waldenborn

[waldenborn]

#wishlist. #i am on my hands and knees begging for this. #(also will never forgive u netflix choke).

[waldenborn]

friends with benefits but the guy secretly has feelings the whole time is >>>>>>>>

#wishlist. #will forever be the most helo core thing ever. #because he absolutely will put himself through that of sleeping with someone who he knows doesn't feel the same way about him???? #esp if they need it/need that distraction/needs HIM in that sense. #tell him 'i need this out of my system' or 'i want to not think' and use him for that?? he will fold EVERY TIME. #because he (selfishly) wants a sliver of what could be even though he knows realistically it wouldnt work. #ITS MY BREAD AND BUTTER. #MY NUMBER ONE NICHE. #ESP FOR HELO. #im fine.

[waldenborn]

at the sound of her voice, speaking of the dead again, helo closes his eyes and a stray tear leaks from the corner of his lash line. he never allowed himself the chance to speak of those who no longer move in this life, finding it easier to battle the internal guilt that plagues him like a festering disease. persephone is a rarity to his lips, he hasn't thought about his father in years, he had to steel his resolve when thorin died and when gato was consumed by praimfaya. it feels like a bad omen, to speak of those who are dead; or at least helo can't deny the struggle of the never ending feeling that it is his fault that these people are dead.

he doesn't blame you. a shuddered sigh spills free from the cavern of his mouth, lower lip quivering slightly as raw emotions bite at his resolve. there's some part of him, through habits alone he recognizes, that wants to quiet the conversation before it teeters along something too vulnerable for him. along the edge of something he has never spoken about to someone else. he swallows thickly, fighting through his storm of emotions, and then, with a barely there voice, helo replies, "i don't know how to move on from this feeling." this guilt. he fears that he will become so full of it, it will rot him all the way down to his bones, from the inside out. "i always thought that i was cursed, from the moment persephone died." and speaking of her name feels wrong in his mouth, like he swallowed broken glass. "anyone i care about.. something bad happens to them." almost as a silent begging, he curls his limbs slightly tighter around her, dangerously close to suffocating her; but he worries that something may happen to her as well.

after jack died, peyton wondered if she would be able to let go of the grief she had from losing him. not even rebecca had been able to elicit such emotion, such yearning for the past or a different outcome. her oldest friend and the instrumental part he played in her life was an ever present force. he compelled her to do better, to be a better person. like he was. the bunker held her suffering prisoner, and since she was out, she noticed a difference. whether it was because jackson was trying to tell her something or trying to help her move on, she couldn't quite tell. she had a feeling it was probably both.

helo sat at the center of the process. he was the target she unleashed her anger on, and for many years, that was enough. she made him the villain because besides octavia, there was no one else to blame. one hundred and twenty-five years of cryosleep helped to bring her around. partnered with the beating helo took. he had demons to fight - both real and metaphorical, and peyton didn't want to be one anymore. as they mold themselves together, she tries to find the words that might bring him a bit of peace. "i could tell he wants you to be happy. both of us. like, he's pulling for it somehow." she fits herself snug to helo then, with her head just under his chin, the pads of her fingers lightly tracing shapes on his lower back. "he doesn't blame you, helo, and neither do i. i'm sorry i did in the first place, and that it might… be part of the things that still hurt you."

#inabsolute #tbt.

[waldenborn]

the mention of jackson feels raw still, the first time that helo has spoken his name in years since he begged blodreina to spare him was on the rooftop of sanctum, and he begged for peyton's forgiveness. a tender moment, healing the jagged parts of him that are rusted at the edges, she brings life to him once again. he swallows thickly, feeling the way that the back of his eyes are growing hot. his body rejoices in the feeling of her, the way that their bodies always seem to fit like missing pieces together, her fingers threading through his hair, the hum of their hearts finding a unison pattern. he is starved for her, desperate for the way that she makes him feel. a little softer, a little kinder.

