes from exhaustion, she looked like the walking dead. Beside her with her arm locked with hers was Mina, face also a little read and puffy, Tysu bringing in the rear holding Ochakos shoes, despair written all over her face.

Ochako refused to look at anyone, even the remaining members of the so called “Deku squad.”

Katsuki makes a move to meet them at the door but one look from Mina makes him stop in his tracks. She shakes her head and mouths ‘not now,’ so not knowing what else to do he just stands there and dumbly watches them make their way to the elevator.

Katsuki tries to sleep that night, but can’t, his mind too full with visions of Ochako dying. Giving up he goes to his desk and opens up his laptop. He spends the next 3 hours researching leukemia, the survival rate, symptoms, causes, treatments, reactions to the medication, by the time the third hours came to a close it’s 2 am and katsuki has had enough. Without second guessing himself, he makes his way out the door, down the hall to Ochakos room and knocks.

It takes a few minutes before the door opens revealing a wide awake but an extremely exhausting looking girl he calls his girlfriend.

Her face contorts in pain and her eyes well up with tears when she sees him. “I’m so sorry katsuki” she sobs.

Without saying anything katsuki grabs her face with both of his hands and kisses her with the power of every emotion he had felt and is still feeling. Pushing her back into her room, he kicks the door shut. She’s on him in seconds, tears still leaking from her eyes as he kisses them away.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much cheeks.” It’s comes out as a choked whisper, like a plea for her to live. He’s got a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t need him breaking down too.

Ochako steps back for only a second to remove her shirt, then she leaps and wraps her legs around katsukis waist, opening up a whole other can of worms.

Not having any control at this point, he pushes her against the door, devouring her mouth like it was his only lifeline. “ I love you too! So much, I’m so sorry.” He silences her words with a Searing kiss. He moves them over to the bed and gently places her down. then settles himself on top of her. “Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” He’s so afraid now.

“You could never hurt me.” She says with such certainty.

That night they gave themselves to each other in every way they could think of.

Him needing to feel her, to know that she was still alive and whole in his arms.

Her needing to feel alive and needing reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this, needing to feel close to the one she loves.

*So that is all I have so far. I do have some thoughts about her treatment and how katsuki struggles with watching her suffer. I would like the story to include weather or not Ochako makes it. But I’ll leave that up to whoever wants to take this story on. Also feel free to write smut if you want. I’m just not good at that, so I didn’t include it.

Please let me know what you all think and if you can make this fic come to life.

Disclaimer: Art is not mine! I got it off of google search. All credit goes to the artists.

[razorblade180-heated]

Nice Guys Finish Last

[NSFW]

Weiss stands anxiously outside of Winter’s room, knocking on the door. It’s pretty late at night but she hopes her sister is up. There’s something she needs to get off of her chest. Several minutes pass before Winter opens the door. Her hair is a little messy and her body is covered by a silk robe.

Winter:Weiss? It’s almost midnight.

Weiss:I know, and I’m sorry if you were sleeping but I have a confession. Jaune and I are....sorta together. Sorry I hid that from you.

Winter:What!?

Weiss:Now I know what you’re thinking, but believe me when I say he’s more than he appears to be. Sure he’s a regular person, but what’s wrong with that. Simple isn’t boring. It’s refreshing when everything in my life feels so detached from the norm!

Winter:Weiss-

Weiss:I understand you probably need convincing so do what you must, but it won’t change my mind. I’ll date him even if you disapprove! That being said, please support my decision. I don’t want-

Winter:Weiss!!!

The younger sister jumps from the shout. Winter stares into her eyes with such neutrality that it’s impossible to gauge the situation she’s in. Weiss watches Winter slowly grab the door and open it wider. Weiss assumed it was an invitation in. That was until she saw a shirtless, no pants wearing Marrow a few feet behind Winter. Fortunately he was wearing boxers but that didn’t stop Weiss from turning red. His hair was weighed down from dampness and sweat glistened off his bruised, miltary trained body. Weiss refused to check out his package and slowly turned back to her blushing sister. Now that Weiss was looking closely, Winter had a few bruises too.

Winter:There’s nothing with a nice, normal guy. Congratulation.

Weiss:....

Winter:What?

Weiss:Isn’t this against some kind of code?

Winter:One, he doesn’t report to me. Two, there’s nobody in my room right now, understand? You woke your big sister up from sleeping. Also number three, no one will believe you anyways.

Marrow:I barely believe it.

Weiss:I....wow. No offense but, why him?

Winter:He makes me laugh. I bet you understand that feeling in regards to Jaune, right? *smiles*

Weiss:Yeah, I do. Well I guess I’ll let you get back to....is it racist to doggystyle?

Marrow:In this situation? No.

Weiss:Ah, think I learned too much just now. Have a nice night.

Winter:You too.

The door closed quickly and Weiss just stood there, rationalizing the events that just took place. That was interrupted by the flirtatious giggling. Not only did she not know Winter could giggle, but knowing why she was giggling made Weiss move as fast as Ruby. Better to leave before she hears something she really wants no business hearing. She left not a moment too soon.

The sounds of giggling had stopped as Winter’s lips pressed against Marrow’s. The loose fabric that draped over her body slid back down to the ground where it was before Weiss’s intrusion. The older Schnee welcomes the feeling of her secret lover’s hands squeezing her ass while her tongue hungrily explored Marrow’s mouth. His hands turned her body around and playfully pushed her back to the bed.

Winter laughed seductively at Marrow’s eagerness. “Relax, we won’t get interrupted this time. She got down on her hands and knees, dipping her upper body and wiggling her ass to him. Winter looked over her shoulder, blush deep on her face. She was glad to Marrow’s boxers were already off and the feeling of his aching cock already pressing into her pussy. The way it rubbed up and down her slit and hit against her clit was more than enough for Winter to push her hips backwards to get what she clearly wanted. “Don’t you dare tease me.” She moaned. A hand grabbed her waist and jerked her back hard, spearing herself onto Marrow’s six inched cock in one go. “Ahhh! Ffffmmmmm~”

It felt like tension left her body. Weiss might’ve joked about it but doggie was Winter’s weakness. As easy as it would be to straddle Marrow and make him obsessively moan her name as she rocked his dick and make him fall victim to worshiping her sexy body, Winter wanted to be the one screaming. Marrow’s second hand finally grabbed her waist and the young man’s hips started to crash into the cushion that was Winter’s ass. Running juices from her entrance made access to her womb extra easy, as well as coated her in thighs and a thick shaft with creamy discharge. Winter felt Marrow hunch over body while maintaining his jackhammer-like thrust; his hands moved to her sizable breasts and began kneading them like dough.

“Aaaahhh~ Yessss! Just like that!” The overwhelming pleasure made Winter drop her head down and let her body simply experience Marrow. She could feel her own pussy quiver and cling to him with every thrust that threatened to make her scream. Still, Winter had some pride. If it wasn’t for that, then she’d confess to feeling like a bitch in heat, lusting to be filled. As much as she wanted to fully express those feelings, Winter just couldn’t bring herself to act like that completely. Not like Marrow didn’t realize the sentiment with how much she was moaning. His fingers clamped down on her erect nipples and Winter felt her entire body tense. Sharp inhales were sucked through her teeth and she knew Marrow could feel just how tight she had gotten around his swelling cock.

