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The 100 fic: Fall to Pieces

falltopieces.jpg
The 100 | 1454 words | [PG]
Canon divergent. After a year on the ground, Bellamy and Clarke are finally ready to confront their feelings. As long as Bellamy doesn’t break his neck first. Written for April Camp NaNo.


By Clarke’s calculations, they’ve been on the ground for around 380 days. It’s the end of September. Or maybe it’s early October. It’s hard to tell. The chill of autumn has chased away the sweltering heat of July and August, but summer is making a last stand. The sun that filters through the treetops tickles her skin, leaving little goosebumps down her arms. She glances to her side—those might be from another reason, though.

Next to her, Bellamy’s hair flutters around his head in the warm breeze. He repeatedly shoves it out of his eyes with a huff, but it does no good. Watching him try makes her grin.

“You need a haircut.”

He snorts. “Thinking of making a career change to hair stylist, princess?” he asks without any of his usual derision. He shoots her a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and releases a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

Clarke looks away before he can see her blush. She’d never hear the end of it. If there was one thing Bellamy was good at it was teasing her. He knew how to push all of her buttons. Which, she has to admit, isn’t always a bad thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him still smiling. It looks good on him. She wishes he would do it more often. “Why are you in such a good mood?

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t believe his innocent act for a second. And she’s not going to fall for his charm. Not much anyway. She narrows her eyes at him, hoping she looks more stern and less like he has her insides doing gymnastics. “You’re acting weird. What are you up to?”

“Are you always this suspicious?”

“When it comes to you—yes.”

They stare at each other a moment before they both crack a smile. Bellamy shrugs. “It’s a nice day. I don’t have to deal with the whining back at camp. What’s not to be happy about?”

He has a point. It does feel nice to get a break from the monotony of camp where everyone constantly needs her attention. Bellamy, though, seemed especially eager to get away when she mentioned she needed an escort to the river. Usually, he pawned babysitting off on one of his gunners—Harper or Monroe went with her a lot. This time, he jumped at the opportunity then looked embarrassed by his enthusiasm. It was kind of cute.

Bellamy hops onto the crumbling remains of a wall. She watches him balance along it like a tightrope walker, arms out, as he climbs higher.

“You’re going to fall,” Clarke says, blocking the sun with her hand as she watches him cross the wall ten feet in the air.

“I’m not going to fall. Will you relax, Clarke.”

She rolls her eyes. Why did he have to be such a pain? “One of us has to be responsible.”

He ducks under the branch of an overhanging tree and looks down at her. “You think I’m not responsible?”

She squints up at him again. She can’t really see his face with the sun blinding her, but she imagines his annoyed look. “Not with your own life. Not really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounds genuinely offended.

Clarke shrugs. “When it comes to your own safety, you don’t seem to care much.”

“I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

“I know, but you don’t have to risk your own life to do it.”

He cocks his head. “So who’s life should I risk? Monty’s? Jasper’s? Yours?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about so quit acting like a jerk and get down here.” She bites her lip when he wobbles a little, but he recovers effortlessly. She’s pretty sure he did it intentionally just to give her a heart attack.

“Now I’m a jerk?” At least the devilish grin is back on his face.

Her heart flips. She’s not sure if it’s from that look he gives her or the fact that he’s one wrong step away from breaking his neck. He eyes a tree a good five feet from the wall.

“Bellamy-” Clarke warns, but as usual, he doesn’t listen.

He jumps, snagging the branch easily. His smirk lasts about three seconds. Then the branch gives with a loud crack. Bellamy lands with a thud on his back, the air rushing out of him in a groan.

Clarke runs over, sliding to her knees next to him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes roll back as he fights for breath, but eventually, he gasps. Clarke lets out her own relieved breath then smacks his chest. “I told you to be careful.”

“No, you didn’t.” He pries a rock out from under him, tossing it into the woods. “You just said I would fall.”

“And you did.”

Bellamy gives her a crooked grin. “Still didn’t tell me to be careful.”

She smacks him again. Sometimes she thinks he argues just to annoy her. “You didn’t give me a chance. Besides, it’s implied, smartass. Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

Clarke helps him sit up, watching him carefully for signs of injury. He seems okay. “You know, there are easier ways to impress me.”

His face flushes scarlet. “Why do you think I’m trying to impress you?” he sputters, voice sounding a little strangled. She has to bite back a smile because his awkwardness is adorable.

Neither of them says anything for a long time. They’ve been dancing around their feelings for over a year. It’s exhausting. She’s about to tell him she’s tired of playing games, but he cuts her off.

