#linctavia ff

[butmakeitgayblog]

what do you think of linctavia? they seem cute but wasn’t octavia 16/17 and lincoln like… 25 if we’re being generous 😭

😬

Oof. Um. Ok well. I'm gonna hate on this probably but uhhhh, yyyeah I've always thought they were... how can I say this gently.... They were gross

Hear me out!

They were cute together, and overall I loved Lincoln's character. I did and still do and that's why he'll always be a teddy bear in any fics he shows up in. And yes, I can understand why some people genuinely liked them together. But if we remove the shipper goggles? Bruh. He was a 25yo (according to what I can find) grown ass man pursuing a 16yo child. Be so honest c'mon. And, arguably an incredibly important factor here, not only was Octavia 16, but she was a naive and sheltered 16. She'd spent her entire life up until those few weeks on the ground living under the floorboards ffs. Her entire existence was soley based around Bellfuck and their mother. She had no life experience, no real practical learned common sense, no social education. She was, by all perimeters, a child. That's not to say someone of a similar age who wasn't as sheltered is somehow more adult or anything, but there is a naïveté factor even beyond the morality of it. I realize theloo did everything they could to try and downplay that and negate it by magically making Octavia this wordly and spunky ~fast learner~ (so you're saying she's just - what? ,,, mature for her age? Is that what you were saying, Jason?🤨🧐 that man needs to answer for his crimes), but baby if it quacks like a duck it's a gd duck

So I mean, if I'm being totally honest, yeah it was gross 🤷‍♀️ if we're gonna sit here and criticize Bellfart for sleeping with underage girls then ya gotta hold the same energy for Lincoln who arguably stepped over that line every bit as much. Just because it was one girl vs several doesn't change that. Like this man was old enough to rent a car. Dude had a Grounder 401k plan and was dating the equivalent to a sophomore/junior in high school. We have to be fr here. In any other context there wouldn't be a question.

All that said, they were cute together and the actors did a good job of giving them chemistry and making the couple one that felt real, so there is that at least

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Sirens; Part 1 

 Summary: Octavia Blake is a rookie hotshot straight out of the police academy; fiery as hell and just as stubborn, she's ready to take on the city. Lincoln is a seasoned EMT, used to butting heads to make sure his patients get to the hospital while they're still breathing; except he's never butted heads with anyone as hot headed as Octavia and as fate would have it, the damned rookie keeps answering all the same emergency response calls. They're probably going to get each other fired... if they don't fall for each other first.

 (A slow-burn, modern linctavia AU requested by @brooklina)

“How’d the first day go, Officer Blake?”

Octavia shrugged out of her jacket as she shot her older brother an irritated look. “It was shit.” She strutted over to where Bellamy sat on the couch, arm slung over his long-time girlfriend Clarke Griffin, and snatched the beer he was holding out of his hand.

“Did something happen?” Bellamy asked as she downed the entire bottle and lobbed it into the nearest trash can.

“You mean aside from the drunk lady who flashed her tits at me and tried to bitch slap my FTO? Then no, nothing happened.”

“So what’s the problem again?” Clarke asks, leaning around Bellamy slightly.

“Nothing happening is the problem! I joined the police force to help people! Not clean vomit out of the back of a squad car.” She plopped down on the arm of the couch next to her brother.

“It’s your first day, O,” Bellamy reassured. “Besides, it could be worse. Miller’s K9 was so nervous he crapped all over the car and Miller had to spend the entire day with his head out the window.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved Bruiser,” Octavia replied.

“What about your field training officer? She’s cool right? All the EMTs that come through the hospital love her.”

“Indra? She’s amazing! And terrifying. Some of the guys said she once knocked out a meth dealer with one punch.”

“I saw that,” Bellamy replied, “it was beautiful.” Bellamy joined the Army right out of high school, and joined the Arkadia SWAT team shortly after his return. On a few rare occasions, he’d had the pleasure of working alongside Arkadia PD’s finest officer. 

“Is that the same meth dealer that said she wanted to have your babies while you were handcuffing her?” Clarke asked.

“Yikes!” Octavia shuddered.

“No, that was a different dealer,” Bellamy replied.

“Well, on that note, I’m gonna go find somewhere I can peacefully scream into an abyss,” Octavia said as she jumped off the couch.

“Tomorrow will be better, O, you’ll see,” Bellamy assured.

Octavia hoped so.

Despite all the chemicals and a power wash, the squad car still, somehow, managed to smell vaguely of vomit and b.o. Octavia cracked the windows and fiddled with the radio to try to distract herself, while Indra sat stoically beside her.

“That smell’s gonna go away, right?”

Indra shrugged, “You get used to it.”

Octavia suppressed a groan as she fiddled with the radio again. The only action they’d seen was a homeless man surfing in a stolen shopping cart down a busy intersection... and freaking John Murphy stole the call from them! 

“Does anything ever happen in this town?” She muttered to herself.

As if on que, the radio crackled with static before a chipper voice called out, “Units we have a 210 in progress on Polis Avenue.”

Octavia clicked the receiver so fast she thought it was going to break, while Indra whipped the car down a back alley to get to the scene in time. 

“This is David27. 10-4,” Octavia barked into the receiver as Indra drove over a curb to get into the parking lot of a popular liquor store. An armed robbery was much more her speed then drunken old ladies.

A moment later another voice came over the radio, “This is Zebra32. Going 23.”

“Ah come on! Does it have to be Murphy as backup?” Octavia groaned to herself.

“This isn’t the time for a turf war, Octavia,” Indra reprimanded as Murphy’s squad car pulled up on the other side of the parking lot. 

“This is David27. Going 23.”

Just as they were about to step out of the car, the front window of the liquor store erupted into tiny shards of glass. 

“998! Shots fired!” Murphy barked into his radio.

As he was speaking, a figure in a dark sweatshirt bolted from the side door of the liquor store

“Adam24. Suspect is fleeing on foot. David27 and I are in pursuit.” Indra sprinted after him, with Octavia on her heels, while Murphy went to double check the liquor store.

“Zebra32. Code 40. Civilian has been shot. Repeat, Code 40,” Murphy’s voice crackled over the radio as Indra and Octavia continued to pursue the suspect down the street.

“Freeze!” Indra ordered.

Little good it did. The suspect ducked into the nearest alley and began knocking over trash cans to slow them down. 

Octavia leaped over one, skirted another, and shooting past Indra, managed to snag the hood of the suspect’s jacket and yank him backwards. The suspect toppled over backwards, and Octavia, thrown off balance by the sudden change of direction, nearly fell on top of him.

“Freeze!” Indra ordered again, reaching where the two of them fell.

The suspect had rolled onto his side, legs tucked into his chest as he coughed and sputtered. “YOU BITCH! You tried to strangle me!”

Octavia, on her knees now, rolled him over onto his back. “You shouldn’t have run.”

“Octavia,” Indra warned.

Octavia gave him a quick pat down, finding a gun stashed in the back pocket of his jeans, and then slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. “Hope cheap booze was worth jail time,” she snickered as she hauled him to his feet.

“I want a lawyer,” the man replied.

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Yeah and I want-”

“Octavia,” Indra warned again.

Octavia gritted her teeth and quickly read him his Miranda Rights as they walked him back towards the squad car. Parked between Murphy’s and their squad car, was an ambulance, it’s red and blue lights flashing. 

A couple of EMTs were wheeling the injured store manager out on a stretcher as Octavia and Indra approached with the perp. 

“Indra,” one of the paramedics acknowledged as the others raised the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. “You alright?” 

Indra stuck out her hand, shaking the younger man’s eagerly. “Good to see you, Lincoln. We’re fine. How’s the civilian?”

“Fine?!” The perp shouted incredulously. “This bitch tried to choke me to death! I almost died in an alley!”

