#Bellarke makes me weak in the knees

[badlucksav]

I’m back on my Bellarke bullshit and if I can muster up the energy I might write a fic or two.

#Bellarke #Bellamy Blake x Clarke Griffin #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 #t100 #Bellarke makes me weak in the knees

[pendragaryen]

The 100 rewatch 2023 S1 E2

Episode “Earth Skills” 

The kids fleeing through the woods after Jasper had been impaled at the river.

Jasper is still alive... His screams echoing from far away through the woods... it’s frightening. “They took him!” THEY ARE NOT ALONE ON EARTH! Some people must have survived the apocalypse so many years ago!

Poor Jaha thinks his son is dead... just no...

Wells on the ground digging graves for the kids that haven’t survived the landing. Why him... Poor thing...

Post-coital Bellamy leaving the dropship shirtless - and me with my jaw dropped. (At least, while i was watching it many years ago for the first time ;) ). But he’s still an asshole. Especially towards Wells atm. “What’s wrong with a little chaos?”--- I’M JUST GETTING STARTED. Well... whatever you say Bell...

Murphy as Bellamy’s little soldier. Unf... But oh, look! Wells got it. But OF COURSE Clarke and the others come back and get the wrong picture.

“Life support on the ark is failing!” Oh look at the kids faces... They didn’t know this.

Bellamy and his first speech to the kids ever! “We’re stronger than you think!” Aggressively good. And he’s got some points...

On the ark: Oh god... Jaha and Abby talking about a culling already. But... “Hope is everything!” YES ABBY!

Oh... Jaha accusing Kane to possibly be the man behind the plot to him being shot down. I totally forgot!

The dropship camp on earth: Monty is “too important” and isn’t allowed to go on a rescue mission for his best friend Jasper. Clarke shows authority again. And rightful so.

And then... Bellarke... “I came here for you.” The tension is almost palpable. Her glares at him too. “I hear you have a gun.” And instead of just ANSWERING her he has the audacity to lift up his shirt at his hip with his beautiful veiny hand to show her: He indeed HAS a gun... More then one so. Lol... He’s so annoyingly sexy. Clarke looking right through his attitude. Just lifting an eyebrow. Uh oh... Is there some certain... tension... between them? Or am i making things up? Doesn’t matter. This is INTERESTING...

Bellamy never leaving the “princess” out of sight while out on the rescue mission, even willing to “cut off her hand to get that wristband”. Yeah well... As if i could believe you, big-mouth.  ;)

The ark: RAVENNNN!!!! MY BEAUTIFUL SMARTASS RAVEN IS ENTERING THE STAGE!!! My day is saved. I LOVED Raven from the very first moment i saw her. And she’s a spacewalker! YESSS!

On earth again: Oh look, Atom hitting on O. And O hitting on him - mocking him. O being locked up with Monty in the dropship. Surprise surprise.

Abby and Jackson on the ark talking about Raven: “Ballsy kid.” “Yes she is, reminds me of someone...” Raven and Abby. This is going to be awesome.

Earth: Oh, yet ANOTHER scene filled with tension between rebel Bellamy and princess Clarke - BRAVE PRINCESS, there, he said it. ICONIC.  And that trademark smirk that makes my knees go weak in a way.

Bell realizing that Wells only came down to earth for Clarke. For “someone he loves”. He’s not the only one. Bell thinking of his sister O, of course. He MAY BE an asshole. But a smart and caring one.

Meanwhile Atom shows feelings on the dropship: “Bell loves you, O.” And he envies that.

And now there’s another scene i would usually skip while watching: Clarke and Finn bathing and having fun in a pond. Whatever. Teens. But oh, look, there’s Jasper’s blood. “We*re close.”

The ark: Raven again. Smarty knows that the kids on earth aren’t dying. They’re just stubborn kids taking off their wristbands.

Butterfly-O! This is such a cheesy, yet so lovely scene to watch. Glowing butterflies! Little Octavia never saw something like that before. She’s in awe. There’s also Atom who follwed her. O’s got her (probably) first kiss, and it’s kinda cute.

Meanwhile: OH GOD, POOR JASPER! Tied to a tree! Wounded and bleeding and in pain! Who tf DID THIS to him?!

And now everything’s happening so fast again: Everyone’s running towards Jasper and then BOOM Clarke suddenly falls into a trap - BUT BELL’s THERE! Magically he’s the first one to catch her, saving her life. There are wooden piles in that earth hole... The others come to help. They’re pulling Clarke out of the trap. Clarke flashes Bellamy a look - almost unbelieving what he did for her. Who would have thought? And Bell’s face seem to say: Why tf have i done this? Did i really do THAT? Mh... INTERESTING.

The council of the ark sitting together. They believe that earth is uninhabitable. Well... all of them except for Abby. They’re talking about a culling... This is... makabre. They really want to sacrifice hundreds of lives to save others. It’s hard to listen to this. But Jaha abstains - and this way he’s giving Abby more time to figure out what’s REALLY going on on earth.

On earth: They try to get Jasper down from that tree. And then there’s that black puma from out of nowhere and Clarke goes “BELLAMY! GUN!” For the first time we see fear in Bellamy’s eyes. He tries for his gun but - OH LOOK, WELL’S GOT IT! Again. “Now she sees you.” Yes she does.

The ark: “Did someone call for a mechanic?” Raven. I LOVE this girl. And of COURSE Raven can secretly fix a 130 years old rescue pod to help Abby (and herself) to get down to earth to the others... OF... COURSE... Woah! She really IS the smartest. A QUEEN BEE.

Earth: Food for the kids in the camp! “WHO’S HUNGRY!” Bellamy and his voice again. Seriously. That is a story of its own... sigh

They have Jasper back in camp but it doesn’t look good for him. Bell already being and ass again, only giving out food if they agree to take off their wristbands. Wtf! I wanna slap him! And Murphy!

Oh- oh... Atom catched by Bellamy while kissing O... His precious sister... Now he has to bear the consequences. “I WON’T BE DISOBEYED!” Woah there... Bellamy may be a rebel asshole, but a ROYAL one. A rebel king. ;)

And in the end: Oh look! First glimpse of Lincoln lingering in the shadows of the wood!

Boom out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This episode isn’t the best either, I know. But the whole thing is finally picking up speed and everything is in flow now. I remember while i watched it for the first time, that i felt VERY intrigued by the fact, that Bellamy, of all people, rescued the princess Clarke from falling into the trap. That was a plot choice. That was on purpose. And i felt like that this COULD lead to something. I didn’t know what that “something” would look like. But i HOPED that these two maybe... perhaps... would get along far more smoothly in the future... My senses were tingling. When these two shared looks with each other... there WAS something there. There’s no denying. And i liked what i saw. I still do. It’s still one of my fave episodes because of that. Also: I almost immediately fell in love with Raven Reyes. Dunno why exactly. She's just... so damn smart and beautiful. I have to admit that I indeed preferred her over Clarke as character. (Until S5 that is. From up on S5 Clarke was the no 1 female character for me. I suffered so much with her it's not even funny. But that's another story.)

I have to mention that at the point i watched the first season for the first time i haven‘t read The 100-novels. I started reading the first book around the 3rd season. So everything i felt was completely and only a reaction to what i saw on screen.

What i liked: Bellamy and Clarke bickering. Bellamy saving Clarke. RAVEN!

What i disliked: All this talk about a culling on the ark. And Bell and Murphy being assholes.

Fave quote(s): “What’s wrong with a little chaos?”  “Did someone call for a mechanic?” ICONIC

Song(s) i associate with the episode: “Precious illusions” by Alanis Morissette ( “These precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was a kid.

And parting with them is like parting with a childhood best friend..”)

#the100rewatch #the 100 rewatch 2023 #the 100 rewatch #bellarke #the 100 #rewatch #my edit #review #the delinquents #raven reyes #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #wells jaha #john murphy #finn collins #jasper jordan #octavia blake #atom #monty green #abby griffin #thelonious jaha #marcus kane #text post #words #just sayin'... #the 100 fandom #bellarke fam #bellarke fandom #series 1 #earth skills

[bellamyblake]

major whump prompt if you're still taking. clarke finding out what happened in the cave in 3x10 and taking care of bellamy (soft bellarke is galaxy heart)

Okay, this got kind of long (3k) and I am not sure it’s as soft as it is…painful. But I hope also a little soft? Also it got very anti O.ctavia so please if you don’t want to read about that, don’t even start this.

Also I later realized this could be seen as a ‘before’ fic to the one I posted recently about him being punished from the council after the whole Pike thing.

Hope you won’t hate it, nonnie.

She finds them all back in the cave after Pike had been already arrested and taken by the grounders. 

They were taking a day to regroup and gather their strength before returning to camp when she stumbles upon them using the radio that her mom gave her back at Polis as a precaution and Kane miraculously answers her, directing her towards the right place.

She’s surprised to find Bellamy there too but what takes her aback even more is that he’s chained and his face is beaten to a pulp. 

There are cuts oozing from every part of him-his cheeks, his chin, his nose was certainly broken judging by the way it was so awfully crooked, there was even a gash on his forehead and his entire face was swollen and bruised.

It took her a minute outside with Miller to find out what has happened-the gruesome way Lincoln was killed by Pike and how when they came back with Octavia, Kane and Sinclair she beat the shit out of Bellamy.

And he let her.

“You didn’t stop her?” Clarke snaps at him “You didn’t think she’s only doing this to pour her anger out at him even though from what you’re telling me, he tried to help her before head and she chained him in a fucking cave?”

“We did try to stop her! You don’t understand, she pushed us away-”

“You outnumber her, you could’ve easily overpowered her.”

“Kane tried, so did I, but Bellamy, he wouldn’t let us help. He told us this is between them and we should just let her….do it.”

“Of course he’d tell you that, can’t you see what happened? He wanted her to take it out on him because he felt guilty.”

“Yeah and I know you care about him Clarke, but he is.” Kane joins in on their conversation probably upon hearing the commotion outside. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s staring ahead angrily. 

“But he is guilty.” she shivers at that and throws her arms in the air frustrated “If he hadn’t helped Pike-”

“He did it because he believed it was the right thing. That doesn’t mean you could let his sister beat the crap out of him while you idly stand by and watch her!”

“We couldn’t stop her, she’s strong, you know that.”

“Bullshit! You’re telling me you, Sinclair, Miller and Harper, who are guards by the way couldn’t overpower one girl?” she stands before him and comes so close they are breathing in each other’s faces. 

Kane’s face falls with guilt if even for a moment. Maybe she should take that as a win but she’s just so pissed off that she can’t. 

“Or maybe that’s just it…you didn’t want to stop her. You wanted to punish him.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why is he still chained?”

“Because he is the enemy!” Kane yells back and that makes her laugh bitterly.

“To who? Pike’s gone, the camp is back in your and mom’s hands. You can become a chancellor now legally if we count all the votes from the last election, so what can one broken beaten up to a pulp boy with PTSD do?” she corners him.

“You haven’t been here, Clarke. You don’t know who he is.” Miller adds in a weak attempt to back Kane who opens his mouth to add something else but Clarke interrupts him

“That’s not true. I’m the only one who ever knew the kind of man Bellamy is and who he can be.”

“Clarke-”

“And that’s not the monster you’re making him out to be. Yes, he made a mistake but did he try to save Lincoln? Was he not the person who helped you catch Pike?”

Kane runs his hand through his curls and sighs.

“He is.”

“Then untie him.”

“No!” the older man cuts her off and by the way he says it she knows he won’t cave now “He might’ve tried to redeem himself but he still supported Pike’s coup and he still went out there and massacred an army. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

“So what? You’ll drag him back to camp and put him in a cell until you figure out what to do with him.”

“I think judging by his condition and his sister’s behavior that would be the best for us all.”

“You mean so you don’t have to feel guilty if she beats the shit out of him again while you stand by and watch.”

“Clarke-”

“I’m through with you, Kane.” she huffs out “If you won’t untie him, let me at least treat his wounds.”

Kane sighs but relents and gives her a light nod. She’s about to move away and head to the cave when he grabs her elbow and pulls her back.

“Don’t spend all our bandages on him. We don’t have enough as it is.” that gets her even more angry. 

Apparently, they may have left the Ark, but the Ark’s rules haven’t abandoned them and their way of behaving. 

One life still mattered more than another and Bellamy’s hasn’t mean much to the council back in the sky either. 

Obviously, no matter what he’s done to save the kids or help the camp, wasn’t enough to make him worth fighting for.

Well, not to her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use my things.”

“And, Clarke-” Kane tightly wraps his fingers around her arm once more, as if desperate to reiterate his thoughts “He’s dangerous, so be careful.”

“No, he’s not!” she pulls her hand away “You are.”

With that she rushes back in and looks for her bags, searching for the clean patch of bandages she had and the satchels of herbs and seaweed paste that she’ll need. 

Octavia’s by the fire, angrily staring at it while dragging her knife through a stick, trying to sharpen it for whatever reason, probably just to find something to pour some of her desperation onto. 

Clarke wants to feel bad for her, she does, but one glance at Bellamy who stood curled up on his own in the corner with his back to them, made her fume with anger.

“You don’t care to check how your brother is?” Clarke can’t help but ask. That makes Octavia tense if just for a second before she spits out.

“What brother?” loud enough so that Bellamy can hear her. 

Clarke sees him shivering when she approaches him far away from the others so that they have some privacy but still not really separated from them.

She circles around and kneels beside him putting out her things.

“Hey.” she greets him and when he looks up from where his head is buried in his knees and meets her eyes, she wants to cry.

She’s seen him in pain before.

But she’s never seen him that broken. 

Not back in the forest during their day trip, not even after the mountain. 

There was nothing but sadness and complete and utter devastation but also…guilt. 

There was this glimmer of self-hatred that burned brighter than the fire his sister was sitting by, stronger than her own anger.

He’s shivering and badly, she has no idea how long they’ve left him out here for but he must’ve slept curled up on his own and away from the fire for more than one day if what Miller told her was true.

“I need to clean your face, okay?”

“Why?” he asks after a beat when she’s dabbing some clean rags in water, deciding to start wiping the blood away first so she could deal with all the cuts.

“Because they’ll get infected if they aren’t already.”

He reaches to touch her hand but something makes him change his mind and all he ends up doing is let his fingers graze hers for a brief moment that feel like shock lashes against her skin.

“Why?” he asks once more, this time eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips tightly pressed against one another. 

She notices some bruises around his neck too. 

Did she try to choke him as well or was that a result of another injury?

Clarke reaches out and takes his hand in hers.

“Because it’s you and me.” she says fervently “Always.” his eyes fill with tears and he looks away, ashamed of having been offered something he doesn’t think he deserves. 

If he wasn’t that hurt, she’d kick his ass and force him to say that he matters despite what the world thinks, but maybe in another time, a few weeks or months down the road, she can convince him of it. 

“Now please sit back and lean on the rock so I can take a look at your face.”

He complies. It’s a little hard with his hands chained to the right, he can’t fully turn over so she can use the light of the fire to inspect the wounds because the chains are twisting his hands back in another direction.

Still he manages somehow and she asks him to close his eyes which proves to be the right move when he has to suck in her own breath and try to keep it together once she starts cleaning all the blood and grime away from him. 

Once she has, she can’t tell what is where-his cheeks are maimed by long crescent cuts, his freckles that she used to get lost into, can’t be made out between all the bruises and the blood. 

Some of them are already infected, oozing yellow. Some start to bleed again when she tries cleaning them and ends up staining his face again which frustrates her. 

She’s so lost in her work and anger that she misses the fact that he’s scared shitless of having her there. 

It takes her a moment to realize his breaths come out short and panicked that he’s basically heaving and he’s bawled his chained hands into fists to try and keep it together.

He’s scared of her touch because the last time someone touched him, they beat the crap out of him and it wasn’t someone he didn’t know, it wasn’t a grounder who wanted revenge or a soldier he had to fight….it was his own sister. 

Someone he trusted and loved.

Clarke was someone he trusted too.

But that didn’t mean he was safe. Or so his brain told him.

Fuck, Clarke thought, stopping her actions for a moment and dropping the rag she was holding to cup his cheek.

“Hey.” she calls him again but he doesn’t open his eyes at that, on the contrary, he just squeezes them harder. “Bellamy, look at me.”

“I…can’t.”

“It’s me. I won’t do anything to you okay? I just want to help. You don’t have to be scared.”

He shakes his head in her hands and she relents as her own tears gather in her eyes.

He must be reliving it all, that exact moment where Octavia rushed in here and started beating him.

“I can’t.” he utters through teeth and she rubs her thumbs under his eyes soothingly just when another cut decides to reopen and stain her fingers and his cheek red.

It’s like whenever you touched him, he bled pain and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop it. 

She couldn’t prevent the sadness from spilling out of him, covering every inch of his body.

“That’s okay. It’s fine, just breathe with me alright? Let’s do it together.” she asks and he tries to comply but she notices that when he tries to take a deep breath…he literally can’t. 

His chest heaves, as if it jumps with pain and he sucks in a short one before letting out, all the while wincing at the motion.

“It hurts.” he manages in a whisper and she realizes why it does.

Her hand falls to the hem of his shirt and pulls it up only to reveal his blue and purple ribs.

Octavia didn’t just hit his face.

She kicked him too.

Damn it.

He shivers when her fingers graze over the tender spot and she finds his skin ice cold.

So he wasn’t shivering just because he was having a panic attack then. He was literally freezing.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I know it hurts, I just need to find out how bad it is, okay?” he nods, eyes still closed as she treads her fingers over his strong but really bruised side.  

“I need you to take a few deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah…yeah.” he promises with a weak smile and complies. When she’s done she drops his shirt back and pulls his jacket tightly around him though it’d do nothing to warm him up.

“You have one broken rib. The others are bruised.” she informs him as she goes back to fixing his face trying to tame her anger from finding how wrecked his body really was after Octavia raised her hand on him.

He opens his eyes to meet hers when she gets back on cleaning them up and when he does, there are still tears there though she doesn’t know if it’s from the physical or emotional pain.

At some point after she fixes his broken nose as best as she can, she notices him swallowing painfully and opening his mouth to help his breathing but not before leaning back on the wall. 

She decides to give him a moment of rest before she resumes her work.

“Are you thirsty?” he looks down at the ground and doesn’t say anything but gives her a simple shrug. 

She reaches for her water satchel and helps him move his head up and take a few sips eagerly. 

“When was the last time they gave you water?”

He shrugs again and stares at her hands before she moves to give him some more. He drowns it down eagerly and stops himself before he finishes it off, probably worried she’ll need it too.

She presses it back to his lips.

“I have enough, I promise.”

“It’s okay” he mumbles and she doesn’t want to fight him on it so she just kneels and picks up some dry apples and fruit from her bag.

“Have you eaten anything?” he shakes his head at that, still staring at his hands.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Have they not given you food?” she raises her voice and the talk around the fire where everyone else have gathered again quiets down at her anger. 

Clarke ignores them but he doesn’t-his eyes slide to the place where his sister sits, now half turned to him, eyes shooting daggers. 

He looks away before meeting Clarke’s eyes once more.

“Clarke…don’t.” he begs and she sighs realizing that this is only making it worse for him so instead she moves to his left, so that her back is shielding him from other prying eyes and pushes some apple in his hands.

“Eat.” she orders.

“You won’t let me get away with it, will you?” he asks quietly and its her turn to shake her head.

“No.” he smiles sadly and brings his tied hands up to his mouth, munching down on the pieces she gave him while she takes out more bandages to use later to wrap around his ribs as well as some sea weed paste. 

After, she digs out a small piece of bread and he tries to fight her on taking it so to make him eat even a bit, she splits it in two and they share it.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks again “I killed Lincoln.”

“No you didn’t.” she cuts him off “And I told you why already.”

“Not directly but I-” he continues ignoring the last part of her statement.

“I don’t give a damn what you did, Bellamy, you shouldn’t be tied to a cave and beaten up like a pulp no matter what happened. You made a mistake and you tried to fix it, you helped us catch Pike, you tried to save Lincoln. What your sister did is not what you deserve.”

“But it is.” he says sadly.

“He’s right.” Octavia chimes in from the fire obviously having been eavesdropping on their conversation “In fact, he deserves to die. It’s too bad I can’t kill him.”

Clarke turns back to her, moving closer to Bellamy so that she keeps shielding him from the others.

“Shut up, Octavia.”

“He doesn’t get to play the martyr, not after what he did.” she raises her voice and when Clarke looks back at him, she can see he’s squeezing his eyes again and shivering badly.

Another attack.

Clarke reaches for his face again, cupping his cheeks as painful as that might’ve been for him.

“Don’t listen to her. Focus on me, okay?” she begs of him and he tries to control his breathing while Octavia keeps raging behind them, chopping branches and throwing them in the fire with fever. 

Clarke wondered what would happen if she wasn’t there.

Would she beat him up again?

A beat. And then another thought shakes her to the core.

Had she laid her hand on him after that first fight?

“Hey, here, you can help me-” she decides to give him something to do and what better way to make him focus on something that convince him it could help someone else. “Hold the clean bandages for me alright? You’ll assist me.”

He nods but his eyes keep moving somewhere behind her, watching his sister. He shivers whenever she picks a branch.

“Look at me, Bellamy. Me, okay?” she says, taking his chin and forcing his eyes back on her. “You and I, we’re the only people in this cave, okay? There’s no one else.”

With trembling fingers he helps her pass over the things she needs to finish cleaning his cuts all the while Octavia doesn’t shut up behind them and no one else says anything.

