#she didnt take him out of mount weather for him

[yiangchen]

.

[dumdaradumdaradum]

10. Moon

For prev parts :: masterlist

These past few days had been slow and sluggish. Y/n grumbled in annoyance. Start of the day has no right being this hot, she complained as she spread two long sarees on the floor.

Sunlight filtered through the clouds making them shine bright. She massaged between her eyes, trying to shoo away the ache.

Her right eye twitched, feeling the sweat roll down from her hairline.

Once done with arranging the cloth over the veranda, she went to the store room and dragged out two sacks of wheat. One after the other.

This is going to take a lot of time, she considered calling one of the neighboring ladies for help. Considered and tossed that idea in a cold box.

Hailing from a huge joint family, Y/n never understood why she died a little everytime there came a prospect of socializing.

Entering the kitchen for a sieve, she ruffled Ram's hair a bit who was cooking lunch for them. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

She heard him mutter a quiet no and eyed the highest shelf, cursing her past self, why did she have to put it so high up? Y/n stretched her hand stupidly, the sieve she wanted was double her height up.

Over the sizzle of tomatoes, Ram heard his wife huffing and puffing and muttering something under her breath. "What?"

"This stupid sieve!"

He covered the cooking vegetables and stood up. Standing next to her, he too stared up the shelf. Deciding to give it a try, he stood on his toes and tried to hold the iron strainer.

To his chagrin, instead of grasping it his fingers pushed it back further.

Y/n slapped her head, immediately regretting as sweat smeared on her hand and dust on her face. "I'll bring the stool."

On a whim, Ram turned. His eyes widened in an innocent look. "Oooooorr-"

Not giving her time to react and refuse, he bent down and sweeped her off the ground. "-not!"

Y/n shrieked at the sudden movement. Her hands found way to his shoulders and tried to push down. "Ram- Ram! Put me down-"

He gave a mock theatrical laugh and took a step closer to the shelves. "Take it."

Despite herself, she chuckled and shook her head affectionately. He lowered her once she got the sieves.

Y/n smacked his arm, " You're crazy."

Her smile dimmed once out of the kitchen. Near one fifty kgs of wheat to clean, she hated this part of work. It was boring and time taking, and completely unbearable in hot weather.

In next half an hour, she wasn't even half done and her pallu was soaked.

Using the back of her hand, she tried to wipe the sweat trickling down the side of her face. Ram was humming in the kitchen. Her irritation mounted. Her grip tightened as she tried to hurry.

Why was it so hot?

She looked up at the sky, and asked for mercy. Her hands were covered in fine husk and dust till the elbows and so were her feet. As the motion sped up, the sieve shifted forward.

As minutes passed by, her movements grew more and more agitated. The care she started out with was gone. All she wanted was to be done with this task.

Should have asked for help.

Her palms chuffed against the rough iron. In haste and discomfort Y/n didnt register the sharp edge.

Not until it flew out of her hands, cutting a deep gash in her palm.

Blood slowly surfaced and dripped on the floor. Her irritation increased with the stinging feeling.

Getting up, Y/n washed her hands and pressed on the wound with her saree. Looking around, she saw a clean strip of cloth. Quickly she snatched it and wound it around her hand, tight.

Determined to not leave anything for later, she sat back down and filled the sieve with more wheat. It was almost done.

Almost. Almost.

She kept chanting in her heart. As the pile of cleaned wheat grew, so did the pain in her hand and her back from sitting hunched for too long.

Once done, she quickly filled the sacks with the wheat. Red was starting to appear above the thick bandage. Somehow she dragged them back to the store room and picked up the broom.

She carefully folded the sarees and kept them in a corner.

The only relief was that she won't have to cook now.

Ram finally emerged from the kitchen drenched in sweat. "Why did you pick them up, I would have-"

She waved, saying it was fine.

He switched on the fan of the living room and plopped down on the chair. Lifting the kurta, he tried to dry himself. After sometime Y/n dropped on a chair on the other end of the table.

"Why is it so hot?"

"Beats me."

He kept his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. Working in the kitchen was suffocating. He felt a little more respect for his wife and really bad that she had to do it everyday without fail.

Y/n covered her face and groaned. "I'm so tired."

"What's that on your hand?"

Her breath caught.

Play it cool. Play it cool. Pretend this doesn't hurt.

Scrunching her face, she looked at her bandaged hand, "This? Oh nothing, just-" She acted as if surprised.

"Y/n.."

Her eyes darted across the room. She licked her lips. "Ram."

Don't run. He'll only scold you more.

He got up from the chair and dragged it next to her. Grabbing her stiff hand, he looked at her with a gaurded expression.

She bit her lip. Don't. Words died in her throat. He didn't look like he'd laugh at her jibes right now.

Tenderly, he untied the already dark knot.

"It's nothing." He snorted, "you said this is nothing." He kept the warm red strip on the table. Finally, he saw the cut.

It was deep but that wasn't what bothered him. It was the blood, speck sized dark clots and warm bright blood.

"It doesn't take a lot to take care of yourself, you know?" He gritted out. He felt mad, all he knew was that he hated the sight of her blood.

Y/n was confounded. She couldn't understand what was happening. Was he mad, was he annoyed- all the emotions were locked away.

"Dekh kr kaam kiya kro na," his hands trembled. He hated how his voice slowly quieted down to a mere whisper.

He side-eyed the bloodied makeshift bandage. "Do I want to know how this happened?"

The silence from her made him antsy. It didn't hurt too much, right? Her hand looked small in his. He felt nauseous seeing blood drop on his pants.

Her brain was still trying to make sense of his behavior. She didn't miss the slight shake of his hands. She didn't miss how he avoided her eyes.

"I am fine."

"No you're not! God, you're bleeding so much-" emotions rose like bile and he snapped, losing control over himself. He felt her blood trickling between his fingers and onto the floor.

He took a shaky breath and went to get the first aid box from their room. 

Maybe the heat had got to her, she couldn't help but find it all so adorable. Who knew blood's best friend Ram could be bothered by it?

She admired the focus quietly, his hooded eyes as he looked down.

"This will hurt."

He tried to clean the blood. She flinched and tried to pull back her hand, it stung. To her dismay, he held on.

"Just a bit, jaan."

Her heart picked up a bit, like it did everytime he called her jaan. Half the time she could tell that he was joking around, the other half left her wanting more.

More of what, that was still unclear.

"Ram, no need to-"

"No need? Well, there would have been no need if you were just careful."

He didn't look up. His shoulders tensed, "God," the more he tried to tame the bleeding, the more fidgety he got. "Dhyaan kaha tha! Now look what you've done."

More hair fell on his face shielding the pained expression from her.

She kept looking at him, she let him have this moment. She let him fuss.

"It hurts na?" He looked into her eyes, not accepting when she nodded a no, he blew on her palm as he slowly applied the ointment.

Once he tied the bandage, he pressed a long kiss over it. It didn't matter to him that it was on the fabric, the tiny display of affection was more for his heart. His assurance.

"It'll be fine in a few days."

He felt flustered under her stare, why was she looking at him this way. He started to get up when Y/n held his wrist.

She too got up and got hold of his kurta. Raising her heels, she tugged him down a little. Whispering a small thank you, she kissed his cheek.

Ram stood frozen, his hands stiff on the sides. When she let go, he cleared his throat and went to change, "Babai asked to meet."

----

The floor beneath her feet felt a little colder, her soul smiled a little wider. Birds flew back to their nests. Several stories materialized in the clouds, Y/n tried to see them all before they could be washed away by the wind.

She sat on the terrace sipping hot tea.

Squirrels squeaked, leaves of the huge trees rustled and all of them were lost under the chatter of the neighborhood. There was some issue with the electric line, so naturally all the families were settled on the roofs with their mattresses and mats.

She waited for Ram. Twilight slowly dimmed into a dark starry night when she saw him enter the lane.

Picking up the empty glass and cup, she went down.

She shivered at the change of temperature. It was hot downstairs. Thankfully she had been quick and finished all the chores before sun went down.

Singing a melody from her childhood, Y/n took out clean cotton kurta for Ram and kept it on the chair.

Reheating tea for him, she took out a few snacks for him.

Behind the steel containers Y/n searched for a matchbox but didn't find it. She then searched in the living room, their room, the puja and everywhere else.

It was slowly getting harder to make out anything in the dark. She ran back up and called for kids playing on the street.

"Tell him to bring matchbox with him."

Y/n stayed hunched over the tiny boundaries of their roof, waiting for the kid to tell him. After a few, Ram looked up form the conversation and towards her though it was too dark to see anything properly.

Satisfied she descended the short steep stairs with care.

In a few minutes, Ram knocked on the door.

"What took so long today?"

He handed her the bundle and began unbuttoning his shirt right away. "Akhtar and Jenny had another date and I roamed around the city with babai. You know he always likes to double check every possible hideout."

Taking his shirt from him, Y/n handed him a glass of water from the earthen pot. "Do I know that?"

She filled up all the lamps with oil and lit them while he took a quick shower. Placing one in the living room, she took a diya and an incense up to light in front of tulsi.

Ram came out with water dripping from his hair and tried looking for the towel. "Y/n! Where is the towel?" He cried out,  standing in the middle of the veranda.

"It's there, on the wire!"

He looked in the corner and spotted one. By the time she came back, he was already comfortable rolling up the sleeves.

Breath caught in her throat, roaming stare appreciated those biceps. She flipped back her braid playfully and strutted past him, brushing her fingers over his arm like a butterfly.

Silently snickering, she took out a cup to pour tea into. Her heart skipped, she wanted to do it again.

Peeking out slightly, she giggled a little more. He sat with his back angled away and fanned himself.

Y/n felt like skipping but seeing that she had a cup of tea in her hand, she settled for a slight sway of her hips.

Purposefully she leaned forward to set the cup on the table, teasing him with light touch on his back. Before he could have a chance to question her, she stood back up and sat on the adjacent chair.

Her eyes drank in the golden illuminated view. God, he's perfect.

Tension in her back eased as his shoulder relaxed. He exhaled a long cold sigh before turning to her.

"So how was your day?"

Her lips stretched, revealing the pearly whites. Y/n put her hand up and shook it. "I got these today."

Ram was captivated by the pure joy on her face. He propped up his elbow and rested his head on it. The animated expressions as she showed off the blue gold bangles, he knew he would cherish this for rest of his life.

He eyes the bandage, "does it hurt?"

"No.. Did you have fun with Babai?"

He scrunched his face, ready to tell her that time with Babai was more tense than fun but then he caught the mock serious look and deadpanned, not gracing her with an answer.

"Acha acha, will you have dinner here or up in the open?"

Pretending to think, he took a moment to watch her eyes dance around the room, him. He found a new love for the glow of lamps, it made her eyes look ethereal.

"Here."

His eyes traveled with her, looking up when she stood, following when she took steps towards the kitchen, only looking down when he couldn't catch her further. Engrossed in his own world, Ram didn't catch the chimes of her payal or the bangles. His unsuspecting heart was not ready.

All he could do was freeze when Y/n ran upto him, flashing her bangles in front his eyes and placed a quick kiss on his temple, and ran back.

The distant giggles slowly pulled him out of his shock. A smile threatened to break free, he bit his lip.

She decided to mess with him again, the same way. She leaned over his shoulder one more time, giving a secretive smile. Ram caught it and blushed. His lips stretched involuntarily in a wide, shy smile.

It was bearable downstairs tonight, comparatively.

They ate in comfortable silence. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind relax their feet.

Turning her head to look at her husband, she tore another bite. He was still grinning. Her eyes sparkled in satisfaction and she bumped her knee against his.

Once again he was lost in his mind, the sudden touch from her sent him into a choking fit.

Y/n's eyes opened wide and quickly she took the glass and made him drink water, all the while rubbing his back. She bit the inside of her cheek. "Sorry sorry."

Slowly his coughing subsided and her rubs turned into soft caresses. She decided to have some pity on her poor husband and let him eat in silence.

Y/n collected all the dirty dishes and sat down to wash them. "Ram, will you watch the milk, take it off the flame once boiled?"

He locked the doors and set all the buckets aside. "Haan."

Once done with the work, she filled a jug with water and took two empty glasses. Ram took a big chadar and pillows with him.

Loud chatter once again invaded her senses. Their neighbors had huge families, kids were fighting over the soft covers. Men stood at the edge of their roofs and talked about living conditions and weather.

Women tittered, huddled together.

Winds carried voices from each home on the street. Even yelling from distant houses could be heard.

Each family was loud. Clear starry night, moonlight shone on the neighborhood. Y/n looked around and sighed happily.

It all felt so normal, like each of them didn't have a hundred problems, like there weren't rising tensions in their minds. They were being blessed with a small fleeting moment of peace.

She sat down, bringing her knees closer and resting her head on them. With closed eyes, she listened to the cacophony around her. Ram was engaged in a conversation with their neighbor's son.

Patiently she waited for sleep to hit people. The only ones asleep were the kids who had school and men who toiled away in their fields from early mornings.

Playing with her toe rings, she looked up to see Ram. She let out an audible gasp, she could see his muscles flexing due to shadows.

She tucked back her hair and looked at the moon again. It was better for her to stare at a shining piece of rock rather than her hunk of a husband.

Couple of half hours later, their heads finally hit the pillows.

Birds have quieted down, and so had the dogs of the lanes. Full blown laughters became quiet whispers.

Husband and wife laid on their sides, maintaining comfortable distance and glanced at the sky.

Back of Y/n's hand hit his chest, "look-" He followed her finger to see a bright star crossing the sky. He grinned, wondering if it was truly a star or something else.

His fingers closed on her wrist, keeping it in place. With his other hand he held hers,still pointing at the moving object and moved it closer to the horizon. "Look how bright that one is."

She searched over her head for more such stars. Like he did with her, she held his hand and pointed to one near the moon.

His fingers traced the rough fabric around her palm idly as they continued to point at every bright star they could find.  Her arm began tiring and she couldn't find a brighter one.

Letting go of his hand, she smiled. "Ye acha h ki it's not humid tonight."

Ram turned on his side and hummed.

The silver glow on her skin made him think if the apasaras from swarga looked like her. His eyes raked through her side profile.

He marveled why he had never paid as much attention to her beauty.

Maybe because they always slept with no light in their room. Maybe he always got so lost in her eyes. Maybe all he thought these days was what her sweet lips would taste like. Maybe he wanted to press countless kisses on the little mark she had, just below her collarbone.

Or maybe he just never had the time.

Maybe that. Please that.

Please let it be the lack of free time.

His heart squeezed painfully, God could you sound more infatuated?

Why do I sound like an idiot?

All the while he cursed himself, his eyes didn't stray from her face. She's beautiful.

Several hundred thoughts collided and mingled as he imagined a happy evening with her, an evening when he'd gather enough courage to tell her how he had begun to feel.

Barbad aashiq.

A single thought sneaked up on him, silencing every fantasy, every imagination. It mocked him, laughed at him, pointed fingers at him, called him a loser.

Ram laughed along.

He laughed at how he immediately felt his heart plummet. He couldn't believe he was fantasizing about a day when she'd love him.

He didn't realized he had snorted audibly until she turned her head and raised her eyebrows questioning him.

He said nothing, instead laced his fingers with hers. Y/n held his hand tighter and looked back at the stars. The best part of his life was this.

This moment and every other they shared.

After being drowned in unfortunate situations from his childhood, he finally had some magic of fate in his palm-lines.

"When we got married.. I never thought I feel so, I never thought you would become the shining moon of my life."

Ram clamped his mouth shut, how did it slip out. The small admission. The words enough to confess his love. His heart raced. Why was his throat suddenly so dry?

His fingers started to slip from her hold on their own.

Breathing heavily, he tried to grasp the escaping voice. "Y/n- i-" He didn't understand why there was so much air in his words.

Y/n saw that he was about to sit, hastily she put a hand on his heart and effectively stopped all the movements.

If only she knew she had stilled all the thoughts, his breath and his heart.  He didn't dare to move even an inch. He hadn't meant to- to say anything. He was just happily thinking and indulging in his fantastical universe.

"Ram, breathe."

Her fingers traced their way to his face before finally settling on his lips, caressing them. "I never thought I would feel more than respect for my husband to be honest. I'm happy I'm more than just another responsibility for you."

She retrieved her hand and let him decide if he wanted to continue the conversation. She would be fine either way.

Ram allowed silence to take over. He allowed their souls to tangle just a little tighter, he allowed his heart to beat freely alongside hers.

His smile reflected the radiance of the full moon. This felt like a new beginning. Last he felt this way was when he sat in the mandap and fill her hairline with sindoor, only this time the jitters were quiet.

It was late and they weren't asleep yet. To his surprise, Ram didn't feel like it either- on the contrary he wanted to keep gazing at her and find more stuff like that mark.

He could feel the sparks between their barely touching hands, he could almost see the fibres of his being entangling with hers. Shaking his head, he grinned. When had he become such a poet?

"How are we going to pay the farmers after harvesting wheat and maize?"

So the letter had finally made their home. "As always, sell it and give them forty percent."

He waited again, to see if she would say something, if she would disagree but nothing. Simply humming, she let the topic go. His eyes lit up

For the first time in long time, he thanked Babai. He felt grateful. Thank you.

He truly couldn't have found a better wife for him. Every now and then he'd look at other couples, other men crying and complaining, other women screaming and sobbing and he felt eternally grateful.

Y/n understood why he did what he did. She didn't force him to pocket the money from their crops. Maybe this was why feelings had sneaked up so easily, so quietly on him.

Slowly the hum of the universe faded, chirps of crickets and bugs died down and both slept in the swing of gentle winds.

As the moon traveled westward, temperature too climbed down and breeze picked pace.

The night got colder, disturbing Ram's sleep. Both his hands were tucked to keep him warm. In a haze he looked around before the auditory senses swam in.

On his side, Y/n was curled up in a ball.

He remembered the chadar he had bought up with him in case there were mosquitoes.

A hoarse groan left his lips as he sat up. He opened the long, thin sheet and covered Y/n.

He didn't realize he was thirsty till he chugged two glasses of water. Wiping his bearded face with a sleeve, he shifted a little close to her and pulled the cover over himself.

As if she sensed him, Y/n shuffled a bit. Ram draped an arm over her waist pulled her back snug against himself. He placed a tiny kiss on the nape of her neck before tucking her head under his chin and closed his eyes.

Your girl wanted to tell you all something but she can't remember what. Side note, i haven't proofread this so pls pardon the mistakes. As always if you wish to be added or removed from taglist pls tell me. Have a nice weekend.

Tags :: @thewinchestergirl1208 @budugu @yehsahihai @vaijayantheee @chaanv @rishi-sita @rambheemisgoated @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @asarcasticcaffeinatedslytherin @mizutaama @jeonmahi1864 @bromance-minus-the-b @ronaldofandom @sabi5 @saanjh-sakhi @maraudersbitchesassemble @whyismynamecommon @nyotamalfoy @rambheemlove @lite-teesko @jjwolfesworld @shreyalokesh @rorapostsbl @amnmich

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Virago 21. Strength of Spirit

Summary: Y/N was sent to the ground after spending five years in the Skybox for stealing medical supplies and murder. How will she deal with her new environment and learn to survive on earth? Will she crack under the pressure of becoming a leader of the 100 or will she embrace it. 

Post Date: 10.30.20

Word count: 2.2k

Based off: 02x10 “Survival of the Fittest”

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Masterlist

100 Master List

The next morning you woke up to find Lincoln and Bellamy preparing to leave, “Hey,” Bellamy says leaning down to you.

“Hey,” You respond getting up. “You ready?” You ask.

“Yeh, we’re leaving in 10,” He responds as you stand up.

“I’ll let you get ready. Just be careful, okay?” You say.

“I will,” Bellamy says starting to walk away. 

Before you knew it you felt yourself pulling him into a hug. Neither of you said anything and stood there, for what felt like minutes. Soon enough, Bellamy pulled away as he needed to finish preparations. You watched as he and Lincoln walked off into the forest, hoping you’ll see him soon. Only a few minutes the rest of your group pack up and head back to Camp Jaha. 

After you settle back into camp, Kane tells you to go into the meeting room to wait for the grounders to arrive to talk about the war strategies. You reluctantly listen to him and go to wait. You stand next to Octavia as we waited for the grounder troops to arrive. Once they walked in you could feel the tension and the uneasiness between your people and the grounders.

“Quiet down,” Kane says as he enters the room, and then gestures for Indra to walk further into the room.

“Don’t worry. My shock baton’s got your guys back,” The guard next to Octavia and you says.

“How about you stick it up your ass instead?” Octavia says back.

“I know we don’t have a lot in common. But we do have a common enemy...and a common goal. And for us to reach it, to get our people out of Mount Weather...we need to work together,” Kane says before speaking some words in the grounder language. “Our survival depends on you sharing your knowledge of this world,” Kane continues before you notice Murphy shoving a grounder. Catching everyones attention in the room.

“Mr. Murphy. Apologize to that man,” Kane says.

“For what?” Murphy asks. “He was the pne who came at me,” Murphy says.

“Two days work detail,” Kane syas.

“Work detail? I just told you I didnt--”

“Care to make it three?” Kane interrupts and Murphy thankfully walked away yet the grounder kept speaking to him. Murphy could handle it and threw a punch at the grounder causing a fight to break out through the entire room. You and Octavia quickly worked to try to break it apart but it didn’t seem to work.

Soon enough you were able to settle the fight. Since Kanes little spiel didn;t seem to work every cleared out and the grounders went to train outside.

“Impressive...aren’t they?” Kane says to you and Octavia as you two walked up to watch the fights. Octavia had that same look in her eyes as you did, that you wanted to fight and train like them. “What doesn’t kill them...makes them stronger,” Kane says.

“I am,” Octavia walks to Indra after she says something in her language. You assume she asked whos next. 

“We’re supposed to train together. Right?” You ask following her and standing next to Octavia. You knew you wanted to get in there just as bad as Octavia. 

“Only warriors train here,” Indra says coldly.

“I saved your life,” Octavia says looking at Indra.

“And now i’m saving yours. Both of yours,” Indra says before speaking to her people. Octavia walked off clearly upset that Indra wouldn’t let her fight. You noticed as Kane made rounds to the guards shooting guns and decided to watch them. Kane tried to offer a grounder to shoot a gun before Indra interfered. 

“Guns keep them alive. It’s like they’re afraid of them,” Kane says as the grounders go back to their training.

“They are. Legend has it if a grounder picks up a gun, even to shoot another grounder...Mount Weather will wipe out their entire village. Can’t have your blood supply defending themselves. Right?” Octavia says from the sidelines.

“If we don’t arm them...we can;t win,” Kane says.

“Like hell we can’t, “Octavia says getting up from her seat and walks away.

“We don’t know enough about these people,” Kane says.

“She sure seems to,” the guard besides you says.

“More that you guys,” You say.

“What can you tell us?” Kane asks turning to you.

“Not as much as Octavia can tell you,” You say before following after her.

“Hey,” You say catching up.

“Hey,” She says.

“I know you want to get in there as bad as I do,” You say sitting on the sidelines.

“Yeh, if only Indra would let us,” Octavia says as you watch them. 

A few hours pass and you spend time unpacking your stuff from the trip. Soon enough you hear a knock on you door and open it to find Octavia. 

“I’m gonna make Indra let me train. You in?” She asks holding out another machete to you.

“Hell yeah,” You say grabbing the machete and following her outside. Just as you made it outside you noticed as the grounders were about to leave. Nothing stopped you and Octavia from getting in their way.

“Time for two more?” You ask as you meet up with Indra.

“Step aside, sky girls. We’re hungry,” Indra says.

“Make us,” Octavia says.

“Fio, Penn. Give these girls what they want,” Indra says before moving out of your way.

You watched as one of the men approached you and the other to Octavia, “Let’s do this,” Octavia says as you both prepare to fight.

You quickly go in for aswing with the machete Octavia gave you as she does the same. The man blocks your swings and grabs your arm. He pulls you towards him and knocks you with his head, sending you backward. But you weren’t gonna give up that easily. As you gathered yourself you notice Octavia being thrown to the ground.