“Oh? You like it when I touch you roughly? How naughty for a specialist.”

“Shut up!” Winter mewled. Trying to look imposing in this situation was impossible, yet she tried anyways. She could hear Marrow chuckle huskily at her. “You’re..ah! The worst!” She whined. Her body finally gave out and Winter came, hard. The stern woman bit down on her sheets and wailed as her orgasm drowned her in pressure. She could feel Marrow quickly pull out from behind her, then paint her backside with his searing hot seed. The two breathed heavily, remaining in their lustful position the entire time. Winter looked back to see Marrow catching his breath as he stared at body. “Enjoying the view?”

“It’s the best in Atlas. How could I not?” Marrow half joked. He doubt he’d see a sight better than this. “Ready for round two?”

“Only if you can handle it.”

“Winter....” Marrow slid back into herb and reached for her arms, pulling them back and leaving her nothing to gain leverage. “Let me show you what it means to really fuck like an animal. Tonight I’m in heat, and you’re my bitch.”

Winter could feel the blood rush to her face and her body respond to the crude statement by gripping down on his shaft harder. Pride crumbled away as Winter bit her lip in anticipation. “Fuck me like a bitch then.” A sudden and strong thrust of Marrow’s hips into her made Winter yelp. Again and again he pounded into her and made her ass shake from the impact. Winter could already feel her knees buckle and orgasm build up inside herself. This was gonna be a long night for her. Briefly, Winter couldn’t help but wonder, were all nice boys like this in bed? Surly her sister wouldn’t be a person to go for this type of rough intimacy.

xxxx

“Aaah! Harder baby!” Weiss moaned, letting her petite frame become over taken by Jaune’s hands as leaned back into is lap; begging for his lips to grace her neck as he continued to thrust straight up into her heated core. “Gods, you feel so good!” She brought his hand downward to her clit and he began to rub it for his princess. Weiss couldn’t stop from squirming and panting from the pleasure of being played with so hard. Her left boob was trapped by Jaune’s calloused hand and his head rose from her neck to nibble on her ear. All of this was mere icing on the cake to go with the feeling of being split apart a throbbing cock that made Weiss thankful to be her size. It felt as if she was gonna split apart with how full he made her .

Jaune listened to the moans and cries of his girlfriend, who was far more excited than usual. “What’s got you so pent tonight? He grunted as his pace picked up. A jerk move on his part. Jaune knew Weiss wouldn’t be able to answer. All she could do is lay on his body and pant like a dog as her pussy took a pounding. Her beautiful eyes were shut tight and face was beat red, still Jaune was in love with her beauty and stole her lips. Something Weiss loved. She happily returned the same frenzy of emotion as they stole lustful moans and grunts from one another. Weiss pulled Jaune’s head further down into the lip lock and her toes began to curl. Any thoughts she had left her mind in a haze of white as her body gave way to the pleasure. Jaune thrusted four more times into her before Weiss’s grip around him became too much to deny. Reaching is own orgasm by the feeling of Weiss’s soaked walls squeezing as much seed out of him and into her body.

Their bodies slowly rocked to draw out the pleasure as they kissed for several more seconds. Finally, Weiss removed her lips from Jaune’s and allowed air back into her body. A faint ache in her body set in as she felt Jaune slide out of her. “Winter...approves...” Weiss huffed. She had no strength to continue the story, choosing to lay peacefully in her boyfriend’s arms instead.

Jaune had zero complaints. He too leaned back to rest on the backboard of the bed. “That’s...good. Funny, who would’ve thought she’d be okay with a guy like me?”

Weiss said nothing, only silently snickered to herself. Tomorrow she would tell him just how okay a guy like him was. He’d be the only person to believe a story like that.

[cupcakemolotov]

Twisted Intentions: Chapter Two

@accidental-rambler​ let us not go back and check how long this chapter has been coming, yeah? But I think its finally finished? Probably. We are ending it here, at least.

Everyone please be checking the tags on this one. It is a fairly more darker take than I usually do, these two crazy murder fiends, and there is smut. The first scene below has some murder to it, but nothing smutty. You can find both chapters on A03: Chapter One, Chapter Two.

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Regency; Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon; Possessive Klaus Mikaelson; Vampire Caroline; F/F Smut; M/F smut; Non-Klaroline Smut (referenced); Referenced Threesome F/F/M; Canon-Typical Violence; Not Canon Compliant; Dark Caroline Forbes; Past-Prostitution; Klaroline End Game; no non-con; Suggested Sexual Coercion; Vampire Klaus Mikaelson; Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson; Compulsion; Murder; Dark; Violence; Smut; Orgasm Delay/Denial; Oral Sex; Sex; Murder Kink; Biting; Blood Kink;  Mutual Masturbation  

                                                          -

The pub was quiet so early in the evening, dust lingering the corners the same as the plague lingered on the street. It was not a place she would have willingly visited, but some summons could not be ignored. Casually, she ran her fingers over her lips to make sure she’d cleaned up any of the blood that might have lingered.

Today was her third day as a vampire, and tonight had been her first solo deliberate kill. Her sire had taught her how to compel a man, the taste of a rabbiting pulse against her tongue, the fastest way to a heart with her fingers, and she had taken well to the hunt. Caroline felt no shame in learning to enjoy what she had become, to embrace the choice that she had been given, that she had made.

Some monsters, after all, were not nearly so kind as to show their devil’s bargains with fangs and eyes, though she had learned to recognize them all the same. But while the life of a whore had taught her many things, this new existence had been illuminating. Caroline had learned to avoid the sun, begun to learn the language of the night outside of the stained sheets of her old bedroom, and not once had she gone hungry. Here in the midst of the plague, blood was as easy to steal as the streets made dying, and for the first time in her seventeen years, she felt strong. Powerful. The predator instead of prey, and it was a heady feeling after years of being powerless.

But dangerous. She could not forget the dangers of this new life. Dangerous that she had not yet fully come to recognize. While her sire was indulgent of his newest creations, she was not such a fool to take his pretty did not hide a terrible sort of lethal practicality. Those dimples masked a violence she had caught lingering in his eyes, and every instinct she had warned her that there was more to him than he wanted her to know. He was deliberately mysterious, and while he’d offered so few expectations for their behavior, showing them how best to indulge their sins, and Caroline wondered why.

Compulsion was no idle tool, and though it had opened the world to so many whims, greed was a risk she was not willing to indulge in. Not yet. Humans might easily be bent to her will, but she would do well to remember the lessons she’d learned and been taught in her handful of years. Avarice could leave her the fattened calf for others as easily she could take from those less wise. She was not the only creation her sire had made, and from his offhand comments, age seemed to make a difference in strength.

Better then, to teach herself control, to master every instinct and then indulge only when she controlled every aspect of the experience. She had no intention of letting the gift she had been given control her, not when she’d vowed never again would she have a master except herself.

Never again.

Though she would have to be careful.

Glancing towards the back of the room, she pursed her lips at the trio of men who unknowingly awaited her presence at a table. Caroline recognized two of them from her lessons, though her sire had not introduced her to them. She had not asked to know them, not when she understood how they watched her. Lustful, but stupid.