“Is he hurt?” Lincoln took a quick look at the man, taking in the new rip in his jeans and the dirt around his clothes. A bit of a bruise was starting to form on his jaw from where his face had hit the floor but he was otherwise in tact.

Octavia glowered, “He’s fine! He’s being a baby.”

“I should check him out, anyway,” Lincoln insisted, glancing quickly back at the ambulance, where one of the other paramedics was jumping out of the back to grab a medical bag off the ground. “Wait a sec! We may have one more!”

“Please,” the perp’s voice lowered pleadingly as he saw a chance to escape jail time a little longer. “I.. I can’t breathe so well. I’ve got asthma.”

“No you don’t!” Octavia hissed.

“Do you know this man, personally?” Lincoln countered, folding his arms across his chest. He’d dealt with his share of hot headed police officers, and he wasn’t about to take lip from a rookie straight out of the Academy. 

“Well no...”

Lincoln scoffed as he turned to Indra, “Your partner must be new. This is procedure, Indra, you know that.” 

Indra sighed, “He’s right, Octavia.”

“But-!”

“I don’t know about you,” Lincoln said, turning back to Octavia, “but it’s my job to make sure people are safe. You can come yourself to watch him, but I’m taking him to a hospital.”

“Oh! I’m seeing stars!” The perp wailed.

“I’ll take him,” Indra responded.

“Indra!”

“That’s enough, Octavia. Lincoln’s right. We have to let them check him out.”

Octavia glared at Lincoln, who motioned them towards the still waiting ambulance.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

“Screaming into the abyss kinda early today, huh?” Bellamy leaned against the door frame, sweatpants low on his hips as he downed half a water bottle in one gulp. 

Octavia rolled onto her back, leaving the mountain of pillows she’d been screaming into behind for the time being as she sat up. “It’s bullshit, Bellamy! Since when do we coddle perps?”

“It’s for your own safety, O,” Bellamy reassured as he came to sit on the edge of her bed. “A lot of good cops lost their badges for not letting their suspects get proper treatment. And with crackpot defense attorneys like Echo working for the city, you gotta cover your ass.”

“You should have seen how that EMT looked at me, Bell,” Octavia grumbled, “like I was the bad guy!”

“Lincoln?” 

“How’d you know?”

“He’s a Victim’s Advocate, and he’s pretty intense about it,” Bellamy explained. “He once made Monroe cry, and she was a Marine.”

Octavia grimaced.

“Don’t let him get to you, O. You did a good job, and the guy’s still going to jail, just a little slower. Count it as a victory.”

She could hardly call it a victory when it had ended with the ambulance’s sirens blaring down the street, taking her perp with it. It wasn’t supposed to be this way! She was supposed to catch the bad guys and lock them up, not have them taken away by some over-concerned EMT.

Bellamy reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You gotta learn to live with policies, O, even if ya don’t like ‘em.”

She groaned as she threw herself back into her mountain of pillows. “Is it always gonna be like this?”

Bellamy stood, a grin on his face, “Depends on what calls you take.”

[willexxmercer]

The Butterflies

A Linctavia Soulmates/Reincarnation fic.

It was as though the universe kept trying to tell her something. Every time she felt the butterflies, it was because of him, and him only.

This was written for the Non-Anonymous collection for the finale of Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Writing Challenge 2.0. I somehow managed to miss the ENTIRE competition this time around but I really wanted to write for this finale so here we go.

Mandatory tropes I had to include were: 1. Reincarnation AU! 2. Soulmate AU! 3. Forehead Touches! 4. Author's Choice! - Butterflies in the stomach as a motif

Go check out the collection "Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge Final Round" for all the fics that are eligible for voting! Congratulations to all of the finalists and I wish you all the best of luck!

I have to give a HUGE shoutout to dylanobrienisbatman and thelittlefanpire for hosting this event and giving a platform for writers to play with these characters and tell such amazing stories! I will most definitely be participating in the next full challenge if it happens again!!!

Check for the link in the notes!

[immortalcockroach]

THE END IS JUST A BAD DREAM | BELLARKE, MODERN AU

Bellamy Blake has many bad habits, but his worst is falling for girls he can't have. 

At twenty-four, Bellamy’s life consists of bars, gigs, park benches and—if he’s lucky—friend’s couches. It’s been two years since his life shattered into pieces around him and he still hasn’t started picking them up. 

For two years, Bellamy’s been good. Good stops being enough when he meets Clarke, a girl whose life is in the process of shattering, and somehow the two of them collect their own pieces to help the other, and themselves in the process. 

For all it’s worth, Clarke is off limits – but it might be this time that his bad habit is truly stopping him from getting the glue that would finally mend his life.        

This was inspired by the Coen brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis. It’s an indie drama about a folk artist who has a horrible love life and is homeless and some elements are going to feature in this fic. If you’ve seen it, then you know exactly what kind of mood I’m going for with this fic.

Now, this is a mature fic. I’m fairly certain there will be no smut, but it’s mature as it’s dealing with topics such as homelessness, alcoholism, depression, PTSD, and abortion. These trigger warnings are spoilery, yes, but I want to make sure no one reading the fic is uncomfortable with these subjects.

Fret not, this isn’t an entirely dark fic, but these themes are important so I just needed to get that out there. I’m trying to approach this as seriously as possible. But I mean, Bellamy’s great with his guitar (he plays rock) and he’s definitely going to serenade Clarke at some point. (Spoiler: it’s in the very first chapter.)

So far, there’s only one chapter and since this fic is what I like to consider the most important thing I’ve written in my life, I’ll try to write some more before beginning to post it. Also, I’m currently looking for betas for this so if you read the first chapter and think this might be up your alley, message me.

Below the cut is an excerpt and all the lovely tagged people. 

THE END IS JUST A BAD DREAM

‘dirty fingernails, same as your mind, but he could strum the guitar just fine, every now and then he’d think about his life, daydreamin’ just to pass the time’

His fingers slide across the neck of the guitar, the tips hard and rough from a lifetime spent on the strings. They change positions and the chords like dancers, applying pressure in all the right places. The other hand strums the same strings with a black, leather guitar pick in a dazing rhythm. On the verses, the pick rests and his fingers slide between the strings, tugging at them in an elaborate, dark manner. His voice is hoarse, deep and lazy, captivating in the way it soaks in emotion during some parts, and is dry at others.

Shaggy hair and worn out clothes, he is just the type of person who plays at the pub, unnoticed by any of the guests. There is nothing memorable about him, from his week-old stubble and greasy hair, grey shirt with tiny holes throughout it and his leather jacket with as many patches as there are years behind him, to his decades-old guitar accompanied by his melodic voice that blends in with the chatter, as if arising from within the dark walls of the bar.

He finishes the set and few people clap. There’s beer already waiting for him at the bar and he sits down, watching as a kid in his late teens takes his spot, still a bright, nervous smile on his face. He greets the crowd, cheerfully, his face falling when hardly a head so much as turns in his direction.

The guy at the bar takes a sip of his beer, looking away from him when the kid begins his set, a dark smile creeping onto his lips. He slouches, both elbows on the wooden countertop, one hand laying on it with fingers tapping in the upbeat rhythm of the boy’s song, and the other holding a beer to his lips, never setting it down.

One of the boys who works here as an all-in-one approaches him with an almost empty tin. He takes it, throws all the money on the bar and gives the tin back to the boy, staring at the few coins without a word.

That barely amounts to twenty dollars, and that’s if he’s lucky. Five one-dollar bills, one fiver, and several dozen coins. He scoops it all up except for the fiver, sliding them into the one pocket of his jeans that doesn’t have a hole at the bottom. It clangs against his beat-up, five-years-old phone.