“Hey, are you gonna give up that easily?” You say as you notice the man turning away from you as Octavia gets up.

“They want more? Oblige them,” Indra says.

The man starts to run towards you and swings, you ducted quickly and knock him in the back of his head with the blunt side of your machete. The man quickly turns around and elbows you in the face sending you to the ground. 

“Indra. Stop this,” Kane says trying to intervene. Indra ignores Kane’s request and says something to the men.

You and Octavia get up and take quick jabs to your respective sparing “partner”. The man fighting you barely budges. He takes you by the leg, picking you up, and tosses you away from him, into the muddy water. Even though you could feel pain in every body part, you muster every last bit of energy you have and charge at the man. Only to have your legs swiped out from under you. The man doesn’t hesitate one moment to kick you further away. As you try to gather your strength again, Indra interrupts the fight for both you and Octavia, stopping them from continuing.

Kane tries to help you up but you just shake him off, “I’m fine,” You say struggling to get to your feet. He then goes and helps Octavia up. 

“What are you two trying to prove?” Kane asks as the three of you head inside the Ark.

“What doesn’t kill you...makes you stronger,” Octavia struggles to get out. Kane takes Octavia into medical, but you continue down the hall to your room.

“Y/N, you should get to medical,” Kane says yelling after you down the hallway. You just continue to walk, ignoring him.

“Please, if not for me. At least yourself,” Kane says now closer to you. You turn to face him and silently let him know that you’d go. He walks with you into medical and you sit down on a cot. He doesn’t hesitate one moment to take care of your wounds. Not feeling up for a fight, you let him.

“Y/N...I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more. That I didn’t visit more. You know why we had to float--” Kane starts.

“Don’t finish that sentence...You know I completely understand, but you also know the reason I’m still mad,” You respond. Before Kane could respond he was called by one of the guards. The nurse continued to tend to your and Octavia’s wounds. 

“What do you want?” Octavia says. You look up and notice Indra was standing above you two.

“You two fought like children today. All aggression. No thought, no defense. Always leaving yourselves exposed. Revealing your next move before each strike.

“Ok. We know. We got our asses kicked. That should make you happy,” You say.

“It does. Because neither of you gave up. Strength of spirit like that is rare, especially in two people. It must be guided,” Indra says intriguing both of you. “Do you know what a warrior’s second is?” Indra asks.

“An apprentice,” You respond.

“I can make both of you great warriors. Octavia and Y/N of the sky people...if you’re willing to do what it takes to train with me. I can only have one second, so you two must decide between eachother who takes the spot. I will train the other but not as my second,” Indra says.

“What’s in it for you?” Octavia asks.

“First lesson: never question me,” Indra says clearly waiting for a response. 

You look at Octavia, “You can be her second,” You say.

“Are you sure? Thought you’d put up more of a fight?” She asks.

You turn to her and take her hands into yours, “This is meant more for you than me. I want to learn to fight more than anything, and I know you know that. But you...you are meant to be a second, not me. You can give this your full attention, whereas people are looking to me for our next move,” You say. “I’m willing to train with you but let Octavia be your second,” You say looking to Indra as you notice her walking out.

“I’m in,” Octavia quickly says.

“Good. We’ll start tomorrow. Both of you,” Indra says before walking out. You and Octavia look at eachother and smile, finally knowing that you two got what you wanted.

As soon as you were done getting your wounds tended to you walk back outside with Octavia and take a seat at the chairs. You watch as Indra cuts off a piece of meat that she and the grounders hunted.

“Eat. Get strong. Only then will we win this war,” Indra says holding the plate out to the people on our side. 

Kane walks forward, “Thank you,” He says before taking the plate from Indra. Everyone else quickly gathers to get food as Kane approaches you and Octavia.

“You two did this,” Kane says sitting next to you.

“You’re welcome. Don’t blow it,” Octavia says as you sat silently.

“The boar put up a better fight than you two,” One of the grounders says to you and Octavia before handing you two a plate of food.

“I see you two are making friends,” Kane says as you take a bite of the boar.

“What do you want from us?” You ask finally speaking up.

“What do you thinks gonna happen...once we get your friends back? For now, we have a common goal. But one day, this war’s gonna end. With them,” Kane says.

“Just get to the point,” Octavia says.

“We know so little about them. You two have earned their respect. I need you two to be my eyes and ears,” Kane whispers.

“You’re asking us to be spies?” You ask annoyed.

“I’m asking you...to look out for your people,” Kane says.

“I am,” You say before getting up and heading into the Ark.

As you were getting ready for bed you heard a knock on your door. You open it to find non-other than Kane. “What do you want?” You ask standing in his way.

“May I come in?” He asks. You reluctantly move out of his way and let him in. “I just wanted to check on you...just make sure you’re ok,” He says quietly.

“Like you care,” You say sitting in the seat at the table.

“I do, Y/N,” He says.

“You didn’t care enough to check on me back in space. So why now?” You question.

“You know I had a lot of responsibilities,” Kane says.

“That clearly took precedence over your BEST FRIENDS daughter. But you’re chancellor now and look at you. Finding time to talk to me. How ironic,” You say slumping into your chair.

“Y/N…” Kane says clearly upset with himself.

“No. I’m done with the excuses. It’s too late to put the work in now. So here’s the deal. I will listen to you as the Chancellor and I will be there for meetings. But past that, I don’t want to hear anything about you trying to be my father figure after abandoning me all those years. You got it?” You say leaning towards him.

“Ye--yeah,” He says quietly. You sit there for a few awkward moments before he gets up and leaves. 

“Just know Y/N. I will always be here for you now if you need it,” He says and closes your door.

A/N: Octavia and Y/N finally got their fighting moment. And more into Y/N and Kane’s relationship. BTW i never edited this bc i was lazy, so sorry for all the mistakes Thanks for reading!

🏷: @im-a-writer-right​ | @mosstea-png​  | @zestylemon99​ | @wonderful-writer​ | @thebeautifulbookworm​​ | @gxvrielle​ | @simonsbluee​ | @iwishilivedinthesims​ | @awkwardspontaneity​ | @hurricane-abigail​ | @how-does-this-work​ | @lizlil​

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 05.2 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press 05.2, or the point of no return

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: literally 20k. remember when my estimate for both parts of 05 was 20k total?? hahahah

warnings: shitty weather, sexual tension finally comes to a head, mild embarrassment, death mentions, trashing on politicians, implied sex 👀

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

IT WASN'T A day later when Y/N saw Thomas again, but that time, she was in no mood for his antics.

It was one of her first days back to work at the diner, and while she'd known it was busy during lunch and dinner, she had entirely forgotten how overwhelming the crowd was during weekend rush hours. So, unfortunately, that Sunday was a wakeup call.

She'd already been on her feet for five hours; it was just after 1 PM, and she'd elected to take the opening shift that morning (it meant she could leave earlier, and that was good enough for her). However, with the sea of customers that continued to leak into the restaurant, her exhaustion was growing and growing. Moreover, Jac had let it slip to her that the tenant who lived above the diner had just moved out, and she was stuck in her head trying to figure out a way to bring it up to Mira that didn't reek of desperation. Her focus was entirely elsewhere, by then.

"Hi, what can I get you?" She'd just rushed back from making two cappuccinos and still had to get back to the ovens to make sure her bread didn't burn, so with how preoccupied she was, she hardly noticed who was standing before her. He, however, realized immediately.

"Oh... Hey." Thomas's eyes were wide as he looked down at Y/N, but her reaction to him was nothing but expectant. He cleared his throat, trying to bury how stunned he was, and she turned her attention to the screen as he gave her his lunch order. She didn't look up as a grin began to grow on his lips. By then, she'd obviously taken note of his presence, but she was far too tired to care. "So you're a barista now?"

He quirked up an eyebrow as she frantically typed in his order. It seemed to be as complicated as possible, and she would be lying if she said she didn't suspect that it was intentional. She huffed. "We can't all live in penthouses on Capitol Hill," she bit back at him irritably, and his expression went from playful to surprised.

"Hey, now." His tone was lightly offended as he furrowed his brow. He swiped his credit card, eyeing her warily as her stare bore into the keypad before her. "Was just gonna comment on your many talents, but alright."

She sighed as she met his eyes with a tired gaze. "Name for the order?"

He furrowed his brow. "Seriously?" She stared at him expectantly, though the corners of her lips twitched up almost imperceptibly. He rolled his eyes. "It's Thomas."

"And how do you spell that?"

"Like you've never written it before?"

Y/N was growing progressively more amused, tongue-in-cheek as she looked up at him, but her smile was well-suppressed. She wasn't going to let up. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." She raised her eyebrows, silently challenging him to call her out. However, he'd apparently decided to play along instead.

"I'll let you guess that one, Ms... " He trailed off, squinting at her nametag, and she was having trouble swallowing the laugh that had begun to bubble up in her throat. She pursed her lips, trying not to find the whole ordeal endearing. "Y/N?" He looked up with an eyebrow raised, as though to confirm the pronunciation, and she gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Your order will be out shortly."

He grinned. Despite the irony in her expression, his was heavy with mirth. "Thanks so much, sweetheart; be sure to vote Jefferson in the primaries." He added a wink to his words as he put his wallet away. She rolled her eyes, biting back a scoff.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She finished sending in his order as he walked off with a grin before she retreated back into the kitchen, the other barista appearing to momentarily relieve her of her cashier duties. She was still in the thick of the lunch rush, and she couldn't lose track of her priorities -- especially since they were running quickly out of lemon bars, and it was rising unfortunately rapidly in importance for her to finish the yet-to-be-baked batch. Not that it contributed to her decision to move to the kitchens or anything, but she also couldn't stamp out the heat rising to her cheeks or her unyielding smile. (She couldn't explain them, either.)

"What's got you all smiley?" Jac raised an eyebrow as he packaged carry-out orders, and she quickly pressed her lips into a thin line. She slid the uncooked pan of lemon bars out of the refrigerator.

"Just glad to be back at the diner." She turned away from him with her dismissive excuse. The oven was always preheated for one reason or another, so she just slid in her pan, quickly withdrew her finished loaves of bread, and continued on, but Jac wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

"So it doesn't have anything to do with--?"

"I've gotta go back to mixing drinks, Jac; the line is a mile long," she cut him off abruptly, and he deadpanned. His pointed glance out the kitchen window toward the table where Thomas was sitting said all it needed to, and though she didn't miss it, she ignored it. "Let me know if you need me back here for anything. Can you take the lemon bars out when they're done?"

"Mm-hmm."

She ignored his suspicion as she rushed back out to brew another pot of coffee. She was still at work; she couldn't let herself ruminate on a two-minute interaction when there were customers who'd been waiting for at least half an hour, and so she let it slip to the back of her mind as she jumped from one task to the next, until finally--

"Order up for--" She heard a pause as she glanced toward the other end of the counter, seeing her coworker squinting at the receipt, before calling out, "Secretary Jefferson?"

When he went to collect his food, Y/N was perhaps overly pleased with herself, but she was also wholly unashamed of it, especially as she couldn’t help but notice his amused smile. He raised an eyebrow as he passed her, and she met his eyes brightly.

"Enjoy your food, Secretary Jefferson."

"That's a new way to spell 'Thomas,' huh?" he commented dryly, a brow raised, and she shrugged.

"Gave it my best guess."

"I'm sure you did."

---------------

UP UNTIL THEN, Y/N had spent the past week letting her writing take a bit of a back seat, her focus instead on her more recent financial crisis. However, it seemed Ashley wasn't going to let her off that easy. She'd reminded her on an abundance of occasions (more than twice a day over text and whenever they crossed paths in the office) that researching everything there was to know about Thomas Jefferson was still her job, that she'd still need to go to campaign events -- it as only a matter of time until the other shoe dropped. To her dismay, the 'other shoe' apparently meant she was required to make another day trip to Charlottesville, and it may have been one of her only work commitments, but she wasn't going to refrain from grumbling about it.

The only benefit of the situation was that her gracious host and temporary landlord also happened to be going, so she didn't have to go miserably navigate another black-tie political fundraiser alone.

When Lafayette pulled up in a Mercedes, she rolled her eyes. They were going to spend almost as much time in the car as they were at the venue, but it also appeared he wasn't going to let her slip under the radar as she'd hoped.

The mocking went both ways, though. Where he was excessively flashy, she was astoundingly fixated on her own comfort, rather than style. Lafayette laughed outright when she came to his car in a formal dress and a pair of slippers, pearls and pajama pants. (It was the middle of a blizzard, though, for fuck's sake. She didn't intend to freeze, and she certainly didn't intend to try and traipse through the mounting snow in four-inch heels and stockings.)

The ride south was painless if she didn't consider Lafayette's substandard taste in music or how poor visibility was. (She wasn't behind the wheel, so the latter wasn't her problem.) When they reached Monticello, though, she wasn't sure painless was how she could've described the rest of her night.

It was already dark when they arrived, the snowfall not having let up for a moment, and she whined about having to trade out her slippers for her heels, almost unwilling to sacrifice her pajama pants. However, entering the mansion had her almost immediately forgetting her strife.

Monticello was a grand estate. Staircases curved up either side of the entrance hall, coats being taken near one wall as everyone was funneled into the grand parlor -- not before passing the first of many elaborate chandeliers, though. The atmosphere was alight; the air held the warm, sweet scents of cinnamon and cherry wine -- at least, by Y/N's best, unrealistically-specific guess, but regardless of whether she was correct, she'd already begun to salivate.

"Shall we sit?" Lafayette offered her his arm, which she took, not for the sake of appearances, but because her feet were absolutely killing her, and she was desperate to take a load off. She looked up at him gratefully.

"Yes, please."

---------------

MUCH OF THEIR evening was uneventful. Lafayette socialized while Y/N networked; he drank four glasses of wine as she worked through her first; he pulled people to his sides to sing with him to the music of the cellist at the back of the room, and she took vigorous notes about the statuses of every campaign patron she interacted with. Needless to say, they had rather disparate experiences.

"Oh, Y/N!"

She stumbled backward as she was all but jumped on the edge of the parlor, being pulled into an enthusiastic embrace, and her eyes were wide when she recognized the smiling face of her assailant.

"Dolley! Hey!" She pulled away with a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The woman had become increasingly affectionate as Y/N had begun to see her more often, and if she'd been comfortable hugging her when they first met, then being tackled that evening did seem to logically follow. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "Been better, been worse. I'm at another campaign event, so that should tell you all you need to know." She checked her hip lightly against Y/N's with that, wearing a playful grin, and Y/N couldn't help but laugh.

"You and me both."

"I take it you're here on work, then?" Dolley took a sip of her wine, an eyebrow raised. (Y/N was rather impressed that the glass hadn't sloshed all down her dress, what with Dolley immediately ambushing her upon entering her line of vision.)

Y/N sighed. "I always seem to be. Not even allowed to get drunk at these events. How fair is that?" The complaint held little true bitterness, though, with the playful glint in her eyes.

Dolley looked indignant on her behalf. "You poor thing; they've really put you through the wringer, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it." Y/N's mock exhaustion provoked a laugh from Dolley, who pursed her lips, ultimately shrugging.

"You did gain me from it though." Her matter-of-fact tone made Y/N roll her eyes. "Count your blessings, Y/N."

"Really. I can be so ungrateful." She shook her head, upholding her exasperated facade, though when a grin split through Dolley's mask of disappointment, Y/N couldn't help the corners of her lips quirking up.

"What's tonight's article about, anyway? A critique of the baked brie? 'Thomas Jefferson Doesn't Know How to Throw a Party: An Exposé'?"

Y/N let out a huff of mirthless laughter. "If only. Instead, I'm supposed to be digging up some of Schrödinger's dirt on the campaign funders. My editor has no idea whether it exists or not, but here I am anyway." She paused with that, cocked her head to the side, pondering the question. "Now that you mention it, though, maybe my true calling was to be a food critic."

"Follow your dreams," Dolley agreed, nodding. "It'd probably be more exciting than this thriller of a crowd."

Y/N laughed at that. While the atmosphere was upbeat, she'd hardly seen any signs of life among its attendees, if she didn't count Lafayette's drunken instrumental karaoke. "What, the over-60 crowd of doctors and lawyers isn't doing it for you?"

Dolley grinned. "That's where you come in, dear."

"Suppose I should be glad to hear it," Y/N sighed as she eyed the room, forcing the false nonchalance into her voice. "Might have to change my exposé to how our prospective second lady is just using me for her own entertainment."

She hummed in agreement. "Mm, be sure to mention how cold and aloof I always am."

"You truly are cruel to me, aren't you?" Y/N met her eyes once again, her gaze wistful.

"Bet your readers will love to hear such a scandal."

"I can see it now," Y/N agreed, holding up her hands to paint the headline as she continued, "'My Toxic Relationship With Dolley Madison. Be Ready for the Articles of Impeachment.'"

As she laughed, a self-content smile adorned Y/N's lips. "What, are you planning to impeach me from the role of 'possible future second lady'?"

"Of course; I figured the implication was obvious," Y/N agreed, making the older woman roll her eyes.

"I wish you the best of luck with that, sincerely."

"I'll need it."

Dolley had been about to respond with a dry quip of her own, but Y/N's gaze was over her shoulder, not realizing she was cutting her off as a smile split through her face. "James!"

(Dolley wasn't too hurt as she learned who she'd been cut off in lieu of.)

The man in question was approaching the pair of them with two full glasses of wine, presumably one to replace what Dolley had just finished throwing back. (Why not? No one was counting.) "Y/N." He gave her a curt nod, amused smile playing at his lips.

"James." It was then Dolley who addressed him, reaching out to grab his extra glass from his hand without a second thought, expression longing, but James pulled it just out of her reach with his eyebrows raised.

"Haven't you had enough?" he asked his wife with a glint in his eye, who in turn huffed, folding her arms.

"Don't you dare," she complained. "I'm here for you; let's not forget."

"Of course not." He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her head as he handed her the glass. Her small smile altogether betrayed her glare.

"Dunno why I put up with you." She pursed her lips into a pout, and he shrugged.

"Your prerogative, Doll."

She held his warm gaze for a moment longer before she seemed to remember herself, and she took a step back from him, turning to Y/N as her tender expression was immediately replaced with a grin. "Anyway, James, Y/N is here covering the demographics of your and Thomas's donors."

She gestured toward Y/N with the hand still bearing a full glass, and Y/N didn't comment when upwards of a tablespoon sloshed over the rim with the motion. James raised an eyebrow, wearing his forever-unshakeable look of composure. "That right?"

Y/N nodded with a light sigh. "Unfortunately."

"And what have you found, so far?" James's lips were pressed into a thin line at how exhausted she appeared, giving his best effort to hide his amusement.

"Oh, it's been real exciting stuff, hasn't it, dear?" Dolley wore a facade of sincerity as she addressed Y/N, her brow knit as though deep in thought, and Y/N matched her disposition.

"Absolutely scintillating, truly. I've only fallen asleep about fourteen times, which is a real feat for corporate America." She nodded to James earnestly as to corroborate, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Consider me impressed." Y/N gave a cheeky grin, and he continued, "Have you enjoyed what you've found thus far?"

She hummed skeptically. "Couldn't tell you. I was asleep the whole time."

That coaxed a laugh out of him, though. "I expect this will be a glowing article, then."

"The less I learn, the better?" She cocked an eyebrow as she glanced around the room, her gaze drifting from one wealthy businessman to the next.

"The less you conclude, the better," he corrected her with a knowing smile as he followed her gaze across the sea of patrons. "Don't assume anyone you speak to has the full story."

"Would you care to comment, then, James?" He turned to her with her eyebrows raised. "Because I really need some actual information, and I really don't want to go interview Jeff Bezos."

"'Jeff Bezos'?" he repeated quizzically, and she shrugged as she looked back to him.

"Seems like his type of crowd, no?" James chuckled, shaking his head as she continued, "What about Steve Forbes? I wouldn't mind getting a quote from him before the writers who actually work at Forbes can manage it."

"We aren't taking donations from CEOs or super PACs, actually."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Is this on the record?"

"It can be." He looked mildly pleased with her reaction as she scrambled to create a new audio file on her phone. "We didn't want--"

"Shh! Gimme a minute. It hasn't started recording," she chastised him, and his smile grew at how exasperated she looked. "Alright, now speak."

"I'm a politician, Y/N, not a trained monkey." His indignation was wholly in jest, but she sighed dramatically, looking at him with a deadpan stare.

"Of course you aren't," she consoled him with an air of faux-sympathy, but he seemed to expect -- and rightly so -- that she wasn't done making fun. "You don't tell monkeys to speak; that's for show dogs. I'm not stupid."

He ignored the sigh that accompanied her words, raising an eyebrow. "So you're comparing me to a dog?"

Again, she plastered on a front of fatigue, which only compounded upon his amusement at her demeanor. "James, please, I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions here."

He rolled his eyes, but it seemed he'd exhausted his banter for the time being. "Please, ask away."

"So, back to CEOs and PACs. Why won't you take their donations?"

"We want to show that we're really here, in this, for the people." She cocked her head to the side, lifting the phone to be sure to catch his words, and he continued, "We want to demonstrate that we have no conflict of interest with the corporate sector. And if we don't receive enough donations for the campaign, then we don't have enough support to properly represent the people."

Y/N was silent a moment, brow furrowed, and she nodded ever-so-slightly as she pondered his words. Finally, she admitted, "I didn't think this was that kind of campaign, to be honest."

Her reaction seemed to gratify him; his eyes shone with pride. "You thought we lacked principles, you mean?"

She pursed her lips. "It's... possible that I may have made some assumptions."

"Well, I'm always happy to be the bearer of good news."

"Glad to receive it," she agreed quietly. The look in her eyes was absent, but her momentary trance broke almost before they'd noticed it, and she donned a wide smile. "Maybe you'll actually have some common ground with my readers this week, hm? Truly bridging the partisan divide. What a feat." While her enthusiasm was contrived, her words were sincere, and Dolley grinned.

"We knew you'd come around to our side."

"Woah, woah, woah." She held up her hands in playful defense. "I'm not the one changing sides. This was our political territory first."

"You really think Adams is rejecting corporate funding?" James looked at her expectantly, and she deadpanned.

"John Adams is not representative of his entire party, I can promise you that much."

"But he's the candidate."

"Not yet, he isn't," she resisted, and James raised an eyebrow. "It isn't fair to hold him to the standard of the party nominee when we've hardly started the primaries."

He tilted his head to one side as he regarded her, lips pursed. "Maybe not, but Thomas has been consistent with his values since the very beginning of our campaign."

"Who said Thomas was the standard?"

"What are we callin' me the standard of, now?" The southern drawl caught Y/N off-guard, and she flinched, her eyes widening. She turned reluctantly to see James's ever-so-principled candidate in the flesh, an eyebrow raised and wearing an amused grin as he came up on her left behind Dolley.

"Thomas!" To her relief, Dolley's overwhelming affection bought her a moment to gather her bearings as she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, how are you? I haven't seen you all night!"

Y/N couldn't explain why her throat was suddenly dry as Thomas slowly removed Dolley from where she'd latched onto his shoulders, nor why her stomach turned at the sight of him. He was beaming almost as brightly as Dolley as he held her by the forearms, but Y/N missed what they were saying. Her heart had begun pounding in her ears, and she wiped her sweating palms on her dress as discreetly as she could, tucking her phone back into her purse in an attempt to busy herself with anything other than his presence as he went on to embrace James. She prayed she'd find an opportunity to remove herself from the conversation unnoticed.

Her opportunity never came. She emerged from her bag to see Thomas looking over at her with an eyebrow raised, apparently entertained by how abruptly flustered she'd become. "Y/N."

She pulled the straps of her purse back up to her shoulder with a weak smile.  "Thomas. Hey."

She couldn't fully explain her sudden anxiety, didn't know quite why her heart was racing. Maybe it was just that he'd surprised her, or that he'd walked into a conversation that he was the focus of -- or maybe, though she discarded the thought deep into her subconscious, she was simply blindsided by being confronted with his presence in public, still struggling to figure out where it was the two of them stood.