Suddenly, Clarke can so clearly picture them all standing quietly behind while she beat him up to a pulp.

“The one good thing I had going and you had to go out there and fuck it up. You just couldn’t take it, could you? But then again you’ve always been selfish, ever since you were a kid.” 

That’s the tip of the glass for her and Clarke drops the gauze she’s holding before turning around and striding to Octavia.

She grabs her by the collar and fists her jacket in her hands. Octavia tries to fight her, push her away but Clarke’s strong and the others, Miller, Kane, Harper, they all jump from their seats.

“Now they do.” Clarke thinks and it makes her even more angry.

She shakes Octavia a bit before speaking up slowly and quietly.

“I’ve had enough of you. You either shut up right now and take your anger outside or-”

“Or what?” Octavia smiles at her “What will you do, Wanheda?”

“Don’t tempt me!” she hisses in her face and makes sure Octavia looks into her eyes and sees exactly how much she means what she just said.

 “You beat your own brother up, I won’t hesitate to bring it to justice.”

She lets go of her and thinks that Octavia will actually try and fight her but instead she just stands there and breathes heavily, contemplating on what to do.

“She’s right, Octavia. Take a walk.” Kane joins in but it’s another minute before the younger Blake finally huffs annoyed and strides outside with her sword strapped to her back.

Clarke turns around and throws them all a look of disgust.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” and that makes them all look down ashamed.

Good, Clarke thinks. They should be ashamed.

She goes back to Bellamy who’s started shivering worse since she left him but she simply cups his cheek and gives him a soft smile.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m almost done and then you can rest, okay?” he doesn’t nod or say anything back but he calms down when she goes back to patching up his cuts.

After, she moves to his ribs which are a little harder to fix when his wrists are tied up together. 

She tries to make Kane take them off but he won’t hear a word about it, so she works around that as best as she can. 

Finally, she moves to his wrists that are also bleeding from him struggling against the chains for so long. 

They’re ugly and infected and he tries very hard not to cry out when she cleans them up. 

She can sense it’s a lot for him but he takes it, he takes on the pain because he thinks he deserves it.

She can’t wrap them up, not with the chains still there, but at least she cleans them. 

When she’s done, she takes out the two blankets she was carrying with herself and throws one over his back before sitting next to him and putting the other over their legs.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a whisper. “You’ll freeze out here. Go back to the fire.”

“No.”

“Clarke-”

“I said no, Bellamy, so don’t even try it.” she presses her arm against his and adjusts the blanket. 

He’s breathing heavily next to her, his arms tied up between his hands. He could never lay down and actually sleep, the chains prevented him from that, but she’d make sure he wasn’t going to die out of exposure. 

It takes them a moment to find the most comfortable position and they slump against each other before Clarke closes her eyes and drifts off.

She wakes up hours later from his shaking and his quiet frantic mumbling. 

It takes her a moment to realize he’s having a nightmare, begging his sister for forgiveness. 

She touches his face and finds it burning, curses quietly and tries to wake him but even when his eyes snap open, there’s no recognition in them.

She moves closer to him and pulls his head to her chest so that he’s half lying on her chest while his arms were being pulled in the opposite direction. 

It wasn’t comfortable but it seemed to somewhat help him.

Her hands roam all over his face and hair. She swipes the curls away from his sweaty burning forehead and helps him take a few sips of water while he keeps shivering in her arms.

At some point he looks up at her and mumbles through trembling lips.

“What…happened to us…Clarke?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know, Bell.”

“Why is there so much pain?”

The tears gather in her eyes and spill before she can stop them. 

“I don’t know.” her own voice breaks as she repeats her previous answer and leans closer to his face, kissing his forehead gently.

He finds her hand with his tied ones and holds it between his big cold fingers, squeezing it tight for a brief moment.

Bellamy never used to be cold.

“Want to know a secret?” he asks looking up at her “Sometimes I wish I died in that mountain.”

She runs his fingers through his curls and closes her eyes as she feels her own tears spill down her cheeks before she speaks up her own honest truth.

“So do I.”

In the morning when the others wake her up with their chatter, she looks down and finds her hands still cupping his cheeks, except now they’re covered in blood from all the cuts he reopened when he tossed and turned in his sleep and she has to bite her lips to prevent herself from crying again.

She picks up another clean rag and dabs it in water and moonshine, cleaning up her fingers and then pressing it to his face.

No matter what, she decides, she’ll never get tired of doing that.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke fic #angst #hurt/comfort #canon divergence #post 310 #anti o.ctavia #im sorry for that #it's just how the situation goes #i hope you like it nonnie #my writing

[faithhopedreamslove]

The 100 7x07 thoughts

Anders said that the Shepherd teaches them that winning the last war brings about the final evolution of the species. Sounds very City of Light-ish, but then who is the war with? Is it with yourself, allowing yourself to submit to that final evolution? Doesn’t seem like it, with all the weapons they have.

Following that train of thought, I think Clarke being the “key” could have something to do with technology/AI. My computer coding knowledge is a little rusty, but keys are typically considered to be super unique passcodes that can unlock high level encryption. And we know that each human being has a unique mind code per the show. So what if Clarke’s mind code is the key to unlocking the ultimate code on the Anomaly Stone? Perhaps to get them back to Earth? To the City of Light or something like it?

I’m wondering if it was really Orlando in that body bag. Anders doesn’t have a reason to lie about it (that I can tell) but I just don’t trust the man.

I LOVE Jackson doing a therapy session with Madi. Psychological trauma is not addressed nearly enough on this show. At least they’re addressing a child’s trauma if nobody else’s. The other children on this show, The 100, had to become adults way too fast.

Shidheida and Murphy - WHOA. Murphy may have lost this battle, but I have a feeling we’re going to see these two spar again. And I have a feeling Murphy will triumph next time, becoming the hero that Shidheida says he wants to be.

Ok, the Bellamy / Echo flashback. As a Bellarke fan, it was hard to watch. But as someone who loves a good story, we got a LOT out of such a short scene. Presuming this is when they kissed for the first time, we know 3 years have passed on the Ring. Three years of Bellamy grieving Clarke, before moving forward with Echo. We also learned that Echo still hasn’t really opened up to anyone during those 3 years. And that Bellamy perceives her loyalty to be her weakness. Most importantly, though, we have Echo saying that this isn’t real. As many have said, this feels strongly like foreshadowing. The question is - why doesn’t Echo think this is real? Is it because she knows Bellamy loved Clarke and still grieved her? Is it because Echo thinks that Bellamy could never love the person she is - the Azgedan spy - and once they’re back on the ground, that’s who he’ll see her as again? Or is it because Echo has lost herself so badly that she doesn’t even know who she is, so how could Bellamy love her? After all, even her name isn’t real. (This is not an anti-Echo sentiment at all - I actually like her character. This is just me trying to unpack this scene)

I think Octavia comforting Echo really showed how far O has come. Talk about major character development. I have to admit, I found Octavia calling Echo her family to be jarring, and quite honestly, sloppy writing that was going for the emotional factor. These two have never had a familial relationship. At best, they’ve barely tolerated each other. Echo has tried to kill Octavia twice. And I know O has forgiven her, but that doesn’t exactly make them family. Maybe the writers were trying to imply that Echo is like O’s sister-in-law because of Bellamy, but that relationship is nowhere near established, nor has O even really been a witness to that relationship. It made the scene fall flat for me.

Hope and Diyoza. I cried during this scene. They’ve both lost so much. They’ve lost time together. They’ve lost knowing each other. They had to catch up on 15 years in a prison cell. They’re mother and daughter, but they don’t know the important details of each other’s lives. And when Hope broke down, I did too. I have a feeling they may kill off Diyoza’s character, but I hope and pray I’m wrong. These two deserve to make up for lost time.

Emori opening up to Nelson also broke my heart. She’s trying so hard to bring peace, and she’s trying to give the Children of Gabriel the chance to know their parents. But she’s projecting her own feelings onto others, and it’s not going to end well.

Echo carving the Azgeda marks onto her face - whoa. Her character arc is fascinating. Unfortunately I don’t think she’s on the path that Bellamy and Clarke are on - to do better. Echo seems to be reverting to what she was taught - fight and survive, kill or be killed.

Cadogan being the Shepherd wasn’t really a big surprise, but this war they keep talking about sure is. Who is left in the universe for them to fight with??

And now the MOST important moment of the episode, Clarke and crew finding out that Bellamy is dead. Clarke’s face said EVERYTHING. Her breath literally froze in her lungs. She didn’t react - she couldn’t. And everyone else felt the depth of that loss in their bones, but they all turned to Clarke, because they knew she felt it in her soul.

Now let’s talk about how this scene was filmed. Gabriel looked only at Clarke when he delivered the news about Bellamy. He saw Bellamy literally breathe life back into her - he knows what they mean to each other. And then the camera slowly zooms in on Clarke’s face, showing the depth of the impact this is having on her. The others reacted to the news too, but Clarke was the focal point. It’s no coincidence that Raven’s reaction was last, and she turned to Clarke. Because just minutes prior (in their time) she had said that Clarke Griffin doesn’t break. And now they’ve encountered the one situation that can truly break her - Bellamy’s death. And Raven knows it.

I’ve read that originally Clarke was going to fall to her knees when she heard the news. JRoth’s comments aside, I personally prefer how they filmed it. Clarke is in complete and utter shock. She goes from having a small smile on her face while awaiting news that she’s about to reunite with Bellamy, to hearing the one thing she never wanted to hear. And this is, what, about two days after losing her mother? Clarke is frozen. She can’t fall to her knees - she can’t move. I am so curious to see where 7x08 picks up - I hope it will be right from this moment, so that we see how Clarke reacts once everything inside of her unfreezes and she processes fully what Gabriel is telling her. Personally, I don’t think she’s going to believe it. And I think she’s going to start demanding answers NOW.

Overall, a huge congratulations and kudos to Lindsey on her directorial debut!! This episode was suspenseful and deeply emotional, and she knocked it out of the park!

#the 100 #the 100 spoilers #bellarke #the 100 season 7 #the 100 7x07 #lindsey morgan

[sometimesrosy]

Hey rosy, got a question. How would you personally rate each season based only on bellarke's dynamic?

I don’t know if I can simply do a rating for each one. But let’s try and see what happens.Season One. 6/10. enemies to friends to...crush. They pulled out before the lovers. Can stand on its own and still be a relatively satisfying story. Not really a love story though. If you take it as a “platonic” relationship, it’s 10/10. SO. 6/10 romance. 10/10 platonic partners. As the beginning of a love story, though it’s not bad. It’s got some good set up. I just can’t rate it for that until I get the end of the story in season 7.

Season Two. 9/10 the most addictive of seasons. This is the one that got me. TRAGIC ROMANCE. No Happy Ever After. They start out separate, are surprised about how overjoyed they are to get each other back, start feeling the feels. Oblique love confessions. Devotion. Love’s a weakness. She was being weak. A separation driven by the essential misunderstanding that was based on how she was protecting her heart from love and HE thought it meant she didn’t love him. KILL ME. Then Clarke’s OBSESSION with Bellamy and keeping him safe and having faith and the reunion where he says “Together” and takes part of the burden. Ending in her leaving. Had me falling to my knees. GREAT. HORRIBLE. HOW DARE THEY. THIS FINALE RUINED ME. 9/10 for romantic pain. No HEA. This story should not be like this but I signed up for it so.... i will suffer and I will like it.

Season Three. 7/10. they spend too much time apart even though the time they spend together is ALL romantic and/or heart breaking and/or powerfully significant. The love they feel for each other is PALPABLE and still tragic, with the trauma and grief getting in the way. Hakeldama itself rates as a 10/10. The finale is 8/10 because they are coming back together as a relationship. TOGETHER.

Season 4. 8/10 The romance here was actually pretty solid and serious and continuous. They continue to be afraid and doubtful, and they spent those episodes apart for no reason, or for plot reasons having nothing to do with the topic at hand. This loses points for lack of romantic and narrative tension. Sometimes it seemed like there was no reason for them not to be together. YOu see the reasons but they don’t seem that important in the face of the end of the world. They treated them as if they were a married couple already, without allowing them to take the next step, despite narrative declarations and attempts to move forward than one or the other of them stops in their tracks. And ending as it did with them separated, gosh darn it. You suck. HOWEVER they are redeemed some with that 2199 radio calls revealed in the end. It would be a lower score for lack of forward momentum except the finale had them *this* close to getting together, they both felt it, and then yoinked it away, only to replace it with 6 years of distance and Clarke canonically in love with him. 

Season 5. 9/10. In an unpopular judgment, I actually think season 5 was WAY romantic. It makes Bellarke the subject of the plot. Clarke is canon in love with Bellamy. Bellamy is living his life with Clarke INSIDE of his heart. The introduction of the C/B/E love triangle is, to me, confirmation that they are treating Bellarke as romantic, not platonic. The freaking JEALOUSY we see when Clarke catches them kissing? *chefs kiss.* The fandom hate for B/E obscures the romantic nature of the story. EVERYTHING is about reuniting Clarke and Bellamy (or the blakes) even the valley battle is about Clarke coming to terms with what she did, who she’s become and how she still loves Bellamy and can’t betray him. The Clecho scene is nearly as important as Hakeldama. And Clarke’s face when she realized Bellamy really was the hero she always thought him to be in those long 6 years? Still in love. He is her hero. She can’t have him, even though he was her imaginary boyfriend, but she’ll take him any way she can get him. And then to end the finale with half an episode TOTALLY about bellarke. *chefs kiss* again. Cementing their soulmate relationship. 9/10. 

Season 6. 10 out of fucking 10. HE BROUGHT HER BACK TO LIFE WITH HOW MUCH HE NEEDED HER. ok but that’s jumping ahead. Remember when we got the first two episodes leaked and we were all like OMG ITS SO ROMANTIC? Well those two episodes definitely not the most romantic of the season. They bonded all “non romantic” and Clarke was begging him to forgive her and they were back on the same team, yes, but Bellamy was holding back and then that straight up love triangle scene of Bellamy being jealous of Clarke with Cillian and then MAD that Echo wasn’t Clarke? Fanfiction. Total fanfiction. But there’s really nothing that we can compare to Bellamy deciding that he needed to go save Clarke, on his own. I was totally expecting her rescue to be a team thing, but it was most definitely not. It was about BELLAMY and his feelings for Clarke, again and again brought to the front by Josephine. Comparing their relationship to Josephine and Gabriel. Calling her back from death because he can’t lose her, the way she looks at him when she wakes up, how soft they are with each other afterwards, the care they give each other. And then after it’s all over, ending on that hug in the buttery light. Pure romance.  This is a 10/10 with no points off because it developed fantastic romantic tension and left us KNOWING that this story is not over yet and they are DEFINITELY together, but we are still wondering how the technicality of his other girlfriend will be resolved. So, like season 1 is a great start to romance that isn’t over yet, season 6 is a great opening of the RESOLUTION of the romance that is coming to a head. All the people who thought this season wasn’t romantic and JR hates Bellarke and us the fans, they are OUT OF THEIR MIND. S6 was a blatant love story, a romance story, romance genre in the apocalypse.  Clarke and Bellamy’s love for each other was THE MAIN STORY. 

#the 100 #bellarke #epic romance #romantic development

[of-princesses-and-antlers]

@superhero-forhire 's Sleep Deprived, Boredom Induced, The 100 Hiatus 2019/2020 Fic Rec Masterpost(wow that's a long title)

Ok guys, so for no other reason than it's currently 2:30am and I'm bored and apparently not sleeping, I have decided to put together a list of some of the best fics (in my opinion) this fandom has to offer! And as we are currently at the beginning of what is going to be a very long and excruciating (and our last) hiatus, I figure there's no better way to get through it than with some quality reading material.

(This list will be mostly Bellarke and Clarke Griffin Centric)

So without further ado, here is a (somewhat) complete list of my all time Favorite t100 Fanfics, as they are listed/sorted in my bookmarks

First up

Special Collection:

Reach Out (Touch Me) by ParadiseAvenger

When a hot spring was discovered near the camp, Clarke was excited to use it to soothe her aching muscles and escape from the pressure of holding so many lives in her hands. As it turned out, she wasn't the only one.

Meet Me in the Morning by monroeslittle

“I guess one of us is messed up,” he said, “and it’s part of our hallucination that the other is, too.” He paused. “Seems appropriately hellish that my mind sticks me with you.”

She pursed her lips. “Likewise.”

AU. Clarke is trapped in a stupid time loop, and guess who's trapped with her?

Love is Not a Whisper (or a weakness) by monroeslittle

"There was a strange, muffled snap, and the tentacle around her middle was retracted. The hold on her ankle was gone, and Bellamy was pulling her up through the water. She began to pump her arms, and they broke the surface; she gasped, and coughed.

He pressed a gun into her hand. “If you see a ripple, shoot,” he ordered."

AU. The dropship doesn't land on land. The next seven years are a little bit different.

Sing the Rage of Peleus' Son Achilles by viansian

"I have spent my entire life afraid of men thought to be gods," he finally says. "I'll tell you a secret, princess: these men? The ones who claim to be deities? Their blood isn't ichor. They bleed red like the rest of us, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that."

When the Strong Break by AJRedfern

In which Bellamy Blake teaches Marcus Kane something about desperation, loyalty and unrealised feelings.

(Or the one where Marcus Kane slowly comes to realise what we've all known since season 1)

*Ep. 302 from Kane's POV.*

And Now You're Home by asroark

She didn’t try to muffle the sounds of her crying this time. It wasn’t like anyone was around to hear it, anyway. At least if she was loud, Clarke could drown out the silence for a few moments. She cried for her friends, the ones she had already lost and the ones that might have made it up to space. She cried for her mom and for Kane. She cried for the bodies she found in the valley when she first arrived. And she cried for herself.

She didn’t hear the shuffling behind her this time. She was crying too loud to hear it. But she heard the quiet, “Are you hurt?” rumbling behind her in a deep voice, and it scared her so bad that she almost fell off the ledge and back into the water. But he stopped her from falling. His hand gripped around her wrist, pulling her back onto the ledge as she caught her breath.

Grounder!Bellamy AU where Clarke finds out she isn't the last person left on Earth.

Come Get A Hold Of Me by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke is overwhelmed by the intensity of being around a civilization after six years of solitude with Madi.

She is also very touch-starved.

Bellamy notices.

By Tomorrow We'll Be Lost by WiinterIsNotComing

“I would tell you everything,” he murmured against her skin, “if you asked.”

She swallowed and stared at the ceiling. “Even if it got you killed?”

He pulled away to look at her. “Oh Clarke.” He breathed out. “Being near you is enough to get me killed.”

An Evening I Will Not Forget by theoneinquisitor

It's his last night before deployment, and all Bellamy wants to do is make it memorable. Meeting Clarke? It's definitely something he won't forget.

Canon-Verse/Divergence:

His Arms, Her Crown by beadedslipper

A year has passed since the remainder of the original hundred escaped Mt. Weather and reunited with their comrades. Things are going well for them and they are about to celebrate their first anniversary on earth. But on the ground things never stay simple or safe for long. When Clarke is separated from the group during a routine mission how will she ever find her way back home? And how will Bellamy lead the people who need him now more than ever when all he can think about is getting his princess back?

keep me safe inside (your arms like towers) by glowinghorizons

"Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, and reminds himself that she’s only just turned eighteen. She’s still a kid, and suddenly he’s aware of how much stronger than him she is. Only eighteen, yet she’s taken it upon herself to make sure these kids survive life on the ground.

“I trust you,” he tells her, and he’s only a little surprised to realize that it’s the complete truth."

OR

season one AU. the 100 are sent to the ground and learn how to survive. bellamy and clarke fight to keep a peace treaty alive when the ark comes down, and find each other along the way.

You're Just Another Recovering Heart by prosciutto

Clarke’s still looking at him when he finally brings himself to turn away, her gaze impossibly soft, but it’s the way she says his name that breaks him, in the end. “Bell.”

He closes his eyes, the motion reflexive. “Letters,” he says finally, sounding absolutely wrecked, despite himself. “They’re letters I wrote to you, while you were gone.”

Bellamy gets into the habit of writing letters to the girl he left behind in the six years they’re apart. But as it turns out, Clarke’s alive, and she’s read them. (Or: the fallout of a love confession six years in the making.)

In My Dreams We Are Always Together by andsowemeetagain

100 delinquents got sent to Earth and battled for survival against the odds. They landed in Trikru territory but that is not where they stayed. After weeks of battle and war, the Sky People finally lost. They were sent to a land far away, where a group of Grounders unlike any they've met waited for them.

as moonlight through the pines by twilightstargazer

The tattoos are Bellamy’s idea.

Clarke has left her kit of ink and needles on their makeshift dining table, next to her paintings that she was letting dry. Harper came in earlier asking for a touch-up and she forgot to put them away.

Now, Bellamy’s eyes land on it and he tugs her towards it saying, “I want another tattoo.”

In the end she draws a minimalistic version of a sunset-- or sunrise, depending on how you look at it-- over the ocean, just a few straight lines for the sea and a semicircle for the sun. It’s very simple, with thick dark lines that stand out nicely from the skin.

“It could probably pass as a clan tattoo,” she says, studying it while she cleans it up. “Maybe we should give it to all our people.”

“I could give it to you,” he says, already reaching for the ink, and Clarke is sufficiently drunk enough that nothing about that sentence sets off any alarm bells in her head. “You’re my people. You need one too.”

She grins and reveals her forearm to him too, already taking a swig from the bottle in preparation. “Okay.”