"i miss him," helo confesses, remembering how he was inspired by the strength that jackson would exude. the man who was never afraid to call out other people, and bear the weight on his own shoulders. some days, helo has dreams about persephone, but lately she's been faceless, a haunting reminder that he is growing to forget what she looks like as awful memories grow to the surface. a pang of guilt turns over in his stomach as he considers the idea of if he were to eventually forget what jackson looks like. it scares him. it makes him tighten his grip around peyton's frame all the more, pulling her entirely flush against him. "i missed you."

the bunker would haunt all of them for different reasons. each person held tragedy, wanting release from it in whatever way they saw fit. for peyton, especially after mount weather, that release was helo. it was his arms wrapped around her, the sound of her name on his lips, the comfort of his presence at her side in the moments she felt too weak to make it through on her own. jack's death changed all of that. for years there was nothing but pain and hate that laid between them. even looking at helo made her feel like she was being cut up in a thousand different ways. until recently. the friend she'd made, the lover who understood her better than anyone, had disappeared suddenly and completely.

when she feels helo's embrace, a long forgotten instinct takes over. fingers comb through his hair, her face pressed to his temple. "you don't have to apologize," the blonde replies quietly. because he doesn't. they've done that already, emptying out the hurt they'd caused each other under the ground. he'll carry it forever, so will she. but the work they've done means something to her. it healed a part of her heart that peyton thought would never be open again. to him, and to their new world. "i had a dream about him." it was jack and she, in a field somewhere. "all he wanted to do was talk about you." her lips hover close to his ear, recounting what brought peyton in the first place. she laughs and it's soft, genuine, "i took it as a sign."

#inabsolute #tbt.

[waldenborn]

guilt festers like an inky disease in the pit of helo's stomach, and he grinds his back teeth together hard enough that he feels as though he could break them. his mind reels him from the dark confines of the bunker, that he does not have to keep his guard up; he can rest and lay down his weapon. his mind reels to the present, recognizing peyton's timbre, delicious to his ears, soothing the tension that is wrought within the air. when he lays back onto the bed, helo has to swallow thickly to fight the way his heart feels like it's still lurched in his throat. it's almost instinct for him, to be on edge and ready for a fight, and he hates that peyton got to see the other end of that.

her hand on his chest elicits a mild hiss to bite his throat, cool against his heated skin, but as he looks down to where the contact is, he feels dizzy from the fact that it's peyton who is touching him. she's here, by his side, in the same bed as him just like they have done before after mount weather. seek solace within one another's arms, be able to find some semblance of sleep when the other is near, it was their salvation when they thought that it was impossible to move on. without thinking, without another moment to waste, helo moves so that he is pressed against peyton's side, and buries her close to him. he nuzzles the crook of her neck, feeling her heartbeat against his skin, welcoming the comfort that only she has been able to provide for him in his lifetime. "'m sorry," he murmurs against her skin, but what he's apologizing for, he feels as though the list is endless. the bunker, jackson, blodreina, mount weather, their absence, but also what happened mere seconds ago. "i'm sorry."

despite the sudden rush of pressure against her and the knife that hovers at her neck, peyton stills through the panic. dread floods her body with an instant guilt. she should have moved slower, given him more warning. all peyton has is her faith in helo, in the training he had. he wouldn't slit her throat with no warning; and just as he recognizes who it is, her hands get free long enough to push the metal from her skin.

she manages to eliminate the nerves from her voice from years of practice. after all, a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. "i'm sorry." the apology is met with the heave of helo's chest as she helps de-escalate their positioning. he rolls to the side, she turns and meets his gaze. "i just, i couldn't sleep. and- all i wanted to do was… be here." with great care, peyton takes the knife from him, moving it to the small table beside them. when she puts her hand to his heart, it forces them both to breathe deeply until there's a recognizable calm in the air. "but it's only me. you're okay, you're safe."

#inabsolute #tbt. #they are literal endgame i dont make the rules.

[waldenborn]

helo in bunker hits different when he looks like this

#ooc. #delete. #i am??????????? unwell??????? #the greatest tragedy of s6 is that he shaves this beard and im mad about it. #but s5 helo look just...................... yeah. #im objectifying !!! what about it !!!!

[waldenborn]

thinkin thoughts about if helo has dyslexia, the way he tries to hide it and dissuade people from noticing, especially raven. the way the words scramble together, and he has to spend an hour to read a whole sentence on his own. aside from dyslexia, he also had a terrible education system due to being on the poorest station on the ark, so he already struggles with reading as it is. helo definitely thinks that he is just stupid, and he isn't see the words that the others are reading, but won't admit to it aloud.