They thought themselves clever, and the new monster that lived in her bone and marrow that she knew in the back of her throat as hunger, did not approve of their ilk. They’d smelled weak. Eager. It wasn’t her place to judge her sire’s choices, but she’d been certain he’d picked up on her disapproval.

Chosen to be amused rather than offended.

Tonight, the blood that stained their clothing, the scent of sex and death that lingered on their skin did nothing endure her to them. Mixing those pleasures when you had so little control told her that her original assessment had been correct. Wrinkling her nose, Caroline wondered if leaving would be a mark against her.

She was not given the chance to find out.

Awareness and warning prickled down her spine, and Caroline turned to find her sire watching her from the doorway. His lips curled at the edges, a hint of dimple catching in one cheek, and he strode forward to meet her. “Good evening, love. I must say, your new life suits you.”

His eyes dropped from her face to skim her figure, the dimple deepening. Caroline gave the endearment little meaning, he dolled out charm too easily for it to be sincere. But even knowing some of his truth, the impact of him was unavoidable. Her sire was a feast for her eyes and the monster she had become did not find the violence of him unbecoming.

However, the compliment was sincere, so she allowed a smile to touch her lips. Her new dress was well made, but not so expensive to draw attention, but it was pretty and hers. It had been a very long time since she owned her own clothes.

“Thank you.”

His gaze swept back to her face as he approached and offered her his arm. She took it, because she would not be accused of not having manners, and he sighed, head angling as if letting her into his confidence. She took no stock in that either.

“It is a pity that the same cannot be said for the rest.”

Klaus, Caroline had learned, was as mercurial with his violence as he was with his mercy. He’d plucked her from the street as easily as he’d left others to die, had shown her the fastest way to a man’s heart with dimples and bloody clothes. Tonight, there was something in his voice, a hint of roughness that did not bode well for any of them and she had no intention of being a target for that rage.

“They seem to lack some... subtlety,” she agreed.

His smile shifted to a sort of dangerous amusement. “Let’s find out just how little they have exhibited, shall we?”

Very aware that this was not her choice, Caroline merely hummed in agreement and let him escort her to the table. Violence did not frighten her, but something about the way he moved, the pleasant tilt of his lips, was unnerving.

“Hello, lads. It seems that you have enjoyed yourselves.”

They went still in front of her, a court very aware of its king’s displeasure, for all that he was smiling. Lifting Caroline’s hand from his arm, he brushed her knuckles lightly with his lips. “Do make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

In the next heartbeat, he’d twisted and was suddenly holding a twitching heart in his left hand. Caroline paused from where she’d gathered her skirts to settle, her heart a thump in her throat at the ease, the speed of his strike. But it wasn’t exactly fear that danced beneath her skin, though wariness had her watching him carefully. Settling the heart casually on the table, he motioned for her to sit on the empty seat.

She sat.

Reaching into his pocket, Klaus removed a handkerchief and meticulously began to clean his hand. “It really is so much easier to deal with baby vampires when the sire bond exists, but I suppose you can’t win them all.” His smile widened at the sudden, sharp stink of fear. “I am a benevolent ruler, but there are some lines that will not be tolerated being crossed. Leaving bodies where they can be found by anyone, even during a plague, will not be allowed. Is that understood?”

Next to them, the body finally toppled to the floor, as if it had finally understood it was dead. Caroline stared at the heartless vampire, considered how quickly his life had been snuffed out, and she arranged her skirts to avoid the growing puddle of blood while wondering why she was here. She had not been so careless with her teeth or metaphorical cock.

Across from her, the remaining vampires stammered their understanding, but when her eyes returned to her sire’s face, it was to find him watching her. There was something about his expression, the set of his jaw, that left her very certain that this mess was much as a message for her as for them, and she worked through the whys. The point of this little warning. This show.

She had no care for these men, and she was certain, neither did her sire. Even with this warning, it was likely the remaining two vampires would be dead within the week. Klaus had never struck her as anything but calculating, even in his whims, and it dawned on her that perhaps that was his point.

Her sire wanted her to see just how easily he would snuff the life from his creations, should it be necessary. Should they make it necessary... Vampires were monsters, but they were hidden, tucked carefully between the shadows of the nights and humanity’s soft dreams of safety.

But if they did, he might offer a quick, clean death. That message was for these men. Her message was tangled in the quickness of the death, the way he had offered her his arm before leading her to this little slaughter. He might find her amusing, might be indulgent of her opinions, but she could not count on that indulgence to save her.

Caroline tipped her in silent acknowledgement of his message. Betrayal, she knew without it being said, would have far more dire consequences.

Link: A03

[aria-i-adagio]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Ship: Dorian x m!Trevelyan

Rating: T

read on A03 or below

(title from REM, 'Imitation of Life')

Meanwhile, in Haven.

Rhys has a list of sights he does not want to see as he’s dying. At the top (and a recent addition) are hurlocks - those are some ugly motherfuckers, and he suspects that they enjoy making death hurt. Most varieties of demons; although, perhaps a desire demon might not be too bad. Granted, he doesn’t know if the illusions they cast last up to the point of death, or if those are only good while being possessed. That might change the calculus a bit. One of the red lyrium crystal monsters the Templars were turning themselves into. A bear. He definitely does not want to see a bear while he’s dying.

As final sights go, the implosion of the Breach as the thing in his hand stitches the Veil back together isn’t a bad one. The outer edges turn magenta, then blue-violet. The cooler colors rush to the center, swirl together, drawing inward until there’s just a speck of black, more liquid than the darkest night. Then bright, morning sunlight pulses like a heartbeat from that center.

Rhys lets go of the breath he was holding. He thinks it worked, thinks the Breach is closed. It feels powerful enough - a wave of magic like fire and lightning pouring through him, in and out, like breathing in harsh, herbal smoke that messes with his head and makes the world swim, and at least, in his case, despite many promises to the contrary never makes him as sleepy as it just makes him keyed up and in want a good fuck.

The shockwave following the pulse of white light picks him up off his feet and sends him hurtling through the air and slamming him like a ragdoll into rocks and ice around Haven.

Still, the light is damned pretty. Until it fades.

He hears Dorian's voice through the ringing in his ears. “Rhys! Thank the Maker.”

Rhys hopes that he isn’t dead because if he is that implies that Dorian is dead too, and that would rather sad. The world needs Dorian smiling and making catty jokes. There’s been too much melancholy and death over the past few months. Rhys is getting tired of all the omens of doom and gloom.

There’s another little gap in time before his head recovers enough to remember how to open his eyes. When he does, Cassandra’s upside-down face greets him. Dorian's would have been a prettier sight, but there's something comfortingly familiar about seeing Cassie first thing after realizing that - despite there being every reason for him to be - he is not, in fact, dead.

Rhys's vision still spins, and his left arm feels like it’s burning from the inside out. Yes, he’s been here before. Best just to let go, disconnect from it, float a little bit. “Are you going to yell at me again?”

“What?” Cassie’s dark brows pull low over her eyes. “No!”

“Too bad. You’re kinda attractive when you look like you’re about to commit murder.”

“Herald!”

Cassie sounds scandalized. Rhys manages a grin. Not that scandalizing Cassie actually takes that much effort. Makes her easy to tease. Something to distract him from how much he’s hurting at the moment because pretending that the waves of pain radiating from his arm are the ocean doesn’t actually work very well. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been in the ocean since he was a small child. The memory of floating in warm waves until they send you tumbling into rough sand isn’t fresh enough.

