i see only you

Privileged (23/?)

Originally posted by bellsqueen

“With *yn* now trapped in Mount Weather, Bellamy will do whatever it takes to get her back. Despite horrible circumstances, *yn* is also reunited with close friends and is forced to finally face some horrid truths.”

Warnings: SO MUCH ANGST, torture, swearing 

Notes: Based on 2x11 “Coup de Grace” of the 100.


“You struggle again I knock your teeth out, get me?” The guard snapped.

Gritting her teeth she glared at him unwaveringly as the two men dragged her backwards into another room. 

“Put her in this one.” The other man spoke before the two hauled her up and tossed her into a cage, her back hitting the wire with a loud thud.

“In a cage, right where you belong.” The first guard smirked as he shut the cage door on her. 

“The second I get outta here I’m going to fucking slaughter you and everyone else in this mountain.” *yn* spat as she defiantly kicked the cage with her foot, rattling it as the guards began to walk away. 

“You hear me?” She shouted after them as they shut the door behind them, clearly unaffected by her threats. Letting out a defeated sigh *yn* slumped against the back of the cage and buried her head in her hands as she tried to keep herself calm and level headed.

“*yn*?” A shaky voice croaked out from her left. 

Keep reading

3

in which Bellamy and Clarke don’t want to leave each other

3

!!! I realized I never posted this here ;;o;;
These were taken back in March (when I was in Manila) :D
I was like – who wants to hang out at the mall or something lol
Then these super nice MM fans dropped by and gave me all these prints and gifts and food and kjahkjsa i was so surprised hhuhu so precious ;;o;; LOOK AT IT EVERYTHING IS SO GORGEOUS ((im so lame i only doodled a crack 707 in their notebook kjdshfs))

I brought all the prints and stuff with me here to NY and I’m gonna take proper photos when I’m done with my room (along with other MM stuff a few people have sent me as well! You know who you are heehe) :D Thank you so much hhh

10

January 14th, 2014. Detectives Peralta and Santiago conducted surveillance from a rooftop at 397 Barton Street. This is where we came the night I won our bet and you fell in love with me.

“Jake…”

“The night that you flirted with me for 20 seconds and I became obsessed with you forever.”

4

An afternoon date~

and a bonus

hobi was wearing today the shoes jin got him for his birthday!

2

a good mm loving// ♡

A very self-indulgent thing I did today during classes.

I never saw the actresses clearly so that’s partly how I imagine them ?? And the dresses are anachronic as hell, my bad. I’ll just say this is my first try at drawing Angelica and Eliza !

Hobi: Ahh coming, coming! ~

Hobi: Ah hey Chim Chim, what’s up?

Hobi: Eh handsome guy you say? Coming my wa–

Hobi: — ?

Both: !!!!!!!!!

Hobi: !!! HOLY SHIT – hey dude I gotta go – CALL YOU BACK LATER!!!!!!! *abruptly hangs up*

@ask-chimchim

Dear Strange Man on the Train,

At 11 o’clock at night, you moved across the train car to sit far too close to two girls about half your age so you could interrupt our conversation to tell us how pretty we are. We said thank you, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

You interrupted us a second time to say that you didn’t want to bother us, but we needed to hear it, how pretty we are. We said cool, thanks, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

You interrupted us a third time to say you wouldn’t say anything else, you didn’t want to bother us, you just had to let us know. We said have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

This seemed to perplex you. You came all that way across a train car to bestow upon us this life altering knowledge - the fact we were pretty - and all you got was a polite thank you? You grumbled about gratitude, about how you better not end up on facebook, were we putting you on facebook? Why was my friend looking at her phone? Was she putting you on facebook? All you’d done was tell us we were pretty.

At this point, my friend says, “Sir, we’re trying to have a conversation. Please don’t be disrespectful.”

This was when you got angry. Disrespectful? YOU? For taking the time out of your day to tell us we were pretty? Did we know we were pretty?

“Yes, we knew,” says my friend.

Well, that was the last straw. How dare we know we were pretty! Sure, you were allowed to tell us we were pretty, but we weren’t allowed to think it independently, without your permission! And if we had somehow already known - perhaps some other strange man had informed us earlier in the day - we certainly weren’t allowed to SAY it! Where did we get off, having confidence in ourselves? You wanted us to know we were pretty, sure, but only as a reward for good behavior. We were pretty when you gifted it upon us with your words, and not a moment before! You raged for a minute about how horrible we were for saying we thought we were pretty, how awful we turned out to be.

I took a page out of your book and interrupted you. “Sir, you said you wouldn’t say anything else, and then you kept talking,” I said. “You complimented us, we said thank you, and we don’t owe you anything else. It’s late, you’re a stranger, and I don’t want to talk to you. We’ve tried to disengage multiple times but you keep bothering us.”

At this point, our train pulled into the next stop. My friend suggested we leave, so we got up and went to the door.

Seeing your last chance, you lashed out with the killing blow. “I was wrong!” you shouted at us as we left, “You’re ugly! You’re both REALLY UGLY!”

Fortunately, since our worth as human beings is in no way dependent upon how physically attractive you find us, my friend and I were unharmed and continued on with our night. She walked home; I switched to the next train car and sat down.

So, strange man, I know you’re confused. I don’t know if you’ll think about anything I said to you, but I hope you do learn this: when you give someone something - a gift, a compliment, whatever - with stringent stipulations about how they respond to it, you are not giving anything. You are setting a trap. It is not as nice as you think it is.

But you’ll be happy to know that when I sat down in the next car, a strange man several seats over called, “Hey, pretty girl. Nice guitar. How was your concert?”

“Thanks. Good,” I said, then looked away and put on my headphones, the universal sign for ‘I’d like to be left alone.’

“Wow. Fine. Whatever. Fucking bitch,” he said.