Though she shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms, he didn't look away for another moment. The silence grew deafening, but she didn't have it in her to break his gaze, and she swallowed roughly. When he finally turned his attention from her, he chuckled almost imperceptibly; his smile had broadened.

"So what'd I miss?" He looked brightly over to James, making no effort to conceal how pleased he was. "You all talkin' about how great I am?"

"You're not far off, actually," James informed him, wearing a knowing smile. Thomas's eyebrows shot up. "We were discussing our campaign funding policy."

"And we're not already bein' smacked in the press for it?" He looked at Y/N with mocking disbelief, and she just rolled her eyes. She elected to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Quite the contrary," James said with a nod. "Y/N was impressed."

James looked contented, but Y/N could almost see Thomas's ego tangibly swelling, and he turned to her with wide eyes, surprise flashing in his gaze. "Is that so?" He sounded as smug as he looked, and Y/N fixed him with a flat stare.

"Are you really looking for acclaim just because you aren't corrupt?" she asked dryly. When he didn't respond, it became increasingly obvious that praise was exactly what he wanted, and she rolled her eyes. "Congrats, Thomas. You must be so proud."

"Trust me, sweetheart, I am." His smirk had taken root, by then; there wasn't anything she could've said or done to knock him down a peg. "Thought it'd be a cold day in hell before you'd support anything my campaign was doin'."

"Then maybe there are a few things you should re-evaluate," she replied, voice stiff, and he laughed.

"Or maybe," he began, raising a cocky eyebrow. "You should re-evaluate your party loyalty. Y'know, the primaries aren't gonna end for another couple months. You aren't runnin' outta time just yet."

"It's gonna take a lot more than that to convince me to register as a Republican, Thomas."

"You'll come around." His words came alongside a wink, which evoked a scowl from her.

"We'll see about that."

"Mm, sounds like a challenge, Y/N," he teased, a singsong lilt in his tone. His eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his drink, and the preying glint in his gaze sent a shudder down the back of her neck. "But I think you'll find I can be very convincing."

---------------

“HEY, HOW MUCH longer do you want to stay?"

She'd finally managed to track down Lafayette near the refreshments table at the back of the room, and by then, he was well past tipsy.

"We cannot leave yet! Where 'ave you been all zis time? You 'ave been missing all ze fun!" He threw an enthusiastic arm around her neck, throwing her off balance a moment, and as his wide grin didn't waver, she sighed.

"Laf, I have to work in the morning."

"Ah, loosen up, first," he pleaded, tugging her alongside him toward the crowd near the music. (She wasn't sure how he'd managed to get a crowd of politicians and businesspeople turnt to Brahms, but she was undeniably impressed.) "You will regret not enjoying yourself, chérie!"

"I think it's a little too late for that," she muttered bitterly, though he was too absorbed with the energy of the room to notice.

"What was zat?"

"Nothing," she told him, louder that time. "I'm gonna go find a bathroom, real quick."

"Non! You are just trying to get away from me!" He was more insistent that time as he pulled her to the cellist, and she huffed.

"C'mon, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" She hesitantly removed his hand from his shoulder, and he gave her a disappointed glance. "I've just had a little too much to drink; gimme a break."

As feeble as her excuse was, seeing as she'd hardly had a drop of anything all night with her effort to stay painfully sober (and their drink options didn't go far past wine), Lafayette released her with a pitying wince. "Ah, no worries. I understand." He hesitated a moment, before adding, "Do you need me to 'old your hair back?"

She couldn't help her laugh at his genuine concern. "I think I'll be alright. Thank you, though."

"Be safe, chérie!" His voice was all but slurred as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of her head before wandering off, and she pursed her lips, amused as she watched him go. She would've tried to keep an eye on his blood alcohol content, but he was already drunk to the point of no return, and he seemed too enraptured by what he'd made of the evening to break away for long enough to refill his glass again.

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she turned to leave. The first left she took just led her into the dining room, so she turned back toward the entrance hall, trying to find any nook or cranny that split off into a part of the estate where she could have some quiet. She wasn't sure what she was trying to find, necessarily, but she wasn't about to get wasted with Lafayette. One of them had to be able to drive home.

A right, a left, and another right later, she'd gained next to no information on where exactly she was heading, other than that of the sitting room she'd just passed. Her watch told her it was just past 11 PM, and she sighed. She wasn't sure when she'd be able to drag Lafayette back out the front doors, at that rate.

The hall she continued down didn't lead her into a bathroom, to her dismay, but what she saw had her footsteps gradually stalling as her gaze raked down the walls around her. She'd stumbled upon a rather grand library, and one look to her right told her that it would only continue on the further they walked.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and seeing only the empty room she'd just left with its empty armchairs, gave in to her curiosity, wandering toward the side of the room with wonder in her eyes.

The bookshelves reached the ceilings, and every book was bound in aging leather, many torn or cracked at their spines. It had to be some sort of a collection, with the sheer number of novels -- and biographies, and anthologies of poetry, of short stories, even memoirs and atlases, as she realized just moments later. She ran her fingers over the gilded edges as she continued on into the next room.

The hall ended in a small sitting room, one that didn't have nearly the same pomp and circumstance as the rest of the estate, but it was cozy, with its red sofa and armchairs, its wood-burning fireplace and little lamps. The room was illuminated softly with the only light filtering in being from the adjacent rooms and the moon, and the small fireplace cast a warm glow before it.

She bit her lip, wore a small smile as she drew closer to the window at the back of the room. Her gaze was fixated on the bookshelf beside it, and -- as every book, every spine and title came into clear focus -- despite her hesitance, she pushed herself up onto her toes, reaching for a volume more than a foot above her head. Before she could pull it down, though--

"Should've known you'd find the library at some point."

"Thomas!" she squeaked in surprise, recoiling from the bookshelf -- she'd recognized his voice immediately, her eyes wide. She whirled around to see him leaning against the doorway and unconsciously took a step back, feeling much like a child who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

He didn't look angry, though. In fact, his expression was far from it. His gaze was soft, his arms folded and ankles crossed, and though he looked amused, his smile held none of its frequent mockery despite her clear panic.

He raised an eyebrow, and she blinked hard, immediately began to try to excuse her presence there. "Shit, I... I didn't mean to end up here, honestly, I was just looking for the bathroom, and I--"

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not under fire." He chuckled lightly as he pushed himself off the doorway, walked toward her into the room. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needed some air, huh?"

His gaze flickered down just a moment as she bit her lip. "Really, I was just trying to find the bathroom," her words were quiet, hesitant, and he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" She nodded. "Go ahead. It's down the end of the hall and to your right." He tilted his head toward the rooms behind him, and her brows shot up. She hadn't expected to be put on the spot about the excuse -- she'd initially produced it just for Lafayette's sake and wouldn't have thought it needed to be any more thorough than it was.

She was reluctant to take a step forward, and she glanced back over her shoulder at the bookshelf, desperate not to leave after she'd just struck gold, as it were.

"I..."

"You...?" He waited for her to continue, his skepticism never subsiding, and when she didn't, staying rooted to her spot, a smug smile began to play at his lips. "That's what I thought.

She hated how easily he'd called her bluff, and she refused to meet his gaze as it grew increasingly self-satisfied. She scowled. "And what are you doing back here?"

"Didn't I just tell you I was lookin' for some peace and quiet?" He raised an eyebrow. "Or did you think someone just left that fire to try and burn this whole place down? Hm?"

She could feel herself flush as she crossed her arms; she hadn't thought that far into the fireplace that was active long past when it should've been, admittedly. "So you're just trying to run off while you have a parlor full of people giving you copious amounts of money right around the corner?"

"Somethin' like that."

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Do you have any idea how exhaustin' this gets?" He looked down at her, wearing a timid smile. "I've been gettin' grilled all night; you'd be tired too."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, putting on a playful expression of shock. "You're telling me you actually get tired of talking about yourself?"

He cracked a grin. "Nah, just talkin' about the rest of the country. Y'know, the voters, the ones I'm supposed to be representin' or somethin'."

"Be careful, or this is gonna end up in this week's editorial," she warned him, though she couldn't inhibit her smile, and he cocked a brow.

"Oh, yeah? You gonna expose me?" The skepticism was heavy in his words alongside his confident smile, and she shrugged.

"Don't tempt me."

He chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her, the gap between them slowly closing. She swallowed. "Anyway, what's got you tryin' to escape? Lafayette gettin' a little too handsy?"

His teasing quickly had been restored, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the latter half of the question. "Turns out talking to old philanthropists is just as exhausting when you're the one asking the questions."

"No!" He gasped mockingly, placing a hand on his heart. "You mean workin' till midnight isn't doin' it for you anymore?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong; this is exactly my idea of a good time," she said defensively, though, with the sarcasm in her voice, she couldn't hide her own growing smile. "Usually more of a weekend activity, though. Can't handle this much excitement on a Wednesday."

"And ransackin' my library sounded like a good way to relax?"

"Glad you follow.".

"Find anything you like?" She raised her eyebrows as he further encroached on her space, feeling her breath catch. He stopped beside her, scanning the bookshelf along the back wall, but she was struggling to focus on his words as his shoulder brushed against hers, and she tensed, shied away from the contact. Before she caught herself, her absent stare rested at his lips in the closing proximity; her heart rose to her throat. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't answer, and upon seeing how she was looking at him, he gave a smug grin. "Not includin' me, I mean."

Her eyes widened; she prayed she didn't look nearly as red as she felt as vindication flashed in his eyes. He only continued to watch her expectantly, until finally, she turned alongside him to the books she'd been eyeing. Her gaze didn't take long to find where it'd been fixed before he interrupted her musings.

"I..." She went to reach for the book she was eyeing, but she trailed off as she stopped herself short, glancing nervously back to Thomas. "Can I?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." He grinned as she stretched up toward the shelf that housed it. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh when she couldn't reach it, pushing herself further up with a hand on a lower shelf, almost jumping for it; all the while, Thomas's smile grew. "Need a hand?"

"Please." Her expression was defeated as she looked to him, and he pulled the book down with ease. She could only focus on his hand resting at the small of her back as he reached above her, his fingertips seeming to burn as they grazed the thin material of her dress, though he was just being careful not to inadvertently tumble into her. He didn't notice how she shivered under the fragile touch, and he raised an eyebrow as he looked the volume over.

"Lord Byron? Really?" He looked down at her curiously, ever-present teasing in his eyes. "Didn't take you for such a romantic."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Thomas," she replied, looking up at him with her gaze soft, before she cracked a grin. "Besides, what better way to relax is there than reading poetry about the ravages of war at midnight on a Wednesday?"

He laughed. "That's an awful specific type of self-care."

"Can't help that the over-fifty crowd you've assembled has me so riled up."

"I'd think the 19th century would be even wilder."

"So it'll help get my energy out," she quipped. Her gaze was tentative as it flickered back to the book he still held, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Then don't let me get in your way." He held the book out to her, smiling at her hesitance, and she accepted it readily, looking pleased as its title, embossed in gold foil, flashed in the moonlight.

"Always a philanthropist, huh?" Her reply was soft, absentminded, though; she wasn't looking for a response. By then, she was already caught up in the grandeur of the aging anthology of poetry. She settled into one side of the sofa as she hesitantly cracked the spine, terrified by the prospect of damaging it.

She didn't notice Thomas watching her with endearment, didn't even realize when took a seat on the couch beside her until the side of her thigh brushed against his. And when she did notice, she didn't react, though her skin jumped under the thin material of her dress. "This is gorgeous," she said, leafing gently through the book's weathered pages, running her fingertips along little stray marks and notes penciled in. After a moment, she looked up at Thomas. "Where'd you get it?"

"Think it was my great-grandfather's. It's been in the family for a while."

Her eyes widened. "How old is it?"

"This edition's from around 1900," he said, shrugging. "Bought it secondhand years later, though."

"It's more than a hundred years old?"

He chuckled at how dazzled she was, her eyes gleaming and her mouth hanging ajar. "And this is probably its first time bein' opened in fifteen years."

Her eyebrows shot up; she was appalled that anyone would have such an ornate, century-old copy of the book and leave it to collect dust on a shelf. "Why have it if you're never going to read it?"

"My family's been collectin' books for as long as we've been around, sweetheart."

"Writing isn't meant to be collected." She let out a sigh as she looked back to the collection of poetry that lay open in her lap, fiddling absentmindedly with the ribbon attached at the spine. He raised an eyebrow at her statement. "It's supposed to be experienced; it should make you feel something. It's a waste to just lock something like this away."

"Feels like that hit close to home." Though his voice was teasing, it was quiet, inquiring. She laughed, but the sound was hushed.

"I am a writer, Thomas." She looked back up at him with a demure smile to find that his gaze hadn't left her as they'd sat. "Or have you forgotten altogether that's why I'm here?"

He furrowed his brow, frowned, though his voice was playful. "So you mean you aren't here just to see me, sweetheart?"

She laughed again, unabashedly that time, as the mock disappointment faded from Thomas's face. His grin matched her own. "Please, I haven't even talked to Mark Zuckerberg yet. I thought it was fairly clear that I didn't come for the company."

"Not even for Dolley? Lafayette?" She shrugged innocently, and he teasingly bumped his shoulder against hers. "That's tough."

"I trust you won't rat me out."

He winked mischievously. "Don't count on it."

"Hey!" Her offense was far from sincere, with the joking lilt to his voice and the laugh close to the surface of hers, but she couldn't help her huff at how immediate his answer was. She pursed her lips, plastered on a pout. "If my secrets aren't safe with you, then brace yourself. You'd better get ready for an exposé about how Thomas Jefferson absolutely despises every one of his donors."

He chuckled. "Do I, now?"

"You are back here instead of out there with them."

"Mm, and you're obviously not exaggeratin' at all."

"I don't need to." She shrugged. "Since apparently these books don't even get read, you don't have much of an alibi for 'needin' some air.'" She leaned into the last three words in a painfully contrived southern accent, air quotes and all, and he grinned at her mocking impression of his voice.

"You think I sound like that?"

"Precisely." She nodded, her tone matter-of-fact, and he rolled his eyes despite the laugh he fought back.

"Anyway, some of these are bein' taken out every once in awhile, but since it's not my library, I've gotta take advantage of them while I can."

"'Not your library'?" she repeated quizzically, and he shrugged.

"I mean, it's the family library, but I don't come down here much." She couldn't help but notice how fond his voice was as he glanced around the room. He grinned when he turned to find her watching him. "I am still livin' on Capitol Hill, in case you forgot."

She pursed her lips, trying to conceal how her smile was growing. "And you'd sacrifice your night of schmoozing patrons and getting donations just to be back here?"

"I've schmoozed enough donors for one night. Besides--" Y/N shifted in her seat, slowly closing the book in her lap as she turned further toward him. "--James was always better at understandin' people."

"So we're just gonna pretend that slacking on the job isn't the reason you're back here?"

"Shh, c'mon. I'm makin' informed decisions as a professional." By then, he'd shifted the same way as she; they were facing one another on the couch, despite being shoulder-to-shoulder. He grinned in self-satisfaction. "I'm takin' on the responsibility of bein' the only person who reads these books."

"How truly self-sacrificing."

"I'm a man of the people, sweetheart." She chuckled lightly, leaning into the cushion on the back of the couch, and for a moment, they were both silent; she bit her lip at the heavy pause. His gaze flickered down to her lap, to the collection of poetry she'd shut but still continued to run her fingers over, tugging at the top of the spine, fiddling with the stacked corners of pages. He cocked his head to the side, and though he looked uncertain for a moment, his voice was decided. "Take it."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"The book." He nodded toward where it sat, all but ignoring her surprised stare. "Borrow it. Don't worry too much about returnin' it, just get it back to me whenever you're done with it."

Another beat passed as she sat stunned, certain she couldn't have heard him right. When he raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to answer, she exhaled softly, glancing down at the book. "Thomas, I couldn't possibly."

"Why not? It's a library; we're supposed to be loanin' 'em out, aren't we?"

His nonchalance about it had her entirely dumbstruck, and she bit her lip. "And what if something happens? What if it gets ruined?"

"I'm the only one who's gonna notice; I promise." He grinned. "No one's readin' it here, anyway."

She took a shaky breath, looking him in the eye. "Are you sure?"

His smile had softened at the awe in her expression. "Positive, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Thomas." She covered his hand that still lay on the couch with hers, squeezing it lightly.

"It's nothin'."

"Maybe not to you." She knocked her knee gently against his, and it was her expression that was playful this time, though her words were nothing but genuine. "But it means a lot to me. Really."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he threaded his fingers into hers. "I'm glad."

She bit her lip, holding his warm gaze. The room seemed to slow as she felt herself hesitantly shifting toward him. With her movement, when he saw how she drew deliberately closer, Thomas unthinkingly reached up with the hand that wasn't enclosed in hers to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. The feeling of his calloused fingers as they grazed the side of her head sent a shiver down her spine, and when his hand didn't fall, ghosting his thumb across the expanse of her cheek, she leaned into the touch.

"Thomas." Her grip on his hand tightened in the slightest, her stare fell unabashedly to his lips. Though hesitantly, she pulled closer to him.

However, he hadn't moved. Reluctance lay thick in his gaze as he searched her expression. As she looked expectantly up at him, waiting for him to close the space between them, he just swallowed.

Finally, he spoke. "What are you lookin' for, from me?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You're harder to read than you realize, sweetheart." She blinked. Was the implication not obvious? Wasn't she laying out in the plainest terms possible what she was looking for? Did he need really her to ask for it? He pursed his lips. "Whenever I think I've figured you out, somethin' changes."

"What do you mean?" she breathed. She pulled back to where she'd initially been sitting, almost hurt but certainly embarrassed as she withdrew, and his hand fell from her face. He didn't release her hand that still lay in his.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I mean the mixed signals. Wantin' me when we're alone and avoidin' me like the plague in public. Askin' me to kiss you in Detroit and then runnin' out on me. I can't just keep guessin'."

She stayed silent, unsure of what she could possibly say -- it wasn't often that she was left speechless, but this time, he was right. She'd always been of two minds with him. Rationally, she couldn't have him, not when they were from such different worlds, had such conflicting careers, but when she was alone with him, she couldn't help herself. However, she couldn't have expected him to so plainly call her on it.

"I wanted to talk to you about it at Lafayette's, but I've never been able to figure where you stood. And now this..." He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair, breaking her gaze. He huffed. "I just don't know what to make of you."

It was guilt that sunk in her chest at his words, but indeterminate regret weighed heavily on her conscience. "Thomas, I..." She couldn't go on with the response. There was nothing for her to say, not when her head was still in pieces, not when her career needed one thing but her libido demanded another.

He held her gaze another moment, shaking his head when it revealed absolutely nothing, when it couldn't tell him what he needed to hear. He took a deep breath as he stood up. Her hand that'd been holding his fell to the soft corduroy of the cushion. "Just... forget it. I shouldn't have brought it up." He started toward the hallway, and her eyes widened.

"Thomas, wait." After the initial shock of the point-blank confrontation began to subside, she scrambled to catch him as he began to leave, tucked the book under her arm and rushed out toward the hallway. When he heard her giving chase, he reluctantly turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"Y/N?" His tone was expectant, almost hopeful, but it was still disappointment that flickered in his eyes. She paused; she didn't know what to say, but she didn't want to let him leave like this, not when uncertainty hung so heavily in their atmosphere. He sighed. "Sugar, until you figure out what you want, I can't help you."

She didn't look away just yet, though. She wanted to have an answer, something, anything to tell him -- she was desperate to find some way to create some normalcy between them, to make things as easy as they always seemed to be. She had nothing to offer, though, other than, "I'm sorry."

He gave her a faded smile. "No need."

Y/N couldn't help her small frown at how gentle his voice still was, as though he was worried about hurting her, of all things. She glanced down at the leather-bound book she still held, and she pulled it out from beneath her arm.

"I suppose I should give this back, then." Her voice was soft as she looked up at him, and he shook his head lightly.

"Keep it." His gaze was kind as he pushed back on the book where she'd offered it up. "It's alright. Leave it with Lafayette when you're done."

He looked down at her expectantly, and she took a deep breath, hesitant. "Or I could return it next time I see you?"

Despite its tone of melancholy, his smile grew at how hopeful she sounded. She couldn't bear to let this feel so final. "Whenever works, sweetheart."

She swallowed, nodded, but her shoulders slumped. A moment passed in silence as she stared up at him, and though he looked inexplicably composed, even casual as he waited for her response, she couldn't help but feel defeated. "Alright, Thomas."

He nodded; she could hear him swallow in the complete silence as his laid-back facade faded, the noise undisturbed save for the soft crackling of the fireplace. He released his hold on the book."I'll... see you around, Y/N." He gave her one last, drained glance, before he turned, leaving her alone.

She didn't respond.

---------------

THOSE FINAL FEW minutes played on a loop in her head throughout the entirety of the next day, and the article she was writing didn't help -- every time she typed up any pieces of information about his funders, her mind regressed to his dark, quiet library, their soft banter as she learned he was sneaking off right in the middle of his own party. And with that, inevitably, came her picture-perfect memory of the heaviness of his gaze, the hurt that still lay dull in its depths. She didn't have any way to alleviate the guilt that rose from her stomach like bile.

She could only ruminate on that night for so long, though. That past Monday, when she'd asked, Mira had offered her residence in the flat above her diner. As a tenant, she'd still cover rent and utilities, but Mira had readily cut her a deal in the share of the bills she was paying -- one that made the small apartment more than affordable for her, and in exchange, her only new commitment was to closing up the diner in the evenings.

She'd spent the first half of the week moving in, and by Thursday, the space was finally livable. Angelica insisted on inviting herself and the Hamiltons over for a housewarming party that evening.

"This place is great, Y/N." Eliza smiled as Y/N emerged from her kitchen holding four glasses and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. (They'd all abstained from drinking in solidarity with Eliza.) Y/N didn't comment on how none of the furniture was different even in the slightest from when she'd lived with Angelica, that there wasn't anything new for her to have even been appreciating; she was too satisfied in having found a place at all.

"Glad you think so." She grinned as she passed around the drinks, ultimately taking a seat in the armchair beside the couch. "Moving was a bit of a pain, but I'm glad to be at my own place, now."

"Lafayette wasn't a good enough host?" Angelica interjected, a playful eyebrow raised. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"He was great, but staying with him was..." Images of Thomas walking in on her right out of the shower flashed in her mind. "Complicated."

"What do you mean, 'complicated'?" Alex asked with a wide smile, doing his best to derive some hidden meaning from her words. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"I mean I was freeloading in his expensive penthouse, Alex," she huffed, and he pursed his lips.

"It isn't freeloading if he's getting something out of it."

"And what exactly do you think he was getting out of it?" She narrowed her eyes, and he held up his hands in his own defense, shrugged innocently.

"I'm just saying!"

"Oh, don't you dare act like--"

"Enough, you two," Eliza cut them off with a tired stare. "We're here to celebrate Y/N finding her own place, not for you to bicker like children."

Though she was addressing both of them, her words were directed explicitly at Alex, her gaze burning into his. He gave a guilty simper.

"Of course not, love." He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and she gave him an affectionate smile despite how she was shaking her head at his antics.

"How are you feeling about living alone, then, Y/N?" Eliza changed the subject readily, more than happy to alleviate any of the tension Alex had been building in the room.

"Not that this could ever meet the standard of living with me, she means," Angelica added, and Y/N grinned, gave a timid shrug.

"Well obviously the loss of Angelica is utterly heartbreaking," she lamented with a sigh, "But I guess besides that absolutely irreplaceable loss, it's pretty good, all things considered. It's a bit of a trade-off with the late evenings I'd otherwise spend at my office, but c'est la vie."

She gave a rather stiff smile, and Angelica reached over to squeeze her knee with an empathetic frown. "I'm sorry, honey. I know it's not easy for you to put something else before your career."

"Nah, it's alright, I'm just getting a well-needed break from the excitement, not screeching to a full halt. Besides, my article from today's been getting me more than enough love." Y/N paused, her fingertips tapping on her wineglass as her gaze fell to the floor; she'd done a marvelous job pushing them down, but once again, the reminder of the article had brought the previous night's events dangerously close to the surface of her mind. She pursed her lips absentmindedly. She couldn't seem to think straight when it came to her predicament. "Actually... Can I get a bit of advice?"