“Keep talking like that, Lucky, and you might yet manage to die tonight.”

“Hey, Varric.” Rhys tries to lift his head and the bastard offspring of fire and electricity shoots from his shoulder to neck and then down his spine. The muscles in his back spasm and his head hits the ground beneath him, blacking out his vision for another moment and sending the ringing in his ears a pitch higher. “Did it work?” he asks groggily.

“You did good, kid.”

“So it -”

“The Breach is sealed, Rhys.” Solas’s calm voice is reassuring to hear. “Try not to move, this will hurt more before it hurts less.”

“That story -” He means to say ‘again,’ but Cassandra grabs his shoulders very firmly and maybe he shouldn't waste breath on quips.

“Dorian, be ready.” Solas does something, and that something rips the fire out of his left arm, which is - as promised - worse than just letting it settle in like some magical, fatal addition to the marrow.

“Motherfucking, son of a bitch, what in the name of Andraste's flaming arse -”

“Language.” Cassie lets go of his shoulders and reprimands him with a light cuff on the side of his head. “Oh let the kid blaspheme a bit, Seeker. He's earned it.”

Rhys sits up and rubs his hand. Above him, the sky is still marked by a line of bright green, but it’s a seam in the darkness, not a whirling, pulsating storm. His arm doesn't hurt now, but there's the same fuzzy numb wrongness in his wrist and palm that he's gotten used to over the past few months. That's on a good day.

Solas arches his eyebrows and looks amused. “You know I do very little in the name of Andraste's arse, flaming or not.”

“Whatever your reason -” Rhys experimentally stretches out his left arm and reaches across his chest to rub his shoulder. It’s still aching, but just the banal ache of falling a bit too hard. “Thank you."

Nearby Dorian finishes casting with an elegant - and probably unnecessary - flourish of his elegant hands. One of the trees beside the Chantry behind to glow with the green of a Veil Rift, then warming to a color closer to chartreuse.

“What is that?”

“You absorbed a lot of energy while closing the Breach. I siphoned off what I could at the time. But still, far more than a human body is supposed can contain and remain alive.”

“Right.” Movement of energy had been his theory for some time. Massive amounts of magic were required to open or close a rift in the Veil, and something had to serve as a conduit. Whatever happened at the Conclave had left him as that conduit, but each time he felt the power come closer to burning through the bonds that held him together, made him human. Which was precisely why there was a stack of farewell letters sitting on the desk in Rhys's quarters. He hadn’t expected to live through whatever it took to close the Breach.

“Dorian and I pulled off some of what remained and redirected it. It's a rather beautiful effect, albeit transient.”

The tree turns to a brilliant brilliant gold and then quivers and collapses into a pile of shimmering dust. Rhys swallows hard. Not expecting to live isn’t quite the same as getting a glimpse of how you would have died. Or maybe a human body was messier than a tree. Typically were less graceful than plants. “I see.”

“Right then. Let's get you freshened up and then get some liquor in you.” Dorian grabs his forearms and hauls him to his feet. Face to face with the other mage, Rhys feels transparent. Like a plane of glass that can't hide fears and flaws. It's terrifying. Electrifying. “Everyone else has already started the party.”

Even nearly nose to nose with Dorian, Rhys still can't tame the small voice in the back of his head that says he's reading Dorian all wrong, that the man is just friendly, that there's certainly no way someone so beautiful and refined would be interested in a mudlark.

He hopes that voice is just being stupid.

Dorian slips him a flask of brandy as they walk away. Rhys flips the cap off and sips gratefully from it. His legs feel loose, off-balance, like he’s drunk already, and he suspects he would be staggering but for Dorian’s arm around his waist. The linen undergarments beneath his leather coat and woolen sweater are soaked with sweat and chilly even beneath the layers; he’s content enough to let Dorian drag him to the small cabin he’d been given. Really, actually, it is too much for a single person, much bigger than the room he had at Ostwick. And frankly, far too cold with only a single person’s body heat in the space at night.

He stumbles past the partition to the room in the back, trying to decide if he’d rather fall face-first onto the bed, or dig out a new base layer and go enjoy the party he can hear the rest of the Inquisition beginning outside. Leliana and Josephine will probably show up if he chooses the latter and drag him back out with a lecture on keeping up appearances and rallying the people. They might even be right.

Maker, he hopes his part in all this is over. Let Cassandra and Leliana continue trying to remake all of Thedas. He just wants to go home. If he has a home to go to.

“Oh look at this!” Dorian exclaims from the front. “Antivan red. And a halfway decent vintage. You’ve been holding out on me, Rhys.”

“Talk to Josie.” Rhys undoes the buttons down the front of his coat. Too many buttons, especially with hands that are stiff from the cold and shaking from an overdose of magic. He tosses it over the foot of the bed and takes off his sweater. He’s rather fond of the sweater actually, it’s nice and warm and the good kind of scratchy. The kind that kept you in the present place and time. “She’s not lying about her family connections.”

“Not sure she likes me. Yet. She’ll come around.”

“I’m sure she will.” Rhys smiles a little and cautiously - sometimes he has to recalibrate just how much magic to use after closing a Rift - casts a spell to melt the ice on the pitcher of water. Closing the Breach hadn’t done anything to improve Haven’s climate. Maker, why do people choose to live here? He splashes still chilly water over his face and leans his hands against the table, trying not to yawn so hard that his jaw cracks off.

His linen shirt is soaked to his skin; he has to virtually peel it off. It gets tossed to the floor, something that can be dealt with later and by someone else. He soaks a bit of toweling at rubs it over his chest and shoulders, glancing behind him, at least somewhat hoping that Dorian is surreptitiously peering around the partition.

He isn't. He’s turned away from the opening in the partition - polite, Rhys supposes - holding the stack of letters in his hands and shuffling through them. “Rhys. What are these?”

“Just... I need to burn those. They were just in case, well, you know, this wasn't exactly the guaranteed outcome.” He didn’t even know if half the people he had addressed them to were still alive, much less where to find them, but he assumed that Leliana would be able to figure that out if she needed to.

“How late were you up writing them?”

All night. “A while.”

“You were sitting here last night, by yourself, writing these because you thought you might die - Rhys, why didn't you say anything? You didn't have to sit in here drinking and contemplating death alone.”

“I thought the chance closing the Breach would kill was generally understood.” Just the kind of thing that no one talks about in polite society. Rhys combs his fingers through his hair and tries to put it into something akin to order and not just hanging unattractively lank around his face. Kind. Dorian might have a vicious tongue in his head, but he’s also kind when he wants to be. “Open the bottle if you want. If I was saving it for a special occasion, I think this qualifies.”

Rhys sits on the edge of the bed and undoes the buckles down the sides of his boots, tugging them off and rolling down the first of three pairs of socks. The other two are tucked under his trousers. Clean socks will be nice. He gets his trousers off - tight leather is really annoying. Decent armor. A good look on him too - even he can recognize that. But annoying to get on and off.

He finishes washing up quickly and dresses again, listening as Dorian pops the cork out of the bottle and the sound of wine being poured. Hopefully, it’s a decent vintage. He’d hate to disappoint.