-

or, 3 times the grounders thought they were married and one time they actually were

Parents in parenthesis by Ideasofmarch

In which Bellamy and Clarke skip the animosity faze and start straight at co-leaders - and parents, somehow - and things turn out a lot better for almost everyone involved.

or.

The ark's coming down and the council wants to combine camps. The price? Bellamy's head on a stake.

And that's one price Clarke just isn't willing to pay.

The Cure For Anything by enoughtotemptme

Anya said not to approach the Sky People, so he doesn’t. He just watches from a distance as the young, strange people pour out of the mouth of their ship. Many are his sister’s age, but none appear to have a fraction of the discipline Octavia does.

His sister is a warrior, and has been for years.

These people…

These people are children.

Stupid ones, Bellamy notes, as some fall to their knees and kiss the ground perilously close to a pile of deer droppings.

And then, he sees her.

Modern Setting:

regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all by Chash

After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

I'll Be Chasing Angels All My Life by grumpybell

“Always. Night, Princess.” He hangs up and finds his mother watching him with oddly clear eyes. He swallows, uncomfortable with the look.

“Who's your princess?” Aurora asks, a smile on her lips. His princess, Bellamy pushes the thought away. Of course it would sound like that to someone who doesn't know.

“She's no one.”

“Now, I know I raised my boy not to lie to his mother,” Aurora says, mock sternly. Bellamy shifts a little, trying to think how to even begin to explain Clarke, what they are and aren't to each other.

Something Always Survives by asroark

Bellamy had been trapped in this place for over two years. He can’t even count how many cellmates he lost over that time, how many times he had to meet a new voice from a person he would never see… And, almost every time, he found himself telling them a story to help calm them down, to reassure them that everything was going to be okay, even when he knew it would never be okay. Clarke had been no different than the others until this moment.

She was the first one to ever try to comfort him in return. So, he whispered, “Okay,” and pressed his ear to the corner.

Modern AU loosely inspired by The OA where Clarke finds herself abducted and caged with four strangers as they all struggle to make sense of their captor's experiments.

Challenge Accepted by insideimfeelindirty

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone.

“You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.”

As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop.

“Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?”

And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

did you invent the airplane? because you wright for me by FrostedGemstones22

Layovers and plane malfunctions suck. That is, unless you have a sexy stranger to keep you company all the way through your travels...

Or, Bellamy and Clarke join the Mile High Club

when it all comes together by soundtracktomysoul

The four times the delinquents tried to set them up and the one time they didn't need to

or

The one where Jasper is a die hard Bellarke shipper and makes a group chat.

The Delinquents:

What We Built by elle_stone

What, precisely, it means to be 'Dad,' he can’t actually say. He's something more than a make-believe, playhouse version of a father figure, something less than an actual parent. It's not a role he could explain to anyone, but then, no one ever asks. Outside of their insular group, no one even knows about the old tradition, and as long as the dropship survivors stick to themselves, the status quo remains unchallenged, uninterrogated.

It starts as a joke, this habit the hundred have of calling Clarke and Bellamy 'mom' and 'dad.' But by the time the Mount Weather survivors return to Camp Jaha, it's become much more than that. It's become a way to signal that they're still a family, even as they reunite with their people and integrate themselves into the growing settlement.

One of the Greatest Titles in the World is Parent by jollyrogerjayhawk

“One of the greatest titles in the world is parent, and one of the biggest blessings in the world is to have parents to call mom and dad.” Bellamy and Clarke have somehow quasi-adopted a plethora of children.

Senses by Ghelik

This isn't what Abby expected. She isn't sure what she had expected, but this loyalty to a teenage would-be murderer, this compliance is not it.

It is clear that the children of this camp are in dire need of saving. Good thing that the Ark is here now.

Baby, Let Me Straighten Out Your Broken Bones by chalantness

She's absolutely frightened and he can't fathom it. He can't reconcile the Clarke that's taken care of them since Day One on the ground – that clawed arrows and spears and bullets from their bodies and refused to let them die, that cut open her own wounds in pure protective instinct because she felt like they were in danger – with the Clarke standing before him. She's afraid, not of Grounders, or Mountain Men, or the judgment she'd face as soon as she stepped inside.

She's afraid of herself.

all the kids are talking slang i won't pretend to understand by caramelle

"You told Mo— Clarke?!"

Clarke arches a brow, crossing her arms over her middle. "'Maw-Clarke'?"

Four times the delinquents called Clarke/Bellamy ‘mom/dad’ + One time someone else did

8 times Kyle Wick heard about Clarke and 1 time he met her by a_simple_space_nerd

Wick wonders why Clarke Griffin is so special. He wonders how she could leave. He wonders how people could blame a girl for the way the world was. (This isn't slash, I'm just bad at summaries.)

None of Us is Innocent by amyhanmayari

It was early spring when Jasper went missing and a fortnight after that before he truly returned to Camp Jaha remotely resembling the boy with goggles who fell from the sky with a smile on his face. Whenever anyone asked him what happened during the two weeks when he was gone, he would crack a small, fragile smile and say “got lost, got found.” And that was that.

life in love can never last (everyone becomes the past) by a_simple_space_nerd

“Clarke,” Monty sighs, softly, all his frustration leaving him in a gust. “You’re dead. You in my dream, that’s my subconscious thinking about you while I sleep. That’s all.”

Clarke’s grin turns sharp. “Who says it’s your dream?”

(Grief is a funny thing, and everyone feels it.)

Do Better by juneytunes

Jasper wants to be Clarke's hero. Letting her get some rest in the drop ship is a good enough start. [ Jasper/Clarke FRIENDSHIP ]

Swim by Zaffie

Raven was a little girl who wanted to swim, and screw all those people who say she can't do it.

We Have All The Time In The World by Death_Shapeshifter

They were waiting, of course they were waiting. She was one of them. She was family. They would wait a thousand years for her.

The Griffin-Blake Family:

Lazy Mornings by these_dreams_go_on

Bellamy gets woken up by Madi and Clarke comes looking for her.

it's a chance we'll have to take by killianslonghaul

“You thought the person you loved was dead for six years and then found out she wasn’t. You can’t let that go. Not everyone gets a second chance like that.”

or

Bellarke reunion after Praimfaya and subsequent feelings

My Heart by QueenoftheWallflowers

Russell and the primes are gone and Bellamy and Clarke try to take a well-deserved nap. Confessions are made and forgiveness is given.

I can see clearly now by melodiousoblivian

6 years after they left Clarke behind, SpaceKru returns to find Clarke alive and thriving. Bellamy doesn't know how to cope.

No eligius, no becho.

little did you know by melodiousoblivian

"Six years later and they were on the ground. Raven saw her first, a flash of blonde hair in the trees, a startled yell, and she was running towards the dead girl. Clarke met her halfway and they collided, falling to the ground at the force of impact. Both were crying, running hands over each others faces to truly verify that they were here. Monty was next, holding Clarke so tight that she couldn't breathe. Harper simply rested her forehead against Clarke's. Murphy let out a rare laugh and embraced the girl he mourned. Echo and Emori greeted her kindly. Bellamy stood behind, frozen.

Monty saw the girl first, standing timidly at the edge of the group. She had hair the color of the night sky, and blue eyes that saw so deeply it was startling. Clarke introduced her as Madi, that she was Clarke's, and that was it."

A Solution by timelordlookingforatardis

Madi’s mouth was set in a thin line as she looked between the two men. Finally, setting on Jordan she announced, "I have a solution for our Prime problem.”

“Thank goodness,” Jordan beamed, moving over to join them as the table. Ignoring Bellamy’s wide-eyed protest, he said, “Tell me more.”

“It involves fire,” She started. Jordan nodded eagerly in front of her, “All -”

“Absolutely not!” Bellamy cut her off, “We are not attacking these people and destroying our chances for a better life!” He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, “They are going to teach us how to survive on this planet and then we are gone. We are not going to be the bad guys here!” He hissed.

POST 6X06 Madi, Jordan and Bellamy talk about what Clarke would've wanted.

My Home is With You by wake_n_Blake (kt_anasi)

When eight-year-old Octavia Blake is brought into the infirmary for her first check-up, Clarke gets the honor... and makes a friend.

Eventually, that friendship leads to a newfound family.

Or, the one where Clarke and Bellamy fall in love while basically raising Octavia on Earth.

Rated T for some crude language. This fic is like fluff on a stick- no angst... just happiness.

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying:

i'm on my knees, you're faith in shreds by stoneage_woman

"Over the roaring in his ears, Bellamy dimly registers Jackson telling Madi to breathe. His eyes are fixed on Clarke. Clarke, who for once isn’t even trying calm Madi down, who is visibly fighting to keep from breaking down herself, her head bowed low and her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

And Bellamy finally understands with an awful, damning clarity exactly how badly he’s fucked up."

Post Season 5 AU. As the last survivors of humanity try to make a fresh beginning on a new, deserted planet, Bellamy tries to find his way back to a lonely, distant Clarke. A life-threatening crisis opens his eyes to a few hard truths. A Bellarke reconciliation fic.

Set The Dark On Fire by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke isn't coping well with peacetime on the Eligius ship, and while Bellamy has woken some of the others (mainly spacekru) and tries to organise a trip to the ground, making decisions and considering all the variables, Clarke makes a choice of her own:

She'll take herself out of the equation.

OR: the post season 5 idea I had to write because all of the unresolved emotional turmoil this season is actually killing me and someone needs to notice that Clarke is in pain, for the love of god.

Monin hou by Ghelik

After Bellamy and Clarke negotiate with the grounders, they decide to share the bunker equally. 100 spots per clan. That marks the start of 5 years of forced peace in which mortal enemies have to learn how to live with each other.

Shit goes as expected.

Blanket of leaves by Ghelik

Madi tells the story of her life: from the moment mom found her to the descent of the Seven Heroes from the sky castle

Not Yet by Ghelik

Clarke finds Madi's body in their home.

Something in the Water by Youremyalways

“You know I love you, right?”

——

Clarke is supposed to die for killing Josephine, but things go wrong at the last second. Nobody is more equipped to help Clarke deal with losing a mother than Bellamy Blake.

This is How I Leave You by Africana123

Clarke decides to take her life after the events of season 6. Right as she's getting ready to do so, Jordan finds her. But it's not what you think.

Clarke Griffin Deserves Better:

Mighty Fine Shindig by theinvisibledisaster

An idea I had while rewatching Firefly, kinda based on the episode Shindig, but you definitely don't have to have watched it to read this, because I really took this in its own direction.

When they touch down on the new planet, the leaders throw a ball in their honour, which involves Clarke in a dress getting all the attention she deserves, Bellamy being very jealous and doing a terrible job of concealing it, and possibly getting into a fight over Clarke, so... everyone's fantasy?

Just mine?

Cool.

The Bruise Won't Heal (the stain stays put) by theinvisibledisaster

“What the hell is your problem, Clarke?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, than something snapped, deep in Clarke’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” She asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Raven. I died. I died, paralysed and alone, and then I died again, and both times, the only person who cared was Bellamy. Kane died, my mother died, my daughter almost did- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

After they save everyone - again - they actually have a moment to rest.

And Clarke has had ENOUGH.

Hear me now (like you never heard me then) by evening_skies

A rewrite of Raven and Clarke’s scene in 6x04. Wherein Clarke does not regret the choices she made, and Raven wonders if the Clarke Griffin she remembers really did die in Praimfaya.

*

“Raven, I am not a leader,” Clarke said, and Raven’s words lodged in her throat. “I barely remember how to be a friend. I am a mother before all else, and you—you are the people that put monsters in my child’s head and threw her into the middle of a war.”

I accept that you may never forgive me. That’s okay. I don’t forgive you either.

Other Pairings:

In Darkness More than Light by lilybeth84

In the aftermath of the destruction of Mount Weather, with Clarke gone AWOL, his parents dead, and Jasper not speaking to him, Monty finds comfort in the dark forests beyond the walls of Camp Jaha.

One night, while in the grip of despair, he can't help wonder if life is worth living anymore. But his thoughts of death are interrupted when Clarke emerges from the woods, and he is forced to make decisions that will either save her-a woman he cares more deeply for than he ever realized-or lose her, and with her, a reason to survive.

Paradise Found by DAgron01

Octavia can't get enclosed again. Never again. She won't let them put her in cryo-freeze, but at least she's not alone...

Fix it fic--spoilers through season 5 finale! Canon-divergence

Love is Strength by DAgron01

Octavia Blake knew she was at least a little broken. She didn't plan on Clarke Griffin fixing her so thoroughly.

Canon compliant (and spoilers) through "Exit Wounds." Takes place immediately following when Madi officially becomes part of Wonkru.

Saving Clarke by btvscharmedgirl

Nearly a year after the hundred landed on the ground, Octavia watches Clarke struggle with all that happened and tries everything she can to help her in anyway she can.

As Galatea to Pygmalion by apolloadama

Clarke leaves Camp Jaha and rebuilds herself. Octavia and Lincoln help.

The Ties That Bind by Ofseaandsky

With more time to plan before the Death Wave hits, Clarke and Roan need to find a way to get the Coalition to work together and save more people to from the second Praimfaya. What will it take to get the 13 clans to work together and find a way to survive together as life on planet Earth rapidly approaches it's end?

and i'll love the world, like i should, for all the time that i never could by a_simple_space_nerd

And it’s now, of all times, that she lets herself finally, finally think: they’re up in space and I’m down on earth and even if I can survive this they’ll be up there for five years at minimum. I’m alone here.

It’s not as awful as she’d expected the revelation to be. Maybe it’s because she’s in the middle of the apocalypse but suddenly she doesn’t feel the need to curl into a ball and cry for days. Maybe it’s also the fact that she isn’t dead.

She’s still struggling not to get blown away, even sheltered as she is the ruins of some bank or something like it, the building creaking and groaning as the roaring typhoon thrashes its foundations. There’s dirt and grit flying everywhere, the dust so thick Clarke has to squint. The storm is taller than the highest skyscraper in the ruins, reaching down to the ground and back up to the sky for more fuel, thunder and lightning and everything in between all at once.

In this moment there is just Clarke and the storm and the end of the world and her uncertain future.

#the 100 #fanfiction #fic rec #bellarke #clonty #clarktavia #clincoln #clamori #clurphy #team cockroach #roark #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #madi griffin #the griffins #the griffin-blakes #clarke griffin deserves better #clarke griffin is an earth goddess and deserves only good things #my post #t100 fic rec #the 100 fic rec

[lightcomingthroughthedarkness]

I know it's Josie in the TvLine Sneak Peak, but when Bellamy wipes down the nosebleed from her face he is so gentle, it makes me weak in the knees and I don't even ship them.

Well, she is wearing Clarke's face so it looks like Bellarke but it doesn't feel like Bellarke but Bellamy still can't help himself, that's still his Clarke and he needs to keep her safe, so it makes us feel stuff but it's all still so confusing because it's not really Bellarke. Ugh maaan...

#bellarke #ask answered

[homebody-nobody]

We pair one, right? How about...uhh... "People lie all the time" and, uh... "real smooth, tripping over air" Not sure if that's what you meant and kind of late to the party but there you go

Hi hello I am a  trash  blogger who had finals… and then ADHD. I’m assuming this a prompt which like !!! thank you !!! I never get sent these !!! Since you didn’t send me a pairing and my blog Is The Way It Is I’m assuming you’re a bellarke fan or at least tolerant of said pairing so that’s what you’re gonna get

Bellamy doesn’t really do parties. It’s not because he doesn’t have a lot of friends (okay, so he has like, three) but he tells himself it’s because he hates the crowds, the noise and the sweat from a mob of unruly drunken bodies. Also, he never gets invited to them. So it’s pretty normal that he’s sitting in his apartment on a Friday night, alone and tuning out the noise from upstairs. The room glows softly, all three sets of his fairy lights and his desk lamp on to keep the night at bay. Sitting on his messily made bed with its ancient, pilling dark green comforter, he holds his guitar on his lap, making a smudged mess of a piece of notebook paper as he strums a chord progression and tries to put his raspy voice over it.

His phone starts to buzz relentlessly just as he’s figuring out the chorus, and he curses as he digs through his nest of pillows and blankets he’s created. When he finds it – directly under his left knee – the name on the screen drops a stone down his throat. It’s Clarke. In a panic, he jumps off his bed and stands in the middle of the room. After pacing a few times, he picks up.

Also on ao3

“Hey,” he breathes, and even though she’s not in the room, every sense is trained on what he can read of her reaction through the phone. His vision blurs, his hearing dulling until it’s just her voice, her breathing on the other end. They haven’t spoken in over six months, since their relationship ended, bloody and loud, at the beginning of the previous semester. She’d come back from the summer different, stony and just as impenetrable as she had been when they first met as bullheaded, impetuous underclassmen. They fought, but it was beyond the usual teasing and bickering. She never told him what happened. She shoved him away so violently, slammed all her walls down so fast he never really understood what he’d done wrong.

“Bellamy?” her voice cracks on his name, and he hears the tears, thick in her throat. “I didn’t mean – Oh God, I’m sorry, I –” her breath gasps and quakes in her chest. “I was just –”

“Clarke, breathe,” he says, fighting to keep his voice even, to not let his own growing panic show through. “Take a breath, princess, you can do it.” The nickname slips out softly, a habit he never got past, and she squeaks on a sharp inhale. “Breathe with me, sweetheart, come on.” He squeezes his eyes shut, so tightly the world turns to stars, and leans his forehead against his door, one fist opening and closing, the other hand white-knuckled around his phone. His own breaths are shaky still, but hers finally slow to match. Flexing his hand against the door, he listens to Clarke’s shuddering breaths, and all he wants to do is find her, hold her, get so close he can’t tell his limbs from hers, let her fall asleep, safe in his arms.

But he’s not allowed that, anymore. She left, and for all he wishes, he doesn’t think she’s coming back to him. “Can you come over?” she sniffles. It’s a weak and searching question, and she seems reluctant to even ask it.

He pauses, remembering the last time they were in the same room, the hurled insults and the crackling tension. “Do you… think that’s a good idea?” he asks, and he’s hopeful, too, but cautious. Scared, like she is.

“I –” she coughs and sniffles again, “I don’t care,” she huffs out on a sob. “I need you, Bellamy,” She cries for a moment more and he’s caught, frozen, logic and desire at war in his chest. Then, she says the word that breaks him, the word that always will. “Please.”  

It works. It always does. “I’m on my way,” he says, and it’s an exhale, a relief. It’s been half a year, but he still feels her absence as if it was fresh, like her voice on the other end of the line has ripped off the bandage over a festering wound. He tries not to think as he walks the few blocks downtown to her apartment. She lives in the complex in the center of downtown in their small college city, with the pool on the rooftop and the huge LED screens that plays the football games on Saturdays. It was a source of tension when they first met, what with Bellamy’s particular relationship to wealth. But then he got to know her, how sarcastic and hardworking and hilarious she was. How fiercely loyal and confident and determined.

He fell in love with her. It was inevitable; they were two cosmic bodies orbiting each other, pulling one another in, a collision course destined to end in fire and destruction. But it was a gorgeous supernova while it lasted, red and golden and orange flashing in the darkness, light and fire, passion and flame. And then, like everything, it died. And he never knew why. He’s not sure how this is going to go, as he walks. He’s hopeful, as he always is. A life like his has taught him that as long as there’s still breath in his lungs, there’s hope. But he thought he knew Clarke, knew how her brain worked, how she thought and what she wanted. He understands humans, for the most part. Clarke used to tell him he was “good at people,” sometimes as a compliment, sometimes because she was being belligerent.  

But he lost her. She pushed him away, far enough that he couldn’t see her anymore, couldn’t reach out and hold her when she needed him, couldn’t feel her warmth in the cold. Stepping up to the buzzer, Bellamy reaches out his hand, and falters. Every piece of advice Octavia’s ever given to him echoes through his mind, her unyielding criticism of everything Clarke had done, everything Octavia had blamed her for. But then he remembers his sister’s eyes, green and sharp as winter, desperate to prove herself, and push through anyone who gets in her way. Bellamy, with Clarke’s help, had begun to discover the ways his sister used him, how he had settled back into a secondary character in his own life. Octavia hated Clarke for that, and Bellamy hated himself for ever listening to her. He rings the buzzer.

Clarke responds immediately, the door to the lobby clicking open. Hood up, hands planted firmly in his pockets, he’s not eager to meet the eyes of Sterling, the kid at the desk, or anyone he might know hanging out in the ground floor lounge. He recognizes the voices of Harper and Monroe over by the pool table; praying they don’t recognize him, he scratches the back of his head through his hoodie, using his arm to block his face. It doesn’t work, and Monroe calls his name, he turns, and their face lights up at the sight of him. “Bellamy!” they call, “hey!”

He turns, slowly, his mind filtering through a thousand different responses and finding none. “Hey… dude,” he responds, and then physically flinches. Knowing he looks wrecked, his eyes stay on his shoes.

Monroe’s cheerful expression slides off their face, replaced by a fleeting look of concern, immediately followed by understanding. Harper opens her mouth, but they nudge her in the ribs without looking. “Tell Clarke I hope she’s okay,” is all they say, before tugging on Harper’s elbow and directing her attention forcibly back to the game. Bellamy has some idea that they know something about the reason Clarke was crying on the phone, and that nags at him.

He hates not being the first to know everything, anymore. Telling secrets was something Clarke was never good at; she struggled with every aspect of sharing her feelings, and Bellamy was the same. They were a grumpy, sometimes malaligned pair, but they fit, somehow. They were each other’s confidants, steady points, rocks in a frothing river. She has someone else for that now – maybe more than one person. That hurts most of all, that he’s become insignificant. But, she did call. So maybe he still is her secret keeper. Monroe keys him into the elevator vestibule, so Clarke doesn’t have to come down and let him in.