Her friends all shared an inquisitive glance, before Angelica spoke. "Always. What's up?"

She let out a soft sigh, finally looking up at them. "So... it's about someone who I met through work." Alex's eyebrows shot up. "It's really silly and menial but... I just wanted someone else's take on my situation."

"Everything alright?" Eliza's voice was soft but heavy with concern. Y/N cracked a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, it's severely inconsequential." She took a deep breath as she tried to find the words for her situation that wouldn't immediately incriminate her. "There's just this person, and they're unfortunately incredibly hot, like undeniably attractive, and I'm having a really hard time not shamelessly throwing myself at them."

When she paused, Angelica furrowed her brow. To that point, her state of limbo didn't sound like much of an issue. She went on. "I also know they're into me, so it's not that I'm shooting for someone unattainable, but trying to screw them would make my life... complicated."

"Is it because you met them through your job?" Traces of suspicion leaked into Alex's tone, but Y/N was too focused on her deep-seated angst to notice. She nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly, actually." He furrowed his brow. "Like, in another context, I'd totally hit that, but given the circumstances, it's a little riskier."

"Is it one of your co-workers?" Eliza asked, glancing at Angelica, who shrugged.

"If it was, I'd hope I'd know about it." Angelica took a sip of her drink, wearing a small frown, and Y/N shook her head.

"I'm not hooking up with a coworker, don't worry. It's nothing illicit."

"So who is it?" While Alex simply sounded curious, Y/N knew him well enough to detect the suspicion buried in the question.

"I'd really rather not say."

"It'd be easier to help you if we understood the situation a little bit better."

Y/N looked to him with a sigh. "Alex."

"C'mon, why can't you tell us?" He pressed, pursing his lips. "There's no way it's that embarrassing, Y/N. What, do we know them, or something?"

When she didn't answer, just biting her lip, his eyes widened. "Do we know them?"

She scowled. "It's not important! Can you just... help me? Who it is doesn't matter."

While Alex looked more than ready to continue to interrogate her, Eliza cut him off. "So how well do you really know them? How involved are they in your life?"

Y/N looked to her with a relieved smile, grateful that someone was taking her pseudo-sob story seriously. "I haven't known him that long. We met pretty soon after I started with my current assignment at the Post." (About an hour after, specifically, but who was counting?)

"So it's a 'him'!" Alex interjected unhelpfully.

"Yes, it's a 'him,' now stay focused." Y/N gave him a tired stare.

"And how long have you been, y'know," -- Angelica shrugged -- "trying to jump his bones."

Y/N laughed lightly at that. "I am not trying to jump his bones, Ang. I'm trying to figure out whether I should jump his bones."

"Fine, whatever." Angelica waved away the technicality impatiently. "How long have you been into him for?"

Y/N pursed her lips. "I mean, there's been some level of... tension," --she cringed at her own word choice-- "since day one, but I guess it's just been the past couple weeks that it became an issue."

"The past couple weeks... ?" Alex was more thinking out loud than actually inquiring, and Y/N rolled her eyes. She could see him trying to do the calculations in his head, as though he knew everywhere she'd been at all recently.

"What d'you mean, 'became an issue'?" Angelica's eyes were shining with the question, her eyebrows raised, and Y/N laughed.

"I came into this conversation asking about whether I should sleep with someone, and you're really trying to act like I'm being all coy about it?"

"Alright, fair enough, I'll give you that," Angelica conceded, grinning. "Have you actually had a chance to sleep with him yet, though?"

She tilted her head to the side, reflecting for a moment, and the list didn't take long to build -- his office, the hotel in Detroit, Lafayette's apartment, the back room of his estate, to name a few -- and she sighed.

"Once or twice, I guess."

"And what's been holding you back?" Eliza asked gently, and Y/N gave a small smile.

"That's exactly the problem: it's my career." She shook her head lightly. "I can't justify putting how horny I am before dreams as a journalist, but I'm not sure I can have both, either."

"How exactly would the relationship hurt your career?" Angelica asked. "You're being too vague."

"First off, it’s not a relationship," Y/N corrected her, bordering on exasperated. “He’s just hot. It’s not that deep.”

"Yeah, fine. Don't avoid the question."

There was a skip. Y/N chewed her bottom lip, considering. "I mean... it wouldn't destroy my career or anything. If something went bad, though, or I ended up burning a bridge, it'd get real awkward real fast."

"How often do you see him?" Alex spoke up that time, still appearing to be fixated on dissecting every detail of the situation. His eyes were narrowed, and Y/N ignored how his question was more probing than in an effort to help.

"I dunno," she shrugged, exhaled softly. "I've seen him at the past couple of events I've covered, and I've been seeing more of him outside of work ever since Detroit."

"Ever since Detroit," he repeated, a knowing smile growing on his lips. Y/N's stomach dropped. He couldn't know who she was talking about, right? He'd have looked absolutely appalled if he suspected anything close to the truth, or so she hoped. He chuckled. "You've really been denying being into Lafayette this whole time, and now you're asking us for advice on whether you should screw him?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Hang on--"

"Oh my God, you're right," Angelica agreed, eyes wide, and Eliza cocked her head to the side, looking as though she thought the idea was more than reasonable. "The whole situation makes perfect sense."

"No, wait, I'm not--"

"First the gala, and then Detroit," Alex continued, undeterred by Y/N's pleas of innocence. "And 'seeing him more often outside of work'? You just spent a week sleeping at Laf's apartment. You'd have had more than enough opportunities to bone."

"That explains why you were so anxious to find a place!" Eliza looked fully convinced of the theory, by then, and Y/N groaned. "It would get awkward quickly if you tried to screw him and then keep living at his apartment for weeks afterward."

"You guys, I'm not fucking Lafayette."

"Not yet, anyway." Angelica grinned. "That's why you wanted advice, right?"

"And you were out with him last night!" Alex's eyes flashed victoriously. "The timing only makes perfect sense."

Y/N scowled. "Y'know what? It doesn't matter who you think it is."

"Sounds like an admission--"

"But," she cut Alex off with a pointed glare. "You have all the relevant information, and I still really need some input."

Her three friends shared a glance, all looking rather pleased. It was Eliza who finally spoke.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Y/N." Her voice was soft, reassuring. "Any relationship, professional, platonic, or otherwise, can go wrong without sex ever being an aspect of it. You can't let the inevitable risk hold you back from the things you want."

Y/N was silent another moment; she couldn't help but feel that the advice was colored by their unfortunate theory of who was behind her sudden need for advice on her sex life.

"Besides," Angelica added, "If you're seeing him at the campaign events you cover and outside of them, the sexual tension's just gonna make it weird until you bang it out." She rolled her eyes at the crude guidance, and Angelica just shrugged at the weak glare she gave her, taking another sip of her drink.

"This sounds like suspicious logic."

"She's kinda right, Y/N," Alex agreed, nodding to Angelica. "It's awkward now, and the worst-case scenario after you two fucked would be awkwardness later on. Nothing to lose."

"I never said it was awkward now," she protested, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Is it?" He took her lack of a response as an answer in the affirmative.

She huffed at how smug he looked. "Most of this advice only applies if it's Lafayette."

"Perfect."

"Alex," she seethed, her tired glare burning into his nonchalant expression. "What about giving me some advice for the off-chance I just might not be referring to him, hm?"

Angelica shrugged. "The same doctrine follows, doesn't it? There's always a risk, and it's already awkward."

There was truth to her words. However, what Y/N hadn't and couldn't have shared was exactly how it would reflect on both her and the man in question if anyone were to find out they were sleeping together -- the Republican frontrunner screwing his most outspoken critic. She knew it'd raise eyebrows, she knew it would hurt both their careers, but was the risk real enough that it was worth placing at the crux of her decision?

Eliza was the one who eventually pulled her from her train of thought, reaching out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Hey. We support you no matter what decision you make, but it really seems like there isn't a downside to going for what you want here."

"Yeah?" Her voice was quiet.

"Yeah." She lifted her eyes to meet Eliza's gaze as she continued. "Now, it just comes down to you deciding whether this is something you really want."

She wasn't sure she bought into the idea of it as being as simple as that. It felt reductionist; it felt like it ignored all the variables she'd spent hours upon hours weighing in her own head.

However, if that really was the question, she knew without a doubt exactly where she stood.

-------------

Y/N WAS GETTING incredibly sick of leaning against the metal counter of the diner kitchen, counting down the seconds until she could actually close down for the night.

It was finally Friday, the end of her work week, and she was absolutely dying to finally reach the end of her shift. She was still waiting on a batch of brownies from the oven behind her, finishing up with washing the dishes to occupy her time, but no matter how she tried to distract herself, time only seemed to slow, taunting her. The keys to the diner were in her pocket; her fingers itched to turn the lock on the front door.

She checked her watch again. 9:56 PM.

The diner closed at 10.

She groaned as her watch didn't move any faster, glanced out the kitchen window to see that the last customer had already cleared out. She was growing tired, in part due to lack of sleep, but mostly, she was tired of her week of tearing her hair out in stress. Out the front window of the diner, she could see it still snowing; there was no way anyone was going to come through the blizzard less than five minutes before closing and demand service.

Her over timer pinged. She put down the mug she'd been drying and withdrew her tray, setting it on a cooling rack for the time being, and put the now-clean mug back on its shelf. She picked up another glass. The monotony was grating on her nerves, but she'd promised Mira she wouldn't close the diner until 10 PM sharp, so there she was.

She racked the glass. She reached for another. She dried it. She racked the glass. She reached for another.

Just as she began to wipe down the rim, though, the bell above the front door rang. Her grip on the cup tightened, frustration and disappointment shooting through her veins.

"Three minutes to closing," she called out from where she stood, trying (and failing) to keep the exasperated warning from her tone. With a sigh, she retied her apron and started toward the kitchen door.

"I know, I know." Whoever had decided to ruin her evening had the audacity to sound defensive. She furrowed her brow as she turned, beginning to push the door with her back as she finished cleaning the cup. The voice was eerily familiar. "'M just lookin' for a cup of coffee, and I'll be outta your hair."

With how preoccupied she was, though, she couldn't place where she knew it from until she saw him, looking as fatigued as she as he came in toward the counter, burrowed in his winter coat. She tried not to let her disbelief show across her face.

"Thomas?"

It wasn't until then that he saw her, either, emerging from the back with a skeptical gaze. He froze altogether; his eyebrows shot up. "Y/N. Hey. I, ah... I was expectin' Mira to be here." His voice was soft, and she looked at him expectantly for another moment, waiting, before he blinked hard, and continued. "...I can go, if you really... I mean I know you're just tryin' to close, and I don't wanna... I just, I--"

"It's fine." The words sounded at least as tired as she felt as she cut off his rambling. She reluctantly continued toward the front counter, and hesitantly, he did the same. She discarded the cup she'd been washing on a shelf along the back wall. "How do you take your coffee?"

Though she huffed internally, she tried to ignore it when she realized that she'd just washed the coffee pot not five minutes before. While she started brewing his drink, he took a seat in one of the stools across the counter from her.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, wary. His qualms were still written clearly in his gaze. "Whatever's easiest."

As he'd had no problem coming in three minutes before she intended to close the diner down, his sudden respect for her time made her roll her eyes. She glanced back over her shoulder as the coffee began to drip, giving him a flat look. "Thomas. It's just cream and sugar. I promise it isn't life-changing. Just tell me."

When she raised her eyebrows, he reluctantly said, "One cream, two sugars?" She nodded, bending over to pull a mug from the cabinet below. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Though he couldn't see it, she wore a small smile as she drew back to her full height. Fatigue was heavy in his quiet voice. "It's nothing."

The silence stretched on as neither of them seemed to know quite what to say. Thomas's gaze was set on Y/N as she walked behind the counter; the only sounds were the soft thud of the bag of sugar on the counter, the click as the refrigerator door fell shut, and the clink of ceramics. She pulled the pot of coffee from where it'd been brewing, and the plink of the drink against the bottom of the cup grew higher as she poured. When she reached for the sugar, she again looked over her shoulder, and she found him watching her.

"Am I allowed to ask what you're doing here at 10 PM on a Friday?"

"Technically, I got here at 9:57," he said matter-of-factly, and she cracked a smile, sliding open the silverware drawer to withdraw a spoon.

"Then what about what you're doing here at 9:57 on a Friday?" Her tone was mocking as she looked back at him, and despite the sleep in his gaze, he grinned.

"'M here for coffee, of course." He shrugged when she turned to him with the full mug, unamused -- the 'duh' at the end of the sentence was implied heavily in his tone.

As he gladly accepted the piping hot coffee from her, taking a delicate sip, wincing at the temperature, she raised an eyebrow and leaned across from him on the counter. "And you couldn't have gotten coffee anywhere else right now? Dunkin' Donuts? Your house?"

"Not this coffee."

"You mean the coffee I just brewed in a pot for, like, three minutes?" He nodded earnestly, and when she gave him a dramatically disbelieving stare, he shrugged, holding up his hands in defense.

"What? Mira roasts her own coffee. Can't find it anywhere else." He looked her up and down dubiously as though questioning why she could ever think his late-night pit stop wasn't justified. "And she won't sell me any without me comin' here every time I want it."

"So you'd have no issue busting in here right now if it was just Mira?"

"Somethin' like that."

Y/N furrowed her brow, leaning down onto her forearms. He looked nonchalant as he took another small sip of his drink despite the suspicion in her eyes. "When did you start coming here, anyway? Mira's annoyingly taken with you."

He grinned, his cocky lilt restored to his voice. "Can't help bein' such a charmer." When she scowled, rolled her eyes as she turned to put away the sugar and milk, he continued. "Three or four months. Stopped in here for a quick cup of coffee on my way outta work one night, and couldn't help stayin'."

"The coffee's that good?" she asked, cocking a disbelieving brow. He shrugged.

"And the atmosphere. Mira's a real sweetheart; she's always good to me."

"So, what, you and she are just best friends now?"

"Jealous?" His eyes flashed playfully. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Of you or of her?" she teased.

A wide grin broke through his expression at that. "Either one."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Hate to disappoint, but it's neither." She bit back a laugh at how hurt he looked; the pout he plastered on. "Anyway, is that why you're trying to crash the closing shift? Wanted to spend some quality time with Mira?"

He shrugged, unabashed. "More or less."

She nodded, the corners of her lips quirked up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You could never."

Y/N had to laugh at how contrived his conviction was, at what bordered on offense in his voice even at the idea of it, and the sound made him smile. "Thanks, Thomas."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to the shelves, finishing with the cup she'd been wiping down before he'd showed up, and she unplugged the coffee pot. As she began to wipe down the back counter, he spoke. "Should I get goin' then?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow at his sudden change of tune, glanced back at him, he added, "I mean, since I missed Mira 'n' all, and I don't wanna hold you up here later than I already have, I just thought--"

"That's alright. We're out of to-go cups for the rest of your coffee, anyway." When he didn't respond, she finally turned around, wiping her hands on the rag she'd been using to clean. She wore a teasing grin. "Or are you just that anxious to get away from me, hm?"

"'Course not." His smile broadened to match hers as she rested her hands on the counter before him. "Just figured you were countin' down the seconds till you could get rid of me."

"Don't worry, I don't have the patience to count by seconds." Y/N shrugged. "I've been counting by minutes, instead."

"Aw, sweetheart, I'm hurt." He put an offended hand to his heart, drawing back from her where he sat. "Thought we were friends."

She huffed out an involuntary laugh. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

She went back to her tasks with that, shaking her head lightly, tongue in cheek to stifle her amusement. She heard him take another sip of his drink, but when the cup met the saucer, he asked, "What smells so good?"

Her eyebrows shot up as she glanced back into the kitchen. "Oh, right, almost forgot about those." She looked over her shoulder at him. "I've been making brownies, still need to cut them." While he nodded indifferently, there was a wistful look in his eyes as he sat up straighter on his stool to see into the kitchen. She folded her arms. "You want one?"

His eyebrows shot up, and his gaze snapped to where she stood. "Really?"

She shrugged, mildly amused. "Sure. Since I can't seem to get rid of you, anyway."

"That's tough!" he called after her, offended, as she exited into the kitchen, laughing lightly.

She emerged not minutes later, holding two of the brownies; they were still just slightly warm from the oven, so cutting them was no ordeal. She pursed her lips. Thomas's mouth was all but watering as she walked back toward the counter, handing him the napkin one of them was housed atop.

"Enjoy," she commented mildly, suppressed her amusement at the longing in his eyes for the dessert.

"Thanks, sweetheart." His voice was soft. She pushed herself up to sit on the back counter as she ate hers, and when she looked back up, she saw him bite into the dessert, a soft moan escaping his lips. She laughed.

"Is it that good?"

"'S incredible," he mumbled, covering his mouth as he tried to speak, before he swallowed. "Shit, Y/N."

"You're just flattering me because I'm not booting you out of here, but I'll take it anyway."

While she looked rather pleased, he frowned. "You accusin' me of bein' ingenuine?"

"Where did you ever get that idea?" she asked sarcastically, shaking her head. He scowled.

"Hurtful."

"I'm sure."

He put the brownie back on the counter, took another sip of his coffee. "How'd you end up workin' here, anyway?"

She shrugged. "I've told you about my most recent financial crisis. I needed a second source of income."

"Why here, though?" He cocked his head to the side, and she raised an eyebrow, not quite following the aim behind the question. "I just mean, I haven't seen you around here until the past week or so. Was it just 'cause they were hirin'?"

She gave a small smile. "Not quite. Mira and Orlando are my godparents."

His eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?" When she nodded, a small grin formed on his lips. "That why you're so jealous of me and Mira bondin'?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like you could ever replace me?"

He shrugged noncommittally, making Y/N scowl. "I dunno, sweetheart. She and I are gettin' pretty close."

"Get your own mother figure, Jefferson."

"Aw, c'mon now, don't be greedy." He grinned at how progressively annoyed she was beginning to look. "What? Why should you get two mother figures and I don't?" She wasn't quite following his line of reasoning as she cocked an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Don't have a godmother, feels like fair game to me."

When she didn't answer, he creased his forehead. His voice was hesitant. "Y/N?"

Another beat passed, before she raked a hand through her hair, offering him a smile. "I guess so."

With how weary she suddenly sounded, though, he didn't leave it at that. "What is it you're not tellin' me here?"

She cracked a grin as she met his eyes, amused by how he was looking at her. "Don't look so worried. Geez, Thomas. Mira and Orlando raised me, alright? That's all." She pushed herself off the back counter to discard her napkin.

However, as Y/N walked back toward where he sat at the counter, Thomas bit his lip. Her forced nonchalance didn't seem to quell his concern. "'M I allowed to ask why?"

She shrugged, but her voice grew quiet as she leaned onto the counter. "My parents passed on when I was pretty young." She chose not to meet his eyes, swallowing as she fiddled anxiously with her watch. "Mira and Orlando took me in, so they're all I've had for a family most of my life."

"What happened?" he asked softly. One of his large hands enveloped hers on the counter, and his touch was tentative, nervous, waiting for her to brush him off. When she didn't, he squeezed her hand lightly, and she looked up at him with a sad smile.

"Cancer." He looked crestfallen; she just pursed her lips. "Dad got sick when I was around ten. He was in and out of the hospital for a few years, and my mom spent most of her time with him, getting him treatment, taking care of him, waiting at his bedside. When she wasn't with him, she was working overtime to pay his medical bills. I was alone at home almost every night, so I started going to sleep at Mira and Orlando's when I was twelve."

Y/N's chest was tight. When Thomas didn't interrupt her, just watching her, waiting patiently, she bit her lip, apprehensive to continue. When he didn't fill the growing silence, she went on. "We thought Dad made a full recovery when I was thirteen, but by my fourteenth birthday, Mom was diagnosed. And it just felt like the same thing all over again."

She swallowed hard; tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she forced a smile, blinking hard, and huffed out a laugh despite herself. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to launch into a monologue on my childhood trauma. You don't need to listen to the full story just to be polite."

"'S alright." He offered her a soft smile, and when he brushed his thumb over her knuckle, she found herself squeezing his hand in return, a silent 'thank you.' "Go on. 'M listenin'."

She hesitated another moment when she saw the worry that clouded his gaze. “You sure?” He nodded with full conviction, and though her reluctance didn’t clear, she went on. "...Right. Then, well, after that, Mom was in chemo, and about five months later, Dad had a flare-up. Hospitalized him immediately. That's when I started living with the Murillos full time."

"Mira and Orlando?" he questioned, and she nodded.

"They got me through high school. I visited my parents when I could, but life went on, and as far as I knew, they were recovering." She shrugged, but her tone grew spiteful. She rarely talked about her parents, didn't want to think of how unfair fate had been to her growing up. "My junior year, they passed on within eight months of each other."

She pressed her lips together, and Thomas didn't release her hand. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, and she gave a soft smile, finally looking back up at him.

"It's alright, really." She shrugged, but she didn't move, didn't break his gaze. "It's been more than ten years. I miss them, but I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I've had a decade to mourn them, and even though grief doesn't ever really leave, it subsides. I'm just fine."

He nodded as she gave him a mournful smile, and alongside the empathy in his gaze, she couldn't help but notice his own sadness shining through. "I know what you mean," he said softly, and Y/N tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah?" As far as she knew, Thomas wasn't an orphan, and she'd done extensive research into his background.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Just... about grief never quite leavin'." She waited for him to elaborate, and it wasn't until she raised an eyebrow that he did. "I mean, it's normal. You still think about them every day? Wonder what they'd think about you if they were here now? Feel like you still owe them something, like you have to live your life as though they're around?"

She frowned. "Yeah, exactly." He nodded, and she furrowed her brow. Hesitantly, she asked in a quiet voice, "Thomas, who have you lost?"

He shrugged as he released her hand, instead taking a sip of his coffee. He seemed like he almost thought better of giving her an answer for a moment, but then he spoke. "My fiancée died when I was twenty-three."

"That's terrible." Y/N's brow had immediately knit; she rested on her hands at the edge of the counter. When Thomas saw how she was looking at him, the sadness in her eyes, he chuckled despite himself.

"Wasn't the best time of my life, if I'm honest."

"I'd imagine." His smile was warm at the dry quip as he looked down into his coffee absentmindedly. He didn't look up, never saw the concern in her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Was a freak accident. Came outta the blue a year after we moved in together." He let out a bitter exhale, somewhere between a huff and a mirthless laugh. "She was hit by a drunk driver, and it took her life on impact. I couldn't handle it."

It was her turn to take his hand, then. He'd begun to withdraw. Vulnerability showed through his gaze, through his clenched jaw, through his antsy, almost undetectable movements. He looked up at her, when she did, and she weaved her fingers through his.

"Of course you couldn't, Thomas." She put her other hand atop where she held his. "No one would be able to. Mourning doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. It also means you were strong enough to carry on."

"I wish I had." He looked dejected, by then, almost apathetic as he reflected. When she looked at him questioningly, she could hear him swallow thickly. "I didn't carry on. I ran. Moved away before her funeral 'cause I couldn't stand to see her casket. I didn't grieve for almost three years, just came to DC and started pourin' myself into my work."

"And what's wrong with that, hm?" His eyes had dropped again, and she leaned down into his line of vision, broke his absent stare. "Hey. What's so wrong with that?"

He let out a shaky sigh. "Never honored her memory. Didn't go to her grave or talk to her family until years after she was gone."

"You were trying to cope. That's all you can do. Everyone deals with loss differently."

"But she didn't deserve that," he pressed. She creased her forehead; concern rested in her eyes.

"But what about what you deserved, Thomas?" He cocked his head to one side; his gaze was brimming with inquisition. "Don't you deserve to take care of your own needs? Do you really think she would've wanted you falling apart?"

"Sweetheart, 'm not the one who was killed."

"You don't deserve to suffer just because you're the one who lived."

"But I shoulda been there, at her funeral, at her grave." He drew in a shaky breath. "Feels like I abandoned her."