He listens to the people. Most of the chatter is incomprehensible from the distance and blends together, like white noise for his thoughts. Some things he can pick apart, though – the voices he’s heard in more than a dozen visits to the Bunker, gigs or not. They talk about shitty politics like the rednecks they are, or complain about the weather or politics upstate. They whine about their wives and bad beer and neighbours who shoot their rifles at odd hours in the night, and praise hunting.

Some of his songs, he picked up here. They are snippets of conversations between life-long friends, or a man whose mistress had just found out she’s the other woman. Occasionally, people come here after they have been broken up with, and he listens, creating songs about them inside his head.

By the time he finishes his beer, the kid is just taking a break in the middle of a set. It’s his first time, judging by the lack of blood in his face and his feet shaking as he stands beside him, asking for a glass of water.

The kid looks at him. “You were great.”

All he gets is an empty glass of beer raised in a toast.

“Bellamy,” says the girl behind a bar, in a tender voice. “You should get some rest.”

The bartender is leaning against the bar, looking at him with the curves of her lips turned upwards. Her smile reaches her eyes and the look makes him not let his eyes wander to her chest, which is showing the slightest bit of skin.

Her smile drops a little and there’s the slight wrinkle between her brows when she frowns, studying him. “If you need somewhere to—”

Before she can finish, he slides her the fiver.

He doesn’t wait for the change. The night outside the bar is cold and harsh, cold wind nipping at his nose already. He wraps his scarf around his lower part of the face and tucks his hands into the pockets, his guitar hanging off his shoulder in its case.

His pace is slow, prolonging the walk to the park for about three, four minutes. He’s humming to himself the songs he never plays, and his fingers strum inside his pockets. There’s an old Johnny Cash song that crosses his mind next and when he closes his eyes, his shaky lips flutter even more. His leg muscles ache and his feet are swollen so when he finally reaches the park, he props them up on a bench he’s sitting on.

It’s a quiet park. It’s even quieter now, at nearly midnight on a Tuesday, when most residents are asleep or in the comfort of their homes, if they aren’t drinking themselves senseless while people, like him, sing to them. Polis is not really big for a park, so from where he’s sitting, in the very heart of it, he can almost see its every edge. There are wooden benches scattered around the place and several sycamore trees planted in ideal spots for people to sit under them, or have the whole view of Arkadia.

Now, these benches are slowly being covered in a thin layer of snow, soon to turn the park into a winter wonderland.

A few benches from him sits a girl. She’s wearing a crimson set of a beanie, scarf, gloves, and a black coat, shielding her face from him. Her hands venture into her pocket and take out a paper tissue, which she uses to blow her nose – not in the way people do when they’re cold. He then notices it’s far from the only tissue around her.

He’s never known how to deal with crying girls who aren’t his sister. This one isn’t his problem, but he can’t help thinking if she’s here, crying on a Tuesday night, maybe she’s just alone as he is – even though her clothes tell him she’s not in the same situation as he is.

So he does the only thing he’s good at – he takes out his guitar and strums it.

For a while, his fingers are playing a song of their own. His mind is wandering and he doesn’t know what to play for her. He’s bad at covering songs and none of his own seem appropriate, so he lets his brain go to a different place.

He’s not worried about her. He doesn’t particularly care, either. It’s simply that he’s cold and playing the guitar is going to warm him up, and she gets a free show.

continue reading

i’m tagging people who might be interested (and i couldn’t tag everyone for whatever reason): @the-most-beautiful-broom @283livesforone @starrydilemma @ivegotyoufor-that @diyozaa @sunnyemori  @sjh-07-10 @kickthatassgirl @youve-got-a-big-heart @batdonthavenicknamecallmequinn @brooke-b23 @shadowheron2013 @octannibal-blake @clarkegriffintitties @divergentseagreengirl @isaweetdreamworld @veeshthefrog @halfbloodduchess @bella-my-blake @meh-g @megggggglmao @b3ach-waves @bellarke-stydia-olicity @forevery0ungggg @autumnessprime @aromanticcomedies @garfieldyke  @mommabeargriffin  @claire3534

[izzyd03]

13 months after I posted the first chapter, I have finally finished! I’m actually really proud of this chapter, so, here you go!

@clarkegriffintitties @gaylienkarolina

[the100undiscovered]

Brightest Fire by nyxierose

Relationship: Octavia Blake/Lincoln

Word Count: 1313

Mood: Wholesome

Summary: "She leans down and kisses you with the brightest fire you have ever known, and perhaps you are being made whole as well."

Our Thoughts: The masterpiece is from the perspective of Lincoln, our gentle giant that we lost too soon. The delicate words fuse together to create a symphony of harmonious tones and lustful melodies. Truly a must-read for those who miss the soul connection between the two lovers.

[aadmelioraa]

I See You, Till Kingdom Come (Ch. 4: Questions)

After dinner, Octavia pulled Clarke upstairs to see the nursery. It was freshly painted a shade of light sage green, and apart from a few boxes in the corner looked pretty ready for the arrival of its occupant.

“Wow, you guys are ready.”

“Ready as you can be, I guess.” Octavia paused, considering her words for once before asking, “Clarke, can I be honest with you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you feel anything for my brother? I mean, I know you guys were friends forever ago, but…I just don’t want to see him get hurt. He hasn’t had it easy either, you know. I’m sure things are tough right now, but please, if you don’t feel anything back for him, just tell him before he gets himself in deeper. You have to know he didn’t move back here just for me.” Octavia’s bright green eyes searched Clarke’s face for understanding.

“I know, Octavia.”

“Ok,” her inquisitor relaxed, exhaling a deep sigh and taking a seat in the rocking chair by the window. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say any of that, but he’s my big brother. I’ve got to look out for him occasionally when I can. I owe him. Plus, if it were up to me, you guys would have gotten together years ago, but clearly, it’s not up to me.”

Clarke chuckled. “Man, you and Raven ought to get together.” She turned to the dresser and saw a stack of tiny onesies. They were mostly gender neutral, except for one that was embroidered with “World’s Best Niece” on the front in bright pink. She cracked a smile and held it up for Octavia.

“Was this—“

“From Bell?” Octavia grinned. “Yeah, he’s a real piece of work. He’s gonna be a great uncle though.”

“My ears were burning,” Bellamy appeared in the door, “Dessert’s ready, ladies.” Octavia pulled herself out of the rocking chair and walked over to kiss him on the cheek.

“Love you.”

“You too, sis.” He waited for her to walk downstairs before turning to Clarke. “Hey, I don’t know what Octavia said exactly, but according to Lincoln she may have just given you an earful, and I just wanted to say—“

“It’s ok, Bell. She’s right.”

“About?” He arched an eyebrow cheekily so as not to belie his nervousness.

“She just cares about you, that’s all. She wants to make sure I do, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. How about that dessert?”

Read more on AO3.

[scuttleboat]

About the Shipper

Okay this is show day for The 100, and for some reason I’m feeling a whole host of things, so I’m going to do a brief overview of my blog and fandom opinions, in case you’ve followed in the last year, and wonder what I think about stuff.

OTP: Bellarke

Other canon pairings I enjoy: monty/harper, murphy/emori, kabby, linctavia, bryan/miller, jackson/miller, raven/wick

That being said, I’m 90% a monoshipper so I read and write almost exclusively about bellarke, unless it’s part of a kink ficathon or something. My fanfic is under the name rashaka on AO3 and ff.net.

Favorite Characters:  Clarke, Bellamy

Other favorites:  Octavia, Monty, Raven, Indra, Emori, Murphy, Abby

Favorite non-romantic pairings:  Clarke/Abby, Octavia/Bellamy, Octavia/Indra, Bellamy/Monty, Murphy/Everyone, Raven/Echo (based on one clip alone, I’m sold!)