However, since he already rang the buzzer, she’s in the hall when the elevator opens, her keys in her hand. “How did you –” she starts, just as he says “I ran into –” She laughs, a half-made, awkward thing, and it hangs. Stepping out of the elevator, Bellamy notices the tear tracks on her face, the salt collecting in her eyelashes, her cheeks, bloated and red. It’s only second nature to step forward and cradle her face, his thumb sweeping over her cheekbone. She starts, when he touches her, and he freezes, but it’s only for a moment before she leans into his hand. “Clarke…” he says, and it’s a whisper, a breath, the fall of a crumbling wall, the dissolution of a half-made barrier.

Rushing forward, she stumbles and crashes into his chest, tripping over her own feet. Her keys jangle behind his back, her face buried in his shoulder. His arms pause, hanging in the air for a moment before they clasp around her, his palms flat against her back. He can feel the warmth of her skin through her thin t-shirt, and her lips find their familiar place on his shoulder. It feels right, to have her back in his arms, to feel her breath and her pulse matching up to his.

“Real smooth,” he grumbles to diffuse the emotional weight of the moment before it overflows, “Tripping over air.” He attempts nonchalance, but his heart thunders in his chest and his stomach is somewhere at the base of his throat.

She chuckles, watery and soft against his skin. “Shut up.” Finally pulling away, Clarke swipes under her eyes with the cuffs of her white sweatshirt. Bellamy realizes with a jolt that it’s his, from his high school lacrosse team. She already looks different, even after only a few months. Her hair is shorter, cropped short around her chin, and there’s a shock of hot pink in the bottom three inches on one side, like she’d dyed it a long time ago and already and started growing it out. The sight chips a little deeper in the widening cavern in his chest.

Turning and obviously expecting him to follow, Clarke heads towards her apartment. Once she’s around the first corner, Bellamy releases the breath he was holding, heavy and loud in the concrete hallway. It echoes louder than he anticipated; it feels like all the anxiety it contained settles in his hair and on his shoulders, and he resists the urge to shake it off. He settles for pulling his fingers through his hair before setting off after her. Clarke gives him a small smile when he catches up, and his stupid heart drops to his feet. Even with the tear tracks and the blotchy red face, she’s gorgeous. She’s ruined him – he won’t find anyone more beautiful than her.

Unlocking the door, Clarke sniffs before saying “Excuse the mess. It’s been a rough – while.” Her space was usually fairly messy anyway, since she was both incredibly busy and wildly forgetful. But the scene they walk into looks like a bomb has gone off. Jackets and sweatshirts are on every surface of the living area, a stack of half-finished canvases sat next to the TV, and the dropcloth and easel look like they’ve been in the middle of the floor for over a month. Dust is thick on her bookshelf, and there’s a stack of dishes in the sink.

Bellamy feels a little sick and frustrated with himself. Because she lives without a roommate, there is no one around to monitor her, to pick her up and drag her out of the house when she is isolating herself and hibernating like a bear. When they were together, he usually took over that role; reminding her to eat, to switch the laundry, to not live like a hermit raised in a barn. Six months was too long to go without checking in. Part of him feels responsible for the place she’s in.

Ignoring all of it, Clarke beelines for her bedroom. The bed, for some odd reason, is made, even though the floor is a thick carpet of t-shirts and tops. She clambers up on it and pulls a large stuffed deer into her lap, wrapping her arms around it and clinging to it for dear life. Her watery blue eyes watch him as he stood in the doorway, taking in the scene, his heart breaking even farther with each second. He didn’t realize it had gotten this bad. He should have been around to make sure it didn’t.

She watches his face, and she still knows every line, every twitch and glimmer that gives away Bellamy’s every emotion. He’s shattering in slow motion, hairline crack by hairline crack, and it’s her that’s doing it to him – seeing her in this state. And she’s watching him blame himself; it’s in the pucker of his eyebrows and the shift of his cheeks. The lump rises in her throat again, and she chokes back tears with an apology. “I’m sorry, Bellamy,” she sobs, and then drops her forehead against the stuffed animal. “I’m so sorry.”

Bellamy steps on a pile of t-shirts and sinks down on the bed next to her, already hushing and comforting in his soft, deep voice. “It’s alright, it’s alright” he repeats, pushing the head of the deer aside so that she looks up at him. He’d gotten for her for their first – and only – valentine’s day together, because he’s a stereotypical cheesy romantic and for some reason, deer are Clarke’s favorite animal. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she says, shaking her head, looking at him. The sudden closeness almost hurts. After six months – half an entire year – of barely hearing from her, seeing her only at parties and events, and now they’re alone in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, and she’s filling up the space with her eyes and her voice and her smell, and it’s almost too much. Clarke takes a deep, shaky breath, and moves the deer from her lap, turning to face him. Sitting criss-cross so they’re knee-to-knee, she takes his hands, and focuses on them as she speaks. “It’s not, because –” and her voice breaks, and he’s so glad she’s touching him, finally, so he can hold her hands tighter, give her some solid ground to stand on. “Because I hurt you, and I never told you why.”

“Clarke,” he breathes, “We don’t have to do this now.” He smooths the hair off her forehead and he wants so badly to pull her into his chest and let her cry. He wants to let his touch shut out everything, make it just the two of them again, together against the world.

But she doesn’t fall into him, just sniffles and wipes at her eyes again. Taking another deep breath, she seems to be preparing herself for something. “No,” she says, “We do, because –” another shuddering sigh. “Because I lied to you.”

This one hits him in the chest, scooping away at the hollow already there. Bellamy and Clarke didn’t start their relationship well; there was a lot of screaming, and then light hearted banter, and even when they were together they fought and teased and bickered – but there was never any lies. “About –” he stammers, “about what?”

She drops her eyes, and he watches her struggle with what she’s about to say, watches her start to raise her walls again, and then pause, remembering who she’s with. Fidgeting, she adjusts her grip on his hands a few times before she begins. “When we –” She catches herself. “After I –” she tries once more before finally settling “at the end of that summer, I – I left. And I told you it was because I thought we – that we’d run our course and that I –” she chokes on her next words, “that I didn’t love you anymore.” her eyes start to fill. “And that was a lie. God, it was a lie.”

Confused doesn’t even begin to cover where Bellamy’s at right now. Part of him is elated, that she hadn’t randomly fallen out of love with him, but he’s terrified of the possibilities of her lie. Maybe it really was something heinous, something he would never be able to forgive her for… although, he’s not entirely sure that’s possible. “What was it?” he asks. “What did – what did you lie about?”

Clarke pauses and sighs once more. “Do you remember my cousin Madi?” Bellamy nods slowly, not entirely sure where this is going. He’d met Madi at a few of Clarke’s family events. Thanksgiving, Christmas, things like that. Since his mother was dead and he’d stopped answering his sister’s calls, Clarke’s family had become his. Madi was a cute kid, fourteen and full of energy, ready to grow up, but not quite there yet. She hero-worshipped the both of them, but they didn’t mind. She was fun to hang out with, and pretty funny, and loved all the same old-school nickelodeon cartoons they’d grown up with. Bellamy’s stomach drops at the foreboding tone in Clarke’s voice. “She was diagnosed with some kind of rare blood disease at the end of last summer.” She says, all in a rush, like it’s a relief to get it off her chest.

“She got hurt, and her blood was almost black, and I was babysitting her and I had to take her to the hospital and she got put on permanent oxygen and then things just –” Clarke chokes on the words, her eyes filling with tears. “They only got worse from there, and now –” her tears are flowing now, collecting and dripping off her chin, but she just keeps talking, like she’s been holding on to it for too long and it all just needs to come out. “Her mom just called like half an hour ago and she’s in this experimental surgery and they don’t know if she’ll pull through and she’s halfway across the country in Polis and I’m stuck here, and I can’t – I don’t know what to do and I just —” she dissolves into too-quick breaths and sobs, and finally, Bellamy pulls her into his chest. Her face falling against his shoulder, she curls up into his lap, crying, ugly and loud against his neck. It hurts him, to feel her shaking in his arms, to know there’s nothing he can do but hold her, keep his arms as a boundary around the pain, so it can’t get any worse, so it can’t grow beyond something she can control.

When she tires herself out, her breath evening as the tears subside, she laces her fingers around his shoulder and pulls herself closer. “I’m sorry,” she whispers again. She’s torn down and flagging, just so tired. She wants to lay down, to have Bellamy hold her so close she can’t tell where she ends and he begins. She wants to close her eyes and stop existing, just for a while. She wants to forget.

Bellamy lifts her chin off his shoulder and pulls away slightly, enough to look her in the eyes. “If it’s forgiveness you need,” he says, brushing a piece of hair away from her eyes with his thumb. “You’re forgiven, okay?” His heart hammers in his throat, but he means it, every word. There are a thousand other emotions storming around in his chest; grief, for Madi, sadness and empathy for Clarke, and yes, a little bit of anger, too – at the unfairness of Madi’s condition, even at Clarke, for not letting him help – but she’s here, and she needs him, and he’ll do anything, to protect her.

She bites her bottom lip, unable to pull her eyes from Bellamy’s, deep and brown, looking warm and genuine, feeling like home. “But I lied,” she whispers. She knows how much Bellamy values honesty, how he grew up surrounded by lies and treachery and sneaking around, and how he needs people to be upfront with him. She knows how hard this cut, her deceiving him. And as much as it makes sense, as much as she’s justified it these past six months, she hates herself for it, too.

“Clarke,” he says, in a whisper, his voice cracking on the single syllable of her name. And that’s how she knows he’s sincere. It’s the same way he says her name at the end of every fight, the same way he says it when he gives in to every emotion, when he buckles under every burden he makes himself carry. His eyes start to well with tears, and he shakes his head, just the slightest, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s him saying don’t be naive, don’t think I would ever hold this against you. So much in this small gesture. “People lie all the time.”

There isn’t anything left to say. She rests her hands on either side of his face, brushing her thumbs against his cheekbones, and rests her forehead against his – a question. Breathing ragged, hands trembling, Bellamy pulls her lips to his. A kiss, so simple – but an answer, a promise, a second chance, all the same. A whimper of relief creeps up the back of Clarke’s throat and – like so many times before – they fall into each other. It’s not perfect; they’re both a little teary and a little desperate, but they find their home in each other, and it feels like the first time all over again. It’s slow and sweet; she falls, and he catches her, again and again.

When she finally pulls away, lips tingling, skin aflame, he nudges her nose with his. She almost laughs. That’s Bellamy’s move, something small that he doesn’t even realize he does. Something comforting; a reminder that he’s still here, present in the moment, all the way with her. “Will you stay?” she asks, smaller than a whisper.

“Of course,” is all he says. It’s late already, and they’re both exhausted, so – after a few minutes more of Bellamy holding her – they separate. Clarke is already in her pajamas. Bellamy pulls off his shirt, and she tosses him a pair of his sweatpants without looking at him, her face red. He chuckles. “I’ve been looking for these.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, hiding under the covers.

He turns off the light and climbs up behind her, his arm sliding around her waist, solid and strong. She closes her eyes and turns over, nuzzling into his chest. They lay in the dark for a while, Bellamy dozing, dragging his fingertips up and down her spine, Clarke trying to sleep, but with a white-knuckle grip on her phone, willing it to ring. The night wears on; eventually, Bellamy drops off, but Clarke stays awake, breathing him in, trying to find comfort in the circle of his arms, pacing her breaths to his even ones, lightly tracing her fingers over his face in the moonlight that filters through the curtains. She whispers apologies to him, over and over again – not just for lying, but for leaving, for not explaining, for cutting and running right when she needed him most. She knows he can’t hear her, that he wouldn’t want to, wouldn’t let her blame herself, but it makes her feel better.

At five, just as the sky is beginning to lighten, her phone rings. It had slipped between the two of them in the middle of the night, and the vibrating wakes Bellamy as well. Clarke rockets upright and answers it, her other hand clutched in her short blonde hair. Sitting up, Bellamy rubs a hand up and down her spine, attempting to hide the anxiety clawing at his chest. He has to be strong, for her. Her half of the conversation is just “yeah”s and “okay”s and finally, a “thank you. I love you, keep me posted.” She hangs up, and then turns and throws her arms around his neck. “She’s stable. She’s gonna be okay.”

Bellamy holds on tight, feeling her press her smile against his shoulder, where her lips always find their way, where they belong. He lets out his own sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he sighs. Madi had started to take the place of Octavia in his heart, in terms of brotherly affection, and he had his own worry for her. “Oh thank fucking christ.” And then suddenly, they’re both laughing.

She pulls away, puts her hands on his face like she had the night before. “She’s gonna be okay,”

She laughs, and her smile is almost blinding. Clarke is his sunlight, his hope in the dark, and every time she smiles, he’s reminded of it. Her laugh is disbelieving, but bubbling and radiant. She stands up on her knees, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist. “Oh my god!” she says, like it’s finally sinking in, “She’s really gonna be okay!” She tries to jump up and down on her knees, but only succeeds in destabilizing herself and falling onto Bellamy, pushing him backwards onto the bed.

He lets out a yell of fake indignation and rolls over, running his fingers up and down her sides with ruthless tickles. She squirms and shouts, still laughing, and as the sun creeps up over the buildings, they forget the past six months. In this moment, they never broke. They never spent too much time alone, thinking of the other. Clarke never pushed him away. Bellamy never let her. In this moment, there is only the early morning sun, and their impossible laughter, and the small victory of temporary relief.

Finally, when Clarke is breathless and tears are starting to leak from her eyes, Bellamy stops the torture and leans in to kiss her, long and deep. She tangles her fingers in his hair and can’t stop smiling against his lips, as these last hours have brought her more happiness than she could have ever imagined. She wraps her legs around his waist and tries to pull him closer, but he pulls away. “Wait –” he says. With his hair impossibly messy like that, his lips shining and his cheeks flush, it’s the last thing she wants to do, but she stops. His eyes are wild, and she can tell he wants this as much as she does, but something is (barely) holding him back. “Why did you call me?” They both knew there were several other people she could have called, people that definitely would not have brought even more emotional baggage to the table.

Her heart jumps to the base of her throat, a blush rising in her cheeks. It’s stupid, and embarrassing, and she hides her nervous chuckle in his shoulder. “It’s stupid,” she says. He rolls off her (unfortunately), and settles next to her on his side.

“Tell me,” he urges, holding her hand when she places it over his heart.

She focuses on her palm against his bare chest, the heat of him, the contrast of their skin. “Remember when we met at that like – peer mentor thing, and you had to give us all your phone number?” Bellamy nods, remembering the day they met. Clarke was a new freshman, Bellamy a sophomore who had somehow landed a position as a peer mentor for Arcadia University’s honors program ‘freshman experience.’ His contempt for the position had been obvious, and none of his students had liked him, and vice versa. The ‘mentor feedback’ forms from that year ensured it was a one-time gig for him. It wasn’t until he and Clarke met at a party several months later that they discovered they actually liked each other. “Well, I uh…” a smile tugs at one corner of her mouth, and she taps her fingertips against his chest. “I put you in my phone as ‘raging asshole.’”

He barks out a laugh, and she hurries to correct the situation, her hands fluttering as he curls forward with the force of his surprise. “I changed it when we started dating!” she insists. He shakes his head, waving her off, gesturing for her to continue her story. “Well, after we, uh –” she doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to hear her say it. “Well, after, I changed it back. And then, last night, I was trying to call Raven, and I hit your number instead.”

“So… it was an accident?” he asks, wondering why he feels disappointed.

“I guess,” she says. But then; “But you picked up the phone, and I realized – it was you, I wanted here. It was you I needed.” He surges forward to kiss her again, and when she pulls him closer, he doesn’t stop.

After, when they’re laying skin-to-skin and the morning has taken over the room, Clarke looks up at Bellamy from where she’s laying on his chest. Soft golden light filters through the curtains and falls across his relaxed, pensive face, setting his bronze skin aglow, turning his deep brown eyes into liquid amber. His fingers are drawing absent patterns across her skin, and she’s sated and safe and happy. “Bellamy?” she asks, easy, but still worried at the answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, adjusting his position so he can look her in the eyes.

It almost stops her heart, that this beautiful man can be so good, and come back to her again. “Do you –” she pauses to heave a deep breath. “Do you think you could love me again?”

His face softens, and he brings a hand up to pull her chin up, giving her a sweet, slow kiss. “Don’t you know?” he says, “I never stopped.”

#bellarke #bellarke fic #the 100 #the 100 fic #bellarke au #bellarke modern au #bellarke college au #the 100 modern au #the 100 college au #answered #prompt fill #anon #thank you so much for the prompt very sorry it took so long

[yiangchen]

But I’m Not Ready for the Weight of Us

Title from the song “The Weight of Us” by Sanders Bohlke.

Bellarke post 5x05, but almost completely ignores Octavia’s entire existence because I’m lazy and don’t want to deal with the plot that comes with her and just kinda completely pretends that the hike back to Polis will be multiple days even though I’m pretty sure they only hiked for one day before stopping to sleep for the night.

Also, there’s no actual Blarke interaction in this fic. It’s almost entirely Bellamy x Madi because I already love that relationship and was having feelings about the idea of them talking about Clarke.

When Bellamy reunited with Clarke, he initially had expected things to be awkward. Thought maybe they’d need some time to settle back into being each other’s person. To his surprise, they fell right back into it. And despite the horror they’d endured over the last few days, between Octavia and her crazy cult to venomous, parasitic worms and razor-blade winds, they had each other’s backs. Like always.

Things were more than just fine with them even. He’d told her how much he admired her for surviving alone; she’d reminded him of all the good things he’s done since landing back on Earth. Sure, they both still held back a little, didn’t open up completely, but with each passing day, with each shared look, with each smile and each morbid joke, he thought they were getting there. That all that was left was to relearn each other a bit more.

But now it’s been a few days since Clarke’s reunion with Monty, Harper and Madi, and she hasn’t been around. Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s hard to not be around when they’re all camping out together. When they’re never more than a small distance apart. She has been avoiding him though. She won’t look him in the eyes, won’t talk to him unless she has to, and it’s always very short and quick and to the point.

And he hates it.

It’s like she just withdrew completely and he has no idea why. He’s tried to get a moment alone with her, but she’s always with Madi or she always has something she has to do. Somewhere else to be when there really is nowhere to go. They’re in the desert for fucks sake. There’s nothing but sand all around them.

It’s just getting ridiculous and he doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that he misses her. She’s right there, but God, he misses her. It’s like an ache in his chest. The same one he buried deep inside himself on the Ring. Back when he thought she was dead. But now she’s back, and he hates that this burning, suffocating feeling has returned, but he can’t get rid of it if she won’t fucking talk to him. Mind elsewhere and lost in his thoughts, he takes a seat by the fire. Madi is there, and she gives him a look at his very apparent state of distress.

Bellamy manages a half smile at her. He hasn’t known this girl for long, but he’s already grown quite fond of her. It’s hard not to. Beyond the fact that Clarke raised her as her own, he really admires her spirit. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey.” Madi pulls her knees to her chest, and then in typical Madi fashion, she gets right to the point. “What’s wrong?”

Bellamy looks at her. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Madi shrugs and shifts her eyes over to the fire, voice casual. “Tense shoulders. Eyebrows drawn together. Typical grumpy you.”

“Typical,” Bellamy repeats, snorting. “Madi, I’ve known you for what? A week?”

Madi smiles.

That’s not the way she sees it really. For him, she’s a young girl he just met, but for her, some of her earliest memories are of Clarke telling her stories. Stories about Bellamy.

Before she even met him, she knew him. Trusted and had faith in him even. There’s a certain familiarity she feels in his presence, like even though he hasn’t always been there physically, he’s always been a part of Clarke, and by extension, part of Madi too. It’s comforting in a way she can’t really explain. Now that he’s finally here — actually here — she feels as though he’s been here all along.

“That’s fair,” Madi says, “but I still feel like I’ve known you for six years.”

Bellamy’s lips part at that and he has to look away, clearing his throat. “She told you a lot about us, huh?”

Madi considers this for a moment, but it’s pretty much the understatement of the century. “Yeah,” she says then. “Mostly you.”

Bellamy looks at her, heart involuntary beating a bit faster. “Mostly me?”

“Well, yeah.” Madi gives him a look, like she wasn’t expecting him to be surprised. “You are her favorite after all.”

Bellamy swallows at that and he has to look away again. “Not so much these days.”

Madi’s face falls. “What do you mean?”

Bellamy sighs, eyes finding hers. For a moment, he’s not sure if he should say anything. This thing with Clarke is between them, and he doesn’t want Madi to be in the middle of it. Then again, she’s his only link to Clarke right now, and this girl knows her better than anyone. Even better than he does.

Bellamy looks down at his hands, and he realizes he’s been subconsciously playing with his fingers. “Can I ask you something?”

Madi nods when he finds her eyes again.

“Is she okay?”

Madi raises an eyebrow. “You can’t ask her that yourself?”

“No, actually.” Bellamy shakes his head. “She’s been avoiding me.”

Oh, Madi realizes. She knows what this is about. “Well, yeah,” she says matter of factly. “Of course she has.”

Bellamy’s lips part, brow furrowed. “Of course she has?”

Madi looks at him, amusement in her eyes. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah.” Bellamy nods.

Madi rolls her eyes playfully. “It starts with an E and ends with an O.”

“Echo?” Bellamy gives her a look, head tilted to the sight in complete and utter confusion.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Madi teases.