You did what you needed to do," Y/N insisted. "Wherever she is now, whatever afterlife you believe in, or don't believe in, she obviously hasn't been forgotten."

He nodded, sniffed as he pulled back. He rubbed the corner of his eye, taking a breath, and she didn't comment on it. He ran a hand through his hair as he forced his composure, restored his easygoing manner. His grin was back as though it'd never been gone. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

They shared a smile for a moment, and he pursed his lips. "Can I... ask you not to do anythin' with this?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What d'you mean?"

"We were never married, so almost no one knows about her, other than close friends and family." He sighed. "'S not information you can find online. And I just..." He trailed off as he looked up at her, tone tentative. "I know you're a journalist 'n' all, but please, can I ask you not to take this to the press?"

While anxiety was clear in his gaze, her eyes were wide, surprised that he thought he even needed to ask. "Of course, Thomas. I would never. It's safe with me."

"Thank you." A beat passed as she just stared into his eyes; with how he was day-to-day, with what she knew of him before, she could've never guessed how much pain he carried with him. He exhaled softly, gave her a grateful smile.

His trance seemed to break a few seconds later when she reached out to lightly squeeze his hand. He shifted in his seat, glanced at the clock above the kitchen door. "Shit, sweetheart, it's almost 10:40. You've gotta be dyin' to kick me outta here."

An apologetic grin accompanied his words, but as he searched her expression for some kind of response, Y/N recognized his question for what it was -- if he'd really wanted to go, he'd have already been pulling himself up, but did she want him to stay?

She shrugged, wearing a kind smile. "I mean, until our final customer is gone, I can't technically close up." He raised an eyebrow. "So really, I'm in no position to be kicking you out."

He shook his head, amusement slowly being restored to his features. "Really, now? An hour ago, you couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"Maybe I was just a worse employee an hour ago."

He laughed. "Aw, someone's gettin' attached, huh?"

She deadpanned as she met his shining eyes. His tone was nothing but teasing. "I take it all back. Get out. Go on."

"Aw, c'mon, sugar, I'm just kiddin'," he pleaded, though he showed no traces of regret. Y/N fixed him with a tired stare.

"You know where to find the door."

"Now, really?" he pouted, brow knit, and she rolled her eyes. "What'd I do to deserve this, hm?"

She scowled, though the amusement she tried to hold back lay clearly in her soft gaze. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

He seemed to think better of it at her words, and quickly changed tacts. "What about the rest of my coffee?"

"Dumping it out. No problem." She shrugged, and he huffed, giving her a fully manufactured look of disappointment.

"Thought we were connectin', and now this is how you treat me?" She held her skeptical stare, and a grin broke through his facade. "Now, what's Mira gonna think when I tell her you kicked out her favorite customer?"

Y/N regarded him wearily, in no mood for his schtick. His eyes were gleaming; he looked up at her with warmth coloring his gaze, and ultimately, when she found no malice in his stare, no ill intent, nothing but goodwill, she huffed.

"Fine. Whatever. Finish the coffee. In the meantime, since apparently, you're shamelessly becoming a parasite, I'm gonna get myself something to eat. You gonna want anything so I can save myself the extra trip?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't mind another brownie."

"And now what's Mira gonna think when she realizes all of our bakery is gone tomorrow?" She folded her arms, turning his own words back on him, but he was unfazed.

"That you gave it to her favorite customer, of course."

--------------

AND AS THE night slowly stretched on, the pair went on like that for more than another hour, recounting their pasts to one another, each passing judgment on the terrible haircuts the other had in the 90s, reminiscing on college. Y/N was surprised to hear Thomas played the violin (she couldn't tell whether he was joking when he offered to play for her sometime); Thomas couldn't help but poke fun at her when he learned she wrote sappy poetry in high school (and in turn, she threatened again to kick him out). They always seemed to find an excuse for him to hang around just a little longer.

Eventually, midnight struck; both Y/N's and Thomas's attention was drawn to the little clock above the door that finally chimed.

They met each other's eyes for a moment, and while Y/N just waited expectantly, letting him make the call on his next move, Thomas sighed.

"I really should head out, sweetheart."

Y/N smiled softly; her teasing expression couldn't seem to mask the affection dancing in her eyes. "Finally. Can't close until you're outta here, remember? It's kinda rude that you didn't leave earlier, really."

He scoffed, despite that there was no real scorn in her gaze, and raised a brow. "Mm, and it was really rude of me to accept the coffee, and brownies, and leftovers you kept offerin' me every time I tried to leave."

"You didn't put up much of a fight, to be fair." She pursed her lips, giving him a pointed look, and he chuckled.

"Won't deny it."

She'd long since finished wiping everything down, including the dishes she'd been giving Thomas, and though she was far from pushing him out the door, she wasn't going to resist some much-needed sleep.

Thomas finally stood up from his stool, fished his wallet out of his coat pocket. "How much do I owe you?" He glanced back up from where he was leafing through bills, and Y/N shrugged, wearing a small smile.

"This one's on the house."

His eyebrows shot up. "You sure?"

"Mhm." She nodded, cracked a lopsided grin as she still leaned against the counter. "Consider it payback for the century-old book I've got stashed upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he repeated quizzically, and she nodded.

"Yeah, didn't I mention? This was the housing plan I figured out," she told him. "Mira cut me a deal in exchange for taking the late shift every night."

"Every night, huh?" he asked, mischief creeping into his expression. She raised a suspicious brow. "So you're tellin' me, if I was gonna show up at 9:58 next Friday--"

"Don't you dare!" she warned him, but when he laughed, his smile was contagious. "I'm gonna have to start closing up at 9:56 here on out."

"I can adjust." He sent her a wink before tucking his wallet back into his pocket, glancing out at the snowstorm beyond the store windows. Y/N was shivering just looking at it. He pursed his lips. "You sure you've got no to-go cups left?"

"No more coffee, Thomas," she said sternly, giving him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright! Geez," he laughed. "Guess I'll just have to show up tomorrow three minutes before openin' huh?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest; I don't work Saturday mornings."

"Noted. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out your schedule."

"That anxious to see me again?" She cocked her head to the side, smug, and he winked.

"Always." He exhaled softly before finally turning toward the exit. "I'll see you around?"

"You know where to find me." He nodded, chuckled as he tucked his hands in his pockets, burrowing into his coat as he neared the door. "G'night, Thomas."

He cast her one final glance over his shoulder, eyes shining. "Night, sweetheart."

She shuddered at the gust of cold air that entered the diner upon his exit, finally going to lock up the front, drawing the shades before she went up to her flat. The brownies she'd made were put away, the chairs were all up; she did one final, brief sweep of the place, and hit the light.

She couldn't deny her fatigue as she reached her apartment, locking the front door behind her, but after discarding her apron into her hamper, she made the executive decision that she needed to shower before she could go to sleep. She'd been going all day long and had begun to smell like a mix of old ham, coffee, and melted chocolate -- three good things in isolation, but not quite something she’d be purchasing as a Dior fragrance anytime soon.

She emerged from the shower less than half an hour later, and though it'd woken her up just a bit, it was nice to feel clean, putting on clean pajamas, being in her clean apartment.

She was just on the inoperational side of sleepy as she walked back to her room, yawning into one of her sweater paws, checking her phone once more for the night, going through the notifications from the past few hours.

She was already burrowed halfway under her blankets when she saw the message that made her freeze. It was on her Twitter account.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: are you still up

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but my car won't start

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im still out in your parking lot

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: think the weather broke something in the engine

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry to ask this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but if you're awake, would u be willing to let me back in ?

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: just real quick i swear

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: please it's less than freezing out here

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this y/n

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: really i dont mean to take advantage of your hospitality

@Thomas_Jefferson is typing...

Her eyes widened; her eyebrows shot up. She was already in bed, she was dying to finally just get some sleep, but she couldn't just leave him out in the cold knowing she was the only one around to help him out. She sighed.

@Y/N_L/N sent: jesus christ, thomas stop rambling

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry

@Y/N_L/N sent: relax, ill come down to let you in now

She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed, bringing one blanket with her to the stairs, mildly bleary-eyed.

Once again, her phone pinged.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: thank you

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: ill come to your door

Sure enough, when she made it down, shifted the blinds to peer through, ensure that it was actually Thomas and that she wasn't about to get abducted in her booty shorts and men's XL college sweatshirt, she saw him standing there, shivering, and her eyes widened. She rushed to unlock the front door, and Thomas didn't waste a second coming in.

"Jesus, sweetheart, I can't thank you enough." He let out a deep breath, seemingly reveling in the warmth of the room. She closed the door quickly behind him, though the wind certainly put up a fight. "'M so sorry about this. Really, if I could fix it now, I would, but I think somethin' in the motor froze while I was parked out there for a couple hours. I--"

"It's ok, Thomas," Y/N said softly, doing her best not to sound as though she was half asleep, and she pulled her blanket tighter around herself. "Really. I'd rather you not freeze to death; it'd put a bit of a damper on my career."

He grinned. "So self-centered."

She scowled. "Go back outside."

He laughed as he unbuttoned his coat, tucked his gloves in his pocket and withdrew his phone. "Did I wake you up?" He eyed her choice of attire dubiously, looking amused, and she shifted her blanket to cover her shorts.

"Nah, I was just on my phone in bed. You're fine."

"...Right." She ignored his disbelieving tone.

"How long were you out there for before you messaged me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed.

"'Bout half an hour. 'M sorry, I couldn't take the cold any longer."

"Don't apologize, geez," she huffed. "You think I'd have rathered you stayed in your icebox of a car and said nothing?"

"I'm gonna guess by your tone that it's a no, but I gotta say, I wasn't so sure."

"Oh, shut up!" Y/N scowled, and he grinned. "Can I call someone for you? A tow truck? A mechanic?" She asked, rubbing the side of her nose, eyebrows raised, and Thomas shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it." He seemed engrossed in whatever he was typing into his phone, staring down at it intently and hardly sparing her a glance as he furrowed his brow. "I'm gonna call myself an Uber. I'll be outta your hair in five minutes, and I'll come by to get my car in the morning. That ok?"

She nodded, hardly even processing his words. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."

She stifled another yawn as he grew increasingly frustrated with his app. Several moments passed; she saw him repeatedly pressing the same button with no increasing degree of success. It took him longer than it should've to admit defeat, letting out a sigh.

"Everything ok?"

He shook his head. "Uber isn't runnin' in this storm. Can I take you up on that tow truck?"

"Yeah, d'you want the number?"

"Please." His expression plainly revealed his increasing desperation as she pulled up the contact in her phone, rattled off the digits to him.

She spaced out gradually after taking a seat on one of the stools by the counter, absentmindedly watching him make the call. His relief was written clearly in his eyes when someone answered, and she listened to him go back and forth with the person on the other end of the line at such an ungodly hour. Whoever it was didn't seem to have any more patience than Thomas. It wasn't until he was cut off mid-sentence that his face finally fell.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You have a good night, now."

"Bad news?" Y/N raised an eyebrow when he finally hung up the call. He looked to her with pursed lips.

"The roads are closed through downtown 'cause of a severe weather warnin'." Her eyebrows shot up, and he let out a defeated sigh. "I'm so sorry; 'm sure I have someone in the area who I can call and just walk over to. Gimme a few more minutes."

While he searched frantically through his phone, brow knit in worry, she could see the panic beginning to show through. She pursed her lips. His solution seemed flawed at best and downright suicidal at worst; the weather was brutal. "Thomas," she began, swallowing her qualms, but she didn't get a chance to go on, not in the midst of his rising anxiety

"You know of any hotels close to here, sweetheart? Even just--"

"There aren't any, Thomas," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She knew she had to offer him residence for the night, by then, but exhaustion colored her reluctance.

"How far d'you suppose the nearest is?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing up. "'Cause I can walk to some--"

"Thomas." She looked at him tiredly. "I live upstairs."

He blinked, hesitant to draw the only clear conclusion from what she was saying, too afraid of the idea that he could've been being presumptuous. "...Okay?"

Her gaze was flat. "Just come crash at my apartment for the night. I have the space; I can't let you try to walk seven miles in the storm to some dingy B&B."

He bit his lip; he appeared anxious to accept her offer. "Listen, I don't wanna impose, sweetheart; I can--"

"You aren't imposing. Calm down." He raised an eyebrow; tentativeness still lay in his gaze, but he seemed to be realizing the futility of his situation. "I'm offering, alright?"

He paused. "You don't have to take me in just cause--"

"Thomas." She huffed, cutting him off for what she hoped was the final time. "Stop worrying about it. Seriously. If it'd really make you that uncomfortable, I guess I could bring a pillow down here for you to sleep on the floor, if that was what you really wanted, but otherwise, just come upstairs."

He raised his eyebrows, and his voice was quiet when he spoke. "You sure?"

She chuckled. "I'm sure. Now, stop making such a big deal of it. C'mon."

She nodded toward the staircase before going back to lock the front door to the diner, and she hit the lights again as he followed her up. "Thank you so much, Y/N, really, I--"

"What'd I just say about making a big deal out of it, hm?" She glanced back at him as they reached the top of the spiral staircase up to her apartment, and she unlocked the door. He gave a soft smile.

"Still, sweetheart. Thank you."

"It's not a problem," she chuckled. He came alongside her through the entrance, and she shut her front door behind him as he glanced around the flat curiously.

"What should I do with my coat?"

"Just put it on one of the hooks by the mirror. Leave your shoes wherever; it doesn't really matter." She flipped the kitchen light on as she walked in. "So, the couch is a pull-out; if you're still up when I go to sleep, the bedding and mattress pad are in the closet at the back of the hall. The bathroom is also back there, first door on your left, and you're welcome to help yourself to anything from the kitchen."

He raised an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes. "You got any more of those brownies up here?" he asked innocently.

Y/N paused where she stood, sending him a warning look. "That better be a joke."

"Of course, sugar." He'd begun wandering through her sitting room while she poured herself a drink. "Seriously, though, were you goin' to sleep when I messaged you? Don't wanna keep you up any later than I already have."

She shrugged. Despite her exhaustion, despite how she knew it'd have been impossible for him not to catch onto her fatigue, going to sleep didn't seem like the best of her options -- first off, she felt guilty to try and leave him alone there when he was all hopped up on caffeine, but second, and far more importantly, she didn't want to leave all her personal possessions out for him to poke through. (He'd probably go poking around, too, and she wouldn't blame him in the slightest; it wasn't like she hadn't dug through his belongings before.)

She finally answered, "Nah, not just yet. Was gonna pour myself a glass of wine, though; you want any while I'm at it?"

He hummed, considering it as she reached up for the bottle where she'd stashed it. "Wouldn't mind one."

So with that, she withdrew two glasses, pouring her cheap Cabernet Sauvignon out for the pair of them. With a sigh, she discarded her blanket on the side of the rug next to the couch, unable to carry both glasses along with it.

When she rejoined him, he stood before her bookshelf, arms crossed, leaning forward ever-so-slightly to get a better look at the titles.

"See anything you like?"

Her voice made him turn, matching her smile as he accepted the glass of wine. "I just might." His playful wink as he looked her over made her laugh. "Thanks for this, by the way."

She shrugged as he nodded to the drink she'd poured, lifting her own glass to her lips. "It's no Sassicaia, but it does the trick."

He took a sip, the corners of his lips quirking up. "Could be worse."

Though her gaze drifted to the bookshelf before him, she laughed lightly. "What high praise," she commented dryly.

"Isn't it?" Thomas grinned, glancing down at her, and she rolled her eyes. Her reaction didn't seem to deter him, though. "'M kiddin'," he reassured her, as though she'd taken any sort of offense at the statement. "Really, hope you know how grateful I am for all this."

His tone was light as he gestured to the room around them. While he seemed unfazed, Y/N couldn't help but feel absurd, as though the whole situation still could've been some strange, lucid dream.

"Ah, yes, I'm such a guardian angel," she agreed, tone dry with sarcasm. "I've provided an old mattress and an eight-dollar bottle of wine. You really struck it lucky."

He gave a cheeky grin. "The company more than makes up for it."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn't suppress her growing smile. "You really owe me big, then."

"I'll find a way to pay you back."

She took another sip of her wine, and for once, the warmth blossoming in her chest wasn't just fast-acting heartburn from having cheaped out on dollar-store alcohol. She watched him another moment, waited to speak until he finally met her gaze. "Anything on my bookshelf holding your interest?"

His shrug revealed next to nothing. "No surprises here."

"Oh, because you know my taste in literature so well?" Her skepticism made him smile. Really, any resistance she provided didn't come from him being incorrect, but instead from how uneasy his discerning gaze made her; he spoke as though he could see right through her, as though he'd long since figured out what makes he tick. She couldn't help but feel exposed.

"You're easier to read than you think, sweetheart." She didn't answer, but instead raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. "Keats, Austen, Plath..." He quirked a brow. "... seven different copies of The Princess Bride."

"Hey, it's a classic!" she defended, and he laughed.

"'Course it is." He took a sip of his drink, eyes shining. "It's interestin', though."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Rest of this apartment is almost completely bare, but this bookshelf is almost overflowin'."

She cocked her head. "Care to enlighten me on what makes that so interesting?"

"'S just predictable." He shrugged, his gaze turning to Y/N with a small smile. "Says somethin' about your priorities, huh? Nothin' you need straightened out."

His wink made her grin. "And who gave you the right to come into my home and judge my lifestyle?"

"Hey, I'm just validatin' you," he defended. "Besides, last I checked, you gave me that right by invitin' me up here."

Y/N huffed at how pleased he looked with himself, going to take a seat on her couch behind him. He raised an eyebrow as she did, and when his gaze followed her, he found himself turning, leaning against the bookshelf as she addressed him. "Don't make me regret it when you've hardly been up here for ten minutes."

"Aw, but I'm touched by how much you care, savin' me from the storm."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I didn't want you to freeze to death, try not to let it go to your head."

"But sweetheart, you saved my life; how could I not be forever in your debt?" At that point, he was playing up his gratitude, having plastered on a full pout, wearing a wistful expression, and Y/N hoped in vain that her amusement didn't show on her face.

"Don't be so dramatic; I just saved my career." She hid her smile behind the rim of her glass.

"C'mon, do I really mean that little to you?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

He laughed, coming back around to join her on the couch. "I'm gonna let that one go, just cause I know you don't mean it."

"...Right." The couch cushions dipped beside her as he sat, and she shifted, turned to him, pulling a leg up beside her onto her seat. He raised a dubious eyebrow before taking another sip of wine.

"You really expect me to believe that?" While his voice was light, the question itself wasn't in jest. The fact that she chose to ignore her adamant attraction to him didn't make it any less obvious, apparently -- it was forever bubbling just below the surface, hanging tense in the air between them. She sighed.

"Alright, I guess you caught me. It's true, my motives aren't purely selfish. I confess." She looked him in the eye with faux solemnity. "I'm also trying to save James and Dolley from having to plan a funeral."

He only shook his head, amused. She was deflecting again, and not subtly, either. Thomas was trying to tread lightly, but she wasn't making it easy on him. "Ever the humanitarian."

"I do try." His gaze was growing empty as she held his eyes. He looked as though his mind was elsewhere. When she drank more of her wine, eyeing him, he hadn't moved a muscle, his expression was blank. "Thomas?"

He blinked hard when she waved her hand in front of him, forcing a wide smile. "Sorry, sweetheart, just spaced out a minute."

"What are you thinking about?" The question was innocent, but it made him tense. He shrugged, pausing a moment.

"Just wonderin' where you got that century-old book of Bryon poems hidden." Though she raised an eyebrow, she tried not to let her skepticism pervade her expression. He raised an eyebrow. "You clearly don't have it packed into that same old bookshelf. Lose it already?"

"Not quite yet." She elected to ignore how he was deflecting in turn. "It's at my beside. I was doing some light reading last night."

"Enjoyin' it?"

"So much." Her excitement was genuine, then, when he raised a brow; her eyes were shining. "D'you know it's been annotated by like, seven different people? It's so interesting, seeing different interpretations from the past hundred years."

His lips quirked. "And what'd you think of my notes?"

"Some of those were yours?"

He nodded. "Everything in purple."

"You have pretty handwriting." When he grinned outright, her gaze drifted to his mouth a moment. She caught herself before he could react. "Anyway, I thought you said no one had read that in almost fifteen years."

"'S cause no one had. Those annotations were all the way back in college."

She raised her eyebrows. "Now, I definitely didn't expect you to be a fan of Byron."

"Oh yeah?" He crossed one of his legs over the other, shifting to face her, and draped an arm over the back of the couch. He looked curiously at her. "Why's that?"

"Definitely didn't take you for a romantic."

"Hey, now." His offense was entirely a facade, and his smile despite it didn't help his case. "I'm hurt. I've always been a romantic."

She snorted out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm sure you have."

"I'm not kiddin'!" he defended, but her clear skepticism amused him regardless. "'M a sentimental person."

"Could've fooled me."

"And why's that?"

"I dunno." She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink as she glanced at him. While his tone was lighthearted, his gaze was inquisitive, searching -- he didn't respond, letting the silence stretch on, and she felt as though she owed him an answer. "You're just so... laid-back and carefree. You're all confident, and brash, and have a flair for the dramatics. I guess I wouldn't have pegged you as a softie."

"I like to think I'm pretty empathetic." His voice was soft. "I've devoted my life to public service, to makin' people's better. You've gotta be compassionate to put the time and money into runnin' for president, right?"

"Or you have to be power-hungry," she contended, and though her tone was light, he creased his forehead.

"'S that really what you think of me?"

With how he was looking at her, bordering on hurt, Y/N could feel guilt building at the back of her throat. She'd come into her current job with so many preconceptions about him that she couldn't have known whether were true, but she hadn't hesitated in entertaining the ideas regardless. "Not anymore." She was sure she looked as embarrassed as she felt. "But I may have made some unfair assumptions, once upon a time."

He gave her a mild grin. "Don't sweat it; it goes both ways."

"Excuse me?" She sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow, and he only seemed amused as he regarded her.

"Oh, you're actin' all offended, now?"

"I am offended."

"You shouldn't be." She squinted suspiciously at him as he continued. "Never thought you were a bad person, or anythin', just didn't expect all this from you." With his words, he gestured to the room around him, and she was slow to reply.

"What d'you mean?"

"Lettin' me stay so late in your diner, takin' me in with the storm out there..." He trailed off, shrugging. "You're bein' more generous than you're givin' yourself credit for."

"To be fair, you would've been able to get home without a problem if I'd just kicked you out earlier."

"But you didn't." How perceptive he'd suddenly become had her shifting in her seat. "Feel like I owe you for it."

She smiled bashfully, sipping her wine. With how he was looking at her, heat had begun to rise in her cheeks. "Really, Thomas, it's not a big deal. It's the least I can do."

"It means a lot, though. Really. Didn't have to do any of this for me." His gaze roamed her apartment thoughtlessly, and he wore a small smile. Her eyes were fixed firmly on him all the while, drinking in his expression, the smallest details of his face, from the little patch below his ear he'd missed while shaving, to the stray curl that always seemed to fall across his forehead. "Thank you, Y/N."

What happened next caught them both off guard, despite how slow, gradual, even how nervous it was.

Her action was unexpected, but not sudden, and for once, Y/N didn't think about it. She just acted. He'd turned back to her in surprise when her fingertips grazed his stubble, no longer caught up in eyeing the room around them, and before he said anything, she was leaning in, kissing him.

The action wasn't rushed, and at first, it was chaste -- he was breathless, kissing her back without thinking twice, and his hand rose to cup her cheek, following her movements.

It took him a minute to pull away, and when he did, Y/N backed off immediately, wide-eyed. "Sweetheart--"

Her stomach dropped. Rejection hadn't been an outcome she'd considered, not after how he'd been coming onto her time and time again, not after the other night, with how frankly he'd asked her what she was looking for from him. "Shit, Thomas, 'm sorry." Her apology was breathless. "I... I didn't mean to make you--"

But he didn't let her go on, his hand moving from her cheek to the nape of her neck, stopping her from retreating to the opposite side of the couch as she lay her glass of wine on the coffee table. "Is this what you want?"