General Info:

I reblog a lot of gifs, and sometimes bellarke fanfic. 

I type A LOT but sometimes if there’s a big post going around I’ll just comment on it instead of reblogging. Sometimes I will write 1000 words of meta just going into deep detail about my love for a character, my love for bellarke, or an abstract idea presented in the universe of the show.  I don’t have the discipline for regular episode reviews, but I do post reactions/responses sometimes. This is usually tagged under #the 100 meta, or the character's name.

I love jokes and comedic posts. I will reblog a rickroll every time and laugh every time bc someone thought "bellarke kiss" was a real link. I have made posts specifically to LOL at fandom, including the 100 fandom, multiple times and will still do so bc fandom is a circus.

I'm kinda bitchy after 2am, which I consider my prerogative as an American. 😉

Most of the time my blog is fairly drama free, but sometimes stuff makes all the hair on my back rise and I'm like a hissing cat. This is unlikely to happen more than once every months or so, but it might increase over the course of an active season. Most of the time I keep my personal complaints to private conversation, like an adult.

I am fandom old, which means I'm the same age as Bob Morley, but I have better hair. He has two dogs though, so it's possible he's further in his life journey than I am. All snark aside, I don't really talk about the 100 actors that much outside of hot pics or 100-relevant interviews, and I wouldn't call myself a stan for anyone. That being said, here's the charity GoFundMe for school Eliza Taylor founded. It's good work.

Comportment:

I draw a strong line between fandom and The Powers That Be. I don't believe in sending ship stuff to actors, and I don't believe in @-ing negative stuff to the writers on Twitter. I think trying to recruit industry people to our ship, or trap them into saying they ship something especially cast or writers, is embarrassing at best and manipulatively harmful at worst. Please don't try to get the child actors involved.

Unfollowing:

You can unfollow me at any time, for any reason. I may also unfollow you at any time, and it might have nothing to do with the fandom. I follow so many blogs that I don't see everything on my dash, and I sometimes get people mixed up when they change their usernames.

I also unfollow people who post character bashing, particularly if it's a strain of "character hurt Bellamy so they're a monster" because A) fictional characters are not people, they have no agency to cause hurt IRL and have no feelings to experience hurt IRL, B) all the 100 characters do bad things and they all hurt each other, and c) I just don't want to hear the bullshit anymore bc it's probably insincere and it's almost definitely misguided. This isn't to say that I think negative reactions are bad, or disliking a character is bad, but it means I follow 600+ people and I won't miss reading crap that makes me roll my eyes that hard. If you're wondering why I mentioned Bellamy and not other characters, it's because I am an active bellarke shipper and he's far and away the most popular character in the shipdom, which means most reactionary stuff is framed around perceived injustices done to him. It makes it kind of exhausting to love his character so much yet also to disagree profoundly with how so many others experience and interpret him. So I unfollow often, and welcome people to unfollow me if my reactions to the show annoy them in a similar manner.

Also, on the topic of what is "bad" on Tumblr: having any feelings about a show in any direction is not an inherently moral or immoral thing. You cannot hurt fictional characters, you can only hurt the people who create them and the other people who consume them. It is accurate to say that the internet body politik influences how we perceive media and it influences how we talk about it, so it could follow then that moral and political opinions about media are influenced by our perception of political and moral issues. For example, I think fandom is ragingly sexist, and our fandom tips more that way than others I've been in, particularly in its revulsion towards motherhood. There's a lot more -isms I could add to that, and have in the past. HOWEVER, this is ultimately a television show, and we each bring to it a host of preconceived experiences and ideas that we apply to what we see on screen. Since I don't know what everybody else's brain looks like on the inside, I try not to assume that liking or disliking a story element is indicative of how that person sees the real world--because The 100 is not a real world. It is made up. OTOH, sometimes people outright say or enact the stupid shit that is in their heads, and I have a decently long memory for it. And I am trained to spot patterns, academically and professionally. So I do a lot of eye rolling. I'm not trying to say that as a brag, that's how my brain works. I wish it were trained to increase $$ but it's not, so more the fool me.

Also, I think about 89% of the soap-boxing in fandom is just a front for shipping grudges, so you can miss me with that. You can also miss me with the anti-Octavia stuff, the anti-Clarke stuff, the anti-Aurora stuff, the anti-Echo stuff, and the anti-Abby stuff. I'd say the anti-Bellamy stuff too, but literally like 2 people in four years have reblogged anti-Bellamy stuff on my dash, and that was deep in the dark times of CL drama, so I think that's covered.

That's probably way more than anymore needed to know, and I'm sure it will get buried in season premier stuff. But here you go. My passion for Clarke and Bellamy, for their individual characters and for their relationship, it's intense. It's probably more emotionally involved I've ever been in a pairing. Bellarke is... stunningly unique, as a ship goes, and I've been in fandom since I was a teenager so that is saying a lot for me.

TL;DR:

Bellarke is amazing, always leave comments on fanfic that you read, don't steal gifs or art, and ffs be cool about shit, it's only soccer.

[morleybell]

ok so. hiatus started I’ve decided to read more bellarke fanfictions and since I think leaving kudos/comments is not really enough I’ve decided to do something. every fanfic I read I’m gonna add on my blog in hope maybe someone else is gonna see it - read it and leave comment for the author. (What’s more I just really wanna have my fav bellarke fanfictions in one place on my blog. -here’s my selfish reason you got me)

Sent and Delivered

Social Media AU. lot’s of funny text messages, instagram/twitter posts etc. included pictures of delinquents. jealous clarke. clarke pov. wells n jasper are alive and happy. also minty and harper/monroe and linctavia.

(Anyway. once again i’m not adding it for notes or sth. this is NOT my fanfic, i just wish everyone is gonna appreciate it with me; tag using - best ff)

[chickadeetalks]

Come Catch Me, Cowboy

Yet another installment of my zoo AU, No You Can’t Feed the Tigers. Again, inspired heavily by actual events with Alligator Guy. Also on AO3.

Summary: Octavia's made a lot of impulsive decisions in her life, but deciding to work at a zoo based on one hot zookeeper might be one of the best.

“Hey,” Octavia grinned across the admission’s counter at the girl with messy dark hair on the other side. “I’m here to see Bellamy Blake.”

The girl smiled. “You must be Octavia! Bellamy left a note saying you’d be stopping by. Give me a moment and I’ll radio him.”

Octavia nodded, glancing around the gift shop while the girl relayed the message over radio. The shop was tidy, although small. T-shirts lined one wall while stuffed animals took up another. Standing towers of postcards, magnets, hats, and other memorabilia were scattered around the rest of the shop. Almost everything bore the logo of the Ark Zoo.

She was flipping through a book of animal facts when the door at the back of the shop opened and Bellamy entered, beaming at her. “Hey, O!”

She hugged him briefly before punching his shoulder lightly. “Look at you! My big brother the zookeeper, all set to handle dangerous animals.”

He laughed. “I’m working with the reptiles today. Want to see the employee side of the reptile house?”

“Duh,” she said, following him as they entered the zoo. He showed her around the zoo for a while, pointing out the animals he worked with and introducing her to a few of his coworkers. They were by the hoovestock yards when his radio beeped.

“Bellamy, could you stop by the alligator enclosure? We’re prepping for its arrival tomorrow and need some input.”

He unclipped the radio from his belt. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Bellamy looked over at Octavia. “You going to be okay here for a bit?”

She nodded. “I think I’ll be okay by the llamas, Bell. Go work.”

He grinned at her before heading off on the gravel path. She walked in the other direction, following the path around the farm animals.

She stopped to watch when she saw a group of sheep and goats in one enclosure running around. With some surprise, she realized they were being chased by a zookeeper in the enclosure with them. The zookeeper was tall and large, shoulders broad with muscles under his uniform khaki shirt. Tattoos wound around his arms and disappeared under his sleeves. His head was shaved except for a very short Mohawk down the center.