“I wanted to spend time with you. Is that such a bad thing?” Bellamy says softly. He picks up a twig and nervously breaks it apart. “We’re both always so busy.”

Clarke sucks in a sharp breath. She didn’t expect him to come right out with it, but now that they’re actually talking about this, she’s a little terrified. She swallows hard but the lump is still stuck in her throat. “If you wanted to spend time with me you could have just asked. You didn’t have to fall out of a tree to get my attention.”

Bellamy ducks his head. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“Uh-huh.”

His cheeks are still rosy, but Clarke sees the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “For reference in the future, what do I have to do to impress you?”

Her heart does another backflip. “For starters, just tell me when you want to hang out instead of elaborate plots to get me alone.”

He blushes again—it’s charming how insecure he is right now. “What if I want to do more than hang out?”

His eyes widen. She’s not sure who’s more surprised by his confession. Before he can take it back, she leans closer. “Then quit being a baby and make a move.”

She can see the moment he realizes she’s serious. He cups her face slowly—giving her a chance to change her mind. It makes her love him even more. The second their lips brush, an explosion of desire chases the butterflies away. Clarke’s entire body vibrates. The heat between them burns her skin, but she can’t get enough of it. She tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck causing Bellamy to growl. The sound makes her head spin. She’s lost and doesn’t care if she’s ever found. How does he even have this effect on her?

When they finally pull apart, Bellamy’s pupils are shot, giving him a dazed look. “Wow,” he murmurs, breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Clarke’s heart threatens to beat right out of her chest. The way he’s looking at her right now might be the most beautiful thing on Earth. And it took way too long for her to find it. She pulls him closer—she’s tired of waiting. “I think I do.”

This kiss is sweeter. Tender. It’s a side of Bellamy she wouldn’t have believed existed a year ago. She’s glad he’s finally showing it.

“Am I impressing you yet?” he says against her lips.

Clarke laughs. “Bellamy, you’ve been impressing me since the day we met.”

He leans back, eyebrow cocked. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

She pretends to think. “I’m not sure. You might have to kiss me a few more times-” He doesn’t give her a chance to finish. Which is fine. Clarke can’t remember what she was talking about anyway. It may have taken 380 days, but it was worth every argument and smartass comment it took to get here. Well worth it.

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The 100 fic: Us Against Everything

usagainsteverything.jpg

[Bellamy/Clarke]
Canon divergent. With a brutal winter ahead, Bellamy realizes there might be more than friendship growing between him and Clarke. Written for April Camp NaNoWriMo: breathe.
1539 words | [PG]


Bellamy gets back to camp late. It’s hard to tell the exact time with it getting dark so early, but he figures it must be after nine. The sun went down long ago, and it’s abysmally cold. He blows into his hands, trying to warm his numb fingers. Two fires are burning, but the space around them is empty of their usual laughing kids.

Sterling and two of the other guys he’s with make a beeline for the fire, practically holding their hands in the flames. The other three high-tail it into the dropship. Raven and Monty are still working to get the heat going, but eighty-something bodies crammed into a tin can keeps them warm enough for now. It’s better than being outside anyway.

It’d taken all day, but they’d finally buried the three they lost last night–Edith, Jerome, and Bennett. Edith was only fourteen and down here for talking back to a teacher. He shakes his head. He still can’t believe what they did to these kids. Sure, some of them were hardened criminals. There were killers and rapists among them, but most of the kids were arrested for petty stuff—shoplifting, fist fights, hoarding. It’s almost as if they knew they needed the bodies to fill the dropship so they arrested the kids for anything. Bastards.

His body aches, but he still goes down the line, checking the tents to make sure everyone has moved inside. As he nears the dropship, he hears something in the darkness. His hand drops instinctively to the hatchet at his waist. He approaches slowly. Someone gasps then goes quiet. Crying. He finds Clarke leaning against the dropship, wiping away the tears with her fingertips as if trying to erase the evidence. He’s not sure what he thinks about that.

Bellamy looks around, wishing one of her friends would suddenly appear. Monty or Raven or Octavia. Someone that isn’t him. They’ve been getting along okay the last few weeks, but that doesn’t mean he wants to listen to her blubber about whatever girl thing is bothering her. Of course, there’s no one in sight. He wants to leave her, but an instinctive force compels him forward.

He’ll probably regret this. “You okay, princess?” His voice sounds rougher than expected. Must be the cold.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles, not looking at him.

Of course she is. He steps closer. “Then come inside; it’s cold out here.”