His question made her freeze. He wasn't shooting her down; his eyes searched hers, and she swallowed roughly. "Yes," she breathed. Another beat passed. She bit her lip, waiting for him to react, waiting to see what he'd say or do, but he didn't move.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "'Cause if you're gonna run out, rebuke me again, I can't--"

"I'm sure." She didn't waste another moment in pulling him back down to her, pushing herself across the couch, closer to him, and as her lips again met his, he discarded his glass, instead tugging her onto him by the waist.

She pulled him close that time, abandoning her hesitance. He didn't want to stop her, either -- not when her arms snaked up around his neck, not when she swung one of her legs over his, straddling his lap, not when she knit a hand into the curls at the base of his neck, and his self-control was fleeting as he bit down on her bottom lip, making her moan. But despite how she was kissing him, despite the sheer desire in her actions, his concern hadn't subsided.

When he held her face just inches from his own, thumb tracing patterns into the top of her hip, her stare was saturated with surprise. "Y/N, really," he started, worried. She raised her eyebrows. "I've gotta know--"

"I've thought this through," she cut him off firmly, rolling her hips teasingly down against his, and the action made him groan. "I want this. I want you. I'm not going to regret this; I'm not going to run off. If you want me to stop, tell me, tell me now, please, but I swear, Thomas. I know what I want." She'd withdrawn a hand from where it hung at his upper back, instead running it down to the top of his chest, her fingernails ghosting over his shoulder, across his collarbone. "Do you?"

There was a skip as he paused, but when he found no reservations in her gaze, only reckless abandon and want, his mind was made up.

"Beyond a doubt." His words were hardly a whisper, lost quickly in both of their rising thoughts, in the growing cacophony of pleasure as her lips returned to his without hesitation, lost in the rising sighs and low moans as she pressed up against him, and finally, finally, they both stopped thinking and overthinking, doubting and hesitating.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away as Y/N tugged on the tie Thomas still wore, as he pulled her closer by her waistband She was breathing heavily when his lips found her neck, shivering when his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, when his fingertips dug into her hips. It was easy for her to lose herself in him, after weeks of waiting and wanting and wishing, and easier still when she pulled on his soft curls, making him groan against her skin, when his grip on her tightened as she ground her hips down against his.

She could feel him shudder underneath her when his hips jerked, when he pulled her down against him, when she let out a soft whine. By that point, his tie was sloppily loosened, hanging crooked around his neck, and Y/N had managed to undo the first few buttons of his shirt despite how preoccupied she'd quickly become.

She had no caution left to cling to. She'd shaken him off time and time again; she'd rebuffed his unshakeable audacity, but it took her until he backed off to realize what it was she was really looking for.

Something about it all scared her, made her heart race and her head spin, but as his hands traveled further south, her pulse spiked, and she couldn't bring herself to mind it. He asked where her bedroom was; her answer was just a murmur between hot, fervent kisses as he returned to her mouth.

She knew she wouldn't regret this all come morning. She wouldn't regret it two days later, nor two weeks later, the risk of it all only compounding upon the excitement. With his skin against hers, with him picking her up by the thighs, making her yelp as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, she was struggling to remember that there was any big picture to it. There would always be her job. There would always be the election. There would always be their nosy mutual friends and a bloodthirsty political landscape. But just then, in her low-budget apartment with her secondhand furniture, as the blizzard raged on within six inches of her warm, comfortable living room, as all of Washington D.C. was buried under a cloak of snow, as frozen in space as it felt in time, the two of them were all there was.

[sometimesrosy]

(1/4) (Turns out the unlimited ask doesn't work for me. Huh. How do people do that?) I'm not an active Bellarke shipper, but even to me it was always evident that they're basically canon. Like you, I always defended Jason, because CLEARLY Bellarke are endgame, WHY can't fandom see that. Even when B died, I was willing to give Jason the benefit of the doubt, because there's no way in hell he'd just kill B. Obviously it was just for shock; even his goodbye tweet to Bob – OF COURSE (...)

(2/4) it was just a red herring, so it would be an even bigger surprise when B does get miraculously saved and ends up with Clarke – AS THEY SHOULD HAVE. I must admit, the Blarkes and their negativity and calling people delusional for actually trusting Jason and trusting the story for the first six seasons pissed me off to the point where I kind of hoped he WOULDN'T make BC canon. But I didn't actually expect it, because it wasn't what the story was showing, and I certainly didn't expect...THIS.

(3/4) I know, I could be happy – my faves Murphy and Emori got the best ending they could possibly get, and the annoying Blarkes didn't get their endgame. But I'm pissed. I'm pissed on your behalf and all the other civil Bellarke fans. I've been soo looking forward to saying „SEE! We were right! We're not delusional! We saw the story, we understood the story, and Jason isn't the asshole you guys always made him out to be.“

(4/4) I still don't think I was delusional, because despite this last season, up until then Bellarke were canon. Period. Yes, the Blarkes bullied and abused Jason, yes, they kind of didn't deserve to get what they wanted – but he could have been their king if he just went with the story he's been telling for six years, and it makes absolutely no sense to give up on that. But now I'm the idiot who didn't see that Jason is indeed an asshole... What a stupid dick.

+++

I thought I wanted vindication more than I wanted Bellarke. But it turns out that’s not quite so.

I wanted a good story the most. And I actually trusted him to give us that. I told everybody that if we didnt’ get bellarke I’d have to see what happened before I made a judgment because there are ways to take an ending I don’t like and make it something I’m satisfied with.

But THIS???

This death of humanity? This alien god thing? This Clarke as the real villain all along? Erasing Clarke’s character? Dropping all the narrative threads and leaving them gaping holes? THIS WAS UNACCEPTABLE. And that’s not even including what they did to Bellamy, just erasing him like that and pretending he WASN’T the leading man and trying to retcon that he wasn’t important or he was easy to write off. To not even give him a decent death scene? I was excpecting him and Clarke to die, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was THE WAY he died. And THEN to pretend that Bellarke wasn’t the center of the narrative all along. Dropping Bellarke as the main heroes started the season with a feeling of deep unease. Something felt off from the beginning, like we had to hold our breath waiting for the story to start, and then it never did. Or no. There was one episode where it felt right, when Bellamy came back and they were fighting, and it should have reconnected from there but it didn’t. 

I LIKED the other stories they told, but they never tied together. The season didn’t connect even when the episodes were good. We wanted to hear about the other characters. But we NEEDED Clarke and Bellamy. 

AND THEN. We had JR telling us off screen that the story we’d been watching was not the story we were watching and it was something else? Clarke was really the bad guy in Mount Weather and we had to be in their shoes?? WTF? THEY HELD PEOPLE IN CAGES AND BLED THEM. THEY TURNED PEOPLE INTO A ZOMBIE ARMY. THEY EXPERIMENTED ON THEIR OWN PEOPLE. THEY REFUSED VOLUNTEERS FOR MARROW DONORS AND INSTEAD DECIDED TO TORTURE THEM TO DEATH FOR NO REASON. They were not innocent. Clarke was RIGHT. If she hadn’t done that they would have spread over the earth with their advanced technology and enslaved everybody on the ground because they thought it was their birthright. 

HOW DARE you tell us we were wrong and we have to sympathize with the evil villains or we’re the villains.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? 

Listen Rothenberg. You don’t get to tell me the story I saw was something different. No gaslighting here. I’ve got reams of meta with evidence from the text, from YOUR TEXT saying MW are the nazis. Don’t tell me to sympathize with them. I HAVE EVIDENCE that Bellarke was the backbone of the narrative. That Clarke and Bellamy were soulmates. That Bellamy was the heart of the story, of the delinquents, and to Clarke’s head.

They were the true loves. They were soulmates. And that’s the story you wrote. You want to pretend Bellamy wasn’t there that’s not going to work. Because it’s all on screen. Evidence. We saw it and it’s not going away.

We also saw your sloppy mop up of the end and your complete failure, because there were SO MANY different ways you could have taken it where it would have made sense and you chose this.

[elliot-elliot]

Things i forgot about in PJO/HOO

TLT:

Percy accidentally fired a war cannon into a school bus

He also accidentally made his entire class fall into an aquarium tank thing

Grover cries when he’s frustrated

Grover has a note excusing him from PE “for the rest of his life”

Halfway though the school year their old math teacher had a nervous breakdown

Once, Percy told Grover that he didn’t think mrs Dodds was human and Grover was deadass just like “yes. You’re right” completely seriously

Chiron has tournament days where he would dress up in Roman armor

Percy assumed all the weird weather was because of global warming

Percy called his English teacher an old sot

Grover is a terrible liar

MASSIVE BLUE SOCK

Grover’s bladder acts up when he gets upset

Sally’s parents died in a plane crash when she was 5, and was raised by her uncle who didn’t really care about her

Sally wanted to be a novelist

She had to quit school her senior year to take care of said uncle, who got cancer

Gabe made Percy provide his gambling funds, and Percy said that if he didn’t, Gabe would “punch his lights out”

Percy has nightmares about Mrs Dodds

Percy genuinely liked Yancy Academy

Percy did the warding off evil gesture towards Gabe, and the screen door shut so hard “it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the stairs as if he’d been shot from a cannon”

Percy was stalked by a cyclops in 3rd grade

In preschool, he strangled a snake with his bare hands, and his mom found him playing with it like a rope

At the cabin, grover cursed in Ancient Greek, and Percy understood it perfectly

Percy thought Grover was a donkey from the waist down

Percy tried to get the Minotaurs attention by waving his red rain coat

Percy said he would rather live on the streets or pretend he was 17 and join the army if it meant not living with Gabe

Percy said that Mr D looked like a Cherub

They have satyrs at most schools

There was a different Latin teacher for the first week of the school, but Chiron convinced him to take a leave of absence

Mr D plays pinochle with the satyrs

There’s an orientation film

Grover eats mr D’s Diet Coke cans

Probation in the 1900s was Zeus’s punishment to Mr D

Percy likes basketball

Percy tripped when coming into the Hermes cabin for the first time

Most teachers are literally monsters

For a mortal, nectar and ambrosia turns their blood to fire and their skin to sand

Clarisse calls Annabeth “wise girl”

Percy accidentally sprayed Annabeth with toilet water

Chiron told Percy that he might be considered a myth in 2000 years

Luke pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and Percy thought Luke was gonna gut him

Percy is really good at canoeing

Luke’s the best swordsman they’d had in 300 years

Percy was able to disarm Luke on his first try after he poured water on his head

Hitler was a son of hades, since WW11 was the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of hades on the other

Houdini went on a quest to the underworld

In capture the flag, clarisse tried to cut Percy’s hair

Percy apologized for the water healing his Injuries

Someone left a newspaper about Percy and his mom going missing inside his doorway

Mr D wanted to Spontaneous Combust Percy

It’s illegal to make copies of Zeus’s lightning bolt

CHB has a hydra head from Woodstock

The oracle told Percy the prophecy through the image of Gabe and his friends

Grover eats pinochle cards “like potato chips”

Luke made Percy blush almost as much as Annabeth blushes when she’s around Luke

Chiron told Percy only to use his sword in emergencies

Mortals aren’t important enough to be killed by celestial bronze

Percy was famous for loosing pens at school

Annabeth was explaining the Athens rivalry thing to Percy, and he was like “they must have really liked olives” and Annabeth got mad and then he was like “Now, if she’d invited pizza—*that* i could understand” which made her even more mad, and Argus then winked at Percy

Annabeth gave Percy her hat so he could escape off the bus

Grover was gonna defend himself from the furies with a tin can

Grover ties Mrs Dodds’s legs up with her own whip

Percy told Mrs Dodds to eat his pants in Latin

Medusa turned Grover’s uncle to stone

Medusa is/sounds middle eastern

Percy told Medusa that they were from a traveling circus, and when they were alone Annabeth told Percy “your head is full of kelp”

Grover told Medusa that he takes vitamins for his ears

Satyrs can’t get migraines

Percy fucking mailed Medusa’s head to mount Olympus, and he signed the package “with best wishes”

GLADIOLA THE FUCKING PINK POODLE

Annabeth appeared on her dads doorstep in a golden cradle

Annabeth calls Grover “goat boy”

Percy hates confined spaces

I JUST REALIZED THIS HIS FIRST OUT OF 2 (i think 2?? Maybe there’s more??) TRAUMATIC ELEVATOR EXPERIENCES

The chimera has a rhinestone collar that says “Chimera— rabid, fire-breathing, poisonous— if found, please call Tartarus—ext. 954”

Echidna told Percy what she is— the mother of all monsters, and Percy was like “isn’t that a type of anteater”

The chimera poisoned Percy

Percy jumped from the arch assuming that it would kill him, in order to protect the mortals that were on the arch

Percy fucking lit a lighter at the bottom of the Mississippi

The campers were taking sides— Zeus or Poseidon

Gods can’t steal each other’s items directly

Percy said the leather on ares’s motercycle looked like “Caucasian human skin”

Percy said that ares’s was handsome

Percy said he broke clarisse’s spear and ares was like “oh dope”

Ares threatened to turn Percy into a prairie dog

Ares gave them a bag of double stuffed Oreos

Percy thought that the reason he could talk to zebras but not lions was because of another learning disability

They released a zebra into Las Vegas

Percy snapped Annabeth out of the lotus haze by looking her in the eyes and saying “spiders. Large, hairy spiders”

Percy threw away ares’s backpack, but once they left the lotus hotel, it reappeared on his shoulders

THE WATER BEDS

The lotus card had infinite money, and the cab driver referred to her as “your highness”, which Annabeth likes

They let the cab driver keep the (infinite) change

When at santa monica, percy looked out at the ocean, thought about how 2/3rds of the world is covered in water, and wondered how he could be the son of someone so powerful

Percy just. Fucking walks into the water and annabeth is like “percy what the fuck are you doing” and headass just keeps walking until he’s fully submerged

A mako shark nuzzled him like a dog

Percy used to see sea spirits smiling at him in the waves at Montauk beach

Houdini could “escape even the depths of tartarus… damn, talk about foreshadowing

Percy told the bus driver he was a stunt double for a bunch of child actors

Percy said L.A. reminded him of Ares

They got attacked by a gang

CRUSTY

Percy tricked crusty into getting into his own beds, and percy then cut his head off

Grover told Charon that all 3 of them drowned in a bathtub, and Charon looked mildly impressed

Percy bribed Charon into letting them in

Percy’s Traumatic Elevator Experience count so far: 2

The river Styx is polluted

Annabeth held percy’s hand on the boat

Thomas Jefferson is a judge of the underworld

Grover compared Asphodel to standing in a wheat field in Kansas forever

Cerberus is a purebred Rottweiler

Annabeth played fetch with Cerberus

Annabeth promised Cerberus that she would come back and play fetch with him again

Cerberus considers Annabeth a friend

Percy saw things in the Fields Of Punishment that he “didnt want to describe”

Percy said he wanted to go to the Isles of The Blest when he dies

THEY ALMOST FALL INTO TARTARUS.

Percy said that Hades’s eyes reminded him of Hitler’s

Percy wondered if Hades’s underwear was made of trapped souls like his robe was

Percy interrupted Hades to tell him that Charon wanted a raise

Hades threatened to “stop death”

PERCY TOLD HADES TO PLAY WITH CERBERUS MORE

Annabeth gave percy her necklace to wear for good luck (with fighting ares)

Percy jumped over ares on a 6-foot wave

Percy fucking told the entire city of LA that they could get a free appliance, and he gave them Gabe’s phone number. Fucking love this kid.

Finally, a non-traumatic elevator experience

Zeus went to purify his bolt in the waters of Lemnos

Podeiden told percy that his rebelliousness was because “the sea does not like to be restrained”

Poseidon said that sally is a goddess among women

Gabe fucking made Sally go to work when she got back

Percy didnt know that Gabe had been hitting sally, until he saw her flinch when Gabe raised his hand

Poseiden sent him Medusa’s head back to use against gabe

The ares cabin made Percy’s laurel and painted “loser” on it

Sally sold her “sculpture” to an art collector in Soho, got a new apartment, and started going to college

The Soho gallery called the sculpture “a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism”

Percy told luke he misses being on the quest

Ares caught luke with the bolt and helm

Grover “confused the (flying shoe) curse”

[octaviablodreina]

Im doing a The 100 rewatch and see this is what bothers me about how they tried to vilify Octavia so much that they ruined characters because of it. So I just watched the episode in S3 where the Ice Nation blew up mount weather and then Bellamy is all broken up about it and turns to grounder hater racist Pike (the beginning of the decline of Bellamy’s character honestly) and Kane said put the blame where it is, with the Ice Nation and only them. But that also includes Echo. Shes the one who went there knowing Bellamy would listen to her, lied to them so they would leave and leave the mountain undefended and knew it was going to be blown up. And I get that she changed and evolved in the 6 years in space and he forgave her. But how can he forgive her for getting his then girlfriend blown up, truing to kill his sister twice (once more directly than the other, once where she literally killed her or so she thought she did, and the other in the conclave when she was trying to take everyone out). How can you forgive all of this and more and not even try and understand and try and forgive your own sister for the things she had to do to keep to human race alive. At the end of S2 Clarke says I bear it so they dont have to, and although at first hes mad at her, he eventually forgives Clarke too and they become close again, but you cant do the same for your sister, and then you continue to emotionally abuse her by saying to her that his sister is dead and you leave her to die alone on an unknown planet. Octavia was young and all her behavior is learnt, as you watch the seasons, you see all the actions the others do, and although at the time she hates those actions, she eventually is put in similar situations where she now knows that those actions are the only way to save the most people, she bears it so others dont have to...even to the point that others (kane, abby..) not only dont have to bear it, but they put all the blame on Octavia even though they were equally at fault..especially Abby. 

which is why I loved how Hope said that to Echo, like yeah youve been forgiven but dont expect Octavia to forget what you did to her..because it was TO HER, not others around her like Gina with Bellamy but literally Echo stabbed O and watched her fall off a cliff so I love that little moment. And I get that Octavia would want Bell to know she now understands what he did in the past for her, to raise her and how that could have affected him, but I dont see how thats relevant with how he has been treating for the past while. And even at that, he was quite overbearing with her...like in S1 when he was super controlling of her and didnt let her do anything. Hes always been critical and controlling. Whereas Octavia with Hope is loving and they have a much healthier family dynamic than the Blakes did. And yet she has to tell him she understand.... Why is it that its always Octavia that has to apologize for her actions and no one else, and she always needs to seek forgiveness when others are at fault as well, and others have done the exact same actions and yet they are forgiven without half the struggle O has to go through. She takes responsibility for what she has done and doesnt hide from it, unlike others who pretend it didnt happen or who say that it was for their people and try and act as though it was the only choice and it doesnt make them a bad guy...theres always a choice and O gets that and at least she embraces what she has done...and yet she gets persecuted for it, without people even stopping for a single minute to try and understand her situation and her point of view..instead they just try and kill her.

Anyway sorry this rant is going nowhere so ill just stop here

[plainvanillapotato]

the 100 diaries S2 E7

quarantine diaries: may 28 2020

season 2 episode 7: “Long into an Abyss” 

poor girl keenan. did they really just throw her out there without telling her first?? wow DOCTOR TSING. sacrifice for the ‘greater good’??? do no harm much?! i take it that she did not take the Hippocratic oath. great. great. just great.

when did jaha get his frosty beard?? like i kinda remember seeing it in the last few episodes but for some reason now it is just very apparent. idk but it kind seems like the hair and make up team dyed it. 

abby said no. im still the captain. okay. honestly i dont like either of them as leaders. but i mean at least abby is willing to try to save my boy monty and the others in mount weather

no shit finn. it is your fault. don’t console him clarke. it is his fault. the grounders are attacking because of him.

coming full circle lincoln. back where we started. but now lincoln is just possessed. great. what on lincolns teeth? is that supposed to be human flesh? also i cant help but notice lincolns constrains are very thin. these guys are again backing on the idea that thin ass rope is lincolns krytonite. can you help him octavia asks. clarke is not god. not even a doctor. yet her she is playing doctor once again.

side note: i love how they added a constraint to his back because it looks like one of those parent child leashes

“we’re criminals right. so lets be criminals” jasper said in a button up looking like a good christian boy

lincolns restraints broke. oh thank god. this show is logical for once in its life. but this came at really bad timing

again with that headbutt!!!! and to prettyboy bellamy!!! i swear this is lincolns signature move!

i was screaming during this scene. 3 vs. 1. ofc octavia had the KO

this radiation body is gross. doctor tsing went my way my way or the highway

clarke understands grounder now.? stfu. this is a joke i struggle through 5 years of french but my listening comprehension is still no bueno. yet clarke hears a phrase once and she just knows. ok  

yes get’em nyko. blood must have blood he said. what a killjoy clarke.

i hope clarke was singing “staying alive” while performing cpr on lincoln

oooh finn are you going to kill yourself? i mean at least he feels guilty now. but i mean if lincoln is savable then ok finn can be savable i guess cuz y’all know lincoln did some pretty questionable stuff 

jasper is the unlikely mastermind. where the hell did miller get that lock picking kit? no password can hold monty. not with his asian powers. 

how come they let finn into this meeting. he is not a reliable source.

oooh jaha. loyalty politics? ok bryne supporting a sister. but dont think i didnt forget what you did in the last episode. i call justice for anya

so are clarke and abby never really gonna address the whole father thing??

jasper with that rawr while holding that sword was everything. but really monty and miller doing the heavy lifting while jasper is just fucking around

the grounders are straight up the dorthraki but with banes masks and that speak perfect english

lexa. nice throne. but its no iron throne. what is that thing in the middle of her head/ forehead. she didn’t have that before. and when did clarke get anya’s hair?? are you telling me she when to anya’s dead body just to cut it off? are you also telling me that the grounders chose lexa over anya???

dont fucking lie clarke. anya did not die well. she died by a gun shot. was one of the least epics deaths ever. ugh. still salty

what is lexas shoulder pad. the fashion on this show is insane

yeah that father son scene between dante and cage is a little too positive. but i honestly surprised that cage didnt lock dante out when dante still refused to use the kids

cutting it to the wire huh? clarke is taking a big risk but ok.

not off to the good start literally showing off the burnt bodies of their people clarke.

2 healers in the same place. at the same. practically unheard of in this show. but what a time for clarke and the grounders to walk in to see octavia crying over lincolns dead body

*clear* abby said grey’s anatomy who?

so theyre not gonna put harper down for this bone marror thing. this is rough. fuck this doctor. pretty graphic. but also pretty inaccurate for how doctors actually harvest bone marrow

“lincolns recover was...impressive”...*intense eye contact* lexa and clarke? another ship?

so really the key to the reapers is that they’re just druggies ok. and you just need to detoxify them. seems kinda too easy if you ask me

[lingeringscars]

disclaimer: i wrote this at 3am when i should have been sleeping and i have no desire to read back through it so if u see misplaced colons.....don’t @ me. just the usual me being back on my bs !

One of the more fascinating things about spacekru is that....most of the characters have very objective character growth. And im not about to dispute the fact that it has happened but i find it really interesting that....bellamy and raven haven't had it in a way. ( murphy’s going backward rather than forward in a way, at first, is also really important to me !!! )

@loveisaviolence and i have talked briefly about this with raven and how interesting it is but mostly the fact that it doesnt seem like raven has really processed any of her trauma and how instead probably threw herself into trying to get them home. This is as much as I'm going to talk on raven as i do not write her.

But bellamy on face value....seems to have changed a lot. Hes forgiven echo and formed a deep bond with her. Hes more rational in his actions than he typically used to be ( although i have talked ad nauseam about the fact that he always used both his head and his heart in tandem and it always being really fascinating to me. This shift in bellamy and clarke isnt bellamy becoming more head and clarke more heart....its them changing the motivation. Bellamy always used his head to think through what his heart was telling him. Everything with mount weather. Him dressing in azgeda gear to get to clarke. He was guided by his heart but used his head to do it. Clarke is the opposite-- shes guided by what is best for the whole. She uses her head but...her actions are very much her heart...not shooting bellamy when he opened the door or injecting herself with nightblood for instance. )

ANYWAY that tangent aside...bellamy was always very outwardly stressed / anxious. Every emotion would play out on his features and he was prone to outbursts pre space. After space...its become internalized. Like raven, he had a task: uniting them, leading them, survival. He, as always, gives his all to whatever the task is. That leaves little time to focus on himself.