“What does she have to do with anything?”

“You’re really not that perceptive, are you?”

“Madi, the one time I’m dying for you to just get right to the point…”

“Okay, okay,” Madi laughs. Her voice softens then. “I’m assuming she didn’t tell you about the radio calls.”

Bellamy opens his mouth and then closes it. “The what?”

Madi sighs. “She radioed you. Every day you were gone.”

“But the comms didn’t work.” Bellamy shakes his head. “The radiation was blocking radio signals.”

“You really think that would stop her from trying? This is Clarke we’re talking about.”

“Okay,” Bellamy concedes. “I guess not, but...what does this have to do with anything?”

“That she radioed you for 2,199 days with no answer? That out of everyone, she talked to you?” Madi tilts her head to the side. “You know, I have no idea.”

“Wait, she—“ Bellamy’s eyes flutter. “She only talked to me?”

Madi nods, smiling slightly. “Just you.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Bellamy feels his heart thumping against his chest now.

“She didn’t want you to feel guilty for not being able to answer.”

Bellamy’s lips part and he runs a hand through his hair. Clarke radioed him every day for 2,199 days and with no answer; it’s a lot to take in. He can’t think about that now though — what it means. The most important thing to him is finding out why she’s been so distant. So he buries the emotions flooding him now, trying to keep his voice steady and clear when his mind is still reeling. “I’m still not understanding what this has to do with her avoiding me.”

Madi rolls her eyes. She just told him Clarke talked to him on the radio for six years, and he’s still not getting it. “Bellamy.”

He gives her a look. “What?”

“She likes you.”

Bellamy freezes. “She—“ He has to shake his head to snap himself out of it. “She what?”

“You know, like she has a thing for you? She’s got feelings, romantic ones, for y—“

“Madi, I understand the concept of feelings.”

“Do you though?”

Bellamy averts his eyes, ignoring her question. “And Clarke doesn’t—there’s no way that—that she has—that she has a thing for—she told you this?”

Madi laughs at the way he’s stumbling over his words. “She didn’t have to. Bellamy, she practically raised me to be your biggest fan.”

“But that doesn’t—that doesn’t mean that—“

“Of course it does.”

Bellamy’s lips part, and then he presses them together, swallowing.

“You were the hero in her stories she told me because you were her hero.”

Bellamy can’t help the way his eyes water at that, memories of that day resurfacing, and voice so soft Madi can barely hear him. “And she was mine.”

“For sacrificing herself?”

Bellamy nods, taking in a shaky breath. “That and…” He shakes his head. “So much more.”

Madi nods and doesn’t say anything else. It’s clear to her that he seems to be reliving that day. Reliving everything.

“I did love her, you know,” he adds then after a moment, watery eyes on Madi’s. “And I would’ve…” Bellamy averts his eyes, exhaling slowly to steady the beat of his heart. “I would’ve loved her until my dying breath. But now…”

Madi speaks up, careful and tentative. “It’s been six years,” she guesses.

“Yeah.” Bellamy nods, voice watery and weak. “I’m with Echo now.”

“And you love her?”

“I…” Bellamy swallows. “I don’t—I don’t know if I…I care about her. I know that much.”

Madi can’t help the hopeful tone in her voice at her next words. “And Clarke?”

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s all just too much, and he really can’t believe he’s breaking down right now in front of a twelve year old he just met, but here he is. Sometimes, he can’t believe any of this is really happening.

Less than a week ago, he thought Clarke was dead, and he spent six years believing that to be true. But now she is alive and he still hasn’t even processed that. Let alone that she radioed him every day, let alone that he might still feel something, let alone that she still...

“She really—” Bellamy tries getting the words out, words caught in his throat and burning. “She really radioed me?”

Madi nods.

“For six years?” Bellamy swallows.

Madi nods again. “And seven days.”

Bellamy rubs a hand over his face.

“What are you going to do?”

Bellamy shakes his head, looking away, and that’s when Clarke emerges from the rover somewhere off in the distance. He swallows and then returns his eyes to Madi’s, letting out a breath. “I have no idea, but I guess getting her to talk to me again would be a start.”

Madi breathes out a laugh. “It would.”

Bellamy smiles, laughing back despite the fact that he is completely and utterly screwed. “Hey,” he says then after a moment. “Thank you.”

Madi furrows her eyebrows. “For what?”

Bellamy sighs, not knowing how to even begin to explain to her how much it means to him that she was there for Clarke during those years. Sure, Clarke talked to him on the radio every day, but he was never there to talk back. He simply was not there.

“For taking care of her while I was gone.”

Madi nods and then glances over at Clarke. “So, you gonna go talk to her?”

Bellamy follows Madi’s gaze, swallowing. “I was thinking about it.”

“Thinking about it?”

Bellamy turns to face Madi again. “What do I say?”

Madi gives him a look. “You’re asking me?”

“Well, everything I’ve tried to get her to talk to me hasn’t been working, so you’re my only hope, kid.”

“I already told you she’s in love with you. I can’t do everything for you,” she teases.

Bellamy smiles. “You’re the worst. Come on, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Bellamy gives her a look.

Madi sighs. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

“And tell her what?” Bellamy’s eyes widen. “Madi, I’m gonna need some time to figure things out. She can’t know that I know about—“

“Relax.” Madi shakes her head at him, smiling. “I’m twelve. I’m not an idiot. I was just going to tell her you’ve been walking around looking sad because she’s been avoiding you.”

“You’re going to guilt her into talking to me?”

“That was the plan, yeah.”

“Madi.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “You got a better plan?”

“Yeah, actually,” Bellamy sighs.

“Okay. What is it?”

Bellamy swallows, eyes drifting over to where Clarke stands with Monty and Harper. She’s laughing at something one of them must have said, and it simultaneously warms his heart and makes it ache. “Just tell her I miss her.”

This time Madi is the one to follow his gaze. She smiles softly at the longing on his face. “I can do that.”

Bellamy finds her eyes. “Yeah?”

Madi nods. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You let me try braiding your hair.”

Bellamy laughs. “Madi, we’ve been over this. My hair is too short.”

“It’s long enough,” Madi argues with a smile. “So, do we have a deal?”

…

Clarke can’t help but look over her shoulder when the sound of Bellamy and Madi laughing reaches her on a breeze. And when she sees the two of them, Madi braiding his hair over by the fire, her heart aches for him.

He’s so good with Madi — of course, he’s so good with her. He’s Bellamy. And she guesses that’s what makes it hurt. He’s so good and she can’t have him.

Bellamy yelps, laughing right after, and Clarke guesses Madi must have tugged a little too hard. “Sorry,” Madi laughs. “Sorry.”

Clarke wants to look away, but she can’t. Because that right there — Bellamy being a father figure to Madi — is more than anything she’s ever wanted. Maybe it’s stupid of her to think that the three of them could live happily ever after as a family someday, but now that she’s looking at them right now, she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to stop wanting it.

To stop wanting him.

It’s not until he catches her watching them that Clarke turns away, desperately trying to get the idea out of her head. He’s happy. That’s all that matters to her, and she would never take that away from him.

So she buries it, down deep in her heart, this burning weight of what they could be.

She buries it.

#bellarke x madi #bellarke fanfiction #canonverse #kinda canon divergent?? #post 5x05 #the 100 #my writing

[bombshellsandbluebells]

First, Do No Harm Chapter 5

Summary: During the 5+ years aboard the Ark, Murphy stumbles into becoming the designated doctor.

(Or: The Space Squad struggles to survive on the Ring, and Murphy learns how to make friends.)

Relationships: John Murphy/Emori, Murphy & all of the Space Squad, background Marper and Bellarke

Chapter Summary: Emori and Murphy work up an appetite, Echo gives Murphy something to think about, and Murphy does something stupid.

Sorry for the long hiatus this fic has been on - I lost a lot of steam with it for a bit. But I'm back on track and ready to see this through until the end!! Don't worry - there's still a lot more coming.

Once again, all my love and thanks to @infernalandmortal, the best editor in the world!

Previous Chapters

Read on ao3

Chapter Five: Fisa

The algae farm team is granted one extra shower each after dealing with the composter, but it doesn’t help much. They don’t have any soap aboard the Ring, and there’s only so much that rinsing off with water will do. The smell stays.

It’s not just the algae farm team, either – everyone’s starting to smell more than a little ripe. Two weeks of sweat and BO have built up into a truly repulsive cocktail of stenches.

The Ring reeks, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

Murphy thinks he should be used to it. He’s been dirtier than this before, and he definitely went longer than two weeks without a shower in the bunker, but it’s one thing to be alone with your own stench and another to be trapped in close space with six other unwashed, smelly human beings. He misses the luxury of frequent showers that Becca’s island had provided. What he wouldn’t give right now to have some of her ancient, but still sweet-smelling, soap.

The algae team are loath to put their dirty clothes back on. Harper wasn’t really exaggerating about the smell latching onto them, and the thought of wearing them again is almost as repulsive as filling the composter was. Which is how the three of them end up digging through the handful of guard uniforms and undershirts collected in the supply room. Harper and Monty look right at home in the uniforms, though Harper’s jacket hangs a little large on her, and she has to roll the sleeves up to keep them from falling over her hands.

Murphy hesitates before taking one himself. For a moment, he holds the jacket in his hands and stares hard at the familiar logo on the sleeve. It’s easy to pull up the old, familiar hate; he thinks that it probably never leaves, just simmers quietly under his skin waiting to boil.

He remembers the guards that came to take his father. He remembers the guards that came to take him.

“What’s wrong?” Monty asks as he’s adjusting his own uniform.

“Nothing,” Murphy snaps, stuffing the memories away as he balls the jacket up into a wad and shoves it back on the shelf with the others.

His hair keeps falling in his face. With an irritated huff, Murphy pushes it away from his eyes; it only takes a few moments for it to fall forward again.

Emori laughs at him from where she lays stretched out across their bed, and he sticks his tongue out at her in response, which only makes her laugh harder. Her head scarf is off now that they’re alone, lying discarded next to their bed with the rest of her many layers and her glove. Without it, he can see that her hair looks just as greasy as his, shining in the overhead lights. It’s much neater than his, though, and better kept. The braid he did for her this morning is still in place, and he knows from running his fingers through it that it’s not nearly as knotted as his own.

“Maybe I should start wearing my hair in braids like you,” he mutters, and she snorts.

“You’d look like a Kyongedon,” she says. “Besides, there’s not enough of it, and I can’t braid it.”

“It’d keep it out of my way,” he says, and Emori sits up.

“Sit down,” she says, gesturing towards the floor in front of her; he does as he’s told. Her hands begin combing through his hair, and he relaxes into the sensation, until they catch on a knot and tug sharply at his roots. He yelps in pain.

“Sorry,” Emori says, but keeps tugging. “I can’t comb through it. It’s so tangled.”

“Yeah, it’s – fuck! Emori!” Murphy shouts, wincing at every tug. It feels like she’s trying to rip it out of his head.

She sighs deeply and releases his hair. When he glances back at her, he almost laughs. Her face is twisted up in a pout, and she’s giving his matted locks a fierce glare, annoyed by her defeat.

“How did you even let it get this bad?” He shrugs, and Emori huffs. “I should just cut it all off,” she gripes.

“That’d be better than you just ripping it out like you were trying.”

She smooths her hands over it, fiddling with the ends, then grabs her knife from where she keeps it beside their bed. “I could? If you really want it out of your way.”

Murphy shrugs. “Yeah, sure, why not.” He’s never much cared how he looks; even if she screws it up, it’ll grow back eventually.

Emori directs his face forward. Her movements are gentler than when she had been tugging through the knots. They both fall quiet as she works, only the sounds of their breathing and her knife against his matted hair breaking the silence of the room. The air is warm and calm; Murphy sinks into it gladly, content with the weight of her presence behind him and the soft, flittering touch of her hands against his scalp.

It’s only when she gets near the back of his neck that he tenses without thinking, his body reacting before his mind can even catch up. Emori stops.

From where they hang over his crossed knees, he can see his hands shaking. He wills them to still, but they ignore him. The air in the room drops from pleasant to suffocating in an instant, pushing against him like a heavy weight - pushing against his chest. Murphy struggles to keep his breathing calm and even, but he can't seem to get enough air, and the weight on his chest is growing heavier and heavier, like something sitting on it, on him, crushing his lungs, his throat, and he can't breath.

His senses kick into overdrive; he's incredibly aware of Emori’s presence behind him, of her body heat near the skin of his neck. He feels his shirt collar where it lays.

“Keep going,” he snaps. He feels stuffed into a body one size too small; his skin is tight. He makes his voice mean to hide the shaking. “Don’t leave me looking stupid with half a haircut just because I’m a dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass,” Emori says gently, ignoring his tone.

I am, he wants to argue. He wants to point out that when he was in his room alone, he had to stretch the collar of his new shirt out until it lay loose around his neck. Or the fact that he props their door open every night and panicked once to the point of choking when she accidentally let it slam closed. Isn’t he a dumbass for still being so scared of things that happened in the past?

The light touch of something warm presses against the back of his neck. The skin beneath it buzzes and burns. It takes him a minute to realize it’s Emori’s lips as she presses a gentle kiss to the scar tissue that can only be seen when the light hits it just right. His body surprises him by not panicking, but maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all - it's Emori at his neck, and he trusts her with his life.

“Do you think I’m stupid for having nightmares?” she asks softly against his skin, her words muffled.

“No, of course not,” he assures her honestly. He’s never once thought her stupid or weak for fearing the life she’s had.

“Then why would you think I’d think the same of you?”

He has no answer. It seems obvious when she says it, her voice strong and steady with conviction, but he can’t convince himself of it.

Emori’s hands stroke down his arms – up and down in soothing waves, rhythmic and calming. He's reminded of the way their boat used to bob in the water and lull them to sleep when they’d anchored for the night. Murphy leans back into her, closing the space between them; she shifts her face from his neck to his shoulder to accommodate him.

“Sometimes, I get worried when I see Bellamy out of the corner of my eye,” she confesses into the fabric of his shirt.

He jolts upwards again, but she grabs his arms tight and pulls him back to her. “Why – has he done something?

“No, of course not. He’s been nothing but kind to me. But his hair looks a lot like Baylis’s did.” That’s all she has to say. “I’ll see him, and – and for a minute I’ll think he’s here, and I’ll panic. Even if I know –” She swallows, and her voice is disgusted and angry when she continues, “Even if I know the planhaka died in Praimfiya like he deserved.”

“He deserved worse,” Murphy spits. Emori hums in agreement, then leans forward as much as she can to kiss his cheek; he turns around completely to meet her lips in a real kiss. “I love you,” he says when they part, and how incredible is it that he still hasn’t tired of saying it?

“I love you, too,” she tells him. He hasn’t tired of that either.

Emori kisses him once more, then pulls away and picks up her knife again. “Now turn around so I can finish your hair.”

Murphy obeys. When she starts cutting the hair by his neck again, he forces himself to calm, focusing on his breathing as she works. The weight is still there, but it's lessened, and he finds that he can breathe around it. When she’s finished, she brushes the loose hair away and runs her fingers through her completed work. He’s sure it’s still greasy and disgusting, but at least she can comb her fingers through it without hitting a knot.

“There. Much better,” she tells him, satisfied.

Murphy reaches back to run his own hands through it. They don’t have a mirror in their room, so he’ll have to seek one out later to see what he looks like. His head feels lighter than usual, and it’s weird to feel it so short on the sides. He’s never worn his hair this short before.

“Thanks.” He turns to grin at her. “I could do yours now.”

Emori narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare.”

“What? I think you’d look cute with short hair,” he assures her.

“But then how would you braid it?”

He shrugs. “I’d get creative.”

“Maybe another time,” she says, then in one fluid motion slips from the bed onto his lap. He grunts at the sudden weight, then shoots her an eager grin and wraps his arms around her back. “But I have a better idea of what we could do right now.”

“Oh, do you?” he asks with a laugh. Emori grins impishly at him, eyes bright with amusement, then pushes him backwards until he’s lying flat on the ground with her perched on top of him.

“I think you’ll like it,” she says as she leans down to meet him and captures his lips in her own.

Afterwards, Murphy just feels hungry. Part of him feels satisfied, content to lie tangled up in Emori on their bedroom floor, the blankets from their bed pulled half off and haphazardly over them, but it’s hard to appreciate when faced with the empty pit that is his stomach. Sex with Emori is always fun, but exertion made the hunger worse.

He’s sure Emori feels the same; she has less energy than usual afterwards, could hardly move just to shift into a more comfortable possible against him, and lays like a deadweight against him now. His suspicions are confirmed when her stomach growls loudly.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, and she grunts.

“Ration day tomorrow,” she mumbles into his shoulder, the words slurring together in her exhaustion.

“Yay,” he says unenthusiastically. Their rations are so small they’re more a taunt than anything actually satisfying. He’ll probably feel just as bad after they eat tomorrow as he does now. “Guess we are starving to death together after all,” he can’t help but say. If the result is the same, maybe the lighthouse would have been better; he and Emori could just have sex until their dying day and not have to think about anyone else, or how they were going to grow food, or worry about Azgedan spies out to get them.

“No, we’re not,” Emori says. “Not yet.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice soft. He seeks out her hand where it’s laying against his collarbone and knits their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. She squeezes back. They’re still alive, and there’s still hope. “Not yet.”

Since Raven has finished fixing the heater, Murphy decides to try his luck asking her about the medical files again. The longer the medicine sits unidentified, the antsier he gets about it. Already he’s imagined a million different scenarios where one of them falls sick – usually Emori – and the medicine to help them sits untouched because they didn’t know what it was. The thought fills him with a sort of dread he doesn’t know how to articulate and a certainty that they can’t let that happen.

Raven isn’t in any of her usual haunts. He traipses back and forth across the Ring with the tablet from Medical searching for her, until finally he nears the airlock on the side of the Ring usually unvisited by the seven of them and catches the tail end of an argument.

He hears Raven first, voice loud and thick with anger. “Well, in case you forgot, no one actually appointed you our leader, Bellamy.” She spits his name like a curse.

Murphy halts in the middle of the hallway, both intrigued by the argument and the raw anger in her voice – anger at Bellamy is something he’s intimately familiar with – and afraid to keep walking straight into the middle of that shitshow. He stands as quietly as he can.

“I’m just trying to look out for us – “ Bellamy argues back, before Raven cuts him off.

“No, you’re not! You’re worried about your sister.”

“We don’t know if they made it, Raven,” Bellamy says, and Murphy doesn’t need to see his face to read his desperation.

“We don’t know if we’re going to make it, Bellamy! We have to focus on us first. Clarke didn’t die so we could –“

“Shut up.” Bellamy’s voice is cold and pained. For a moment, Murphy almost regrets eavesdropping; he’s not supposed to hear this – not Bellamy this vulnerable. If he was a better person, he’d turn around now and avoid overhearing anything else, head back to his room and come find Raven later.

He stays rooted in the hallway.

“What? Just because you don’t want to say it, or talk about it, or fucking admit it, doesn’t mean it’s not true. She’s dea-“

“SHUT UP!” The yell is punctuated by the loud, echoing bang of something hitting metal – like someone’s thrown their fist against the wall of the Ark. It rings through the air, and, as the echoing fades away, silence settles uneasily in the spaces it left, feeling incredibly precarious, like a powder keg about to blow. Murphy realizes he’s holding his breath.

“Bellamy,” Raven says, and Murphy tenses, afraid of the explosion, but her voice is softer and stripped of most of her previous anger. It sounds like a plea as she says, “Not talking about it isn’t going to change it. And making choices because you’re worried about Octavia isn’t going to keep us alive.”

“I know.” Bellamy sounds utterly defeated. It’s uncomfortable to hear. “Sorry, I just – I don’t know how to do this without her, Raven. I always fuck it up when it’s just me.”

“Well, it’s not just you, you dumbass. I’m with you, remember?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees, but there’s little conviction in it. “I’ll leave you alone.”

When he turns the corner, Murphy gets a good look at him for the first time in a couple days, and the state he’s fallen into since he last saw him is shocking. He’s clearly been neglecting shaving, and his beard is unruly. His hair is equally as bad – worse even than Murphy’s had been thanks to the curls. His face is drawn; his eyes are lined with dark, purple bags. He’s looks skeletal and sad, and it makes something in Murphy twist to see it.

When he sees Murphy standing there, he scowls. “What are you doing here?”

“Eavesdropping” seems like the wrong response, so Murphy shrugs in an attempt to look innocent and stutters, “I was just, uh – I was looking for Raven. Heard you guys talking down this way.”

Bellamy looks like he knows Murphy heard more than he was supposed to, but also like he can’t be bothered to care about it. He gestures back over his shoulder. “She’s over that way.” And without another word, he shuffles along the corridor, slow and slumped and zombie-like. Murphy stares after him for a moment because he can’t help himself, something a lot like pity squirming in his stomach. Then he shakes it off and rounds the corner to find Raven.

She’s standing in the airlock; the doors to space are securely shut, but the doors to the Ring are wide open, and it makes him nervous as he approaches, even if he has confidence Raven knows what she’s doing. She’s fitting a welding helmet over her head and frowns when she spots him.

“If whatever it is isn’t life-threatening, I don’t want to hear it,” she snaps, then turns away from him to face the wall.

“That’s a rude welcome. Maybe I just came to ask how you’re doing.” she turns again to level him with a disbelieving look, and he shrugs. “Okay, fine. I need your help with something.”

“Of course you do,” Raven scoffs as pulls her face plate down. The next sentence comes out muffled, but it doesn't hide the exasperation. “Everyone does.”

