#penitcnt

[rcjoice]

"Is this a bad time?"

"my kids are sleeping, sam." why the fuck was he coming around this late at night, anyway? didn't he get the memo that ashton was mad at him? how could he not be after the fucking stunt he pulled. "besides, i don't talk to dead guys." and with that he goes to slam the door in sam's face, a fitting end to this conversation, he thinks.

[rcjoice]

it had been a very long time since ashton had even thought about treasure hunting, longer since he had actually done it. if he didn't have a picture of him and sam, taken just before their last job together, that convinced ashton it wasn't some drug fueled fever dream that he had come up to cope with whatever problems he was dealing with at the time. no one just becomes a treasure hunter by taking some sketchy job, right? but he had, and he had watched sam take that bullet as they ran through some jungle away from someone else with guns in hand and greed in their eyes. he had watched the way he dropped, ashton barely able to look back to see where he fell as he stumbles behind the two other men that remain.

that had been eighteen years ago, and all that he had to show for it was a small bronze figure that ashton had no idea what it was or what do with it. sam was the one who had all the connections. all ashton was supposed to be is an extra body, an extra gun, an extra pair of hands for these jobs. and he was, for the most part, but he also ended up keeping sam company more often than either of them cared to admit; admitting to it is talking about it and the lines didn't need to be blurred more.

he had moved on in the eighteen years since, he had given himself a semblance of normality with his life that he hadn't really ever thought possible. he's home alone when the knock comes, his brows furrowed as he opens the door. "whatever you're selling, i don't---" the sight of the other man's face makes his chest tight, heart dropping into his ass it feels like. "is this a fucking joke right now?"

@rcjoice

it had been a long time coming. after five years of freedom, a total eighteen years without seeing him, sam owed ashton some form of apology. it's not that he didn't want to see him and apologize, not by any means, but how was he supposed to do this? 'hey, sorry it's been eighteen years. you totally thought i was dead, huh?' it didn't sound good. sounded even worse than the bullshit he'd fed nathan when he finally reunited with him. the first two years were maybe forgiveable, if ashton would believe it was for both their safety. maybe. but the last three years, he had no excuse for. hell, he had no real reason to show back up in ashton's life anyway, did he? they'd known each other for just over a year when sam 'died'. maybe showing up was pointless, maybe he'd be met with a 'wait, who are you?'. that would be ideal, actually. much easier to handle. but just in case ashton did remember, in case it would do any good, here he was. standing at the same apartment where he'd last seen ashton, where he'd promised him a (very very small) cut of pirate treasure before disappearing. he knocks once, too soft and he knows it. nerves had never been a problem before, but they seemed to be now. goddammit. another knock, more solid. when he's met with nothing it's almost a relief, but the minute he turns to leave it opens. and it's definitely the right address.

"hey, quincy. long time no see."

[murphieslaw-a]

❛ i have a hard time just forgiving, don’t think i’ll be forgetting. ❜

meme:  says something weird.status:  accepting!

//  @penitcnt​

                         ❝   You wanna talk about FORGIVENESS, Clarke?   ❞

       HE SPITS HER NAME OUT LIKE IT’S A DAMN CURSE ;  and it’s fitting, isn’t it?  She chains the grim reaper by the throat.  And she didn’t have to say it.  He knows where it leads, and he knows what Clarke sees when she looks him in the eyes.

                         ❝   Because if you wanna talk about forgiveness, let’s talk about                               how you left me to DIE.  Banishment — HA!  As if, Clarke.                                 You KNEW I was good as dead.  You’re a bigger fucking                                coward than Bellamy over there.   ❞

       He takes a step closer, eyes stinging, jaw locked with grief & suffering.  Locked because he’s been known to say what he wants but he’s been trying DAMN hard to change that — because they still look at him like he killed Wells.  Like he killed Charlotte ( — didn’t you? )  

       He’s not going to let them decide his fate like it was their God given right.  Not again.  He’ll swallow his blood, his pride — hell, he’d let DESOLATION swallow him whole before that.

                        ❝   If you don’t want my help — don’t want me to protect Finn,                             then just say the word.  I’ll let you kill him ALL by yourself.   ❞

[belomi-archive]

❝ My mind’s like a deadly disease. ❞

   HALSEY || not accepting

           Dark hues watch contrasting blue, taking in the words in silence. Lips press into a tight line, knowing EXACTLY what she meant. Fists clenched tightly && suddenly, he found himself unable to look towards her. How many TERRIBLE things had he done since she had left? How could he have stood there while CHILDREN were being massacred? It wasn’t right && it CERTAINLY wasn’t him.

          Everything had spiraled out of control since Mount Weather. His support system had fallen through, even Octavia had refused to even LOOK at him at first. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the corpses that littered the floor. He could still see Clarke’s broken expression as he ATTEMPTED to look towards her for some sort of comfort. It sat DIFFERENTLY in him. As he looked upon the burnt faces, they were people he KNEW. People who had helped him && he had promised to keep safe. They had TRUSTED him && he only brought GENOCIDE.

          Then, there was Gina. Someone who had tried so hard to whip him back into shape && for a moment, there was a hope that things were going to get better. AND THEN THEY DIDN’T. The world he had attempted to rebuild had come crashing down && the only person who was there to help him pick up the pieces was Pike.

          Bellamy KNOWS he doesn’t deserve Clarke’s forgiveness. Everything he had done was under the manipulation of Pike, but that hadn’t meant he hadn’t nearly started a war. Taking a deep breath, hands dug into the beat up leather coat, taking a step back from the young woman in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words broke before they could escape. Instead, he simply nodded && turned away.

[pramheda-blog]

@penitcnt

       ❝ you and i have a lot to talk about. ❞

[zeusveined-blog]

@penitcnt​ | moved from here

bellamy is seething, struggling to speak. his chest strained – has the Ground ever spared him a liberating moment to breathe? he’s had his guard up since they’ve c r a s h e d and it’s been his responsibility to protect their people. the deaths hung over his head, dark clouds swirling, brewing, t h i c k e n i n g. 

these past months have not been kind. bellamy has had to bury his emotions underneath the permanent guilt that stains his conscience, because being susceptive to feeling anything would muddy his ability to rationalize. alone, bellamy has been clashing against his own ideals. there has been no one else to counter him, to complement him. to give him the affirmation that he isn’t what his mind makes him out to be – a  m o n s t e r.

the former guard is exhausted. he was left to his own devices when the supreme wanheda decided to play “ house ” with the enemy. negotiating treaties arkadia has never asked for. deserting their people only to graciously return with her own plans to execute. bellamy felt betrayed by the last person he thought suspected.

and he is miserable, miserable, miserable.

“ clarke… ” his eyes manage mere seconds of contact before darting away. his hands melt from the fists they had been, because seeing her like this breaks his heart. after a solemn beat, he turns to face her, begins to trudge towards her. 

grabbing her trembling hands with his own wavering pair, he scarcely exhales, “  i’m sorry, too. ” it’s agonizing to keep his gaze on her. “ but the way i see things, you’re part of the problem. ”

[hopeisxverything]

“The truth doesn’t get any easier to tell. It only gets harder until it’s gone forever.”

Kings Meme || @penitcnt

       ❝ clarke, i don’t think you want to KNOW the truth. ❞