Octavia leaned against the fence, watching as he ran from one end of the enclosure to the other, obviously trying to wrangle two of the animals specifically. The targets appeared to be two brown and white sheep with a matching pair of curling horns. They were fast, but the zookeeper was right behind them the entire time as they raced around.

She’d never really understood the appeal of cowboys- why some girls went weak at the knees when they saw a guy on a horse or lassoing cattle. Watching this guy jump over the small rock walls in the enclosure as he chased after the two sheep, she had to reconsider her previous opinions. She could see the muscles in his back and arms ripple as he cornered the sheep and pulled one of them towards the other end of the enclosure by its horns. After he closed the gate behind the first sheep he went back for the second one, cornering it much more quickly. Once the gate was securely closed behind him and the sheep were stuck in the smaller part of the enclosure with him, he fashioned a quick halter out of some rope and used it to tie the sheep to the fence while he crouched down to check its hooves.

“Have you ever done rodeo?” Octavia asked idly as she moved to lean against the part of the fence closer to him.

He looked up from the sheep’s hooves. “Sorry?” His voice was surprisingly soft for such a large man.

“Have you ever done rodeo?” she repeated, grinning. “Because you definitely look like you get enough practice here.”

He laughed, a nice warm sound. “No, I never really thought of that. I guess I should think of entering next time the rodeo comes through.”

She watched as he gently lifted one of the sheep’s hooves and scraped some mud off the bottom before using a hoof clipper to clean the edges. “Have you worked here long?”

He nodded. “Going on two years now.”

“What other animals do you work with?” she asked, watching how carefully he handled the animal.

He checked another hoof. “All the hooved animals and birds,” he replied. “On different days, of course.”

“Which do you like more?” she asked.

He shrugged, standing and untying the sheep from the fence. It darted away from him as he went to grab the other sheep. As he tied the second sheep into place, he shrugged. “Both have their benefits,” he answered. “The birds are fun, but the goats other hooved animals have a lot of personality.”

“Goats have personality?” she repeated, grinning again.

“More than some people,” he joked, grinning up at her from his crouch by the sheep’s hooves. She felt the breath catch in her lungs at the brightness of his eyes and smile.

“Hey, O!” Bellamy appeared beside her. “Lincoln, how’s it going man?”

Lincoln shrugged, cleaning off another hoof. “The usual. Ready for tomorrow?”

“We better be,” Bellamy remarked, running a hand over his hair. “I don’t think anyone knows what we’re going to do with the alligator.” He glanced at Octavia. “By the way, this is my sister. Octavia, meet Lincoln.”

“I think we already covered that part,” Octavia smiled at Lincoln. “But it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Lincoln smiled up at her. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but-” he showed her his muddy and dust hands.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll have another chance for a handshake.”

Lincoln grinned at her again, bright and breathtaking. Bellamy cleared his throat. “Right, well, we should keep going. O, want to see the snakes?”

She winked at Lincoln before turning to follow her brother. “Hey Bell?” she asked. “Are there any open zookeeping positions right now?”

 Her impulsiveness had led her into quite a few interesting situations over the years, Octavia mused as she zipped through the morning traffic. She’d gotten a butterfly tattoo across her back at the age of eighteen after a bad breakup with her first boyfriend and an equally terrible fight with Bellamy. She’d spent a week on a beach in Mexico her junior year of college when she decided to change her spring break plans at the last minute. She’d bought a motorcycle without even knowing how to ride it just because she liked the way the chrome shone in the sunlight. Octavia was no strange to impulse decisions. As she parked her motorcycle in the Employee Parking lot next to the gift shop, Octavia couldn’t help but think this was the best impulse she’d ever had.

Even if Bellamy was convinced she was going to change her mind after two weeks.

She let herself into the zookeeper breakroom, opening the little locker that already had her name on it and dropping her purse into it. She grinned at the two people sitting at the table in the corner. “Hey, it’s Jasper and Anya, right?”

The girl nodded, standing and flipping her long brown braid over her shoulder. “You must be Octavia,” she looked her up and down before shrugging. “I guess you’ll do. Come on, I’m supposed to get you trained in on Area Five today.”

“That’s the small mammals, right?” Octavia clarified.

Anya sighed. “Yeah. Grab a radio and let’s get started.”

 Octavia didn’t see Lincoln until the end of her first day. She was riding with Anya in one of the little electric carts the keepers used to get around the zoo quickly as they checked to make sure all the guests were heading for the zoo exit for the end of open hours. Lincoln was walking along the path towards the keeper breakroom, a large Tupperware under one arm.

“Mind if I hop out?” Octavia asked Anya. “I’m kind of in the mood to walk.”

Anya shrugged. “I’m not slowing down.”

Octavia grinned. “Fair enough.” She hopped out of the moving vehicle just in time to fall into step with Lincoln. “Hey stranger.”

He grinned back at her. “I heard you were starting today. How was it?”

“Awesome,” she replied. “The foxes already like me. Minnie rubbed up against my legs like a cat.”

“She does that a lot,” he said. “She’s a sweetheart.”

“Were you with the birds today?” she asked, gesturing to the Tupperware.

He nodded. “Just about to head out.”

“Me too,” Octavia volunteered. “Any big plans tonight?”

“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled,” he said, eyes on her.

A grin spread slowly over her face. “How about you take me out for a drink?”

“Bellamy might kill me if I take his baby sister drinking,” Lincoln commented. “How about dinner instead?”

“Even better,” she agreed.

 Lincoln let himself into the sheep enclosure, grinning at Octavia as she leaned against the fence. “You sure you don’t want to help me catch them this time?”

She shook her head, grinning back. “I happen to like the view.”

Best impulse decision ever.

[stevesam-blog1]

Short tempered in more ways than one

Day 1 of “14 Days of the 100 Valentines Day” (check it out here )

“I’m too short to reach the top shelf and too stubborn to get a stool. You watched me take a running leap for it before you offered to grab the book for me.” Plus Modern AU Linctavia of course

 READ ON AO3

Why do they make these things so goddamn high? Octavia Blake is not a tall person okay. Something that has often worked to her advantage. She doesn’t have to stoop to enter doorways, and she can wear heels without the fear of towering over people. But right now she is cursing the fact that she isn’t an eight foot fucking giant. She huffs in frustration and stretches onto the tips of her toes, she cranes her entire body in the direction of the top shelf and she’s so close. She can almost touch the book. 

Octavia grunts and resists the urge to put her fist through the nearest wall. There’s probably a stool around somewhere that she could use, but fuck that. There is no way in hell she’s letting a fucking bookshelf do her in. Octavia takes a few steps back and glares at the faded red and blue spine of “Simester and Sullivan’s Criminal Law; Theory and Doctrine”. She’s getting her hands on that book if it fucking kills her. Without further thought she runs straight at the bookshelf and leaps for the book. She almost had it. It was literally in her grasp, before gravity started working and dragged her down to the ground. Bitch. She hit her wrist on the way down and she finds herself wincing as pain runs up her arm. 

“You, ahh need a hand?” Comes a quiet voice from somewhere on her right. She turns to find a guy awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and looking down at his feet. He’s wearing a black shirt, stretched tight over his, admittedly very fine, chest and he has a bunch of tattoos covering his arms and neck. He lifts his head to meet her gaze and Octavia can’t help but swoon slightly. He’s tall, dark and handsome, and she’s pretty sure he’s blushing just a little.