Dorian is sitting in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on the desk. Rhys does it all the time himself; it’s a bizarrely satisfying act of delayed rebellion against the librarians who scolded him for doing the same thing in the Circle. The letters have been set aside in a much tidier stack than the one in which he had left them. He pulls the second chair out from the desk, sits down, and picks up the wine glass that Dorian isn’t twirling in his elegant hands.

Dorian stops him as he raises the glass to his lips. “Don’t drink it yet, silly. A red needs to breathe.”

“Right. Yes. Anyway, thanks. For saving my life back there. What is that, like the fiftieth time.”

Dorian raises his eyebrows, smiling over the cup in his hand. “Bad form to let someone die. Especially someone you rather -”

Bells begin clanging outside, interrupting whatever Dorian was about to say. He swings his feet from the desk to the floor and sets the cup violently down on the table. “Oh, Andraste’s quaking quim, what now?”

Rhys grins. “You’re getting as bad as a Ferelden.” Even if the bells are unlikely to signify anything good, he can enjoy a little humor.

“Worse, I think.” Dorian throws back the cup of wine as he gets up from the table, and Rhys follows suit. Yes. It is a more than decent vintage even without enough time to breathe, and he grabs the bottle as Dorian pushes the door open because whatever is about to happen will probably merit alcohol. Cullen is standing outside, still in full armor and fur and with the grim expression that Haven seems to have frozen on his features.

“We’re under attack. Grab your staves. Meet me at the gate.”

“Void take it.” Dorian takes the bottle from him and drinks. “Come on, Rhys. Looks like fate hasn’t given up fucking with us yet.”

Well, fuck.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [52]

vii. gimme shelter

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: a few mentions of blood, fighting, violence, reference to past assualt/Shumway, angst, mentions of death. 

Summary: you arrive on Becca’s Island, and reunions are had, exploring is done. as you and Clarke wind down from your long journey, a break in occurs, creating chaos within the mansion.

a/n: the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 20th, 2150; Becca’s Island

As soon as the boat reaches the shoreline, Roan volunteers to stay behind with Miller and unload the fuel, so that Jackson can lead you to your mother. You and Clarke agree with the plan, looking forward to seeing her for the first time in a few days. Though, with the events of the last few days, it has felt more like lifetimes. Jackson leads you from the shoreline through a densely wooded path, keeping up light conversation the entire time, before ushering the two of you into a lab unlike anything you could ever have imagined. “This is Becca's main research lab, but there are 5 other levels.”

You look around in awe, at the dozens of screens and computers, all types of equipment, chemicals, tubes, and beakers, all brightly lit and situated at the bottom of a flight of stairs. As Jackson leads you to the railing alongside the stairs, giving you a view of everything, your mouth drops open in shock, and Clarke whispers, “Incredible.”

The word carries through the room, reaching a figure who is standing at one of the computer screens, staring at whatever is displayed there. They turn around at the sound of Clarke’s voice, your mother, grinning up at both of you. You and Clarke smile back, and Clarke leads the way down the stairs. Your mom pulls both of you into a hug as soon as you’re close enough. Up above, Jackson makes an excuse about checking on Luna, giving the three of you the privacy to catch up. 

When she pulls away from you, her eyes fall to your shirt first, still covered in Seiku’s blood. You got most of his blood off you with the water from the ocean, but it has stained your shirt, ruining it beyond repair. Her eyes widen in alarm, and you can see her already searching for wounds, but you shake your head. “It’s not mine. It was Seiku’s, one of Roan’s guards who saved both of our lives.”

She sags in relief, before looking between the two of you, a small smile on her face. “Then I’m grateful to him.”

She looks around, realizing that no one else has followed, before asking, “Speaking of, where is Roan?”

“Unloading the fuel with the others.” Clarke looks at your mom, her expression dropping as the weight of the day’s events start to weigh on her. “We just needed to see our mom.”

Your mom pulls you both in for another hug, offering you the kind of comfort that could only ever come from someone who raised you. You smile, drawing in the comfort, until your eyes fall on the screen behind her, the one she was staring at when you came in. It’s a scan of a brain, and you pull away, booking at it in confusion. “What is that?”

Your mom glances back at it, her face falling. “A scan of Raven’s brain. She’s been having seizures, and she just had another one right after she heard the news about the fuel.”

The news tugs at something in your brain, taking you back to Niylah's trading post in the middle of a war with an AI. Sinclair stop, the EMP will give me brain damage! You feel a wave of nausea knowing that you contributed to this. In a misguided attempt to save her, you ruined your friend’s brain, the thing she values the most. Clarke pulls you out of your head when she points at a gray spot on the brain scan, “Is that-”

Your mom cuts her off, “An ischemic stroke.”

Clarke looks slightly hopeful, “Well, that means it can heal, right?”

“Yes, as long as she takes it easy, she'll recover.”

A realization hits you like a freight train. You used the EMP on your mom too. You look at her, eyeing her closely, “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine.”

She smiles and then walks away, but you and Clarke aren't so easily convinced. “When was the last time you slept?”

She doesn't look at Clarke when she answers her question, just peers into a microscope at a sample pressed between the plates. “Oh, I'll sleep soon enough, one way or another.”

“What is that?”

“It's bone marrow. Luna's. A theory that Jackson and I agreed should remain untested.”

You shake your head, not understanding. “What theory?”

“We can't create Nightblood unless we go to space, but Luna can. Theoretically, we can inject ourselves with her bone marrow.”

Just like Mount Weather. You shudder, thinking of the mountain from hell, but no one seems to notice, too wrapped up in the theory. “Then we become Nightbloods. Will it work?”

“I think so.”

Your confusion persists, “Then why'd you take it off the table?”

“Because the only way to know if it works is to test it, and that would mean…”

Clarke answers her first, understanding instantly. “Exposing someone to radiation.”

You think that’s the end of the conversation, but then Clarke adds, “Can we do that here?”

“Yes. Becca was trying to find a cure for cancer using this radiation chamber.” Your mom nods her head at the well lit chamber behind her. “But, we would have to expose a human being to enough radiation that would implode every single cell in their body. That's what's coming for us.”

Clarke nods her head, understanding, but you shake yours, not liking this discussion. Your twin argues, “I know that, but we have no choice.”

Your mom shakes her head, “No, we have to make a choice.”

You nod your head, this time understanding the choice before Clarke does. “Which is: Who do we test?”

The conversation is cut short by Jackson calling out, “Emori, hey.”

You all turn as if you've been caught doing something bad, looking up to the landing of the stairs to see Emori, Murphy's girlfriend, looking down at you. “I'm heading up to the house. Does anyone want anything while I'm up there?”

“No, we're fine, thanks.” But then your mom glances at you and Clarke and calls out, “Emori, hold on.”

She looks at both of you with a smile. “You should both go with her.”

You’re in no position to argue, exhausted from the day, and eager to get out of your bloody shirt. Clarke however, disagrees. “No, we just got here. I want to be here with you and help.”

“There is nothing for you to help me with right now. It'll be 5 hours before the samples are even ready to be tested.” Clarke sighs, knowing she can't argue with that news. “Go, take a shower, and we'll figure this out when you get back.”