Clarke laughs flatly, her breath hanging in the air for a few seconds. “It’s cold in there, too. It’s cold everywhere.” She sniffles, covering her face with her hands.

Bellamy taps his finger against the hatchet. Definitely going to regret this. Joining her against the dropship, it’s obvious why Clarke picked this spot. He can’t even see camp from here. Their world is suddenly nothing more than trees and brush. And darkness. It’s comforting and intimidating. Vast yet intimate. He listens to Clarke cry softly. He thinks he understands. He’s just as frustrated. Just as scared. He worries about everyone constantly.

It used to be just Octavia. He came down to protect her—his sister, his responsibility—but instead, he gained ninety-eight other brothers and sisters. They’re down to eighty-two at last count, and every death weighs on his mind. Every grave dug takes a bit of his soul. The deaths seem nearly daily now which is why he ordered everyone inside tonight. Too little, too late. They’ll be lucky to make it through winter. They’ll be lucky to make it through the month. If the cold doesn’t kill them, they’ll starve to death soon enough. He leans his head back with a sigh. He doesn’t know what else he can do.

“I can’t save them,” Clarke whispers, mirroring his thoughts.

Bellamy looks over at her. Her arms are wrapped tight around her as she stares into the darkness. He doesn’t know what to tell to her because the weight of those eighty-two lives crushes him, too. “We’ll figure it out,” he finally murmurs. Because what else can he say?

“We’re going to die.” She sniffles again.

He hates seeing her cry almost as much as Octavia. He reaches for her without thinking but stops, hand hovering uncertainly over her shoulder. She looks up at him with desperate, watery eyes. Something cracks in his chest, letting a warmth rush in. He slips his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close.

He’s surprised when Clarke wraps her arms around his waist and settles her head on his shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out,” he whispers.

“How?”

He has no answer. “I don’t know, but the two of us together can do this.”

“But they keep dying. And I can’t save them.” She sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sob. Bellamy tucks her head under his chin, rubbing little circles on her back like he used to do for Octavia

“You’re not a doctor, Clarke. You’re doing the best you can. I should have made everyone move into the dropship days ago.” He swallows hard. “You warned me, and I didn’t listen. So if anything, it’s my fault.” He keeps making one mistake after another. He just buried three of them.

“It’s not going to be enough. There’s still no heat. Food and water are low which is making everyone edgy. The bullies are preying on the other kids-”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“And even then our chances are slim. All it will take is someone coming down with a virus. Everyone packed in close quarters is a recipe for disaster. Everyone will get sick and they’ll die.” The words tumble out.

He cups her face in his hands. “Clarke, breathe.”

She grabs his wrists, gasping for air as she fights to regain control. Bellamy finds it more than a little unsettling to see her like this. He’s come to rely on Clarke to be strong. He looks to her for guidance. If he sees that almost imperceptible nod of approval or the little twitch of her lips when she’s trying not to smile, he knows he’s on the right track. He needs Clarke. The thought blindsides him, but the moment he thinks it, he knows it’s true. A sudden lump in his throat threatens to choke him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against hers. “We’re going to get through this,” he tells her firmly, trying to convince himself as much as her. “You and me.” He’s not really sure what he means. His words are filled with more meaning than he’d intended.

“Do you really believe that?” she asks.

“I do. We can do anything together.”

When he opens his eyes, her penetrating gaze meets his, sending his heart racing. Damn, when did this happen? When did Clarke start having this effect on him? He’s not sure he likes it, but he can’t look away. She slowly licks her lips—his eyes tracking her tongue. Why is he thinking about kissing her now? This is not the time. No, there is never a time because it’s never going to happen.

Then why does she seem closer than she was a second ago? Did she just look at his mouth? He’s suddenly not very cold anymore. In fact, he feels sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Crap. He doesn’t want this. His life is complicated enough without falling for Clarke. They can barely stand to be around each other half the time.

Before he can do anything stupid like kiss her, he tugs her into another hug. Her arms wrap around his neck this time. He wishes he knew what she was thinking because his thoughts are bouncing all over the place. They keep landing back on how good it feels with her in his arms. How he never wants to let her go. How much he wants to kiss her. He shivers at the thought.

Clarke steps back with a sigh—almost reluctantly. She wipes her eyes and laughs. “I’m a mess.”

Bellamy bites back a smile. “We’re all a mess, Clarke,” he says, wiping his grimy hands on his even grimier shirt.

“I meant on the inside.”