While i do believe he came to terms with his actions, i do not think he ever processed them fully and instead pushed them aside. HOWEVER. Space is also the only time hes actually allowed to be angry. Bellamy doesnt allow himself these emotions when they have a war to fight. It’s also why him being so mad at Clarke in s3 is so important because....for the first time ( since first half of s1 )with her he was able to be !! He forgives because it is necessary. HIM TAKING 3 YEARS TO FORGIVE ECHO IS ACTUALLY PROGRESS. Instead of pushing his feelings down ( which lol he does w/ octavia in s5 and s6 hence the pretty violent emotional outbursts towards her ), he allows himself that time to hate her. He allows himself to be angry bc it doesnt directly impact their survival. They need to work together but that doesnt mean they have to like each other.

Flash forward to the ground and why i really dont think bellamy processed his trauma at all and instead just got better at hiding it. He did get that break from violence and going back to the ground throws him right back into the thick of it....but i also cannot fathom how people dont see how aggressively s1-4 bellamy is still present in his interactions, if more subdued. The most pressing relationships we see this: clarke and octavia.

Im not going to talk about clarke here bc quite frankly i dont remember enough to form coherent thoughts about his attitude towards Clarke in relation to finding out shes alive. Her "death" clearly had a major impact though. and despite them being out of sync...the do both fall back into coleaders with each other quickly.  

But the first thing bellamy does when he gets back....his primary motivation to return: Octavia. He thinks shes in danger so they need to go back down...immediately. more moments of everything being very internalized now is that very first bellamy & echo interaction where she reels him back in when he begins to spiral at the possibility that o isnt alive. He returns to the ground for her and then fights to get down to the bunker to rescue her.

Rescue. He still has the mentality that she is his responsibility. He should have been down there with her. He should have helped her. He is still taking the world onto his shoulders---- so did he really grow at all? Did he learn that everything is not his responsibility? Did he confront his upbringing and the consequences of it? No.

Come season 6 and he says that he has too many sins to release a lantern because he really hasnt forgiven himself at all. He thinks about it every day. He sees the faces in his dreams every night. He has not processed or moved forward at all.

And when we get the BIGGEST step of growth in the history of his character....."you are my sister. But you are not my responsibility. Not anymore." Not anymore. It is SO IMPORTANT that he is starting to FINALLY accept that octavia needs to take responsibility of her own actions..can no longer blame himself for not being able to stop her / help her....but...

Not anymore.

I dont know how to word this in a way that will sound eloquent so bear with me.... not anymore. Meaning it once was. Meaning....he thinks that up until she burned the farm he is to blame for her actions. Up until she burned the farm, she was his responsibility. He didnt confront what their mom said to him when he was six years old. He did not acknowledge the burden that was placed on him because he doesnt see it that way. He doesnt see it as something that was unfair or unreasonable because to go back to season 1....his life both ended the day she was born and started then too. He had a purpose taking care of octavia....he almost idolizes his mother [ the girl under the stairs like mom taught us...she raised me to be better than this. To be good ]. The thing space did allow him was the time to really, truly find a family outside of Octavia for the first time ever. Space allowed him the chance to have and love people FOR HIMSELF. And that made it a lot easier for him to break away and out of this stranglehold of a relationship where, in so many ways, he had been programmed to believe that everything was on him and any mistake was his fault. In space, he was able to see that there is life outside of octavia....but that doesnt mean he has processed the life he had with her...because he didn't.

In conclusion: bellamy really hasnt processed his trauma at all...just got better at directing it and hiding it. His anxiety became more internal: wringing his hands versus running into battle. He wants to move forward. He wants to do better. But he hasnt confronted the past--- not fully. And as long as there is a task to be completed, he never will. It isnt how he is programmed. He will run himself into the ground before taking a moment for himself because a leader gives everything that they are to their people. Space gave him a FAMILY. a place outside of octavia. something that is more balanced, with mutual respect and care....but when it comes to processing trauma? becoming more whole w/ himself in a way other members of spesikru have? not so much..........

[flamingjets]

bellarke: heartbreak and a little bit of hope

Sitting at the edge of the pond Bellamy continued to mourn the woman who kept him sane, centred and helping him be the best he could be. And in this very moment he knew in his soul as his heart was in a billion pieces that he loved her. He loved Clarke and once again he never had a chance to tell her and will never be able to tell her. So many chances to let her know and so many things always got in the way of him confessing to her. The grounders were attacking, Mount weather and saving their friends and pulling a lever, the world ending Clarke sacrificing herself to save them as guilt pulled at him for leaving her behind or just to add on the misery both of them at different times were always with someone else Clarke/finn, bellamy/raven or what ever girl he managed to find at the time, Bellamy/echo. It was never the right time or the right place and now it never would be. God the things he should of said to Clarke to tell her how he felt, it killed him to know that he has been in love with her forever it seems and now can’t get past the fact he kept it in and refused to even speak the words. What an idiot.

At this pond is where he in the mist of the eclipse and in a state of murder or whatever he had told Clarke he didn’t need her anymore and he wasn't going to die this time but she was. And now it seemed it came true she is dead but her body lives on being used by Josephine and every time i saw her it broke him all over again. The one thing he didnt tell Clarke when he should of right away was that he did still need her desperately he did why didn’t he tell her at the lantern lighting why? Because he was scared and because he didn’t feel like he deserved her forgiveness for almost killing her with his own hands. Now without her they just had to survive on this planet and try to keep going. He said survive because to him it was impossible to live without her in the world he could barely survive in.

Fighting inside her mind to gain control back of her body for even just a moment was hard enough but when Clarke opened her eyes she was back in the real world in her body. Memories she had to confront to even try to get control were memories that burned her to her core when she made the decisions and reliving them was like dying all over again. Clarke moved to get out of Josephines bed and rushed to leave the room. She didn’t want to be there and raced to find her friends and try to tell them to help her, save her do anything to get her body back. Clarke could feel josephine trying to gain back control and she knew she had limited time before she got kicked out. She wanted to find anyone but mostly she focused on finding Bellamy she had to find him. She never got the chance to tell him how she felt about him and that she was in love with him has been for a long time but couldn't tell him because she was scared but also because when he returned he was with echo and it hurt her and broke her heart and she didn’t want to ruin his happiness. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from feeling jealous and wishing it was her kissing him and being able to do everything that echo was doing with him. She bit her tongue and tried to move on but it was harder to do then she thought and failed miserably at it. 

Clarke ran through the hallways praying to run into someone but she felt herself getting weaker, josephine was winning. Clarke ran outside to the pond but collapsed on the ground knowing she was about to get kicked out when she looked up and saw a startled Bellamy looking at her. She found the one man she wanted to see and it gave her a bit more fight to keep josephine back. Bellamy looked at her with a heartbroken look ands anger returning wondering what she wanted now. He was about to turn around and get away from her when he heard one word that caused him to freeze and slowly turn around “Bellamy.” she whispered as she raised her hand reaching out to him. “Clarke?!” Bellamy whispered back in shock of her saying his name in the way he knew only clarke would say it. He rushed over to her dropping to his knees as he lightly placed his hand on her chin raising it up to look at her in the eyes as his other hand gripped her arm. “Bellamy I’m here please believe me I’m still here. Help me.” Clarke pleaded begging for him to listen and believe her and save her from what was happening. “Your alive oh thank god your alive they said you were dead. I’m not losing you again clarke I’m going to get you back clarke I promise!” Bellamy confidently spoke determination running through his veins once again. She was alive she was still there and he was going to save her this time and not let go. His anger returned and his soul bloomed with hell fire. Sanctum was going to burn to the ground in his attempt to help clarke and he didnt care.

Clarke winced in pain and screamed out as she grabbed her head. Bellamy wasn’t sure what was happening or what to do he hated seeing clarke in pain and in the moment it scared him to death. “Bellamy I can’t fight her anymore please get away before she comes back. I have so much to say but I....” Clarke screamed again. “IM getting you back princess I promise. I’m not leaving you again.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead as he stood up gripping Clarke’s hand as he yanked her up with him he gave her crushing hug pressed his forehead to hers. She smiled weakly at him as she pulled away and ran back inside leaving him by the pond. Bellamy was going to do anything to save her and protect her for russell and the primes as he raced to the lab they found and grabbed several paralyzing needles he knew he would need to pull this off and stashed them in his pockets. He walked with a confident stride as he retuned to the bar area and only saw Murphy. Bellamy walked up to him grabbing him off the stool he was sitting on and pushed him against the wall with his arm against his throat. “You were wrong murphy clarke is still alive in her body fighting with josephine i just witnessed it. You are going to help me bring her back and take this place down do you understand me?” Bellamy growled as Murphy struggled against the grip he had on him. “How is that possible they said she was dead nothing can bring her back?!” Murphy struggled to say but the look in Bellamy’s eye told him it was true. He betrayed his best friend and literally gave Clarke’s life for his. He was an asshole but now learning clarke was alive he was about to do anything to help Bellamy get her back even if it killed him. “I will help Bellamy i promise tell me what we have to do.” Bellamy let him go as he explained the plan on the way to the armoury.

[hysterialevi]

Abraham - A RDR2 Fanfic

Fanfic summary [NO SPOILERS]: Lyle Morgan and his eleven-year-old son have a conversation about Beatrice’s death, only for the boy to witness a second one.

Warning(s): Mild language

Author’s note: Bear with me if not everything in this story is correct. I’m not entirely sure where Arthur’s originally from (all I’ve heard is that he’s from somewhere in the north), so I just made something up lol. Also, this fic will only be one part. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

From Lyle’s POV

A FOREST SOMEWHERE IN MONTANA

SUMMER, 1874

Strollin’ through the tall, thick grass, I led my mount around the forest at a casual pace while my son sat on top, consumed by his journal as always. It was an hour or two before midday, and right now, there was a radiant blanket o’ sunshine bathing the entire forest, painting everything with a golden tint. It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day out here...but this feeling of annoyance just wouldn’t stop naggin’ me, and I knew exactly why.

I briefly glanced over my shoulder, peering at my son as he scribbled something down in the weathered pages of his journal.

A quick sigh escaped me.

I didn’t know who the hell Arthur got his interest in art from, or why Beatrice even bothered buying him that book, but that child just couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from it. Every time I came across the boy, he was always scratchin’ down some fantasy world of his, or creating images of a utopia I ain’t ever seen. It was pointless.

He spent more time daydreamin’ in that book than he did playing outside, or hunting, or fishing -- hell, he didn’t even know how to read -- and yet, Beatrice seemed perfectly content with it.

Or at least...she did.

Beatrice weren’t around no more. She was killed by bandits a few months ago. Robbed. Left on the side o’ the road for the crows to feed on. But Arthur didn’t know that. Sheriff told him it was a wild animal that took her. A wolf, to be exact. And he believed him.

I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly feelin’ exhausted just thinking about it.

Had I done the right thing, not tellin’ Arthur the truth about his own mother’s death, I wondered? I figured the kid didn’t need to know the morbid details, or even the entire truth, but I still felt like a piece of shit for not revealing the full story -- especially considering that them bandits who killed Beatrice...killed her ‘cause of me.

I had stolen something from them. Somethin’ valuable. And before it fell into their dirty hands, that “something” apparently belonged to a rich plantation owner who really wanted it back. Ended up gettin’ one of the bandits hanged, and left them thirsty for revenge. But they didn’t have the strength to go after the plantation owner. So, they came after me instead.

They chased me for quite a while. They chased me across the mountains, across the swamps, across the goddamned snow...until finally, they came to their senses and realized there were much better, more convenient ways of hurtin’ me. And thus, their paths diverted to my wife and son.

Those bastards managed to corner her while she was ridin’ to town to do some shopping. Found her on some secluded road between here and the nearest settlement, and ensured she would never return. That was when Arthur went lookin’ for help to find his missing mother hours later, and the sheriff assured him a wolf had gotten to Beatrice.

Christ. I really was a terrible father, weren’t I? Not only did I pay more attention to a bottle o’ whiskey than my own wife, I had also neglected Arthur for years on end, and indirectly gotten his mother killed. And the boy was only eleven.

He had spent half of his life not knowing a damned thing about where his daddy was, or even what he did, only to lose the one parent he already had before he could find out.

Lord...there had to be some way to make this up to him.

I looked back at the boy, suddenly feeling an urge to say something -- anything -- to him.

“Arthur,” I called out, catching the kid’s attention as his head perked up from behind the journal’s pages, “put that damned book away for a moment, will you?”

The boy hurriedly marked his place in the journal with a pen and shut it closed, resting the object on the saddle’s surface as he hung his head low in shame.

“...Sorry, sir.” He murmured.

I shook my head, lettin’ out a concerned breath.

“You spend far too much time in that journal. It was a mistake to buy it.”

Arthur’s eyes wandered to the trees towering around us.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he apologized timidly. “But I like drawing.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I like Poker. But I ain’t got time to play it. Too busy worryin’ about survival, and keeping the both of us fed. You can’t always do what you want, Arthur. You gotta provide. Things like drawing, gambling...they’re frivolous. We got better things to worry about.”

The child quirked a brow. “Friv-uh-less...? What’s that mean?”

“It means we don’t need to do it,” I explained. “What we do need, however, is to eat. So put that journal away and keep an eye out for deer. You was the one who suggested we come out here in the first place.”

Arthur frowned in a discouraged manner. “Yes, sir.”

I gave him a stern nod. “Good boy. Now...you said you seen a big buck out here?”

The boy pointed ahead. “Yeah. It was by the river.”

I gave the reins a little tug, urging my horse to follow me. “Then that’s where we’ll start. C’mon, Boadicea.”

Continuing our little hunting trip, Arthur and I traveled deeper into the lively woods as creatures of all types scurried around us, rustling blades of grass and alerting the tiny insects that hovered above the plants.

There was a rather peaceful mood to the forest today -- a welcome change considerin’ how chaotic my life usually was -- and I had to admit: some part of me enjoyed being here with Arthur. I rarely ever got to see the boy because of my work as an outlaw, and when I did, he always seemed reluctant to leave the house. Whether that was because he was more of an indoors person, or simply ‘cause he weren’t eager to spend time with me -- I didn’t know. But it was good to be with him regardless.

Approaching the large river, I came to a temporary halt as I crouched down and examined the ground, carefully searchin’ for any tracks that could’ve possibly led us to the buck.

The area here appeared undisturbed -- save for the fish flopping in and out of the babbling water -- and as far as I could tell, there weren’t no deer running around this section of the forest. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe they were at a different part of the river.

I took a closer look at the grass, only to be torn away from my thoughts when Arthur raised a question.

“Dad?” He asked softly. “Can I...can I ask you something? About momma?”

I paused, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in tone.

“Momma?” I repeated, slowly turning towards the boy. “Why you wanna talk about her?”

Arthur’s expression sank with sorrow.

“It’s just...you knew her better than I did. Or longer, I guess. And I don’t remember her that good. ...Do you?”

I gazed at him in a puzzled manner, admittedly still a bit taken aback by the abrupt question.

“...Clear as day,” I replied, unwilling to sift through the painful memories. “But that don’t matter. She’s...she ain’t coming back, Arthur. No one does, once they die. Ain’t no point in lingerin’ in the past when it can only haunt you. All we can do is move on. You understand?”

Clearly a bit hurt by my response, Arthur dropped the subject and averted his eyes from me, peering over at a nearby gathering of flowers instead.

He slouched despondently. “...I understand.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. I took a step towards him.

“Look at me when you say that, Arthur,” I demanded. “It’s important you look people in the eye when you speak to them.”

The boy brought his line of sight back to me, his face veiled behind a very subtle layer of fear.

He straightened his back a bit. “I understand.”

I nodded in approval. “Good. Now...let’s get back to huntin’ this buck. You sure it was around the river?”

Arthur gazed around. “I saw it this morning when I was playing with Copper,” he confirmed. “It was drinkin’ water right here. That’s when I came to get you.”

I observed the dirt underneath me, squinting my eyes as I searched for clues. The grass in these parts was quite thick, so that made it even tougher to spot fur, or dung -- and I still didn’t see any deer tracks -- but it certainly looked like another animal had been around here.

I kneeled down, shuffling the grass outta the way with my hand.

“It looks like some wild horses might’ve passed through this area,” I examined. “But no sign of deer. Oh, well...the day is still young, and we have some time, so we’ll keep looking.” I gestured to a nearby bridge. “Let’s try over there.”

Grabbing my horse’s reins, I continued to guide it through the woods as Arthur scouted the area for me, his big blue eyes scanning the sharp horizon while the sun escalated in the sky. There was a certain determination in his temperament now, and the longer we carried on trying to locate this buck, the more my son seemed to be enjoying himself.

Perhaps there was hope for us, after all.

“...Dad?” The boy called again, making me flick my eyes to the side. “What if there are wolves out here?”

I encouraged him to stay calm. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ about that. If we see wolves out here, we’ll be fine. We’re armed, we’re fast, and we’re smart.”

Arthur wasn’t convinced. “...Momma was smart.”

I sighed in a melancholic tone at that. “Yes...she was. But...Momma was killed by a different type of wolf.”

He tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “What d’you mean?”

I gestured to my rifle. “Not all wolves are the same, Arthur. Some use their teeth, some use their guns, and some use their tongue. You gotta be able to identify them when you see ‘em.”

The kid didn’t say it flat out, but I could tell he knew what I was really talkin’ about.

“Those sound more like people.” He replied. I let out a gentle chuckle.

“People can be worse than wolves, Arthur. In fact, I’d prefer a wolf over some o’ the people I’ve met.”

Arthur leaned forward in the saddle, his body swaying along with Boadicea’s steady speed.

“What kinda people have you met?”

I lowered my voice, thinking back to the bandits who killed Beatrice.

“Killers. Thieves. Deceivers. Men who will constantly betray each other even though they share the same motive: greed.”

I turned to Arthur with a remorseful look, hopin’ to do at least one right thing in my life, and use myself as a cautionary tale that money weren’t as clean as it seemed.

“...Greed,” I told him, “it breaks people, Arthur. They may not realize it, ‘cause greed can get you far in this world...but the reward ain’t worth it. Not compared to the things you have to sacrifice. In the end, you’ll have tons of cash, only to realize that there are luxuries not even millionaires can afford.”

His innocence took over. “Then why do they do it?”

That was a question I asked myself everyday. I shrugged in a disheartened fashion.

“Because they don’t care. So long as their pockets is heavy, and their bellies is full, they’ll keep on going. But like I said, greed poisons you. It kills you. And you won’t even notice until you’re already sittin’ in a grave. So promise me, Arthur, promise me that when you get to my age...you won’t become a wolf.”

Despite evidently bein’ a little confused, the child was able to make some sense of what I just said and agreed to the promise, reassuring me with a small smile.

“I promise.”

“Good boy,” I praised, bringing my mind back to the main reason we came out here. “Anyway, here’s the bridge. Why don’t you hop down and help me find this buck?”

“Okay.”

Sliding down the saddle, Arthur effortlessly climbed down and joined me, scurrying ‘round like a mouse while he searched for any signs of the buck. But so far, there was nothing in sight.

“See anything?” I checked. The boy shook his head.

I wiped some sweat off my brow, letting out a fatigued sigh. This animal was certainly proving to be a challenge to hunt down. We had already been in this forest for a couple hours now, and our efforts still hadn’t paid off. Part o’ me was almost starting to suspect if Arthur even saw a deer in the first place, and not some other kinda animal.

I decided to take a short break, and turned to ask the boy.

“You positive the buck was roamin’ around in these parts? Or that it was a buck at all? I haven’t seen any tracks so far.”

A soft rustle suddenly reached my ears, interrupting my conversation with Arthur as I reached for my gun, only to be stopped by a sound I didn’t expect.

It was a man’s voice.

“...Don’t even think about it,” the stranger warned, cocking his own gun. “I will shoot if necessary.”

Freezing at the intrusion, I remained perfectly still and didn’t utter a single word as a pair of footsteps steadily approached me from behind, followed by two more men coming in from the front on horseback.

They were all dressed in similar outfits donned with Nevada hats, and I couldn’t help but notice the star-shaped badges shimmerin’ blatantly on their chests.

Shit. These were lawmen. What the hell were they doin’ out here? I never expected the law to travel this far into the country. This was definitely odd.

What really puzzled me though, weren’t the fact that there were three lawmen just...waitin’ for us out here -- it was more the fact that Arthur didn’t seem phased by any of this in the slightest. Just what exactly was goin’ on?

Trotting closer to me, one of the mounted men glowered in my direction as he ordered his deputy to restrain me, his firm, steel eyes never wavering.

I recognized him instantly.

“...Sheriff Buchanan.” I muttered through gritted teeth.

He returned the greeting, scowling from under his hat’s rim.

“Lyle Morgan.”

I shrugged at him, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“What is this shit? What’s the sheriff doing all the way out here?”

Buchanan glanced at Arthur, standing in front of him in a protective manner.

“I told you I’d use every option I had to get you behind bars, Morgan...and I meant it. You made the choice not to heed my warning.”

Taking a second to process what he just told me, the realization suddenly hit me like a bullet to the gut as I stared at Arthur with a sense of immense betrayal, unable to believe what was happening.

There never was no goddamned buck.

Things was never gonna work out for me and Arthur.

This was all a trap.

My own...son...had turned me in.

He was the bait, and Buchanan was the true hunter.

I clenched my jaw in rage, doing my absolute best to shield my emotions as the deputy kicked me to my knees.

“...A-Arthur...?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The boy looked me straight in the eye, standing adamantly beside Buchanan as his deputies tied me up. I threw a glare at the sheriff, damning him till my last moments.

“You bastard, Buchanan...!” I cursed. “You turned my own damned son against me...?!”

The man showed no guilt and tightened his grip on his rifle, silently advising me to stay back.

“No need,” Buchanan denied. “You drove him to me all by yourself.”

He placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder and guided him towards the second deputy, ordering them to bring him back to town.

“Clayton, bring the boy back to the office. We’ll figure out where to send him later. For now though, just keep him safe, and look after him.”

“Right away, Sheriff.”

Preparing both his horse and mine for departure, the deputy left Arthur next to the sheriff as the boy stood firmly in place, his innocent yet damaged gaze never leavin’ mine.

Despite the hint of remorse clouding the child’s eyes, it was pretty obvious Arthur felt he made the right decision in turning me in. And just as Buchanan’s second deputy started to drag me away, I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful Whitetail buck wanderin’ around in the distance, its majestic antlers standing out like a crown on a monarch’s head as it bathed in the golden sunlight.

The animal swayed its head in my direction, almost as if trying to communicate with me.

“I’m sorry, dad,” Arthur whispered as he walked towards Clayton, blocking the buck in the process. “...But you made me promise.”

Taking his leave, the boy finally mounted up and steadily trotted away from the scene, only to reveal an empty spot where the buck once stood as he left the forest.

Well...I may have found the buck like I planned, but it weren’t my job to kill it.

And it certainly weren’t my place to look for it.

I could hunt them down to my heart’s content, and kill ‘em all I wanted for my own desires...but in the end, they would always be able to afford the one luxury I’d never obtained.

Peace.

[captaindaddykru]

The 100 Ask Game

i was tagged by @foreverandalwayscrysis even though i accidentally end up ignoring her for weeks bc i’ve migrated towards twitter. major dumb b*tch energy.

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from? probably argo station bc im from the south and im surrounded by farmers. theyre everywhere. get me out.

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark? yelling at someone in command for being a basic bitch? fighting for equality? stealing meds for the poor?

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground? if bellamy asked me to? y-yeah.

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..) i’d love a turtle

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be? ok if we dont count miles ezekiel shaw bc he was in more than two eps, definitely wells.

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they? bellamy, clarke, raven, shaw & harper. 

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to? there is only one kru<3<3 anyway, floukru if it was my own decision.