She nods and you take her hand, practically dragging her up the stairs, eager to get inside and take a shower. Emori stands at the top, waiting for you, and as she leads you towards the door, Jackson calls out, “I'll lower the drones.”

Emori guides you through the dark woods easily, the path familiar to her, making casual conversation as she goes. “Raven says the black rain will be here soon.”

Clarke swings her flashlight off the path, towards your guide. “Raven's right. I used to love the rain, now it terrifies me.”

“I would have thought nothing terrified you.”

You and Clarke exchange a look, and Clarke asks, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just...hate this island, that's all.”

You nod your head, understanding instantly what that’s like, considering your hatred for Mount Weather. Clarke, who has maintained more radio calls with your mother, continues the conversation. “Murphy said you used to work here. Is that right?”

“Something like that.”

“Scavenging tech for Alie?” Emori turns and gives Clarke a look, who instantly apologizes. “I'm sorry, too many questions.”

“Ignore me.” Emori’s gaze softens as she looks back at the two of you. “I'm just upset that our mission here has failed. Hopefully your mother will come up with another way, always so willing to do anything to save her people. Skaikru's lucky to have her.”

Clarke shakes her head. “We're not just doing this for Skaikru.”

Emori holds out an arm, stopping you from walking any further as you reach the edge of the treeline. She lifts her radio, “We're at the treeline, coming in.”

“Copy that, drones down. You're good to go.”

She leads you through the trees and into a large lawn that stretches out in front of the largest house that you've ever seen in your entire life. Not that you've seen many houses, but it seems larger than any picture of houses that you've looked at before. The lawn eventually reaches a patio, with a large pool, connected to a hot tub. You look at it in awe, marveling at the stone detailing around the edge. The patio is well let, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and marble stairs that lead up towards the back door. The back door itself is glass, along with the whole back window, allowing you a peek into the house. Emori slides the door open, letting the sound of loud music out of the house and to you. You step into a living room, surrounded by white furniture, which opens up right into the large kitchen. Inside the kitchen itself, Murphy dances from one counter to the next, cooking up something to eat. 

You and Clarke exchange amused expressions, and you smile a little, not used to this side of everyone's favorite cockroach. As you get closer, you joke, “You can cook?”

He hums in acknowledgment of your joke, nodding his head as he peers down at a cookbook laid out in front of him. Clarke adopts the same amused tone when she quips, “You can read?”

He looks up from the book, turning to smile at both of you. “Yeah, I know what you're thinking, Disaster Twins. Why are all the good ones taken, right?”

You snort and Clarke scoffs, both of you rolling your eyes at him, and Emori looks at her boyfriend in adoration. “A good randzi is rare. John would be celebrated by any clan.”

It takes you a second to remember that randzi means cook, but when you do, you roll your eyes all over again. “Yeah, he's a real catch.”

Murphy pulls a spoon out and dips it into the dish, holding it out towards you, hand cupped underneath, looking expectant. You eye it warily, a little distrustful, but the smell wafting towards you is good enough to make you want to take a bite. You lean down and take a tentative bite, chewing slowly, waiting for the taste of poison, only to be pleasantly surprised by the explosion of flavors on your tongue. You look at him in awe, “Oh, my God.”

Murphy smiles in an “aha” sort of way, pleased to have gotten that reaction out of you. He turns and tosses the spoon into the sink, and sweeps Emori into his arms, leaning down slightly so she can whisper in his ear. You and Clarke exchange an awkward look, feeling like you're intruding, before she mutters, “We’re gonna go get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, let me show you where to go.” Murphy starts to step away from Emori to lead you there, but she cuts him off, pointing you in the right direction. “Upstairs. Down the hall.”

“Thanks.”

Clarke leads the way around the corner, down the hall to the massive staircase. You and Clarke move through the house with your mouths slightly dropped in awe, and you wish with your entire being that Bellamy was here to experience this with you. When you reach the top of the stairs, Clarke picks two rooms side by side, and you both look at each other for a minute before stepping into your respective rooms. When you flip on the light switch, it automatically activates the stone fireplace lined along the wall, making the room warmer in seconds. You welcome it, allowing it to chase away the chill that always seems to be settled within you. 

In the middle of the room are two armchairs, a table between them, and you drop your pack onto the nearest chair before proceeding deeper into the room. Along the wall on your left are mirrors, and upon closer inspection you realize they have handles, indicating that they're hiding something. You tug on the handles and reveal a huge closet, clothes stretching from either end, stuffed full. When you close the door, smiling in awe, you come face to face with your reflection, and you’re shocked by what you see. 

You didn’t clean Seiku’s blood off you nearly as well as you think you did, and mud and blood are streaked from your forehead down onto the skin that eventually disappears beneath your clothes. You're sure that if you were standing here naked, the grime would cover you from head to foot. There’s a variety of things caked into your hair, making you look wild and untamed. Blood covers almost every inch of your shirt that isn't hidden beneath your jacket, and you can now see why everyone was looking at you in alarm. There’s a small nick on your neck, situated just above the chain of your necklace, from Echo threatening you, along with a bruise on your cheek from the man that helped her take you captive. 

You turn away from the mirror, no longer wanting to see yourself, ignoring the rest of the room as you make a beeline for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. As soon as you're inside, you stand and stare at the shower in shock, the shower itself nearly as big as the entire room you share with Bellamy, and you get another wave of regret that he's not here to see this. You dig around in the cabinets, looking for a towel, and as you do, you discover something rare and precious: bath products. Soap in the Ark is made from mostly recycled materials, and doesn't have a particularly nice smell. It doesn’t stink by any means, but it also doesn't smell like...you hold up the bottle in your hand, peering at the label on the body wash, before reading out loud, “Tropical sunset delight.”

The shampoo and conditioner you find are both labeled coconut hazelnut dream, and the lotion is called creamy vanilla surprise. You smile as you hoard all the products, bringing them into the shower with you, along with a brush. It takes a second for you to figure out the controls of the shower, as it's entirely technology based, but as soon as you do, hot water shoots out from at least four different locations. You turn the water as hot as it can go, the water at Arkadia never anything better than lukewarm. You take your time, using several handfuls of the body wash and several techniques to scrub your skin until it is practically raw. Once you're sure all the mud and blood is gone, you get started on your hair. It takes a while for you to work out the knots and debris tangled within your strands, but you finally do, marveling at the soft feel of it as you wash the conditioner out. 

After your shower, you dry off and moisturize, before pulling on your pants and grabbing the rest of your clothes and boots. You fold your shirt and socks and stuff them into your pack, before grabbing a couple of shirts you can layer and wear as your new shirt. You also find a sock drawer, overflowing with options, and you pick one pair to wear daily, along with a thick pair you can wear on cold nights. Then you turn, surveying the room again, eyes landing on the bed in the middle of the room. You walk over to it and press a tentative hand into the mattress, marveling at the plush softness that envelops you. 

You smile and climb into the bed, fully intending to sleep for at least a few hours. But as soon as you’re in bed and comfortable, you are annoyed to find that you just can't sleep. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to figure out why sleep evades you, when you suddenly make the connection. You’re alone. You've shared a bed with Bellamy the last few months, and sleeping alone is now so foreign to you that you’re struggling to do it without him by your side. With a sigh you pull yourself out of the bed and into the hall, heading straight for Clarke's room. She looks up at you right as you lift your hand to knock, already motioning you inside before you can even ask to come in. 