“I know.” Her eyeroll settles his nerves. They’re going to be okay. They have to be because he’s not sure he can do this without her. He doesn’t tell her that, though. He bottles up all of the emotions—all the urges— raging through him then clears his throat. “We should get inside before we freeze to death.”

Clarke grabs his wrist. “Promise me, Bellamy,” she says, voice cracking. “Promise we’re going to make it.”

The lump is back, making it hard to breathe. Her hand slides down until their fingers tangle together. He can’t make that promise, and she knows it. But he nods anyway. “I promise.”

She gives him a weak smile then squeezes his hand once before letting it go. She squares her shoulders then marches out of the shadows and into the light of the fires glowing in front of the dropship. Bellamy follows her because he has no other choice. They’re in this together, and they will make it. Together.

Poetry from a friend

clouds-deansearle

(c) 2009 Dean Searle via flickr.com

As I sit
by Javier Mendoza

As I sit alone on the edge of a cloud,
Whistling a heavenly tune,
While watching the beauty of nature surrounding me,
Feeling the love from everything of life,
I had to let go of things that
Society had blinded me with:
Corruption, ignorance, materialism,
the imitation of treacherous people.

I had to look away from all of the hatred,
The destruction of our planet,
The destruction of our country,
The destruction of our people,
Even ourselves.

As I sit here so blissful, meek, and enlightened.


I’ve known Javier since he was five years old–over thirty years now. He went to kindergarten with my younger brother, and they became fast friends. My mom sort of adopted him, and watched out for him growing up. He became a brother to us. I remember how devastated he was to learn that my mom had died. I think he cried harder than I did at her funeral. To this day he opens every message to me with, “hey sis…”

Looking at him you’d see this big, bald Mexican guy. He’s intimidating. But underneath he’s so sweet and thoughtful. You’d never suspect that he writes deep, beautiful poetry. I love him to death.

[repost] Stargate Sg-1 fanfic: Plans Change

samjack_hearttalkThis is one of the first SG-1 fics I ever wrote, back in 2010. I remember I spent a very long, tiring morning wrapping presents for my kids. It was around four in the morning when I finished putting them out and sat down at the computer to relax. The story idea hit me, and I spent the next few hours writing. I think I might have laid down for a half hour before the kids go up. I’ve fixed some grammar errors in it.


Plans Change

by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Stargate SG-1
(Jack/Sam UST), Daniel, Teal’c
5253
words
rating: PG-13
WARNINGS:

Sam’s Christmas plans change unexpectedly. But that can be a good thing. A Christmas fic.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.


Plans change. It happens every day to just about every person on the planet. The odds of plans not changing for a person are one in… Well, really high. Sam didn’t much feel like figuring out the math at the moment. Her plans had changed. She sat staring at the half packed duffel on the floor by her feet and sighed.

First she got a message from the SGC saying her dad couldn’t make it back for Christmas. Apparently the Tok’ra didn’t celebrate or care. Or he just hadn’t bothered telling them why he needed time off. No problem. She could accept that her dad was now some alien hybrid super hero off making the galaxy safe for all beings. It’s what he did. It’s what they all did. She understood, but didn’t relish having to try and explain it to her brother… without actually explaining anything.

It ended up not being a problem. She was half-way through packing her bag when the phone rang. She didn’t bother to check the caller ID, holding the receiver between her cheek and shoulder.

“Carter.”

“Wow, is that how you answer your phone?”

A smile spread across her face at the sound of her brother’s voice. “Hey, Mark. I’m almost packed, and my flight leaves at 1300, uh, 1PM this afternoon-“

“Yeah,” he said slowly, his voice changing subtly. “That’s what I was calling about.”

Sam had sighed and thrown herself face first onto her bed as she half listened to her brother’s excuse. The first Christmas she had off in years, and both her dad and brother blow her off. Plans change. Read more…

Angel fanfic: It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Angel
Angel, Cordelia, Wesley
1538 words
rating: G
WARNINGS:

It’s the first Christmas for Angel Investigations, but Angel isn’t really in the mood. Too bad Cordelia has other plans. Set in season one sometimes after Doyle died.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.


“What’s all this?” Angel asked, pushing aside the cage door of the elevator.

Cordelia balanced on a chair, a string of brightly colored lights in her hand. She smiled down at him. “It’s Christmas, silly.”

“Yeah, but what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

Angel crossed his arms. “It looks like you’re decorating my office with Christmas lights.”