He raises his eyebrows, and she realises she hasn’t actually said anything yet. “Yeah!” she says quickly and way too loudly considering she’s in the middle of a library. “I could definitely use some help.” He just laughs, low and deep and the sound makes her toes curl ever so slightly. She points to the book which has been the bane of her existence for the past twenty minutes and he reaches up easily to grab it in one large hand. Octavia is a little awestruck watching the muscles in his back work. She wants nothing more than to reach out and touch the strip of skin that’s become visible between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He turns back to her and holds out the book with a shy smile. “Thanks.” Octavia grins and purposely brushes her fingers against his as she takes the book from his grasp. His touch is warm, fingertips calloused, and she suppresses a shudder at the thought of his hands on her skin. “No problem.” He looks down and shuffles his feet against the scratchy clue carpet. Octavia bites her lip.

He starts to leave, walking back to where he had first appeared. “Wait!” Octavia calls after him. He turns back around and Octavia thinks she see’s relief cross his face. She looks at him through her lashes and smirks slightly. “I think maybe you should give me your number,” she says. “You know, just in case I need help getting another book down.” She says innocently and bats her eyelashes for good measure. He’s biting his lip as if to keep his smile in check. He walks back towards her and fishes a phone out of his pocket. “I’m Lincoln.” She can’t help but grin in triumph. “Octavia.”

They stand there in the library talking while Octavia types her number into his phone. She’s obviously flirting, and he seems shy but he tells her quietly that he’s studying art and he minors in International Relations. When she mentions she’s doing Law he’s genuinely interested and starts talking about social justice and need for better legal aid lawyers. It’s kind of crazy considering the reason she’s studying law to begin with is because of her fucked up childhood. When she was fifteen and her mother died they’d wanted her to go into foster care and the only reason she didn’t was because of the legal aid worker. She wore cheap perfume and had a kind voice, and she’d helped Bellamy gain custody of Octavia and keep there broken family of two together. Octavia doesn’t tell Lincoln all that, just smiles and tells him she’s been wanting to go into Legal Aid for a while. 

The conversation draws to a natural close and she figures she should really go and work on her assignment that’s due on Monday. She already has Lincoln’s number so it’s not like she needs to keep talking, she can leave and text him later. But she doesn’t want to leave, she wants to keep listening to him talk about his crazy art professor and the time he went to a Cambodia. It’s only been fifteen minutes and she already likes him better than her last three boyfriends combined. 

“Well thanks for saving me from what was probably going to result in a broken bone,” she motions to the ridiculously high bookshelf above them. “Anytime,” he grins. “Although they do have stools for that exact purpose you know?” “Do I look like the type of girl to give in that easy?” “No.” He smiles at her like that’s a good thing. “My brother says I’m too stubborn for my own good.” Which is ridiculous considering Bellamy is the most stubborn person she knows. “I can live with stubborn.” He seems to realise what he said after a beat and flushes pink. He stutters and scratches the back of his neck, looking away from her. Octavia just bites back a grin. “Coffee?” she asks. He looks kind of startled and Octavia can’t help but laugh because she didn’t think it was possible for someone whose 6 feet tall and covered in tattoo’s to look so cute. “I, uh, I could do coffee.” “Great!” She practically skips out of the library with him following close behind.

(A week later she texts him, I can’t reach the flour in the top of the pantry. Think you could help?? He doesn’t reply but there’s a knock on her door not long after. She opens it to find him in her doorway smiling down at her. She stands up on her tiptoes and fits her mouth against his. It feels like the beginning.)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

All My Friends Are Heathens; Part 7

Master list of chapters is here

Part 6 is here

Summary: Echo makes a pass at Bellamy; Octavia gets into a car accident; and Bellamy is cooking up a plan to go out with Clarke.

Azgeda_Is_Life: Hey ;)

Iliad: This is a bad time Echo

Azgeda_Is_Life: Busy day shushing toddlers, huh?

Iliad: No, actually, that would have been preferable.

 I’m in the hospital with my idiot sister, who, while trying to butt in on my love life, drove her car into a ditch and gave herself a concussion when her eggshell of a skull slammed into the steering wheel.

Azgeda_Is_Life: 0_0

So this isn’t the time to ask you out then...?

Iliad: ASK ME OUT?

Did I fall into a parallel universe where you have forgotten that you used me to make your ex jealous senior year of high school and then dumped me as soon as he came back???

Or how about the time you tried to break me and Gina up???

Or the time you got so drunk you nearly killed Clarke with a baseball bat?? You remember those things right??

Azgeda_Is_Life: I’m sensing a little hostility here

Iliad: Oh damn I was hoping you’d missed it

*Iliad has left the conversation*

*Bellarke Forever <3 groupchat*

IceIceBaby: WTF u morons!!

Octavia wasn’t actually supposed to drive into the ditch!! 

Trikru: NO DUH

Jaaaaaassssppper: how were we to know the road was gonna be wet???

HeadBandWonder: maybe cause it was RAINING

TrashPrince: we should have used raven as bait again

we all know octavia can’t drive for shit

Greenbean: Raven Murphy cursed

i-make-it-go-boom: he lost the bet two days ago

nothing I can do now

my little garbage baby has grown into a trash monster

TrashPrince: that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said about me

HeadBandWonder: I believe it

MillertheKiller: Is Octavia ok????

Trikru: Bellamy’s texting me updates

she’s getting an cat scan right now

IceIceBaby: why aren’t u with her?

Jaaaaaasssssppper: careful lincoln mr steal ur girl over here is about to slide into her dm’s

Trikru: mama bear has, and I quote, “forbidden me to come near her for being such a reckless individual and endangering her life just to land him a girlfriend”

i-make-it-go-boom: ouch

TrashPrince: people get concussions all the time

she’ll be fine 

I’ve had like 6 concussions and no one was this worried about me

Guns&Roses: that’s because we LIKE octavia

MillertheKiller: u told us if we talked about u slamming ur head into a wall that u would cut out our tongues and wear them as a necklace

HeadBandWonder: i still have the video of u at Luna’s birthday, after u hit ur head on the bottom of the pool, screaming I’M TOUGH AS SHIT right before u threw up on the birthday cake

and u told me if i showed it to anyone u would make me disappear

i-make-it-go-boom: damn i’m dating a violent garbage monster

Jaaaaaasssssppper: send me the video

TrashPrince: i came out to have a good time and i’m just feeling so attacked right now

IceIceBaby: Once...

TrashPrince: WE GET IT ROAN

LET IT DIE PEOPLE

*Delinquent group chat*

Iliad: Octavia is back home now

she’s got a minor concussion and a broken nose

TheSuperiorBlake: MY BEAUTIFUL FACE IS RUINED AND U STILL WON’T ASK CLARKE OUT U MONSTER

I NEARLY DIED

Iliad: Simmer down commander of darkness, you only drove into a ditch. 

Trikru: SHE RISKED HER LIFE FOR U

JUST ASK CLARKE OUT ALREADY

Jaaaaaassssppper: come on dad

do it for the kids

Greenbean: this family is too dysfunctional

we need u and mom together

I’M HAVING SEPARATION ANXIETY

NurseGriffin: why r u guys like this?

TheSuperiorBlake: mommy dearest

my head hurts terribly and dad is being mean to me

TrashPrince: he’s a real menace

u should do something about him

NurseGriffin: bellamy our children would like u to stop antagonizing them ;)

Iliad: Then they should stop being such trolls

NurseGriffin: ur dad has a point kids

i-make-it-go-boom: who’s side r u on??

NurseGriffin: Bellamy’s since he brings me coffee during his lunch break and let’s me sleep on his couch when u assholes trap me in group texts like this

TrashPrince: JUST MARRY HIM ALREADY

i-make-it-go-boom: WIFE HIM UP

*Iliad direct messaged NurseGriffin*

Iliad: I apologize for our idiot children

NurseGriffin: they’re dedicated i’ll give em that

they’ve been trying to get us together since high school

Iliad: I’m surprised they’ve survived this long

NurseGriffin: how long do u think they’ll keep this up for?