Murphy watches her study the wall for a minute and concludes that, like Bellamy, she’s looking worse than she did even a few days ago when he last saw her. Maybe they all are. Cutting down their rations hasn't been easy on anyone. “But I can ask how you’re doing while I’m here.”

She pushes the face plate up again but doesn’t turn around to face him. “Well, I’m exhausted and starving, there’s about fifty things I have to fix on the Ring and people keep giving me other requests,” it’s clear she’s talking about Bellamy and whatever mess he’d overheard, “and I haven’t showered in…what….three weeks? I smell like the inside of a shoe.”

“Wow,” he says, “that good?”

“Shut up,” she mutters without much heat.

Murphy glances back the way Bellamy came, and, though he knows he shouldn’t admit to overhearing, his curiosity gets the better of him. “What was that all about?”

Raven groans. “Bellamy wants me to try fixing the radio. So we can talk to the bunker.”

Murphy perks up. There’s no one in the bunker he really cares to talk to, but if they could talk to the bunker, he could ask Abby about the medicine. “Can you?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “There’s a lot of variables. Maybe we get our side fixed, but the bunker radio is still messed up. Maybe we can’t even fix our side. I told him it’s not worth the effort right now. It’s more important that I fix all these damn cracks in the Ring.”

“Cracks?” he asks, heart rate spiking.

“Relax, with me here, you’re fine. But the rest of the Ark leaving did a number on the Ring.” She bends down to set her tools on the ground, and as she stands up straight again, she flinches, wincing in pain. “Fuck,” she mutters, and he watches a hand go to press against her leg – her bad one – with dread.

“You okay?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

She stays half-hunched for a moment, eyes pinched shut as she breathes out through her mouth, before steeling herself and standing straight again. “I’m fine,” she says tersely, waving off his concern. “What’d you need?”

As much as he wants to ask why it’s bothering her, he also has no desire to know. Shame burns like a fire in his chest, but he ignores it and holds up the tablet. “There’s a bunch of medicine left, but I’m not sure what it is. This was in Medical. Figured there might be something on here that says what it is? And what it’s for?”

Raven purses her lips and raises an eyebrow at him. “And that’s life-threatening how?” she prompts.

“Hey, it’s life-threatening if someone gets sick and we don’t know how to treat them.”

She considers that for a moment, then nods. “Fair. Alright, hand it over.” As she begins messing with it, he steps up next to her so he can watch over her shoulder and try and follow her. After a few minutes of clicking on, what looks to him, random things without reason, she sighs, and says, “The Ark server is down. Probably thanks to take off. Again. I’ll have to get it up and running again before we know.”

He’s not sure what that means, but he’s glad she understands it. “And can you fix it?”

“Who do I think I am?” she scoffs. “Give me a couple days.”

Someone knocks on his bedroom door that evening when he’s there alone, and he looks up to see Echo standing in the doorway. She holds herself stiff and awkward, as if she knows she isn’t exactly wanted there. Murphy tries to hold back his sneer. He’s not quite sure he succeeds, but he honestly can’t be too bothered about it. He’s just relieved she came by while Emori was taking her weekly shower; then again, it’s possible Echo might have planned it that way on purpose.

“What do you want?” he asks. Like usual, she doesn’t react much, emotions locked away behind a mask as cold as the land she hails from, but her lips quirk downwards just slightly at his tone. Reading her even that much feels like a victory.

“I’m not going to hurt Emori, if that’s what you’re so angry about.”

Looks like she has no trouble reading him. “Why do you think I’m angry?” he asks, not willing to give up so easily.

The mask falls as Echo rolls her eyes. “Because I’m not foolish,” she huffs. “I know you’ve been avoiding me more than usual since she and I started working together. And I’ve seen you whenever we’re in the same room, staring at me like I’m going to cut her throat if you aren’t watching. I won’t.” She adds forcefully when he glares at her.

“But Azgeda does kill mutants, don’t they?” he snaps. The clan name feels vile on his tongue; he hope it sounds vile coming out.

“I am Azgeda no more,” Echo growls, the words staccato and heavy, spit through clenched teeth. It is the angriest he has ever heard her, and the most emotive, too. Her arms are tight and drawn like bow strings at her sides. She blinks several times, rapidly, but it doesn’t hide the tears forming there. “I have no reason to kill her. I swear to you I won’t hurt her.”

Easy words to say. He’s not sure if he believes that she’s being honest, and his fear for Emori outweighs his willingness to trust her. Even so, it’s reassuring to hear; most of his anger quiets and calms.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

Echo holds out her arm – the one he stitched up roughly a week ago. He can see the uneven stitches from across the room.

“Can you check that this is healing correctly?”

“Why are you coming to me?” he can't help but ask, since he thought his recent anger at her might have deterred her.

Confusion pinches her eyebrows together. “You’re our fisa, aren’t you? Our healer?” she corrects in English, after he fails to understand.

Shock knocks the air out of him as well as if she’d punched him. The concept is so completely baffling he isn’t quite sure how to process it. Sure, he’d stitched up some cuts and thrown some bandages on Monty’s hands – but that certainly didn’t make him a healer. No one had ever mistaken him for a doctor, before.

“I’m not,” he says, fumbling over the words. The other members of the hundred would probably laugh if they were here – right? John Murphy: doctor. There’s a joke.

“You’re not?” Echo asks, looking as confused as he feels. “Didn’t you treat Monty’s hands? And stitch up my cut?”

He can’t deny that he had, but he doesn’t understand her leap in logic from a few simple things to thinking he’s a doctor. Then again, there's also his obsession with Medical and all the time he's spent there taking inventory and trying to access old medical files. And his compulsion to identify the medicines. But all of that is just precaution. Fear. He has the sad backstory to preach the importance of medical care, after all.

“I – uh, yeah,” he says. “But I’m no healer. I don’t know anything more than that.”

Echo takes this in, then shrugs. “Even so, you can tell me if my arm is healing correctly, right? You stitched it up in the first place.”

He stands up and approaches her to get a better look. Like he predicted, it’s going to scar noticeably, but he doubts Echo cares much. The wound still looks tender, even though it looks, as far as he can tell, like it’s healing correctly. At the very least there’s no sign of infection, the importance of which Emori had drilled into him the first time he sutured one of her wounds.

“Looks about right. Give it another week, and we can take the stitches out.”

When she leaves, the word healer lingers in the room, and he can’t stop turning it over and over in his head like the right angle will make sense of it.

The atmosphere in the algae farm remains hopeful after the composter incident – or Operation Shit, as Murphy’s been calling it. The algae might not be growing, but at least they’re working on another solution – and even though limiting their rations is miserable, it is buying them time. Like Emori said, they’re not quite starving to death yet.

There’s still hope.

The three of them are comfortable in a way they weren’t before. Harper doesn’t look like she wants to rip Murphy’s head off every time he looks at her anymore, and they move more easily around each other than they had previously.

Still, going without food is hard, and the hunger is draining on all of them.

Murphy feels constantly empty. In the emptiness, the anger begins to flourish. The bossy way Monty gives his instructions in the farm grates on him. Emori’s tendency to throw her clothing and the few personal items she’s squirreled away from around the Ring all over their room in messy piles drives him nuts. Harper has a terrible habit of humming under her breath as they work that makes him want to scream.

The irritation builds, and he starts to bow to it. He snaps back at Monty’s directions even as he carries them out. He tosses Emori’s messes in the corner of their room without care so he stops tripping over them. He tells Harper her damn, tuneless humming is haunting his nightmares.

Murphy’s never been the nicest person even in the best situations, but now, tired and hungry and increasingly worried about starving to death, he gets mean. Harper and Monty, just as irritable and hungry, match him insult for insult. The peace in the farm starts to splinter.

There is something utterly devastating about walking into the farm for the fifth day in a row to find no sign of growth. The hope that Murphy had been clinging to crumbles.

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” he demands before anyone else can say anything.

“We went over our timeline together,” Monty snaps. “It’s not completely hopeless yet. Give it some more time.”

“I’ve given it time – we’ve all given you time! And food! But we’re no better off than when we landed.” He eyes Monty up, hoping he can look as disdainful as he feels. “I’m starting to think you’re just a shitty farmer.”

The room grows tight with tension. Monty bristles. “You wouldn’t even know what to do without –“

Murphy cuts him off, and he knows he’s going to regret this before he even speaks, but the words, hot and heavy with anger and fear, bubble up in him, and he wants to claw at Monty until he feels as miserable as he does, so he opens his mouth and lets them spill. “Or maybe you’re screwing us on purpose so you can take the coward’s way out like Jasp—“

Monty punches him before he can finish the name. Murphy feels his head snap back, and the force of the blow against his eye and skull, and the peace between them shattering, just like that.

“We should have left you to burn,” Monty hisses. His voice is so cold it makes the hair on the back of Murphy’s neck stand on end. He wonders briefly, wildly, if Monty will kill him - if throwing the one thing he refuses to talk about in his face is an offense worthy of revenge. And then Murphy straightens his head, throws a hand up to rub at his throbbing skin, and throws a glare at Monty as poisonous and angry as he can manage.

“Get out,” Harper growls. Murphy thinks if he lingers, she might take her own swing at him.

He doesn’t hesitate. He turns tail and storms out, angry and bitter in a way he can't contain - for the Ark. For the never-ending stream of shittiness life keeps throwing at him. 

For himself.

Some healer he’s turning out to be.

notes: Kyongedon - Trigedasleng word for “Grounder”

#john murphy #the 100 #the 100 fic #the 100 fanfic #emori #memori #space squad #spacekru #space kru #echo #raven reyes #bellamy blake #monty green #harper mcintyre #memori fic #dailymemori #bc there's lots in this chapter #first do no harm #murphy fic #my stories

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 12: Thoughts on 1x11 The Calm

Thoughts on 1x11 The Calm:

S1 Bellarke is the hottest Bellarke fight me.

My boy Jasper doesn’t even appear in this ep and he’s STILL being useful literally making gunpowder like fuck off.

Bellamy is all for just killing everyone and Clarke wants to find some other way. I dunno if I read this as her being influenced by Finn or more like...her mind always whirring, always thinking of better solutions. She’s never content with just the most obvious thing. That said, their positions are reversed a season later: Clarke is all for just blasting the top off Mount Weather and Bellamy wants a more nuanced plan because he sees the people on the inside.

Why wasn’t Murphy + Octavia ever a thing? Also Murphy is smart about cooking meat. Chef!Murphy (head)canon already forming.

“When you’re really pissed off, you always find a project. Something to keep your hands busy so you don’t punch someone in the face.” Finn is annoying but this is good Raven characterization intelligence. Also their conversation is so painfully awkward. She really does just tamp it all down, bottle up those emotions.

Literally nothing is hotter than Bellamy being a leader and giving orders and the delinquents being a competent little group defending and taking care of themselves.

And yet again, Clarke suggested hunting and Bellamy essentially had to sign off on it (not only did he challenge on her and make her explain herself, but tbh if Clarke had told people to pick up spears and go they would have been like yeah right princess)--but it was Bellamy who gave the actual orders, BELLAMY who appears as the leader in the delinquent pov.

I wish there were more young delinquents--really young not Jasper-and-Monty young. Like this loquacious kid who goes hunting with Finn and Clarke. Or even Charlotte, kids that age. ...Really I just wish there were more delinquents. :/

So Raven’s first instinct isn’t to fuck away the pain, it’s to run. Dumb but understandable. She insults Bellamy based on his Ark job (”Aren’t you a janitor?”) which also feeds into my other theory about Ark and class status.

I know I’ve written B/raven stuff and I do ship them in a low-key way, in a ‘they would be interesting together’ way...but I don’t ship them in a canon way, tbqh. In this Bellamy and Raven scene, I see them having a good rapport, but in a way I also see him working her, getting her back on track not just for her own good but for everyone’s good. He has a double agenda and both parts are important.

I wonder how much familiarity everyone on the Ark has with everyone else. That’s not totally clear... people seem to have passing familiarity with others, but not close familiarity. On the other hand, Wick seems pretty comfortable just talking to a Councilor like whatever nbd. On the other, other hand that could be Wick’s personality and/or the circumstances. Most of the ship is probably dead and the rest will die soon so why be formal!

The creepiness of the Ark in this ep should not be understated.I love this aesthetic.

I want to know what the best part of a boar is! Clarke, don’t interrupt. Rude.

Two main characters and a kid you’ve never seen before go hunting in the woods. Which one is going to get speared?

Say what you want about Wick but he and Kane made a good team and I will stand by this opinion too.

In describing their route, Finn said they crossed a road. What road?? When have there ever been roads anywhere in this show?

Kane found a dozen survivors, Jaha has, like, 3....and somehow in Camp Jaha/Arkadia there are like several hundred (?) people. From only two stations like how is that possible? Also didn’t Farm Station have a couple hundred? They must have sent down over a thousand people lol. Kane did not find very many.

Also that Earth Monitoring Station is where the space survivors are living now and it was fucking destroyed in a fire but I guess we’ve just conveniently forgotten about that, huh useless show writers who can’t figure out their own continuity?

Kane has this annoying habit of just being uselessly self-sacrificing all the time. He would be so much more effective if he didn’t do that. He has a lot of hubris, I think. The unforgivable sin: thinking yourself so debased as to be unforgivable. It’s also another way of elevating yourself, of thinking yourself so important that you have sinned more than any other, are worse than any other...it’s still all ‘me me me.’ I think Kane is like that. He’s always looking for ways to sacrifice himself or to be dangerously heroic. I wonder if that matters more to him than, like, actual other people. (Some of this analysis could apply to Jaha at certain parts of his story, though mostly imo in S1. In S2 he starts thinking a little differently.) (ETA it definitely applies to him in this ep, where he wanted to sacrifice himself [and Sinclair] and Kane’s like ‘I’m not a dumbass, we need you smart people to save everyone else, this isn’t a wholly altruistic rescue mission you know.”)

Anya’s idiotic guilt trip re: Tris: “You did this to her.” Yeah I know she’s like 12 and that makes Clarke feel bad because her people don’t use pre-adolescents as soldiers but she should take the attitude she took with L. later. You don’t want me to fuck you up? Don’t attack me first. Would Anya be shedding any tears over the dead, disgusting bodies of the children her chemical attack killed? I doubt it. And they weren’t even soldiers! I mean really the Grounder attacks on the delinquent camp are the equivalent of an attack on a village of civilians, especially initially.

So Monty finds some of the first evidence of Mount Weather (the exodus ship logs showing interference) and Raven’s like ‘neato...give me that for parts.’ He’s much more curious than she is. She’s more...practical? Single-minded? Not that Monty isn’t practical. I dunno. Unrelated but I had this sudden image of modern!Monty listening for signs of alien life, for some reason.

Monty wants to keep the radio because he still believes in the Ark and he wants to see his parents again. “My family is up there.” Makes me even more curious what his relationship with his family is like. (You’d think S3 would have answered that but...not really.) He’s one of the few people who seems to care about those left on the Ark. And he looks so sad when Raven unplugs it... A rare moment when he lives up to his fandom cinnamon roll image. And when Raven leaves he picks up the radio thingy and I wonder if he’s considering putting it back together.

Murphy has a fish.

I gotta love Raven’s confidence: I’m hot and I’ve identified a straight man, if I start undressing, he’ll sleep with me. If I were as hot as her, I’d probably be that confident too, but still.

Bellamy’s “I’m not that guy” speech is actually hilarious when parsed. It’s like the equivalent of “IF I were going to say X, it would sound like this, but since I can’t, I won’t.” Like “If you’re looking for someone to tell you [a list of things in detail], that’s not me.” But you just did dumbass. His ‘bad boy’ persona cracks so easy.

Right before Clarke unpacks the medical tools, there’s a shot of a random $50 bill on the ground. Mmmmm something tells me that our weak U.S. paper isn’t going to survive a century post-apocalypse lol. There’s also a piece of paper. What is that stuff doing there?

Oh never mind. It’s an old bank. There’s paper and cash all over and lots of little drawers. Makes sense, banks would have vaults, and bunkers did have money in them. Maybe they’re in the Treasury’s old bunker. I never noticed that before, but it’s actually quite clever. The set design on this show is A-PLUS.

I’m not into the enemies-to-lovers thing generally but Anya/Clarke should have been a thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

What an incredibly unsatisfying sexual encounter.

Kane says ‘no more than 1,000 survivors’ and ‘at least 1,500 dead.’ There have to have been at least 1,000 though, because they send them down on 12 ships and assuming they spread themselves about equally (which isn’t necessarily true but would be the smartest thing), that would be about 83 people to a ship. And I’m fairly sure Farm Station had more than 83 people and I’m also semi-sure that Arkadia as of 3x01 had more than 166. I mean it’s really hard to tell, and I can’t remember what sort of casualty numbers they gave for the Mount Weather explosion, but these seem like very low numbers to me. I don’t know. Maybe it does make sense and I’m just missing or mis-remembering something.

Having said all that, they did find another cache of survivors after this dialogue (including Abby), which might explain the discrepancy. (ETA not really because they only find, like, 10.)

Kane’s trip through the vent is a nightmare scenario for me so I’m just gonna...not watch.

Lindsey Morgan is so kickass in this ep, like how she stutters a little bit on “family” when she’s talking to Monty.

I completely forgot about this but the Grounders literally try to steal Clarke away like wtf. First of all, I wouldn’t trust her even as far as I could throw her if I were them. And second...she’s the enemy? But “prove your worth and you’ll be welcome here” I guess. Maybe Anya’s into her. I guess it’s good to poach the best talent from the other side before you destroy them. Also love that Clarke pretends to consider it.

The kill marks are to symbolize kills in combat so, really, Clarke’s 3x01 crack abut not having room on her back for all the deaths she’d caused misses the point...as far as I can remember she’s never actually killed in combat. Killing in self-defense, in group self-defense, or as part of an overall military-type mission isn’t the same as in combat, especially as she mostly acts as a general-type person, giving orders rather than doing deeds. Even pulling the lever, with Bellamy, is an awfully sanitized way of killing.

Going after this guy, getting him talking, taking out his knee and then slashing his throat, is one of Clarke’s best moments. HIGHLY UNDERRATED. Really second only to her escape from Mount Weather in early S2. Also props to Eliza Taylor, I appreciate how her expression afterward is half ‘oh shit I killed a man, this is terrible’ and half like steely resolve and determination.

Can Monty not tell the cardinal directions? (Your other West, Monty.)

A rare moment where Octavia and Raven seem like friends. Actually this is a good Octavia episode. She’s only in 3 scenes, which might explain why...

Also underrated is the tense but quick blnk-and-you’d-miss-it horror movie moment of Monty being taken by the Mountain Men. “What’s that creepy signal?.... Omigod... “ And he was never seen or heard from again.

So...why did the Mountain Men take him? Shits and giggles? To see if they could experiment on him? They seemed to have decided pretty quickly that the Sky People were like them, guests rather than blood resources. I wonder what the thought process was.

The end of this episode was aces. Great set up for the finale. I miss when this show was good.

#the year 2018 #2018: the 100 s1 #2018: fandom thoughts

[octannibal-blake]

sick + bellarke

Hiiii. I’m so sorry this took a hot second. But it’s longish? Also, my current obsession to get me through this hiatus has been The Gifted. I recommend, and this is absolultely based on it. Enjoy!

till the sun turns black 

(ao3)

Bellamy Blake is tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. And sure as hell tired of people not listening to him. When Clarke, of all people, comes to tell him of his friends disappearing act, he’s concerned but also pissed. The concern stems from the fact that his friend, a wanted fugitive and mutant decided to go somewhere alone and the anger, well, also because he decided to go somewhere alone. Because Clarke, their newest refugee and pain in his ass, is just now fucking telling him. But mostly because the man refuses to listen to him when he says that they need to make a plan rather than running into danger. And now they’re all screwed.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” he stands from his place at the table, where he had been trying to map out a goddamn plan.

The refugee in question throws her hands up with a huff, “I don’t know. Said he was going to get O and wasn’t going to sit on his ass and wait.”

Bellamy wants to punch something, preferably Lincoln for being such an idiot. He gets the man’s frustration – his girlfriend was taken by the bad men, the people who lock them up for being different under the guise that they’re dangerous terrorists. He is feeling all the same things Lincoln is, hell, maybe more. After all, O is his sister. His responsibility.

He storms past the small blonde, trying not to aim his anger towards her but failing,“And you’re just now telling me?”

“He told me not to!” she counters fiercely. He almost rolls his eyes at that. She’s been with them for three weeks and already she’s acting like she has some sort of loyalty to Lincoln. She barely knows them. She’s kept to herself for the most part, only offering biting remarks to anyone who even tries to be friendly. She’s not exactly a ray of sunshine.

“Do you always do what you’re told?” he’s shrugging on his jacket and out the door before she can answer and, both fortunately and unfortunately for him, she is hot on his heels. He doesn’t want her to go – she’s new and he doesn’t know much about her besides she can teleport (though even that has it’s limitations) and she seemingly hates everything and everyone. Truthfully, he knows it’s a defense mechanism. It’s the same one he had for years.

“Where are you going?” she’s breathing heavily behind him, trying her best to keep up with his quick pace as he tries to concentrate. He turns on her and she runs smack into his chest with a yelp.

“I found you,” he tells her matter-of-factly, “I can find him. Problem solved. Now if you’re going to come, please don’t talk. I need to concentrate, Princess.”

Her jaw snaps closed audibly and she crosses her arms, a familiar sternness creasing her brow, “Are you always such an ass?”