She's already in the bed, also freshly showered, but appearing to struggle with sleep, the same as you. You both sense the restlessness in each other, and she pats the bed, motioning for you to crawl in beside her. You do, turning to face her as soon as you’re comfortable, smiling at the pretty face of your twin. She smiles back at you, and you both lay in silence for a minute or two, until Clarke whispers, “Do you think I’m a good leader?”

You think of the memory you dreamed about last night, and you ask, “Do you remember when you convinced me to take your place so that I could see the Ark?”

“Yeah, and you only lasted three minutes before mom caught on?”

You mock glare at her, but confirm, “Yes.”

You pause for a minute, letting her relive the memory, before you add, “I’ve been following you my entire life. You’re a natural born leader, inherited from both of our parents, making you a hybrid, amplified leader. You’re strong, and you care about others, which I’ve known since you were willing to give up a field trip just so I could see the Ark.”

“But you’re my twin.”

“Pulling a lever to save our people. Three times. Continuously sacrificing yourself to save others, making the hard decisions when others don't want to, but also continuing to stay in touch with your empathetic side. You're a great leader, Clarke.”

She sighs and nods, accepting the compliments with thanks, and you start to read the undertone in her statement. As you watch your twin, her mind running though a million things at once, you realize that the real question is: when can someone else lead in my place? Clarke has led all of you from the moment she landed on the ground, but realistically, she was leading even before that, back when the two of you were kids. She led groups in school, tried to lead with your dad when he wanted to go public with the news of the dying Ark, led the delinquents the second you landed on the ground. She led Camp Jaha as the adults fought over who was in charge, and led an army of Grounders with Lexa. She led behind the scenes while Pike thought he was in charge, led the mission to find Luna, and the mission to kill Alie and the City of Light. She led Arkadia while your mom and Kane stayed behind, and the more you think of it, the more you think that her only break may have been the three months she spent on her own. But even then, she was burdened by the consequences of leadership. 

Clarke Griffin, Wanheda, your starry twin, is tired. Exhausted. It’s written in the lines of her face, the sag of her shoulders, the bags under her eyes. And though you know you’ll never be able to stop her from being a leader, you vow to take more of the burden off her shoulders from here on out. 

Clarke yawns, confirming your suspicions, and you smile at her. “Get some sleep.”

She nods, and closes her eyes, and you watch her for a second as the stress starts to melt off of her, second by second. Satisfied that she's actually going to sleep, you close your eyes and follow suit, only for your eyes to fly open at the sound of clattering down the hall. The sound wakes Clarke too, both of you exchanging an annoyed look before getting out of bed. On the way to the door, your twin grabs her pistol from her pack, and you glare at her. “Where was that when Roan's guards tried to kill us?”

She shrugs, looking a little apologetic. “In my pack. In the rover.”

You give her an annoyed look, before following her down the hall as she creeps towards the sound. As it grows louder, she calls out, “Murphy? Murphy, is that you?”

The sound grows louder as you approach a door at the end of the hall, and you put your hand on Clarke's shoulder, letting her know you're still with her, as you follow her into the room. She flips on the light, revealing blinds on the other end of the room, that seem to move everytime the wind blows. You and Clarke move closer, and when you lift the blinds up, you see a hole in the window, red blood smeared around the edges, indicating someone smashed their way through and let themselves in. You hear a small sound behind you, and you and Clarke spin quickly, her gun lifted and ready to shoot.

Murphy stands in the doorway, and at the sight of the weapon, he lifts his hands in surrender, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, take it easy! Look, we need to talk.”

Clarke shushes him, “Quiet. There's someone here.”

He looks at both of you in alarm, and Clarke opens her mouth to relay a plan, but she is cut off by the sound of Emori yelling from downstairs, “John! John! John!”

Murphy rushes out of the room first, and you and Clarke scramble behind him, following him closely as he practically flies down the stairs and around the corner into the kitchen. There a man stands, trying to plunge a kitchen knife into Emori's neck, who is using every bit of strength she has to keep him from killing her. Murphy grabs the nearest weapon he can find, a cutting board, and whacks the man across the face, knocking him away from his girlfriend. Emori scrambles backwards on the floor towards you, and Clarke reaches out for her, “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

But Emori ignores the question, her eyes focused only on Murphy as he goes to deliver a killing blow, “Wait! He's mine.”

Emori tries to run at the man and attack him, but Murphy holds her back, despite her struggles. “Get off of me! If we don't kill him now, he will kill us.”

You give her a confused look. “You know him?”

Emori practically spits out the name, “Baylis.”

The name must mean something to Murphy, or he must know Emori’s story, because he stills, no longer holding her back as much as he was before. The man on the ground, Baylis, looks at Emori with a sneer. “She's lying, you don't know me.”

Emori tries to leap at the man again, and Murphy does his best to hold her back as she yells, “You said you'd kill me! Well, guess what, planhaka, I'm gonna kill you.”

Baylis tries to stand, but Clarke lifts her gun towards him. “Hey, hey, hey, don't move.”

“Just let me go. I'll leave the food, and you never have to see me again.”

You turn to Emori, “Is he alone?”

“Not usually. Where are the others?” 

Murphy releases her, allowing her to walk closer to the man, glaring down at him as he replies, “I don't know who the hell you think-”

She cuts him off with a swift kick to the head, knocking him out, and as his body hits the ground, she continues to kick him. Clarke, growing anxious, yells out, “Emori!”

She spins around, blood dripping from a cut on her head, running into her mouth and covering her teeth. She gives your twin a bloody sneer. “You don't know what he did to me.”

“No, and you can tell me about it, but please, Emori, if he's not alone, we need to know now.” Clarke turns to Murphy, passing him her gun, “Here, Murphy, take my gun. Now tie him up.”

She looks at you, silently asking if you’ll stay with Murphy and the prisoner, and you nod in agreement. Her eyes move back to the injured woman, “There's a medicine cabinet upstairs, can I fix this?”

Emori hesitates, looking back at the knocked out man on the floor, but Clarke reassures her, “They won't let him go anywhere. Will you?”

Murphy shakes his head as he walks by them, moving to the appliances to yank out their cords for binds. “Not a chance, we're gonna have some fun.”

“Fine, tie him up. But when he's done talking, the kill is mine.”

Murphy tosses you one of the cords, and you help him tie the man's hands and feet together, restraining him. And then Murphy drags over a chair, and the two of you lift the man's unconscious body into it before using more cords to secure him to the chair. Once you're done, you move away from the man, hopping up onto the counter to watch from there. Murphy circles him like a hawk, waiting for him to wake up, and finally Baylis groans, indicating that he’s coming to. It takes him a few seconds to gather his bearings and remember where he is, but as soon as he does, he starts to wiggle in the chair, trying to loosen his restraints. He does that for a few minutes, unsuccessfully, and when he realizes your bonds are too strong, he resorts to begging. “I only came here for the food, things I can trade. I scavenge so my family can eat. Please.”

Murphy laughs, not buying it. “That's it, find the right angle. I'll help you out. I love someone who was beaten and tortured by a man who thought he could control her.” 