Iliad: I dread the thought

Unless....

NurseGriffin: Oooohhhh please tell me Bradbury Blake is here to cause some trouble!! I miss that guy.

Iliad: ;)

We COULD fake date so they get off our backs

NurseGriffin: Like in the Proposal with Sandra Bullock?

Iliad: A great film

Truly iconic

But yeah, like that.

We let ‘em catch us having dinner or something and tell ‘em we’ve secretly been dating for months now. They’ll be so excited their plan worked that they get off our backs and we can finish this semester in peaceful bliss away from all their shenanigans.

NurseGriffin: our friends really are heathens

BUT LET’S DO IT!

Iliad: We really gotta sell it

Hold hands and share food and stuff like that

You know, so they stay off our backs

NurseGriffin: u want me to come by and drop some of my clothes off so it looks like i’m keeping stuff at ur place?

Iliad: perfect

NurseGriffin: AND I’M STEALING UR JACKET

i’ve wanted that thing for months

it’s all soft and smells like pine

Iliad: x_x How the hell do you know that?

NurseGriffin: ‘cause octavia stole it when u went camping with lincoln last month and i might have, sorta, stolen it from her and then hid it in ur laundry pile before u came home

Iliad: Are you the one that spilled coffee on it?

NurseGriffin: was kinda hopin u wouldn’t notice....

Iliad: I don’t mess around when it comes to laundry

NurseGriffin: sorry

Iliad: You can pick it up when you drop your stuff off.

NurseGriffin: 10 okay? I got one more class.

Iliad: Sure thing, princess.

*Iliad direct messaged Officer_Kane*

Iliad: Quick question

Is fake dating your best friend in an attempt to get her to fall in love with you considered catfishing? Murphy says no but I don’t really trust his knowledge of the law.

[sparklyfairymira]

We’re out of control (and some say we’re sinners) Ch. 2/?

Title: We’re out of control (and some say we’re sinners sinners)

Rating: M

Relationship: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Josephine Lightbourne/Gabriel Santiago | Xavier, John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Wells Jaha/Roan

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Gossip Girl Fusion, Social Media, Suicide Attempt, Murder, Murder Mystery, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, Self-Harm, Secrets, Everybody has secrets, Stalking, Thriller

Summary: In a world surrounded by the best of everything that money can buy, what could ever go wrong for the teens at Arkadia Prep? Nothing, or at least that’s what they thought until an anonymous Twitter account starts sharing secrets that they want to keep hidden. Oh, and there’s the dead body that shows up after prom.

Also known as a Gossip Girl inspired thriller.

Moodboard by the lovely @elora-lane​. Check out the beautiful art by @underbellamy​ HERE !!! It’s all so beautiful.

Read chapter 2 on AO3

[willexxmercer]

oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

A Blake Siblings fix-it fic.

“You shot him?” “Not fatally, but it was a good distraction.” “You’re developing quite the habit.” “I guess I have."

What if Bellamy had made the right choice back in season 3?

Even though I missed the entirety of the Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Edition 2.0 challenge, I was really inspired by the tropes and I really wanted to write for it, so here we go!  This is based on the tropes for Round 1: Canon Divergence

Mandatory tropes I had to include were: 1. Somebody lives or somebody dies 2. Protectiveness 3. Sunsets 4. A Dichotomy

I strongly recommend checking out the other fics in the Round 1 collection!

I have to give a HUGE shoutout to dylanobrienisbatman and thelittlefanpire for hosting this event!

@chopped100challenge

Check for the link in the notes!

[immortalcockroach]

I SHOULD’VE CARRIED US HOME

summary:  What makes Bellamy finally realize he loves his best friend is the weight of Echo's love.

pairing: Bellamy x Clarke, heavy mention of Bellamy x Echo

words: 1,923

Bellamy Blake is in love with Echo. It’s an unexpected love, something no one could've foreseen. It’s wild kisses and late nights spent making out when they should be sleeping, getting energy for work next morning.

Almost three years into the relationship—six years since Echo has joined his friendship group—Bellamy is lying in their bed after such night, mouth still hot and wet from her kisses. She’s lying next to him, asleep, curled around their duvet. It’s a warm night and he likes the feeling of late night’s breeze on his body.

He doesn’t usually take this long to fall asleep. At first, he blames the temperature in the bedroom and sets the thermostat right. When it doesn’t work, he opens the window.

That doesn’t work, either.

Now, he just lays in the bed, wide awake with a heavy burden on his chest.

His mind goes back to the first time Echo tells him she loves him. It’s a rainy day and they’re at Lincoln’s apartment, with Clarke, Octavia, and Lincoln preparing dinner in the kitchen. Echo and Bellamy are sitting in the living room and they’re doing nothing, just waiting.

Bellamy remembers how he feels his heart beating to the thumping of the rain on Lincoln’s broad windows, Echo curled into his chest.

He remembers stroking her hair and placing a kiss on the top of her head. He’s thinking about the dinner, about one of the three messing up, knowing it would most likely be Clarke. She’s not used to the couple’s way of dealing with things, and especially not cooking.

He feels the moment when she’s about to say it. At first, he doesn’t think he hears her well, but her fingers linger underneath his jaw and her eyes are closed. She’s vulnerable, for and to him, and he kisses her.

It takes him nearly a month to say it back.

At this moment, with Echo next to him, he wonders where they went wrong. At this moment, he knows that how he feels about her isn’t the way she wants him to.

The next moment his mind takes him to is when Echo proposes they live together, on a rainy day in August, a little over two years into their relationship.

They’ve just gone back to his place from a double date with Clarke and Finn. Bellamy remembers not liking something about the guy, and talking about that the whole way home.

“He’s not the right guy for her,” he says.

“She’s a big girl,” Echo says. “She can decide for herself. You don’t need to look after her.”

“She’s my best friend.” In the moment, that explains everything.

He remembers being pissed about the little things about Finn and every time Echo says he’s overreacting, he pulls the best friend card. Sometimes, it’s the she’s-like-a-sister-to-me card, too.

He doesn’t connect her suggestion of moving in together to this, at the time. Now he sees the jealousy in her eyes when he talks about Finn, and some distinct fire in her kiss moments before she pops the question. His mind, burdened with the fear his best friend is going to have her heart crushed by a douche, says yes without a second thought.

He knows, now.

He gets out of bed and drinks a glass of water. It’s cold and refreshing and when he looks at Echo, he hopes she would make him feel the same.

She doesn’t.

He loves her, he knows that. But he doesn’t know if he’s in love with her, anymore.

Or if he’s ever been.

He remembers their fights. They’re never about big things, but the one time they are, he leaves their apartment, only months before this moment. He doesn’t even need to think about where he’ll go.

Clarke opens the door with a bottle of beer and forces it into his hand.

“Drink,” she says, “you’ll feel better.”

He listens. They sit at the couch and he sees her desk light is on, even at nearly midnight, and her laptop is open on a medical journal and there are notes and printed papers all over her desk, and the coffee table, and on the counter.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She gives him a long look. He sees her hair is supposed to be in a braid, but the only reason he knows that is because there’s a headband at the very bottom of it. Her eyes are red and tired and she’s wearing a sweater and sweatpants he never sees her wear.

She chugs what’s left of her beer, goes get another bottle, and drinks some from it. “Finn’s girlfriend called.”

Her boyfriend’s girlfriend. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” She nods at him. “What about you?”

It’s his turn to drink. “Echo and I have been fighting for days.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

She raises her beer. “Cheers,” she says. Bellamy touches it with his own. “To the sad lovers who don’t want to talk.”

Bellamy echoes her words.