“Hmm.” They leave the compound quickly and he’s able to track Lincoln without any issue. It’s almost too late when they find him, the sound of the Sentinel Services threatening them ringing through the old warehouse. With relative ease, he kicks open the door and is surprised to see not only Lincoln, but a very frightened looking family standing behind him.

“Let’s go!” he yells and takes off. Clarke seems to hesitate for a moment, lost somewhere in her mind as she watches the family. She shakes it off quickly and offers a hand, They follow quickly, the sound of their footfalls echoing. But soon enough it isn’t just their footsteps. There is a quick clang of metal around them, rapidly approaching and before he even notices something wraps around his ankle and drags him down. He hits the ground with a hard thud, a metal contraption digging into his leg and slowly crawling up. Looks like Sentinel Services got an upgrade. He pushes against it but it won’t budge and he feels something warm beginning to settle in his veins. He’s feeling weak. He’s feeling… and then it’s gone. He looks up to see one of the kids with their hands raised. Oh. Lincoln, what the fuck did you get us into?

To his surprise, it’s Clarke who helps him up and throws his arm over her shoulder, “You good?”

He nods, both as an answer and in gratitude. They reach a chained metal door and stop. Behind them, more Sentinels approach, the spider-like robots turning a menacing shade of red. He moves to the door, beginning to push against it so it would open but he hears the same familiar sound on the other side. They’re surrounded.

“They’re on the other side,” he tells the group. Lincoln looks hopeless, unsure of what more he can do as his powers can’t take a horde of spider mutant-killing robots. None of them can. The idea hits him as Clarke adjusts underneath him. It’s risky. She’s made it clear that her power is limited, she’s only able to portal to places she can see.

“Make a portal,” he tells her and she quickly moves away from him, panic set in her eyes.

“I can’t…” she stutters out, “It doesn’t work like that.”

He eyes her, the choppy blonde hair with the streak of red, the blue eyes capable of piercing souls. He can see her capability within her – she’s strong he could feel as much when he was tracking her. She can do it, “Yes, you can.”

To his surprise, she nods and places her hands together. As she moves them apart, a purple spark then turns into a hole. She pulls her hands apart as if ripping open the air. She is struggling he can see that but she has to push further.

“They’re going to take all of us if you don’t do this,” he tells her, and it’s not meant to put pressure on her. If there is anything he’s learned about being a mutant it’s that their powers are often contingent upon emotion. All the fear she’s feeling, the uncertainty, all she has to do is channel it.

“Come on, Clarke,” he says gently and she looks up to meet his eyes, the fear evident in them but also something more. It’s like there’s a switch, all the apprehension and disdain they’ve shown dissipates. There is a blind trust here. She’s trusting him. She pulls her hands apart further and suddenly, in the middle of where they stand, they can see into the living room of the compound. Knowing the risk of jumping through when she can’t see where they’re going (being cut clean in half), he jumps first without a second thought. He lands on the old wooden floor of the common area and yells for the others to follow. The portal is shaking. Clarke is holding on for dear life.

She stands in the middle as if using her entire body to hold it open and he watches her with awe, the strength and power she’s channeling for this. Lincoln comes through, followed by the kids and their mother. The man is beginning to follow when a shot rings out. He falls backwards and the family yells.

“I can’t hold it,” Clarke screams and with one final push the portal snaps shut. He lurches forward to catch her before she hits the ground. She’s drenched in a cold sweat, her body going limp in his arms.

“I’ve never…” she’s whispering, her voice completely hoarse, “I’ve never gone that far before.”

“We have to go back for him!” the man’s family is screaming, shaking his shoulder and invading their personal space. Clarke is completely gone, her energy spent from such a long jump.

Lincoln is trying to pry them away, but they’re pushing past, begging to go back to the warehouse. He shoves an arm under Clarke’s knees and hoists her up, cradling her to his chest, “We can’t go back!”

“He’s going to die!” the woman is shouting, her first pounding against his arms. He lies Clarke on the old church pew outside the room, her body sagging into it. He turns on the family.

“Listen to me,” he snaps, “If we go back, we all risk our lives. Besides, we couldn’t get there even if we wanted to. Clarke used all her energy holding that portal open. She can’t…”

On cue, she groans beside him, pain etching her voice. The woman kneels beside her and places a hand on her forehead with a look of concern. She turns to him.

“Something’s not right,” she tells him as she places her fingers underneath Clarke’s jaw, feeling for a pulse, “Her pulse is weak. She’s burning up…”

“What does that mean exactly?” He hears Clarke’s ragged intake of breath and feels panic beginning to rise. He had pushed her too hard. He forced her to stretch her powers beyond her control. He hurt her. Fuck.

Clarke’s breathing becomes strained and the woman looks up in despair, “She’s going into respiratory distress. She needs a hospital.”

“We can’t just go to a hospital,” Lincoln places his hands on the woman’s shoulder, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, “They’d treat her and arrest her.”

Not an option. They can’t send her back. In the few conversations he has had with her, the rare moments she’s offered pieces of her past, he’s noticed the far away look in her eye when she talks about the detention center. He knows already that she would rather die than go back. It’s his goal to prevent both from happening.

“I can’t breathe,” Clarke rasps and he kneels before her, pushing the hair from her sticky forehead. He doesn’t know what to do. They don’t have any medical supplies, any way to treat her.

“I’m a nurse,” the woman says nudging him out of the way and placing a hand on her forehead once more, “But I have no medicine…I–”

“Can’t you do anything?” He doesn’t mean to snap at her, but he’s never been great with his emotions. The woman shrinks back from him, head shaking.

“I’d have to run tests…I’d…”

Clarke jerks suddenly, her palms glowing the same familiar purple as her portals. Her body is tense, veins showing in her arms and neck. She’s gasping for air, eyes wide

He grabs hold of her shoulders to push her back down. She’s whimpering and he feels hopeless, “What do we do?”

“I told you,” the woman yells in frustration, “She needs a hospital!”

“We can’t…”

She cuts him off, “You’re not listening to me! Without treatment she’s going to die.”

She’s right, god, she’s right. They can’t take her to one, the end result of that is the same no matter what unless they’re willing to leave a trail of bodies behind. Killing people isn’t something he’s willing to consider. He has enough blood on his hands and he doesn’t want any more. They can’t take her to one. But maybe, the idea hits him as he stares at the woman, they can bring one to her.

He’s about to pose the idea when hears a pop. Clarke is writhing on the bench, hands glowing in unison with the gaping hole in front of them. It’s a road. With oncoming traffic.

“Move!” He manages to yell before diving on top of the nurse to push her out of the way. The portal snaps shut as a truck slide through, cutting it in half just like she said it would. The tail slides into the living space, a path of destruction in its wake.

“Everyone alright?” He calls, checking the nurse for injury. Blood is trickling down the side of her head and she reaches up to touch it. She winces.

“Bellamy!”

At the top of the stairs, Raven Reyes watched them in horror. This is her organization after all, her compound. She founded it. She and the Blake siblings and she just about watched it get destroyed.

He gestures to Lincoln, “We need to move her.”

Without hesitation, Lincoln scoops Clarke into his arms and carries her toward the abandoned vault, away from the crowd and somewhere less dangerous should she open another portal. Raven descends the stairs with force, jabbing her finger into his chest.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”  

“I think you should be asking him,” he jerks his head sourly towards his friend, “He decided to go off on his own.”

“I’ll deal with him later,” she growls, “You need to get her out of here.”

Raven Reyes is many things. Tough. Smart, and not just any smart, a fucking genius. And fiercely loyal. She has much less tolerance for danger, especially when it involves the Underground. These are her family. Her home and she’ll be damned if anyone puts it in danger, including another mutant.

“I’m handling it,” he snaps and joins the nurse by the stairs. Her daughter is holding a shirt to her head, son watching him like he’s ready to pounce at any sign of a threat. He admires that.

“If you get the supplies you need, can you help her?”

“Yes, but they don’t just sell this stuff at Walgreens.”

He looks at Lincoln and the dirty bandage adorning his arm. That’ll due. He points it out, “We have an injury that needs to be treated.”

Another portal opens before she can answer and it’s the same road, the scene before the, the aftermath of the previous one. He isn’t sure what it is about this road, but she keeps going back.

“They can see us,” Raven stares at the people on the other side, lips pursed and preparing for the worst. They need to close it.

“We need to close it before they see too much,” and to his surprise, the nurses daughter steps up and throws out her hand. A barrier hugs either side of the portal, pushing it closed with force. There is a satisfying snap when it disappears and the girl smiles. Bellamy takes action.

“Get to the hospital and grab everything you think you made that need,” Lincoln nods and grabs the nurse by the arm.

“I’m not leaving my kids,” she pulls her arms back.

“Mom, she needs you. We’ll be fine.”

He forces her to look at him, eyes boring into hers, “I won’t let anything happen to them.”

Finally, she nods and follows Lincoln from the room. He turns to the girl next, “What’s your name?”

“Madi,” she replies.

“Okay, Madi. Think you can do what you just did again?”

She gives him a slick smile, “Of course.”

He turns to Raven then, his face finally betraying his earlier confidence, “If this keeps happening, we need to prepare to evacuate.”

Raven’s eyes go wide, “I am not abandoning this place. This is our home.”

He glances back at Clarke, her body lying still on the table as her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. They don’t have much time.

“I understand, Raven. But they’re lives are more important. We need to prepare for the worst.”

He leaves her this time, though he can feel her eyes burning a hole in his back. He joins Clarke, laying a soft hand on her forehead. She’s still burning up. He calls for a cold rag and brushes her hair gently from her forehead so he can place it there. Her eyes stutter open and they find his. She tries to offer a weak smile.

“I did it, huh?”

He nods, dabbing the cloth against her smooth skin. Now that he’s up close, he notices her eye. A mark has appeared, something like a scar, above her eyelid and at the top of her cheek bone. Without thinking, his thumb brushes it lightly.

“That happens sometimes,” she tells him quietly, “They’re everywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells her and he finds that he means it, sincere apologies are rare coming from hi,m, “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

It sounds like she’s trying to laugh but she coughs instead, “Wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”

They’re silent for a moment and he’s about to check on the others when she grips his hand, “I’m scared, Bellamy.”

She sounds so vulnerable, voice weak and even her grip is almost non-existent. She’s fragile and he doesn’t know how to make it better. He can’t. Not in the way she needs.

“Tell me a story.”

He can do that. He knows plenty of those, he spent the last 17 years telling them to his sister. So he begins with his favorite. Ares, the god of war. She fades in and out of consciousness as he talks, but he doesn’t stop. He tells her story after story, praying that the next will be the last, that Lincoln will walk in the door with the nurse and the cure. He’s in the middle of his fifth one when she interrupts him.

“I killed him,” she whispers as a tear rolls down her cheek.

He wants to ask what she means but she’s screaming again and the portal is back. The police are there this time, staring in disbelief along with the citizens. Their radios crackle to life. He focuses on each, the last one sending another wave a dread through him. Swat team. Madi pushes it closed again with heavy breaths. He knows they can’t keep this up. Maybe one or two more times before it becomes too much.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke cries from next to him, “I didn’t mean to! What’s happening?”

She’s beginning to shake, her eyes shut as she begins to scream. He places his hands on her shoulders, looking around wildly for anything that could help.

“Just an accident,” she’s whimpering now, hands glowing as she grips the sides of the table, “It was just an accident. It wasn’t. My fault.”

“Clarke!” He calls desperately, willing her not to open another portal. It happens anyway and he steps back. The swat team is there, guns raised and poised for attack. One brave soul steps forward, foot catching the solid wood of the compound floor but that’s as far as he makes it. Bellamy grabs his gun as he shoots, bullets hitting the floor. He attacks, connecting his fist before gripping the man’s vest and tossing him onto the police car on the other side. But now they’re screwed, the teams are all opening fire and he gets down. He hears someone yelling and then there is a force of energy throwing him back. He hits the wall and sees bodies lining the ground, while the mysterious boy stands before them. Clarke is no longer propped on the table but sprawled on the floor. He begins to move toward her until hell breaks loose. It’s no longer one portal but multiple opening and closing as they tear up everything between.

“Get everyone out of here,” he orders and Raven doesn’t question him this time. She ushers everyone out and he turns to the kids, shrunk back against the vault looking scared to death.

“You all need to go,” he tells them, “follow the rest of them and they’ll keep you safe.”

“I’m not leaving my mom,” Madi says firmly.

“Lincoln will get her back to you, I promise. Go!”

They do as they’re told and it’s only him and Clarke left as chaos erupts around them. He’s invulnerable, no matter which way this goes and he can’t find it in himself to leave her alone as she suffers. He shields her body with his own, doing his best to offer soothing words.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, stroking her arm with his hand, “I got you.”

He wishes this isn’t how it ended for her. Her pain feeling almost as if it’s his own. He hates not being able to help her, wishes he could do more. It should be an acceptable loss, this happens with mutants sometimes and she’s only been around for three weeks. But something about her has gripped him at his core, whether it be the secrets he knows lies behind her walls or the way in which she so willingly trusted him without doubt. He feels something pulling him to her making it damn near impossible to walk away. He can’t just let her go.

As if a prayer has been answered, the nurse is in front of him and handing him viles. She makes quick work of filling the syringes, placing a gentle hand on Clarke face, offering nothing but words of encouragement. She jabs the first into her neck and her breathing immediately evens out. The second she plunges into her arm. The world goes silent.

The nurse falls back with a huff and Clarke eyes flutter open. On instinct he pulls her into his chest, holding onto her like she might float away if he lets go.

“I never got your name,” he says over the tangle of curls underneath his chin.

The woman smiles lightly, “Abby.”

#bellarke fanfiction #the Gifted au #sick!Clarke #bellarke prompt fill

[prosciuttoe]

bellarke (fall, modern au) prompt ideas: jumping into piles of leaves (and them pulling broken pieces of leaves out of each others hair), clarke introducing bellamy to mini marshmallows in hot chocolate, clarke wearing a big pair of bellamy's wool socks, trying to find both the biggest and smallest pumpkins at a pumpkin patch (i'm a huge sucker for the friends-to-lovers trope also)

A|N: I decided to go with ‘wearing a pair of bellamy’s wool socks’, because that’s so Cute and I haven’t seen anyone writing that. Hope you like! x_________________The thing is, loaning Clarke his scarf didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. They’re roommates, after all, and she’s pretty much his favorite person in the world. Honestly, it’d probably be weirder if he didn’t, really, so Bellamy doesn’t think much of it when she doesn’t return it right away.

But then it just keeps happening.

He spots her wearing his gloves the next time they’re out, the fabric loose around her wrists and bunching comically around her fingers. (A part of him is tempted to remind her that she has a perfectly adequate, fitting pair of gloves herself, but he refrains, in the end.) Then his sweatshirt goes missing, miraculously resurfacing during movie night when he catches her shrugging it on over her shirt. His beanies are the next to go, followed by his hoodies.

Still, he draws the line at his socks.

“Are those mine?” he demands, expertly weaving past the crowd gathering over by one of the pumpkin patches. Pumpkin picking is one of her favorite fall traditions, though he’s not sure how she manages to rope him along every time. (Well, okay, maybe he does have an inkling how, but denial seems to be the best approach when it comes to his feelings for Clarke.) “Jeez, Princess. I’ve been looking for this pair for forever now.”

She blinks up at him, gaze cutting down to the hint of blue peeking out from her boots. “Oh, right,” she says, frowning. “I didn’t— I think I may have just grabbed them from the laundry basket? I must have thought they were mine.”

He arches a pointed brow over at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you telling me that you owe a pair of socks with a Caesar reference on it?”

“Hey, I resent that accusation,” she scowls, edging past him to inspect at one of the gourds, tapping at it lightly with her foot. “I know my Roman Generals.”

“Sure you do,” he snorts, trailing after her. “That’s why you fell asleep the last time I put on Rome.”

The noise she makes is distinctly indignant. “Hey, I was exhausted that night. I had a graveyard shift the day before, remember?”

“That’s what you always say.”

“Just— leave me alone to pick my pumpkin already,” Clarke mutters, picking up the pace so he has to lengthen his stride ever so slightly to catch up. “We have to get a good one before they’re all snatched up.”

“Yeah, sure. Once you’ve returned my socks, that is.” He tells her, ducking out of the way when she veers suddenly to the left, fixing her sights on a huge, slightly misshapen pumpkin over by a deserted patch. It’s not so much of a run than it is a very brisk walk, but that’s when he sees it— the familiar insignia printed across her sweater, the slight rip in the right sleeve.

“That’s— hey,” he huffs, drawing up next to her. “Seriously? And my sweater too?”

“I didn’t know it was yours!”

“It says Alexandria Historical Society right there,” he says, exasperated, poking at the space between her shoulderblades. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the little shiver that she gives in response, but it makes him feel strangely triumphant, somehow. “God, Clarke,” he sighs, rucking his fingers through his hair. “Is it because you keep getting paint on your clothes? I keep telling you, get a alcohol-based cleaner.”

She looks away at that, teeth snagging at her bottom lip almost nervously. “I know how to do my laundry, Bellamy.”

“Well, that’s a little hard to believe, considering—”

“It just— they smell like you, okay?” she explodes, sputtering. “They’re always worn, and comfortable, and they’re all just,” she pauses, biting at the inside of her cheek, “comforting. It reminds me of home.”

For a second, all he can do is stare. It’s not that far out of left field, considering they live together and all— but it’s just something about the implication behind it, really. The thought that he’s home, to her, just like she always has been for him. (Unwittingly, he can feel something akin to hope swelling against his ribs, making his knees go a little weak.)

She darts a glance up at him, face pink from the cold and splotchy patches of color blooming up her neck. For some reason, she’s decided to forego a scarf this morning, which is so typical of Clarke that he can’t even bring himself to be surprised, really.

Carefully, he unwinds his own, dropping it over her shoulders instead. She makes a small noise of surprise, swallowing audibly when he adjusts at it, making sure it drapes over her just right.

“You know what?” he says finally, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Keep it. I don’t mind.”

The clear disbelief on her face would be funny if he didn’t feel like his heart might actually combust any minute now. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he manages, shrugging. Then, mostly because he can’t resist, “It looks better on you anyhow.”

This time, the flush that spreads over her cheeks is anything but from the cold. Grinning, he stretches a hand out, repressing a shiver at the wind slicing against his bare skin. (Worth it, though.) “C’mon, Princess,” he manages, taking her hand. “Let’s go get ourselves a pumpkin.”

#more nerds being nerds i h8 them #bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #ems writes #prhalloweenbash2k17 #anon #asks

[bellamyblake]

Headcanons for Bellarke in the middle of a battle field:

it starts when Azgeda attacks some of Trikru’s territories claiming that the game is scarce and they need new hunting grounds but everyone in the alliance knew it was an act of war;

they’ve been at peace for barely a year and a half, Arkadia was just beginning to thrive, Bellamy spent the last summer building cabins with a crew, hunting for the winter, tiring himself to the bone while Clarke spent sleepless night after sleepless night going to council meetings, figuring out how to get constant electricity and water in camp;

and then they attacked, and suddenly a week later Arkadia had to send a 100 soldiers to the battlefield;

the irony of it all made Bellamy and Clarke exchange a sad knowing glance; 

He was the first to volunteer and when he found out she’s coming too, he raged hell, fought with her for days and even went to her mother to try and stop this but to no avail;

“Why is it that you can risk your life and I can’t?” she had jut her chin at him one evening in his tent when they fought, finger in his chest, hair spilling in every direction;

they had been sharing a bed since the peace treaty, mostly because of their constant nightmares which quieted down when they were in each other’s embrace;

with every night they spent together in his small cot, her arms wrapped a little tighter around him, her nose buried closer and closer to the crook of his neck, her hand trailed up and down his back while his rest on her stomach and rubbed the soft spot under her breast;

they were soft with each other, but they never took that other step; there were kisses on the neck, on the cheek, stolen ones, that were needed when you woke up crying and rushed to wash your hands in the snow outside because you looked at them and saw them bloody; 

there were gentle lips kissing the tears away when he woke up shaking so hard, it felt as if he was having a seizure and his heart skipped beats so much she got scared that it might stop as a whole, so she held his head to her chest and whispered to keep breathing until the tremors quieted down and he sobbed wetting her shirt;

but that night before they left they slept back to back, angry at each other and in the morning when they climbed the horses he rushed his beautiful Ares so far ahead of her, it made her eyes sting;

when they arrived on the battlefield it was already a blood bath; an equal amount of soldiers have died on both sides but there was no giving up, especially not for the new commander; 

the first day Clarke had to stay behind to treat the wounded while he was sent off; she kept scanning the fields looking for him until finally in the evening the fire seized and he came all battered and bloody but in one piece;

she threw herself in his embrace and he held her tight “We’re such idiots, princess.” he had whispered and when she pulled back she cupped his cut-stained face and smiled at him with teary eyes “I don’t even remember what we were fighting for” her breath fans his dirty cheeks and he leans his forehead against her “I don’t ever want us to be separated again.”