Your eyes widen, understanding that he means Emori. You feel a rush of hatred for the man and what he did to her, reminding you of what Shumway did to you.

“I'm not that man. You can torture me all you want, and that won't change the fact-”

He is once again cut off by a blow from Emori, who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, now cleaned and stitched up. “For my brother.”

She hits him again, “For me!”

She lifts her hand again ready for another blow, but Clarke yells out, “Wait.”

Emori spins towards her, looking absolutely livid. “What?”

“You'll kill him.”

“That's the idea.”

Murphy steps up in defense of his girlfriend. “Why don't you stay out of it and let her have this, Clarke?”

Clarke turns to look at you, her expression serious, before she turns back to Emori. “What if his death could save us all?”

Emori freezes, immediately looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“Without a way to go to space to make Nightblood, there's a chance we could make it out of Luna’s bone marrow. But the only way we’d know if it worked, is if we exposed him to the same amount of radiation that the death wave will bring. If he lives, and we know it worked, you can still have the final kill.”

“And if it fails?”

“He’ll die from radiation.”

Emori seems to consider this, looking to Murphy for guidance, who gives her a slight nod. Emori turns back to Clarke, giving her stamp of approval. “Looks like you got yourself a test subject.”

-

With Emori’s agreement to Clarke’s suggestion, she radioes over to the lab and shares the message. A few minutes later, Miller and Roan come to the house for Baylis, knocking him out to make the transport easier. You all follow them back to the lab, watching on as your mother starts to prepare him for experimentation. When she sees Baylis brought in, you see a flash of opposition cross her face, before she seems to quickly tuck it away in favor of a more neutral expression. When she sees you walk in, she nods towards the glass office on the second floor. “Kane is on the radio and he’s asking for you.”

Your brows pull together, wondering why, but you don't ask, just head up the stairs and into the office, plopping down at the desk and reaching for the radio. “Kane, do you read me?”

Kane’s voice comes through a second later, sounding tired. “I read you.”

“My mom said you asked for me?”

“The black rain's here, and it's worse than we thought. It burns on contact...it kills.” You hear him sigh, before continuing, “We were outside when it started, had teams outside the wall scavenging for supplies. Some got stuck, straight out in the open, no cover, no help. Two of them, Mark and his son Peter, asked to be rescued. Bellamy went after them in a broken suit, tried to get to them, but failed. The rover got stuck, and with the bad suit, he has no way to get the rover free again. He’s taking it pretty hard, and I tried to help, but I think I just made things worse. I was hoping you’d talk to him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course. What channel?”

“Four.”

“Copy that. Switching over.”

You fiddle with the radio, switching it to channel four, before asking, “Bellamy? Are you there, can you hear me?”

His voice comes through a second later, whispering your name, his tone a cross between relief and sadness. “Did Kane call you? Because I’m fine.”

But you can hear the emotion in his voice as he tries to convince you, unsuccessfully, that he’s fine. You push past his insistence and ask, “What happened, Bellamy?”

The radio clicks on, and you hear the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the rover, followed by the rumble of thunder. And underneath all that, you hear a quiet sob, choked and broken. “Do you remember Peter? He was part of the 100.”

“I think you were closer to him than I was, but yes I remember him.”

“Him and his dad got caught in the black rain. It’s coming down pretty hard, and it burns the second it touches your skin. They went for shelter the best they could, but it wasn't much. I grabbed a suit and tried to get to them, but the suit was damaged in the fire, cracked in a million different places. It was useless. Then the rover got stuck along the way, and without the suit, I won't survive the trip outside to get it unstuck.”

He takes in a shaky breath, and you know the next part is going to be hard to hear. “When I radioed Mark to tell him I couldn't make it, he lost it. Reminding me that I promised I’d come save them, and now I’m going back on that and killing them both. He stayed on the radio for a long time, and I could…”

Another sob breaks free from his chest, and tears spring to your eyes, hating how broken he sounds. You wish you were there with him, wrapping your arms around him, comforting him the way he comforted you. “I could hear them dying. The radio must have cut out after that, or he was too weak to press the button, because it’s been silent ever since.”

“Bellamy, I know you’re hurting, but this isn't your fault.”

“Mark’s right. I made them a promise and I went back on that. It’s my fault they're dead, because I failed to save them.”

“You didn't know the black rain was coming. You can't control the suit being broken or the rover getting stuck. This is not your fault.”

“Octavia left, did Kane tell you that?”

“No, he didn’t.”

He sighs, and you can hear another rumble of thunder in the background. “She was gone before I even made it back. My sister, my responsibility, and I failed to protect her too. I always fail. I’ve failed you, my sister, our people. I can't save anyone.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? And what about all of the delinquents you saved before the Ark came down? What about our friends in Mount Weather? Clarke in Polis? You protected her so she could shut down the City of Light, which saved all of us from Alie. She couldn't have done that without your protection.”

He’s quiet, considering your words, and you add, “I know that every life we fail to save hurts us more than some of the lives we’ve taken. You’ve made mistakes, Bellamy, but this isn't one of them. You did everything you could to save Mark and Peter, and sometimes that’s all we can do, because these things lie in the lap of the gods. We can be prepared for every outcome, every scenario, and still fail. Learn from this, save who you can save today, but don't let this tear you apart. I still need you, and so does Octavia, Kane, our people. This fight isn't over yet.”

You can tell he takes your words to heart, as his sobs finally start to quiet. He’s silent for a few moments before he whispers, “I wish you were here with me.”

“I wish I was too.”

“Tell me about the stars, please.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and you think of which constellation to share with him today. “There’s a constellation in the sky called Lyra, the lyre. The lyre belonged to Orpheus, who played music so beautiful that the animals would listen, and people would stop whatever they were doing just to hear him play. He played most of these songs for his wife, Eurydice, whom he loved very much. One day, Eurydice died suddenly, and it broke Orpheus’ heart. He was determined to win her back from Hades, unable to live life without his love, and he set out on a journey to the Underworld. On his way down, he played his harp, and when he reached Hades he found that the god greatly enjoyed his music. Orpheus stopped playing, and Hades asked him to continue. Orpheus agreed on the condition that when he stopped playing for good, his wife would be returned to him. Hades accepted this condition, and Orpheus began to play again. When he was done, Hades informed Orpheus that he too had a condition, which is that Orpheus must leave the Underworld playing his harp, and he must trust that Hades has honored their agreement. Orpheus is not to turn around or look back to see if Eurydice is following. If he doubted and looked back, Eurydice would be taken back to the Underworld. Orpheus agreed to the conditions and played his music as he left, pleased that he could hear Eurydice’s footsteps behind him the entire time. Until Hades tried to test the young lover. He guided their return to the surface through a pine grove, which silenced Eurydice's footsteps. Orpheus endured the quiet as long as he could, until he no longer believed his wife was with him, and turned to look back, just in time to see her fade away. Orpheus returned to the surface alone and brokenhearted, and when he eventually died, Zeus put his lyre in the sky to commemorate their love.”

“I would go to the underworld to save you.”

You smile, knowing that he means it. Bellamy has already proven to you time and time again that he’s willing to go through hell just to save you. Your answer to him serves as a double meaning, one you hope he’ll take to heart. “Just as long as you don't look back.”

-

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