They drink and Clarke goes back to keeping her sanity intact with medical work for her next shift, or just exploring and learning, and Bellamy checks his presentations for his class tomorrow.

It’s a habit. They both drown themselves in work when they have no words to say.

At nearly three in the morning, Clarke walks up to him with another bottle of beer. “Wanna talk about it now?”

He does, and so does she.

By the time they’re both finished, it’s nearing six and neither of them has slept anything. So they both call in sick, Bellamy goes home to talk to Echo and Clarke goes on a lunch with Finn’s girlfriend, Raven.

He looks at Echo now, and wonders if they’d even be where they are now if he didn’t have Clarke.

A part of him feels immense guilt. The heavy burden gets heavier as he thinks about him and Echo and what it took for them to get to this point, and he realizes things he wishes he didn’t.

He thinks of the day they’ve had. Echo, waking him on a lazy Sunday morning with breakfast in bed. Soft kisses when he’s finished, and cuddling until it’s almost eleven and they really need to get out of bed.

Instead of lunching at home, she proposes they make a picnic, so they do.

He likes seeing her this breezy, happy. He loves the look in her eyes when she looks at him and knows she’d do whatever it takes to make him happy.

They go to a park. It’s not excessively romantic or excessively rich because he’s a college assistant professor and she’s a guard at a bank and they haven’t really got the money to afford something extravagant.

She brings music. She dances. Bellamy enjoys, but doesn’t participate.

When they come back, rain welcomes them at the doorway. He gives her a kiss under it. In the bed, they continue what they were doing and now she’s asleep and he’s wondering if he’s ever truly loved her the way she deserves to be loved.

He’s running out of love, and he cannot bear the weight of hers.

When she wakes in the morning, he hasn’t slept. They talk for hours and Bellamy gives her an explanation he deserves, and when she cries, the weight begins choking him.

He cries, too, because he’s not the man she deserves.

His heart belongs to someone else. It has, all this time. He makes a joke all the rains about their happiest moments should’ve been a sign.

They part ways amicably as it is. Bellamy’s going to need to look for an apartment as this is primarily hers, and he packs his stuff and crashes at Lincoln and Octavia’s.

He doesn’t tell anyone what happened.

He eats and sleeps and does his work and does his work and does his work and doesn’t sleep. Clarke is busy with her own life and Lincoln has his art and martial arts lessons and Octavia has a bike and police training and Jasper and Monty have their chemical activities and Harper and Monroe and Fox are on a vacation and Raven is on a seminar and Bellamy is alone.

So, he drinks. He thinks about Clarke and how he should’ve known it.

Octavia finds him drunk, dressed in the clothes from two days ago when he arrives home on a Monday morning, claiming he’s been in Las Vegas.

He doesn’t have a class that day. When he wakes up, at nearly midnight, he vomits and vomits and vomits until he’s sure he has no intestines left. Lincoln is by his side and he scolds him for treating himself like this, and makes him promise he’ll talk to Clarke.

“There’s only so much work to do,” he says.

Bellamy knows he’s referring to his habit. And he’s right, because Bellamy’s done all that had to be done and researched all he could and nothing even makes him happy anymore.

He gives Clarke a call later this week, and she tells him to come over.

It’s been nearly a month since he’s last seen her. It’s been nearly three weeks since he broke up with Echo.

This time, he says it at the door. “I broke up with Echo.”

Clarke, as always when she senses something bad happened, gives him a beer.

He puts it away.

“Clarke.” It’s a plea.

She lets him in and he sits on the couch and she sits next to him.

He says, “I love you.”

She smiles. “You’re saying this only because you’re hurting.”

“I broke up with her because I didn’t love her. And I couldn’t, because I love you.”

She’s quiet.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says. “You don’t have to love me back. I just needed you to know it. I’ve been keeping it from you too long, denying it even longer.”

“Bellamy,” she whispers.

“I know,” he replies.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I thought you were going to propose to her.”

“I never thought about proposing to her.” He never saw her as his everything; as his wife.

“I thought you were happy.”

“I was. Just not the way I should be in a relationship. I couldn’t. Not with her.” He knows she’ll read between the lines.

“Bellamy,” she whispers again.

He closes his eyes. Tries to savour the moment, because he knows that whatever happens next, everything changes.

He doesn’t have Echo. He doesn’t know what will happen with Clarke. He doesn’t have a place to live, he doesn’t have a best friend.

He should’ve thought this through.

Somewhere, deep, guilt starts blubbering.

Then he realizes why he couldn’t let Echo go – because she offered stability. She offered something he could rely on at every time of the day, a safe life he’s always thought he wants for himself. Because he knew her love and loyalty would never waver.

Loving Clarke is like jumping into an ocean without knowing how deep it is, what animals are in there, what kinds of currents moved the waters, or if you can swim.

It’s a risk he’s willing to take.

When he opens his eyes, he sees her cheeks glistening and her eyes red.

He takes the risk. He kisses her.

When she kisses him back, and he caresses her cheeks, wiping away the tears, he knows this is what he’s always wanted.

Not stability. Not certainty.

Deep, weightless love.

He feels Clarke’s words on his own lips.

“I’ve always loved you, too.”

[novalian]

You Came Back

Ficlet.Takes place at the end of Season 2, after Lincoln and Octavia walk through the gates.

Most of Trikru think the Sky People are weak; even those who came to respect them during their brief, doomed alliance value them for their intelligence and their curiosity, not any kind of power.

But they have a kind of strength his people can’t see because they never learned to look for it. On the ground, life is transient. You’re born, you live, and then you die. You love hard; you fight harder. You accept death the same way you accept the rub of fabric against your shoulders as you pass through a crowd, the current of a moving throng; ever-present, familiar and close; thick with the promise it’ll swallow you whole if you ever stop walking. You don’t fear it. Death smells fear - comes for the frightened first. You just walk for as long as you can.

The Sky People clung to life aboard a dying space ship, stuck in the dark and the cold without any possibility of escape. Meant to be a transitional generation; insignificant but for the link they provided in the ongoing march of humanity towards the ground. They hate death with a fury Lincoln’s people were never taught. They utter no greetings, no acceptance; they clench life in their fists like a stolen precious thing, and when their fingers are pried open they say only ‘May we meet again’. Hoping against hope that death will give them back to the world one day, or the world will meet them after; either option robbing death of its power to end and separate. Trikru says ‘Yu gonplei ste odon’; the Sky People plead for the fight to continue. Call it stubborn or childish – many of his people do. But it is incredibly hopeful, and in a world as harsh as this, to be hopeful is to be incredibly brave.

It is the first thing he tries to make himself, now that he is among them. Hopeful.

-

For a while, Camp Jaha looks like an infirmary, spilling out of structures and onto the dirt. It bears all the markings of one; the quiet, tentative movements of the healthy, who are too afraid to move lest they hurt their friends more, stepping gingerly around stretchers. The blood and the bandages; the smell of sweat and vomit. Abby’s panicked yelling when she hears that Clarke is gone holds the same kind of grief he’s heard a thousand times after battle. Soon it’s joined by more; two of the kids from the mountain are too badly injured to survive. When the first one dies, her parents scream. The second has no parents, but one of his friends sits and holds his hand until someone else covers him with a sheet and takes him away to be buried. Then there are the kids who have held out hope for all this time, only to find out their families never made it to the ground.

Lincoln wants to help, but there are enough people tending the wounded already, and Octavia is fine. He doesn’t know what to do. For the first time in his life, he’s ashamed to be Trikru, who left these people to die. He watches them in pain and feels himself shrink.

Octavia’s hand squeezes his and he looks down to see her gazing at him with so much affection he can feel it in his bones.

‘You came back,’ she says, as though she read his mind. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of.’

He gives her a shaky smile and squeezes her hand back, trying to believe her.