“Me either.” he agrees and they stare into each other’s eyes before tentatively, carefully, their lips touch and they kiss each other. She feels his rough hands on her cheeks, his fingers trailing down her neck and then all the way to her waist as he pulls her closer; when finally, they split they’re both breathing heavily;

“Figures we’ll get our shit together in the midst of a fucking war, princess.” he jokes and she buries her nose in the crook of his neck like a shy teenage girl which she’s never been but could pretend now for a moment “It wouldn’t be us otherwise.” she whispers and feels him nod. 

the next day they go into battle together and at first everything seems to be okay until the explosions start; Bellamy doesn’t even have a clue how Azgeda figured out a way to do this but it makes him terrified;

his worst fear comes true when he loses Clarke out of sight when there’s an explosion too close to him, throwing him away from the rest of the squad; it takes him a second to get back to his bearings and once standing he feels a burning in his side, his leg drags because of a pain in his hip and his head is ringing;

but he raises his rifle and yells her name; 

it’s hell all around him, soldiers running, bullets flying, azgeda cutting trikru and arkadian soldiers in half with swords and axes; he shoots and has no idea if he’s successful-all he’s looking for is a dirty blond hair and a determined face;

“Clarke! Clarke!” he yells bringing the attention to any soldier on the field and then he spots her, trying to fight a guy twice her size; he rushes as fast as he can in her direction and just when he brings her to her knees, he is close enough to shoot him in the head; 

“Clarke!” he exhales when she stands up and runs to him “Bellamy!” she throws herself in his embrace and holds him close;

when she pulls back there’s blood on her hair from the wound in his shoulder and she furrows her eyebrows angrily;

“We need to take cover!” he says, dragging them back to the treeline where the trenches were; there are some scratches and cuts on her face but overall she seems to be alright; he’s the one who’s hurt and still, he stubbornly keeps pushing her forward; 

“Bellamy, stop, you’re hurt!” she finally catches up to him and they hide behind the nearest tree; she presses his back to it and he slides down tiredly; finally she gets to look in his eyes, see how dizzy he is, how confused, her hands pepper all over his body trying to asses the damage but he grabs her wrist and simply brings her knuckles to his lips to kiss;

“I’m fine”

“You’re bleeding out!” her small hand covers the wound on his shoulder and he hisses “The bullet’s still inside.”

“It’s nothing. We need to get you to the trenches. Or better yet, back to the safe zone.”

“Bellamy, we’re not going anywhere with you like this.” he laughs at that and moves his head to kiss her cheek, he’s being an absolute adorable dork in that moment and her heart warms at the sight of him “It’s a scratch, stop being dramatic. That’s usually my thing.” he jokes but his head lolls a bit and she has to pick his chin up to look into his eyes.

“You can die out here, Bellamy!”

“I won’t. I have you.” he promises and carefully stands up, biting back a yell when he puts some weight on his leg “Come on, we have to get you to safety.”

he starts tugging her towards the trenches but she stops him with a hand on the chest “Stop trying to save me!” she says angrily and he smiles but he’s not cute right now “And wipe that smirk off your face!” she groans “I hate when you’re being like that.”

“Come on, we don’t have much time!” he urges her again and this time she follows him. his hand falls on his side and he is limping so hard she has no idea how he hasn’t fallen yet but he keeps on going, stubbornly, persistently, trying to bring her to safety.

She hates him for it.

“Stop it, Bellamy, just stop!” she yells, pulling him behind another tree “Your life matters!” she yells in the midst of all the bullets flying and the fires burning “You listen to me, your life fucking matters, Bellamy Blake!” she digs her finger in his chest and he looks at her all confused and worried. “I save you this time.”

he’s faster though and he grabs her arms pulling her to his embrace “Please, I can’t lose you, Clarke.” he’s almost crying out “Leave me here and get to the trenches.”

“No!” she won’t hear it, not this time. she throws his arm over her back and together they start walking; “I’m not letting you die.” she insists even when his eyes start to droop, there’s a lot of shrapnel in his side, the bullet still in his shoulder, the concussion he surely has, it’s bad, but he’ll make it. he has to. 

Finally, she sees the trenches and Miller jumps out to meet her halfway and help carry him to safety; when she puts him into a sitting position he coughs blood and he reaches to take her hand when she wipes it away. 

those same lips she kissed only last night were now stained with red;

“Get to safety!” he says voice weak but insisting;

“No” she shakes her head stubbornly “I’m not leaving you behind.” he tries to pull her close again but she’s barking orders at Miller and asking to find one more person so they could carry him back to camp; 

“Kiss me, please.” he whispers when he makes her listen to him again and her eyes widen at his request. 

“You’re not dying!” she has read his thoughts;

“I know my luck, princess.” he smiles and manages to raise his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer “Don’t deny a dying man his last wish.” so she does it, she kisses him and feels the blood in his mouth, the pain of his head moving but she senses all the love too, all the warmth and good that there is about Bellamy;

when she pulls away his eyes are closed;

and they don’t open;

next time he wakes, he’s in a med tent. Abby’s patching his shoulder and Clarke’s hands are covered in red like her worst nightmares. they are yelling for something, medicine, alcohol to clean his wounds, he doesn’t know, nor does he care;

he reaches to take her fingers and she turns her head to find him awake and struggling.”Hey, princess.” he whispers and she shushes him not to talk but he just smiles.

she leans closer and cups his bloody face “So...we switched places then” he jokes as he struggles to breathe and coughs “The princess have the guy the kiss of life.” that makes her chuckle and his heart flutters at the sound; if he could give her even an ounce of happiness in the middle of the worst moments of their lives, he’d consider it a win. 

“You’d be cute if you weren’t half alive, Bell.” she whispers rubbing her nose against his “Now let me patch you up so you can piss me off again tomorrow, alright?”

“It’s a deal, princess.” he smiles and closes his eyes but he’s not afraid because he feels her warm gentle touch on his cheek and he knows when he wakes up next, she’d be curled around him, resting her head over his heart and he’d hold her like he always did.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke fanfic #bellarke headcanons #okay this is maybe long #but i hope ppl like it #my headcanons

[clarke-kom-eden]

We’ve Waited Long Enough

Bellarke, canon compliant, post season 4. Chpts 1-12 on my blog, thanks #waited long enough. Warning: minor character death, sorry!

Chapter 13

Within seconds of Bellamy and Clarke’s explanation to Octavia, she had her warriors round up the prisoners. The Elgius group did not have a chance to fight back, as Octavia had them tied up and placed on their knees in front of her. Bellamy, Clarke, Raven and Monty tried to reason with her and tried to get her to talk to them. They were no happier with what the prisoners had been planning, they could have killed so many, but they all understood fear, and making poor choices because of it. They knew that adjusting to this new world had resulted in themselves taking extreme and sometimes devastating actions, and they wanted the prisoners to at least be given a chance to make it right. But Octavia dismissed them, and just had her warriors hold them back too. Once again, she gathered all her people before her, demanding their attention.

‘Again, I act to keep you safe! I knew these criminals were not to be trusted.’ She announced to her people. ‘We have just learned, that they were laying a trap for us!’ The crowd were riled up and angry as she continued, ‘And now they will pay for that betrayal!’

Without hesitation, she swung her blade across the first prisoners throat. Raven screamed and fought against her captor, and Bellamy continued to plead with her, hoping desperately that there was still some good inside of her. Octavia ignored all the noise and the pleas, and continued to move down the line, cutting open their throats. Clarke could not look away, as Octavia moved closer and closer to Andrew. Andrew had tried to warn Clarke about their trap, she knew he had wanted no part in their plan, he was little more than a child. With every bit of strength she could muster, Clarke forced herself on to her feet, knocking the grounder who held her backwards, and cried out.

'STOP!!!! PLEASE!’ This actually managed to get Octavia’s attention, she lowered her sword momentarily and turned to look at Clarke. 'Please, I’m begging you Octavia, just let Andrew live. He’s just a boy, he had no part in any of this!’ Clarke took a breath and softened her tone, 'I have nothing to offer you, or to bargain with, I don’t know what I can say, except, please.’ Octavia dragged her blade along the ground as she walked toward her.

'I’ve never seen this side of you Wanheda. You’re begging? No fighting, no deals, no threats, just, please? This world has made you weak, and you have allowed it. If I let this boy go, what is left for him here, alone in the world. It would be more merciful to end his life.’ Clarke was lost for words, so Bellamy stepped in.

'Octavia, there must be something still in you that tells you this is wrong. They saved your lives. He’s one boy. We will vouch for him and he if ever steps out of line, you can kill me too.’

'Am I supposed to be impressed by your self sacrifice? I will not be manipulated!’ Unfortunately his words only succeeded in making her more angry. As Octavia turned back to Andrew, she looked at his face. He was crying hard, shaking, completely terrified. She hesitated for a moment, taking him in, and for a second, she wavered. Then Thomas, who was further down the line, called out.

'He didn’t have anything to do with what we were planning, he’s an innocent lad. Only reason he was ever arrested was a mistake. I know you’re gonna kill me, I know I’m done for, but let him go.’ Thomas had made some bad choices in his life, but with his last breath, he wanted to try to do something right. But it had been a mistake to speak. Octavia didn’t care for his opinion at all, in fact it only served to make her decision. She could never be seen to be giving in to the requests of a traitorous criminal. She turned on the spot, swung her arm high and brought her blade down across Andrew. It was over in seconds. Clarke cried out with a pain in her heart she had not felt in some time. Her stomach twisted as she lurched forward and vomited, every inch of her hurt.

Bellamy felt a part of himself die. There was no coming back from this, the Octavia he loved was gone, the figure left behind nothing more than a demonic shadow. Bellamy managed to choke out a few scathing words to her,

'Lincoln would be ashamed of you! I’m glad he’s dead, so he never had to know what you became!’ Octavia rushed at him, and for a moment, Clarke thought she might kill him too, but at the last second she dropped her blade and hit him with her fist. It made his lip bleed. For a breath, he thought he saw her demeanor change, her eyes drop, as if she had been trapped within herself and suddenly remembered who she was. But then she straightened up, turned back to the prisoners and finished her execution. The sand around them turned to red, the desert stained and changed forever by what had happened there, but it wasn’t over just yet.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #the 100 fanfiction #bellarke fam #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 speculation #the 100 #canon compliant #waited long enough

[sometimesrosy]

please abbreviate name and ship

Anonymous said:I’m not trying to be rude as I know you ship Bellarke, but can you explain why you think L/xa was manipulative towards Clarke and why you disliked their relationship? I just don’t see it that way and I would like to hear a different perspective.

Am I ready to go into this? Ok. First, I’m not taking offense. I don’t have a problem discussing different interpretations, however, fandom has a problem with me doing so, which is why I ask everyone to abbreviate Lxa and CL, so that I don’t show up in their ship or stan tags, not because I am disrespecting the character or ship, but because I honestly don’t want the harassment to start up all over again. The history of me and the cl shippers is ugly, with me mostly trying to stay out of it and them coming after me like I was trying to poison their puppy. All the puppies. The CL fandom had a name for me. It was “The Devil.” So you should know that.

Let me begin by telling you that I am the survivor of domestic abuse, and stared watching this show after finally kicking my emotionally, psychologically and economically abusive ex husband out of the house, and what I saw in CL was a reflection of my own relationship, aka, not healthy. I resonated with it as a woman with PTSD recovering from abuse. I tried to explain this in fandom but was ignored and erased and called a lesbophobe instead. I am not. I am an abuse survivor who cares about understanding and unpacking abusive relationships and empowering victims. Abuse is not limited to m/f relationships.

I need to make it clear that my interpretation of CL does not invalidate the interpretation of CL as an epic romance, fantasy story, or wlw empowerment tale. Those are all valid and I recognize the need for the wlw community to have the same kind of stories that straight people have always had, and CL within The 100 was SO CLOSE to being the epic fantasy that was needed. But the canon proved that it never was a romance genre story that allows... DEMANDS the happy ever after ending. So The 100 was a great disappointment to the fans. It failed to give them what they were looking for. CL was a LOT like a very traditional M/F romantic trope that does end up with a HEA lovestory ending, the captive princess and heroic warrior king story. So it’s no wonder they read it as an epic romance just like the ones they’ve been seeing for m/f romances for centuries... MILLENNIA. 

That said, I’m going to put my analysis under the jump, because I don’t want anyone who doesn’t want to hear it have it appear on their dash. This is an entirely opt-in meta, and if reading something critical of a ship you love or like is not what you want to do, then please be a responsible consumer of media and do not opt in.

okay, so op, I GET why you see nothing wrong with this romantic dynamic. I was like you once, and I thought the warrior/princess dynamic was sexy and romantic and the fantasy of being taken away from all your problems so you didn’t have to deal is A+. But ever since I was IN a relationship like that, and realized it wasn’t about love or romance, but rather about power and control, I cannot, AT ALL, find it attractive. It’s painful and harmful to be in. And it’s not great for the dominant lover, either, tbh.

Please note: I do not have a problem with them being wlw. NOT the problem. I’ve been involved with the lgbt community since 1988. I am bisexual, demiace and androgynous myself and my sister was in a long term relationship with a woman and I like other wlw ships just not this one--because for me, it reproduces a harmful m/f romantic trope. When I find m/f ships like this I don’t love them EITHER. (reylo is just as filtered out of my dash as cl is.) So that’s a lot of explaining why I disliked their relationship and it has to do with my experience in an abusive relationship that was about power and domination and how I learned that that is NOT love. So now I’m just gonna make some points about where there was manipulation in the the relationship, some of which came before romance, some of which was the ‘courtship.’

when they first met, L posed on the throne and blamed her for killing the army she’d sent to destroy the delinquents. Clarke WON the battle that L started, and she acted like that was murder. no.

When L told Clarke that Finn would die for HER. although her actions had nothing to do with his massacre.

When L told her that Finn’s mercy killing would haunt Clarke forever.

When L told Clarke that love was a weakness. That is the WORST advice ever and anyone who still stanned L after that nonsense... i just don’t understand why y’all have no sense. I knew from the start that was a sign that L was “in the wrong.” it is CLEARLY a bad life philosophy. (made much worse that she began a courtship with Clarke after using her philosophy to cut Clarke off from her people, thus leaving only HER love as worthy? IDK. But that’s after this timeline.)

When Clarke came running to save TonDC and Lxa from the bombs, and Lxa COERCED Clarke into letting them bomb the village. This was the first REAL sign to me that this relationship was manipulative and abusive and it wasn’t a relationship yet. They weren’t even friends yet. And Lxa used Clarke’s guilt over Finn and LOVE for Bellamy to rush her into a decision that benefitted LXA’s political agenda, to get rid of the troublesome rivals on the coalition. She used methods with Clarke that were the same exact thing that my ex used to do to me. She told her that she had no time to argue, although there was time for L’s argument, and there were no other solutions although Clarke offered like three separate ones (setting a fire as the probable most effective.) That was NEVER Clarke’s decision. Lxa COERCED her. And MANIPULATED her.

WORSE after it was done, LXA BLAMED HER FOR IT. Said it was her action. Forced her to keep it a secret (which only benefitted LXA.) Then tried to kill Octavia. 

Look I totally understand why Lxa was besotted with Clarke. She’s amazing. But she started pursuing her when Clarke was dependent upon Lxa’s army and goodwill. 

She started pushing her about her FEELINGS for Bellamy when they were military allies, AFTER telling her about how her political enemies used her love for Costia to control her, and KILLED her for it. So here she is, a political...associate, questioning her about someone she thinks she loves, after telling her that love is a weakness. Pushing her feelings for Bellamy as a what? Vulnerability? Way to control her? RIVAL FOR HER ROMANTIC ATTENTIONS? 

Then Lxa KISSES HER. IN the MIDDLE OF A CAMPAIGN? Can you freaking imagine? The woman with all the power, who Clarke depends upon for the life of her loved ones, essentially her “boss,” in a way. She makes a move on her. Think about this. “I like you, oh by the way, i hold your people’s life in my hand, so you should come live with me.” Dude. That’s not a sweet romance, it’s sexual harassment. 

Just to bring it to a point. Clarke rejects her advances and then THE NEXT WORDS are “he did it,” because Bellamy has sent up the signal, victorious warrior (rival) and get’s all Clarke’s attention. What happens then? Oh yeah. 

ON the verge of WINNING the freaking mountain completely, Lxa SELLS HER ROMANTIC RIVAL (bellamy) and Clarke’s people, who proved far more formidable and successful than she expected and so are a politcal threat to her, to her GENERATIONAL ENEMIES.  and then. get this.

AND THEN SHE INVITES HER TO COME LIVE WITH HER AGAIN. Oh hey babe, since your people are destroyed and your boyfriend is dead, wanna come to my place? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

And no, despite all the people who tried to argue that was a WISE political move, no the hell it wasn’t. It was the path to her demise. She broke faith with her allies, not just sky crew but also the coalition and they took her down for it. 

In addition, Lxa herself admitted that was her biggest regret. That was her biggest mistake. WRONG DECISION. Weak leader. And a betrayal.

THEN 3 months later, she kidnaps her and imprisons her. This is not romance. This is not protection. If it WERE protection, she would have sent her back to her people. She was a prisoner. This is not a romantic situation. 

Oh when she told her how PATIENT she’d been for ALLOWING her to not talk to her for two weeks. Bitch. You have her in prison. You aren’t patient. You aren’t kind. You kidnapped her. After your betrayal. YOU’RE the one who should be begging for her forgiveness. Instead you’re acting like she’s an immature child. What? 

She then gaslighted her and told her she didn’t do anything wrong when she betrayed her and she did the same thing anyone would do, in fact, LXA wasn’t the betrayer, CLARKE was the betrayer. She turned her OWN sins around and blamed them on Clarke. She did it. We saw her did it. We saw how she forced Clarke’s hand and made her choose between TERRIBLE choices. 

Then she FORCES her to bend the knee so she doesn’t murder all of sky crew. That was not romantic. That was force. 

And she offers her own private bent knee ceremony with no witnesses and promises we all know she won’t keep because she has no honor and no one there to make sure she does what she promises.

WHICH IS WHY Clarke can’t leave. Because no one else will make sure she keeps her promises.

AND THEN we get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick part of manipulation. You can leave and I’ll kill all your people, or you can STAY and get nice clothes and a safe room and good food and music and be treated like a pampered bird in a golden cage. Do what I say? Get nice things. Just because you are being given nice things and treated nicely doesn’t mean it’s not manipulation and you aren’t being dominated.

I might also add that during this time, L often mentioned her own death. As if it would happen. Now Clarke had to stay not only to save her people from death, but also to save LXA from death. Just so you know, this is a classic psychological abuse technique. The abuser threatens/implies suicide if the abusee ever leaves them. “Oh when you go I will die, that’s the way it is.”  

Reminder, when Clarke wanted to go to Arkadia and fix the massacre, Lxa REFUSED. When Clarke said, “so I’m a prisoner now?” Lxa said straight out in canon. “Yes you are a prisoner.” She had ALWAYS been a prisoner. She was not a guest. She had no freedom to leave. Making her feel like she had to or wanted to stay does not mean she actually had a choice. She did not. (compare this to when Bellamy told Octavia, i understand if you need to go, but you’ll always have a place with me.” O had the FREEDOM to stay or go, and B NEVER gave or withheld permission. She was free. Clarke was not.)

Oh and Clarke is not innocent in the manipulation, either. After the hakeldama massacre, Clarke used her evaluation of Lxa as being proud and concerned with her “legacy” to manipulate her into betraying her OWN people and their beliefs and saying “blood must NOT have blood.” And yes that led to L’s downfall, but to be fair, she already did it by sparing MW. L is vain, and Clarke worked that. To sky crew’s advantage, but she did. 

After they get back from Hakeldama Clarke has given up on Bellamy and their relationship starts being less manipulative. Oh wait. the whole “so wait, you want me to not take vengeance for your people’s crimes by wiping out the village, but you’re going to punish this actual murderer who just tried to kill you, huh? wow hypocrite much?” 

And then when Lxa decides to *surprise surprise* go back on her promise to treat sky crew like her own people and WIPE OUT THE ENTIRE POPULATION, she’s like, okay, I give you permission to leave now and be with your people. Aren’t I kind and merciful to let you go? NO YOU ARE NOT. It isn’t kind and it isn’t merciful and it isn’t loving to ALLOW your beloved to be with her people. before you wipe them out. Or even if you’re not. It shouldn’t be up to you whether she goes or stays. It should be up to HER. But it never was. 

Tbh it wasn’t until Lxa “let her go” after she’d already committed to murdering all Clarke’s people and Clarke couldn’t do anything to stop it anymore that the relationship stopped being manipulative. Their ENTIRE relationship was finding way to work each other. I do not like that kind of relationship. The only wholesome part of their relationship was their time with Pauna (no manipulaton it was a fine story) and the sex, (also a perfectly lovely story. )

Okay. go ahead and hate me now. A couple years after, I rewatched the show to see if I could see that stirring, epic love story in CL that the fans love, and even when I’d worked through my personal abuse issues and was no longer literally triggered by it, I found it to be a thin romance, far too political in nature. Just didn’t do it for me. Was it passionate? Yes. Did they like each other? D: No. I don’t think they were ever intimate enough with each other (except for with Pauna) to actually get to know each other. It was very pretty and glamourous. I am not a fan of glamour. It tends to be all show, little depth. 

all in all, I do NOT think CL is the love story that wlw deserve. I dont’ think it was intended to be. And I think people hungry for a canon fantasy love story believed they were getting their HEA that romances promise. But it wasn’t a romance. (I cannot make excuses for The 100′s social media presence at that time. they fucked up.) I think it was CLARKE’S story of darkness and trauma and recovery, and L was her shadow. She needed to fall n love with her to embrace her own dark side. And she needed to die to push forward both Clarke’s trauma and the plot. Lxa was a tragic hero like Macbeth. Doomed. I don’t like Macbeth as a character, either.

#the 100 #don't read if you get offended by critiques of l or cl #or if you want to be outraged keep me out of it #i'm trying to keep it as far away from the fans as i can #i'm allowed to not like a character you love