#headcanon.

[waldenborn]

helo taking longer than the rest of the group to read something; because he never had a proper education on the ark, so he's a slow reader than everyone else.

#“ 𝒊. countenance ﹕ the sun inside him of him rages like wildfire and he is gold. #okay but thinkin thoughts about this headcanon some more. #helo having dyslexia. #which would explain why he also can't read very well; but never had the resources to be able to get a handle on it. #so helo just cant !!! read !!!! at all !!! and struggles and gets a massive headache when he does try. #doesn't know what it's called; just thinks that there is something wrong with him. #and can't see the words that people are saying that they can see.

[waldenborn]

who is going to kiss helo's kill mark scars, asking for a friend.

#ooc. #uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwu. #i am actively crying about him.

[waldenborn]

ever since the attack from the children of gabriel, his body has been aching for recovery. his cane on display is resting in the corner of the room, mocking him for a new profound and obvious weakness. he curls into his own body slightly, and though sleep comes at a rare virtue, it seems that he slips beneath the comforting darkness of slumber after what feels like terrible hours. it's short lived as he jolts from his sleep, the warmth of a hand pressing against his back, and his instinct immediately believes that he is at war; someone is trying to kill him, or worse; leave him bruised and alive.

it's habits that he is unable to erase since the bunker, the way that he sleeps light, keep a knife tucked beneath his pillow, and ready his body for battle at any time. being the right hand of the blood queen put a target on his back, and he would be damned if he gets jumped again; the kill mark scars on his shoulders throb with a phantom ache. he rolls over to his side instantly, pinning the other down onto the bed with his forearm, while his other hand at his waist holds the knife that feels cold against his heated skin. his pupils are blown wide with adrenaline, and he's ashamed to admit that it takes him a moment to see through the blur of a fight to see that it's peyton laying beneath him. "peyton?" he whispers, brows furrowed together slightly, confusion evident on his features as to why she's here; and why it feels so eerily familiar to him.

there was something about the night that felt familiar. sleep wouldn't call to her, the mind racing with thoughts of what was lost. she could only toss and turn for so long until finally, peyton rose and wandered across sanctum. to a familiar face, to the warm body she'd spent years missing. the light was on in the shop still. someone else was finding it hard to sleep. raven peered over the part she was working on, not surprised by peyton's appearance. but before the blonde could ask, she nodded, "he's up there."

darkness fills small hallway but she knew what room he was in. part of her hoped he was actually asleep, body still recovering from the attack by the children of gabriel a month after the fact. as peyton opens the door, there's no stirring. the outline of @waldenborn is visible in bed, slightly curled as if he was cold. she doesn't give it much thought before slipping in behind him, body pressing as close to his as she could without touching. a minute passes before she lays her hand on helo's back, as gentle as a feather. the whisper of his name passes her lips with the fear that she would startle him, "helo?"

#inabsolute #tbt. #:pleading: #i have missed them.

[waldenborn]

those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean.

#“ 𝒗. season one ﹕ your crimes have made you expendable.

[waldenborn]

helo often shoulders hurt alone, tucks it behind his teeth and swallow it to make a home in the cage of his rotting ribs. but there's something about the words that cut from her tongue, words as a weapon, jagged edge dragging against tender flesh. he is wounded, cut inside as he hears the echoing reminders of their earlier arguments; they are never one to speak with venom.

when helo hears elena's timbre, soft and breaking at the edges, there's a longing pang that gnaws inside of his system. he lays on the floor, his jaw working and unworking as he muddles over the things that elena says that she did not mean. "it's okay," he murmurs into the night, his eyes feeling hot at the edges already. "i forgive you." and the damning thing is, helo would always forgive her; would let her carve into his chest to reveal his bleeding, cold heart that stopped its beat long ago. "we don't... we don't have to talk about it."

they lay in the silence, light streaming through the poorly made and hung blinds that keep them hidden from the outside world. when elena realized she needed to check on jeremy, no one else came to mind to accompany her. @waldenborn would protect her, he would protect jeremy; and despite the recent tumultuous peaks and valleys to their relationship, elena didn't want anyone else with her.

their fight earlier was one of the worst they ever experienced. with truth and lies woven together so tightly, she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. all elena could do was apologize for her own part in it. what helo did with the information was up to him. "i'm sorry," she says quietly, keeping herself turned away. "helo…" the truth sits at the tip of her tongue, begging to be spoken. "what i said earlier, i didn't mean it."