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? sumn like maksim? or just maks? idk the whole language is confusing to me

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious. did everyone try the chicken? i thought the chicken was lovely. nah, all jokes aside -- what he did to raven was absolutely disgusting, but i kind of liked his storyline. how he went from being holier-than-thou to absolutely losing his damn mind over clarke to point he shoots up an entire village of innocent people? it was interesting. but he died when he shouldve.

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does? im not gonna take shit. grass is always greener on the other side.

11. What character do you relate to most? definitely clarke. thats why i’m so hard on her.

12. What character do you like the least? echo. groan every time i see her face.

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical) oh i love this one! uhm. probably like jeans, but ripped. black ankle boots. a shirt -- something with cleavage definitely, i think a regular tanktop. a dark jacket. idk. i would always have a gun/knife holster on my thigh i think. (ok i wanna look like lara croft). and i would enjoy if i could wear any shade of lipstick. i would want that to be my trademark. i find berries or sumn in the first ep.

14. Favorite type of mutant animal? that monster spying on lincoln and octavia in the woods. wonder what happened to that one.

15. What would your job be on the Ark? something medical for sure.

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked? yeah no biggie im (almost) a nurse. ive resucitated ppl before.

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive, then who would have made the best commander? dont kill me, but definitely luna. i know she didnt want it, but she wouldve been the best fit.

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty? probably cry all night or get super giggly. either or.

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach? i dont believe in the dead penalty in modern times, but like she was old enough to know killing people aint right. especially not for revenge on an innocent person. so i say the murphy method.

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone? they shouldnt have one person in charge, but if they have to, i’d say clarke. fuck them old ppl tbh.

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis? i think bellamy went through some personal stuff that made him side with pike. if i were in the situation myself i think i would be digusted by pike’s xenophobia, but if they said there was an army outside waiting to kill us. maybe i would buy it? idk. depends on if i have all the info i guess.

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s iPod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there? MUSIC PLAYER

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint? war paint on my lips!!! and i’d wing the shit out of my eyes too. as for a hairstyle probably like a lob, sides braided back. i dont like my hair up so mostly just keep it down. tattoos? idk if we’re all dying anyway, i’d say fuck it and do a whole sleeve of flowers.

24. Favorite quote? can i be a soft bellarke bitch for a sec and present clarke’s entire speech in 4x13 or ��if i’m on that list, you’re on that list’. that or “who we are, and who we need to be to survive are very different things”

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning? clarke or murphy. team cockroach bitch. is this the time i plug my own thg fics? 

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non-canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

if i cant say bellarke its gonna be a short list. canon? zaven and memori. non-canon: sea mechanic, wellven, murphamy. 

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo? BIG DREAM would be taylor swift but i dont think her current era fits with the show (plus its the cw....like they gonna give up half of their yearly budget for a three sec cameo?). i think aly & aj’s new music slaps and they’d fit in the whole new earth aesthetic. 

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time? write blarke fanfic with him probably. 

29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die? i’d wanna die protecting bellamy lmao. just a full on beheading or something.

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of? literally no one. they’re a season too late. ok. maybe shaw. but thats over now i guess :/

31. A character you’d bang? bellamy, clarke, raven, shaw, emori, harper, monty, wells, diyoza. its a cw show. come on.

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?  if i was on the show i’d go up in space to prevent becho. if you have me the choice now, i’d stay in eden.

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?  i’d definitely not eat human meat. death it is i think.

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits? tryna murder blodreina for making me eat humans.

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with? i’d bond with monty over biology i think. i would have a hard time getting a long with murphy or echo. i love the first as a character but irl i’d kick his ass. 

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself? if i have eden? as long as i have until the next apocalypse.

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do? try and blow them up while they sleep or sumn? or idk. if i was alone, maybe just better to make friends.

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite? diyoza+, mccreary-.

39. Would you Spacewalk? i would probably? i’d be terrified but what a way to go?

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat? ive accidentally gotten bugs in my mouth before and like i said im not eating humans, so -- space algae.

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it? war didn’t help anyone. in the end, no one got to live on earth. i’d try and compromise i guess. or once they trust me, try and kill the eligius ppl in their sleep anyway.

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes? stick the thumb drives into bullet holes. i have fear of ‘alive’ things being in or on the human body. 

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia? for clarke? yeah. if she was as loco as octavia, definitely. or i’d kidnap her and say she killed me.

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper? sleep, definitely.

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet? bellamy, clarke, raven, emori, shaw, murphy, jordan and since somebody usually dies on these explorations, i’d allow echo to come.

[harpermiller]

I stole this ask game from @thelittlefanpire because it looked fun!

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from?

Probably Mecha Station tbh - my dad and grandpa are mechanics so it’d make the most sense 

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark?

Probably for talking shit to an official/council member or for stealing something 

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground?

I’d take it off in exchange for food yeah

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..)

An otter? idk

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be?

Harper McIntyre my girl

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they?

Bellamy, Clarke, Raven, Murphy, Miller

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to you?

Floukru 100%

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!)

ashley = ashlee ???

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious

See i thought he was annoying from the start and that smth wasn’t right with him and when it was revealed that he was cheating on Raven/Clarke I instantly didn’t like him.

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does?

I have a hip injury (kinda like Raven’s) that causes me pain sometimes so if i was told that the chip would take that pain away permanently i would absolutely take it

11. What character do you relate to most?

I have never related to a character more than i relate to Clarke Griffin - especially in season 5 and what i can tell from season 6. 

12. What character do you like the least?

s1: Finn

S2: Cage

S3: Pike

S4: Echo/Jaha

S5: Octavia/Echo

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical)

Probably a bomber jacket, jeans, combat boots, and like some cool finger-less gloves idk

14. Favorite type of mutant animal?

the butterflies ?? other than those and the two headed deer there weren’t really any other mutant animals shown

15. What would your job be on the Ark?

A teacher since thats what i’m in school for now

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked?

In the circumstances? yeah. Any other time? hell no

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive then who would have made the best commander?

Luna 100%

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty?

Spacey af

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach?

Bellamy’s approach

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone?

I think Kane is definitely the best chancellor but lbr Clarke and Bellamy were in charge

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis?

Kane’s side duh

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there?

the music ie an ipod, books or art supply

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint?

Tattoos: i’d probably have the flourku symbol on my shoulder or back of my neck

Hairstyle: probs like a french braid or smth

War paint: no warpaint for me

24. Favorite quote?

“For all its faults, earth is really beautiful.”

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things” 

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning?

Octavia would be the obvious choice in terms of physicality, Raven would have a huge shot because of her brain, and then Clarke and Bellamy would probably make it to the end together and then pull a Katniss and Peeta.

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

Least: Mackson

Favorite canon: Briller 

Favorite non-canon: Sea Mechanic

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo?

Hozier needs to guest star and sing some sweet faerie bog music 

and i think Bootstraps cover of Stand By Me would make for a beautiful scene between the remaining delinquents

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time?

Go crazy since it didn’t seem like he had a lot to do lol

29. Your an extra that gets killed off. How do you die?

Probably doing something stupid - i’d 100% die in season 1

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of?

I would have liked more flashbacks of the delinquents on the Ark and maybe some of spacekru

31. A character you’d bang?

Bellamy Blake

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?

If Octavia wasn’t in charge and they didnt turn to cannibalism probably the bunker but considering all factors definitely space 

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?

I wouldn’t really have a choice but to follow her lol - and idk i’d probably teach or help out with the children 

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits?

Probably just for talking back to Octavia or someone - or for refusing to participate in warrior training lol

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with?

I’d bond with Harper first definitely - i would probably have trouble bonding with Echo or maybe Bellamy just because of his post-Clarke isolation

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself?

not long at all lol - i’d die of starvation and dehydration 

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do?

Watch them and see what their deal is - decide whether they are useful/friendly and then make a decision from there

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite?

Zeke or Diyoza are my favourites and McCreary is my least favourite

39. Would you Spacewalk?

Probably not lol

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat?

Space Algae tbh

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it?

I’d fight for it but i wouldn’t want a war. Negotiations and peace talks would be my first choice

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes?

thumb drives into bullet holes - seems nasty but not as nasty as digging out the worms

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia?

Me and my sister are chill so she would have had to do something really terrible for me to poison her - even if its at the expense of someone i love. If i knew that my sister would be fine if i did it then maybe but if there was no guarantee then no.

To stop Octavia i’d probably either do what Bellamy did or just kill her 

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper?

Go into cryo - unless i had a really good reason (or person) to stay awake for

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet?

I’d probably go with Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, Murphy, Emori, Zeke, and Miller

I’m tagging @miles-ezekiel and anyone else who wants to do it but hasnt!

[acquisitive-adventurers]

How did Singlar lose his wife? Did he feel he lost her through his own negligence or ineptitude, or does he blame someone else for her death? Has he ever considered looking for a way to bring her back from the dead? Would he ever consider that?

(Thanks for the ask, @calabren-iarian !)

THIS IS LARGELY MY FAVORITE THING TO TRY AND WRITE??? It came out in an rp AGES ago with Singlar’s mun, and he was like (oocly) “what if you were my wife but I thought I’d lost you?” during a really sad part of an rp. It ripped my heart out and it’s been that way forever.

It’s evolved from something akin to screaming into the void to something else less screamy.

Singlar was pretty young as a dwarf – few decades old, probably 60 or so – and he was out exploring with his older brother, Kóri. They were out, being stupid “young” guys, when they came upon a night elf village. They weren’t used to meeting any of the other races beyond dwarves, gnomes, and humans, and the elves were… gorgeous, to say the least. Kóri would joke at Singlar about “staring too long,” but as a young paladin, the starlight that emanated from their eyes was intoxicating.

Though he and his brother left the village after a particularly bad cold snap (it was only like a few days before the weather opened up), Singlar had developed a major crush on the elf that would become his wife. It took maybe ten years before they actually got married, and they stayed that way for almost 80 years (so he’d be roughly 150-160 when she “died”). They’d made a home in the mountain ranges between Mount Hyjal/Felwood/Winterspring, and they were pretty happy.

Emerald Dream portals would open randomly though, and the village they lived in believed they were well defended, so no one left. Singlar left to go visit his brother in Ironforge (for some business) and left Zaha’a alone at their home. When Singlar returned a few weeks later, it was a gory mess: the village was reduced to smoldering ash, fresh corpses of elves and worgen were everywhere, and Singlar couldn’t find his wife anywhere among the survivors. So, he thought she’d perished.

For another 90+ years, he held a hatred for elves and worgen (and anyone that could turn into one tbh). He blamed himself for staying too long in Ironforge, for not taking the first boat and being delayed by a few extra hours, for not bringing his wife along in the first place.

Since there wasn’t anything left of her – possessions, body, even a photo – Singlar was left with nothing of his wife, but her visage haunted him every day for nearly 50 years. He went and drank himself nearly to death, until the kingdoms of men started asking for the other races to help build up their cities. He spent the next few decades working, drinking, sleeping with everyone, and refusing to allow himself to grieve or let go of his anger. He got sick, and sicker, and sickest of all when the orcs invaded Azeroth. He was one of the first to put his skills into the armies for the Alliance, and used it as an excuse to shed blood.

(Even that left him so very hollow inside, and it did not feel good to watch the blood go down the drain after a battle.)

When his commanders realized what he was doing, he was sent to Silithus to keep the supply chains there flowing for the Alliance and keep them as long as possible from the Horde. It was only when he touched down in Stormwind and was given the orders to go did he see Ahilyah for the first (and only) time fully decked out in her commander’s armor – at the time, he didn’t know she was his commander and was pretty awful to her, but she let it slide – as they were both introduced to the other members of their team.

All seven of them left to go to Silithus. Eventually, after battles and literal years spent in the bug-infested cesspool, everyone but Singlar and Ahilyah died or were transferred. They didn’t get any other teammates, and it was just them holding down an entire outpost.

They grew comfortable, enough to drink and sleep in the same room together (more for camaraderie than anything else), and eventually they started sharing their lives. She told him about her explorations and commander school, he told her how it was to grow up in the heart of a mountain; he explained paladin teachings (that he often scoffed at in the same breath of whispering his prayers to the Light), she explained beautiful and terrifying worlds beyond their touch that only a few could (or would) ever see. They were friends.

Between fighting the Horde and the old god worshippers and the bugs, Ahilyah was often given secret missions that they’d go and usually sabotage Horde encampments (”don’t explain anything to me, and I’ll have no questions to ask,” Singlar would tell her), but one time there was a month of nothing. Singlar asked if the war was over, if they’d be released from this Hell and they’d finally go their separate ways; she explained she’d already been given her orders, and had been given plenty of mail about not completing it yet.

When he asked why they hadn’t gone out to do “another get-this, kill-that” mission, she explained it wasn’t that type of mission anymore. It was supposed to have them go outside of the combat zone and kill any and every Horde village nearby. She had twenty-four hours to respond, or she’d be court marshaled, judged by the king and his peers, and executed. (She still didn’t know which part of the kingdom this order came from, but it had an official seal. She had asked the high command for a repeat of the orders, but she never got one – so, she stayed put, mostly because of her morals and also because she didn’t believe it was a real King Varian-stated order.)

They had a screaming match due to misunderstandings until she screamed something in anger – basically “you’re such a stupid dwarf, I can’t believe I put up with you for so many centuries” – and he was like “????what????”

And then they had a very awkward reveal that she was his wife.

He was angry, hurt, confused, and felt like he wanted to throw up. He ended up camping out in the next outpost over, thinking everything over.

Ahilyah never did the mission. At this point the Alliance basically forgot about Silithus as the Legion expac started, King Wrynn dying, and the other Alliance leaders straining under Anduin’s leadership. He came back after fighting on the Broken Shore for a while (she was in Suramar for a time), but they went back to Silithus when the Broken Isles were secure.

Days before the Sargeras skewering of the world, they started to talk about things. Though Anduin’s reign was much different than his father’s, their relationship would never be able to heal. Silithus was going to be released so the people there could refocus elsewhere in the world, but so far it was just a waiting process.

They were on their way out of the zone (near the northern mountain range) when the sword came down. The group they were traveling with were able to get into a nearby cave, but it turned out to be a straight view of the valley; they’d be burned alive if the shockwave didn’t kill them.

And being stupid, Singlar kind of just stood in front of Ahilyah as they curled up in the corner of the cavern while Silithus erupted in flames. In the last few seconds before the flames hit them, he was like, “I wasted years over you.” And she just had to tell him to choose: the anger, or a clear future.

When the shockwave hit, everything exposed to the flames was horribly burned.  Chunks of Azerite were thrown into bodies of people, killing some instantly due to the intense high while others were in severe agony. The dwarves and gnomes that sat in the cavern came out completely different, half infused with this rock that deformed their bodies but also gave them immense strengths they hadn’t had before.

Ahilyah ends up with horrible burns/scars across the right side of her body (and flecks on her left). The warrior’s right eye glows like the Azurite does, and parts of her scars sometimes glow if she gets too enraged. She goes into blind rages whenever she loses control of herself, going into a frenzy due to the Azerite in her system.

For Singlar, he’s got these giant rocks (kinda like the rock giants in Deepholm?) sticking out of his back, pulsing every time his heart beats. His eyes turn from an ice blue to brilliant gold, and the veins along his body pulse the same color. He’s got burns along the skin that isn’t infused with Azerite, and the back of his head/neck have diamonds/Azerite crystal hybrids growing out of it.

(The other dwarves and gnomes come out looking similar to Singlar, only with their own molecular type – some have sandstone/Azerite, sapphire/Azerite, etc. Each one’s experiences with the Azerite infusion range wildly to “this sucks” to “what could go wrong?”)

((I want to make an entire post about what gnomes, dwarves, goblins, and (maybe) humans taking baths in this stuff would do to them (being descendants of the Titan constructs and all), since the initial “explosion” can’t really be recreated. So it’ll just add to that layer of “well this might actually suck for us” by being so dependent on Azerite.))

[sometimesrosy]

I am rewatching S2 of the 100 and I saw that you said in one post that it was your favourite one (with maybe S5) so, because i love your the 100's analysis, it would be really cool if you could provide a further explanation about why! (Or if you have already done it, if you could provide the link to the post, because i didnt find it) :):)

Why is season 2 my favorite? I think it’s because it was a really good combination of action, character development, genre, social commentary, and larger literary themes. I guess it would be cinematic, but because my specialty is books, i think in literary terms. Season 2 is ALSO the season where I could still be shocked by how committed they were to their story. They WOULD go all the way. They pulled no punches. No one was safe. The repercussions to the characters actions were realistic and they were deadly.

I did not think they would kill everyone in the mountain. I felt sure they would save Maya some way, because this was tv and that is how tv works. They AWAYS pull a rescue out for the people who deserve it... right? right?

No.

Not this show. 

I didn’t even like Finn at that point, but his death still horrified me. I guess because it wasn’t just about killing a character off but also about how the shockwaves of that would echo out, forever (they are still going.) And it was also about how his death was the result of HIS actions. And wanting him to get away from that, simply because he was OURS, he was a delinquent, he was Raven’s family or Bellamy was protecting him or Clarke loved him? That wasn’t good enough. You’re responsible for your monster when you let it out.

Speaking of Lincoln’s words, turning him into a zombie? Great twist. He started out looking like a monster and was revealed to be kind and good, and then he was turned into an actual cannibalistic monster. GOOD. Making his words in season 1 prophetic. “This world has been trying to turn me into a monster since I was born.” And also it shows an important theme that is easy to miss. Their world is trying to turn them ALL into monsters. Clarke and Bellamy are resisting, but fall to it sometimes. Octavia fell to it. All of them. They are always struggling with their own monster natures, to recognizing them and to making the right choice. And none of it is easy.

Also. Mount Weather are the best big bad of all the seasons. This mild mannered, “safe” community, that is protecting--no imprisoning the delinquents. The way Clarke seems unhinged with her desire to get free, but then the reveal of the cages, and how they are locking grounders up and using their blood to stay alive like vampires? THE BEST. And it just gets worse, as they are not only draining them and killing them, but also feeding them, alive, to their pet torture science experiments, the reapers. Who are, in fact, their own creation. HORRIFYING.

I also really like the way Clarke, Raven, Bellamy and Octavia work together to save their people. The way they have to fight against the protective and regressive urges of the adults in Camp Jaha. How unified they are in their intentions as they discover the real horrors of this new world of theirs. At this point, the grounders are an interesting warrior society, and there’s still a lot of potential there. Lxa represents a hope that they can work together, that is ultimately dashed by their blood must have blood, and power hungry mentality. No, lxa, love is not a weakness, and your people are screwed up. I’m not sure I really loved the Game of Thronesesque society that the grounders ended up being, and following seasons confirmed that the grounders were just as bad as The Ark and almost as bad as Mount Weather, but in season 2, we don’t know that yet, they’re still mysterious and compelling.

And then there’s Clarke herself, who is at peak heroic Clarke as she will do anything to save her people, even kill them. A lot of killing. We see the toll that takes on her. And there’s Bellamy, who is also at peak heroic Bellamy, as he starts recognizing that maybe he doesn’t HAVE to kill them all to save everyone, maybe they could be his people, too. So we start to see the reversal of their heroic impulses as Clarke and Bellamy grow towards each other in their heroic journeys. 

Plus there’s Maya. Lxa always gets the attention for being glamorous and badass, but Maya is, I think, the hero of that season. She makes the changes. She is Clarke’s first contact. She reveals the truth to Monty and Jasper. She saves Bellamy. She gets her people to rebel. She is the moral center of the Mount Weather conflict the way Lincoln is the moral center of the grounder conflict. 

Just. That season is so good. I GET why the went so dark in season 3, but it was too dark for me. Or dark for too long. And it hurt too much. Even though I think it is the most ambitious season and the most resonant and the best written. It is the least enjoyable because of the darkness and seeing how far Clarke and Bellamy have fallen. They are drowning and it’s too much. I get that there was a reason, but it was too much. Part of why I watch this show is because I enjoy it. Season 2 was enjoyable even with its darkness, season 3 had the darkness overtake the fun. Honestly, though, if they hadn’t gotten those extra three episodes after season 3 had already been written, which I think they used to expand the dark world in the center of the story, it would have been up there with my favorites.

[arthurbroussrd]

i was tagged by the lovely @nerdiestblake thank you scarlet! <3

tagging: @space-delinquents @justxsurvivexsomehow @theblakes and @accio-bellarkes only if you guys want to ofc

1. What would you get arrested for on the Ark? i would probably steal some food or something

2. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground? not at first, but then under the pressure of the others... yeah its very likely

3. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..) a fox

4. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be? anya!!!

5. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they? bellamy, anya, roan, raven and monty

6. Minty or Briller? minty ofc

7. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!) kleia i gues??

8. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious  i used to love him at first but then he cheated on both clarke and raven and did those horrible things in s2?? so i don’t hate him but im not much a fan of him either anymore

9. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does? i want to say that i wouldn’t have take it but... who know..... if i was in pain i guess i would have

10. What character do you relate to most & What character do you like the least not including the obvious ones like Pike, etc… a little bit of jasper before all that shit happened to him, also echo a little bc of her savage side. and the one i dislike the most is octavia, im not a fan of free violence and abuse sorry

11. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical) ok so probably a dark blue bomber with black pants and a grey shirt, black boots, and a ponytail

12. Favorite type of mutant animal? there was only pauna and the deer right? and the weird shark in ep 1, anyway the deer double-headed

13. What would your job be on the Ark? teacher i think

14. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked? yes, wouldn’t have been very happy about it but i would have done it yes

15. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she’s still alive right? then who would make the best commander? my girl anya, but roan would have been amazing im sure

16. If you were a grounder, then where would you live and who would be your mentor? trishanakru have nice tatoos lmao but azgeda fits me, and as mentor echo would have been greatttt

17. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty? probably yelling, jumping and full of energy, singing perhaps

18. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake? she’s still a child so nothing to rough but the still deserves a lesson or something i mean you cannot kill people like that???

19. Who should be the Chancellor, if anyone? forever kane

20. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod)What is the one thing you would snatch while there? the ipod sounds nice! otherwise, books 

21. Do you think you’d have caught the virus spread through camp or would you have been immune like Octavia? omg def not immune

22. What would your grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint? omg i absolutely loved the trishanakru’s tattoos (you know those they had on their faces, some kind of lines made of points), so i would have one line like that from my shoulder to fingers + one along my spine. for the hair, ponytail is cool but not much grounder style so im gonna go with a braid or something viking style??

23. Favorite quote?  “who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things” bell to his wifey clarkey

24. Can you forgive Murphy for his actions? How about Bellamy? i already forgave them, even tho i hated them both at the beginning they have a great evolution, bellamy cares so much about the others, always put them first and is ready to sacrifice himself for the people he loves, and murphy has changed so much as well, we’re far away from the teen in s1 that only cared about himself!! i love them both 

25. If one of the characters was in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning? i wanna say luna but fighting!luna isnt she real luna so im gonna go with my boi roan (but im sure anya would have kicked some asses as well)

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite ship? NOT INCLUDING CLEXA OR BELLARKE least favorite becho i just??? no??? and favorite kabby 

27. A song that should be included in the next season, like when Radioactive was? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo? hurts like hell - fleurie for the song, and tatiana maslany for the cameo bc that girl can do anything

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time? with murphy?? dude idk, i would have eat and sleep a lot i guess

29.Opinion on Emori? Roan? emori is so cunning and smart, i didnt trusted her at the beginning but turns out she has a very good dynamic with murphy and i can’t wait to see her with the space squad in s5. and roan, gOD ROAN WAS ONE OF MY FAVE I STILL CANT BELIEVE HES DEAD he was such a great character i loved him so so much can someone bring him back pls ;-;

30. Would you want to be an extra that is killed off in a brutal way? ofc!!!

31. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of? i wish we had more content about luna’s past, also all those guys on the eligius ship but i guess we will learn all about them in s5.

32. A character you’d bang? as scarlet said i cannot bang my children DDD: but lets pretend for one sec that they are not im gonna go with bellamy