“Ding, ding. Ten points for the vampire with the grasp of the obvious.” Read more…

Original Fiction: Hallmark Doesn’t Make a Card for That

Written for my fiction workshop class. The focus was dialogue. I don’t know why I changed the names, but I based this off of my “The Story” characters of Tucker and Sarah. It’s funny because I kind of like the new names.

(c) EMILY SKOLOZYNSKI 2010/US Army

(c) EMILY SKOLOZYNSKI 2010/US Army

Hallmark Doesn’t Make a Card for That

The numbers all blurred together. This was the part of Emma’s job she hated the most–the part that involved math. She erased another error. If she hurried she could still make her date with Derek. She glanced around at all of the books needing to be shelved. Really hurried.

The bell above the door tinkled. She hated that bell. “We’re closed,” she said without looking up from her scribblings. Shoes squeaked across the linoleum floor. With a sigh, Emma raised her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re-” Her words trailed off, all thought abandoned at the sight of the man standing in front of her. “Cooper,” she whispered. Read more…

Stargate SG-1: The One About Feelings

The One About Feelings
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Stargate SG-1
Jack & Daniel friendship
516 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS:

“There are things I want to talk about, things I’d like to tell him. Serious stuff.” Daniel and Jack are spending some time at Jack’s cabin but Daniel has other things on his mind than fishing. Not slash.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.


Jack sits across from me with his eyes closed. We’re at his cabin in Minnesota—just the two of us—for some team bonding. Teal’c was supposed to be with us but he decided to go see Rya’c. I can’t say anything bad about that. If Sha’re were still alive I sure as hell would be on my way to Abydos any time I got a break. Sam chickened out at the last minute. Sure she said there was some symposium or something in L.A. But I still think she chickened out.

But it’s not bad. We’ve been here three days and it’s been quiet. Jack likes to fish. Sometimes he just sits on the dock with his bare feet dangling inches from the cool water, other times he takes out his little aluminum boat. I go with him, I don’t go with him, he doesn’t seem to care either way. It’s a side of Jack I’ve rarely seen—completely relaxed, in his element… happy.
I watch him now, draped over the Adirondack chair, head tilted up to the last rays of evening sun, eyes closed. There are things I want to talk about, things I’d like to tell him. Serious stuff. I open my mouth a couple times but close it without uttering a sound. I take a sip of my beer—my fourth—and feel the liquid courage working in my gut. I’m about to blurt it out when he opens his eyes and stares hard at me. It’s like he can sense when I’m going to get all sentimental and “touchy-feely.”
Read more…

Stargate SG-1 fic: Three Dialogues

I make some apology for these, lol.  The challenge was to write three stories that were dialogue only.  I admit these are a bit OC but I wanted them to be fun.

There’s a Reason
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Stargate SG-1
team
303 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS:

Jack has a little fun with Sam while visiting the SGC. Takes place some time after season 10. Written for the dialogue only challenge at stargateland.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.

“Jack?”

“What?”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just so unlike you.”

“Maybe it’s just like me and you really don’t know me that well.”

“I think I do and-”

“Daniel.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to work this out.”

“… It’s just you always said you didn’t want to risk your career. Or Sam’s. So why now?”

“It’s just time. I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

“But why?”

“Daniel-”

“I’m just saying, it’s risky.”

“Anything worth anything is.”

“O’Neill, Colonel Carter approaches.”

“Hurry and hide. And don’t you dare interfere.”
Read more…

Original fic: Camp Out (the story)

This was started as a response to challenge #13 at [info]fictionland .  We just had to write for 10 minutes and post what we wrote.  Pretty simple.  At the time my oldest daughter, Meagan, was having a camp out in our backyard with her sister and two friends (4 kids in our HUGE 10 person tent… it fits 3 queen sized mattress with room to move around, lol).  This came easily after spending 30 minutes putting the tent together.  At least it’s getting some use, I guess (the kids have slept out there almost every night since then).

Camp Out
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
original
Sarah/Tucker
1056 words
rating: G
WARNINGS:

Sarah and Tucker spend the night camping out in the backyard.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.

Metal and fiberglass poles snap into place with a quiet clinking then whisper through their sleeves. Sarah giggles from her spot on the lawn chair as she reaches high over her head.

“Hold it steady,” Tucker grumbles. He’s outside trying to get the poles to slip into their slots. It’s not as easy as it looks. Or so he tells Sarah.

Sarah has never camped for real. Her parents didn’t have time for those kinds of adventures. The closest she ever came to a tent before Tucker was stringing her blankets and sheets over all the furniture in the living room. Her mother made her take it down when she saw it. Said it was messy. But their summer weekend ritual is enough for her now.
Read more…

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