#inabsolute #tbt. #oh worm :pleading_face:

[waldenborn]

independent, private, and selective helo lee morris from the cw's show the hundred. heavily divergent and rewritten from canon writings. helo was a delinquent that had been locked up in the skybox for murder before being sent down to the ground in an experiment to find out if the earth is survivable for humanity again, or not. but upon arrival, he and the others find out that they are not alone.

#self promo.

[waldenborn]

they are garnering attraction now, attention from the delinquents surrounding them in awe and bets being placed on which of the males will win. little did they all know, including helo, that they are betting on brothers; shared blood pumping their veins, similarities that even helo thinks to himself looks eerily familiar. but he shakes away the thought with a purposeful simper, though it's bitter upon the edges when they curl against war torn countenance. the shared closeness does little to intimidate the eldest, helo finding that he craves the destruction, rather than run from it. he wants to feel the heated brush of a scornful knuckles across his jaw, because maybe then, it can feel more like penance for persephone. he hates that he seeks blood within her name, but how can he stave the guilt that is eating him from the inside out? "c'mon, we all know about you. know about how your own father doesn't give a shit about you, or what happens to you; down here, it doesn't matter what station you're from," though helo can't deny the envy that he got to understand the luxury of alpha station, of being that much closer to persephone than helo could have ever imagined. "'cos you're just like the rest of us. scum, belly to the ground, cockroaches who just wants to survive."

the  typical  snapback  hadn’t  phased  him  initially    .      bruised  lips  part  in  faux  laughter,      simply  humoring  the  other  males'  time    .      yet,    helo’s  words  gnaw  at  his  patience,    decaying  support  beams  buckle  and  threaten  to  snap    .      pointed  steps  close  whatever  distance  had  been  put  between  them,      safety  buffer  no  more    .      from  such  proximity,      he  too  can  see  a  familiarity  in  their  eyes    .      perhaps  even  the  smallest  inklings  of  himself,      of  his  pain    —    he  too,    can  find  in  helo    .      the  fact  hadn’t  meant  anything,      not  now  that  he’d  been  off  put  by  his  beaming  audacity    .      intense  glare  rose  to  his  level,      rigid  jawline  tilted  up  so  they  could  finally  meet    .      a  dangerous  challenge  shot  his  way    .      “    what  did  you  say    ?    ”      his  murmur  coarse,    anger  seething  and  threatening  to  burst  at  the  seams    .      “    say  it  again,    you  wanna  stand  over  there  and  run  your  fuckin’  mouth,    go  on,    bitch  boy    .    ”      calloused  palms  rest  curled  at  his  sides,    fingernails  piercing  roughly  into  the  padded  skin  there    .      knuckles  fading  pale  out  of  pure  anticipation    .

#alphastationed #“ 𝒗. season one ﹕ your crimes have made you expendable. #oh worm helo actually....... just tryin to make him see that they're one and the same i see. #INTERESTING TACTIC HELO. #little does helo know.. just how alike they are oops.

[waldenborn]

MODERN VERSE: one of the many looks of helo morris.

#“ 𝒊. countenance ﹕ the sun inside him of him rages like wildfire and he is gold. #alt. #god i love him. #his face in this is just??? chefs kiss.

[waldenborn]

edit meme.  ( 1 / 3 )  scenes that helo is in.

when we meet helo.

#“ 𝒊. countenance ﹕ the sun inside him of him rages like wildfire and he is gold. #“ 𝒗. season one ﹕ your crimes have made you expendable. #i was going to reblog just one but then i found this and i got emo. #“ 𝒊𝒊. clarke griffin ﹕ she came to be from the ashes of divinity. #“ 𝒊𝒊. octavia blake ﹕ her eyes hold thunder and her blood is magma.

[waldenborn]

script to screen,  a scene that was that featured in the hundred’s season six.  helo fights against himself in his own mind,  and the audience comes to learn that he’s no longer restrained by the demons of his own past like he once was.

#“ 𝒊. countenance ﹕ the sun inside him of him rages like wildfire and he is gold. #“ 𝒗. season six ﹕ face your demons.