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Archive for the tag “the 100 (tv)”

The 100(TV) fic: Follow You Down

followThere are a lot of dangers on the ground, but Bellamy found out quickly that the scariest one was Clarke Griffin. She had ways of hurting him he’d never imagined, and yet, he keeps going back for more. Like a moth to a flame in the center of hell.

849 words | rating: PG-13


He watches her. From across a room. Across the camp. Trudging through the forest when he should be watching for danger. But then again, Clarke Griffin represents a real threat to Bellamy Blake. At first it was a threat to his authority. He’d taken advantage of his age and the uniform he’d stolen to influence the kids on the dropship. Years of indoctrination had them automatically looking to someone older to tell them what to do. He liked having the power for once. He liked the way the kids looked up to him. Were afraid of him. Except Clarke.

No, she had to stand in his way, constantly challenge his decisions, or just ignore his orders. He may have had a “no rules” policy, but she split loyalties. Created a wedge in the group. And Octavia was on her side. That stung the most. For the first time in his life, his sister didn’t have that hero-worship glean in her eyes when she looked at him. That wasn’t Clarke’s fault, but it was easier to blame her than himself.

Later, the danger became physical because everywhere Clarke Griffin went, pain seemed to follow. She attracted trouble like moths to a flame. She was always going off on some fool-hearty mission, and bringing back trouble. She just had to take a group to find Mount Weather. A group including Octavia. That right there put her on his shit-list. But then she came back minus one geek, an injured Octavia, and a grounder army on her tail. And then wanted to go back out and find Jasper. She’d talked him into that particularly crazy scheme. Manipulated him to be more exact. It wouldn’t be the last time—Clarke knew how to push every one of his buttons.

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The 100 (TV) fic: At the Center of the Night

sleep Bellamy/Clarke friendship

Sleepless nights send Bellamy and Clarke on a crash course to finally fixing their friendship. Post season 3.

2043 words | rating: R


I’m not even sure why I’m here. I was on my way back to my quarters, but took a wrong turn. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do. The hall is dark, the power low to reflect the late hour, and it’s quiet. Everyone went to bed hours ago. I think about turning around. I think about going through with it. I think about running for my life because I’m sure this might be the biggest fucking mistake of my life.

All of this runs through my head in the matter of seconds. While my brain is trying to sort it out, my feet get a mind of their own. Next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Clarke’s quarters.

This is okay. Isn’t it? We’re friends. After everything we’ve been through, it’s perfectly normal for one friend to call on another. I ignore the fact that it’s three in the morning. She said we needed each other. That had to mean something, right? And right now I need her. I need to talk to her. She always gets me like no one else can, not even Octavia. I need to talk to her. I need to see her face. To assure myself that she’s still here. That she isn’t some cruel prank my brain is playing on me. That she’s real, and she stayed this time.

She needed me.

And now I need her.

I hover in front of her door, rooted by indecision. On one hand, Lexa just died. It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me—I just want to talk. To spend time with her. We’re friends. On the other hand, the world is probably going to end in another month. There aren’t going to be many more somedays. I pull my hand back to knock, but then I hear footsteps.

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The 100 (TV) fic: Meanwhile, Life Goes On

meanwhileWith two new graves dug, Bellamy finally realizes he’s going to need help keeping everyone alive, but first he has to get everyone inside the walls.

1108 words | rating: PG


Bellamy finds Clarke sitting against a tree, staring at the freshly turned earth. The sun’s gone down, and it’s getting cold. Behind him, the kids are locking the camp down for the night. Threat of another Grounder attack blankets the camp with a layer of tension that weighs down everyone’s spirits. No one wants to be caught outside the hastily built wall, especially at night. Except one person.

Clarke hugs her legstight to her chest, face buried in her knees. Her shoulders rise and fall with each muffled sob. He has no idea what to say to her, butt if there’s onething he’s learned in the few days on the ground, though, it’s that you have to approach Clarke Griffin head-on.

Bellamy clears his throat. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

Clarke says nothing, but she tenses at the sound of his voice.

“Look, it’s getting dark. You need to come back inside the wall where it’s safe.” His eyes dart to the grave in front of her—one of two new ones dug yesterday.

“What do you care?” she murmurs into her knees.

Why does he care? Clarke has got to be the most frustrating person Bellamy’s ever met. She’s bossy, brash, and overbearing. It doesn’t matter what he does, she’s arguing the opposite side, making him second guess every decision, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. But then there are moments she takes him completely by surprise.

Two days go, he watched her plunge a knife into someone’s neck. She didn’t do it all cold and emotionless. No, not Clarke Griffin. She hummed, showing the compassion of a lover as she killed a boy to save him from a drawn-out, painful death.

Bellamy had threatened to kill Jasper in a moment of arrogant superiority. He really thought he could do it if it settled everyone down and put the kid out of his misery. It wasn’t murder if the kid was going to die anyway, right? But then Atom. He sat there watching his friend die, and he couldn’t do it. But Clarke could. In that moment, he’d seen someone entirely different from the pretentious, know-it-all princess he assumed her to be.

She lets out a sob then sucks it back in. Bellamy runs a hand over his face then squats down in front of her. “Hey,” he says, tapping her knee. “Clarke.” She refuses to look at him. He sighs, letting his hands dangle between his knees. “I know this is hard for you, but you need to come inside. It’s not safe out here.”

“Just leave me alone.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Not gonna happen, princess. I can’t leave you out here alone.”

“Why not?”

“For one, you’re not armed. And two, you’re not exactly in the best state of mind for making rational decisions.”

She snorts. “Because you’re such a great judge on rational decision making.”

He smiles—surprised that Clarke even has a sense of humor—then sinks down next to her. He rests his head against the tree, eyes fluttering closed. The air tingles his skin in an unfamiliar way. It feels good. It feels natural, unlike the recycled air on the Ark. A fight breaks out inside the wall, but he’s too tired to care at the moment.

“Are you really going to sit out here all night?”

Bellamy glances down at her. “If you’re staying out here then I’m staying out here.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He’s tired of dancing around the subject. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious, Clarke. These kids need you.”

She looks away. “Right, the kids need me.” She sniffles again.

“Clarke-”

“God, Bellamy, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Anger boils up. Why does she have to be so ungrateful all of the time? But then she starts crying again. Big, stupid tears spilling down her cheeks, soaking the knees of her pants. Something wrenches in his chest then drops to the pit of his stomach. He thinks it might be his heart.

He squeezes her arm gently. “Because you just lost your best friend, and you shouldn’t be alone. Because you’re the closest thing to a doctor we have. Because-” He sucks up his pride and catches her eyes. “Because I can’t run this place on my own. I need your help.” The other night made him realize that, because there are things he’s not prepared to do—can’t do. But Clarke never hesitates.

As if to highlight his point, the yelling from inside the camp gets louder. There’s a crash and a scream. Bellamy rubs at his tired eyes, letting his head fall back.

“What happened to ‘whatever the hell we want?’” She sniffles then wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket.

He groans. He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass. “Things are different now. The Grounders-”

“I’ll go inside,” Clarke interrupts, “if you admit you were wrong.”

He frowns at her, trying to hide his relief. “Wrong about what? No one suspected there were people on the ground.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “That’s not it.”

Bellamy stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Wrong about how useless princesses are?”

“Close, but no.”

He bites back a smile at her eye-roll then reaches a hand down to her. She stares at it for a few seconds before gripping it tightly. He easily lifts her to her feet but doesn’t let go. Her fingers are cold but soft—so different from his own covered in cuts and callouses. His thumb rubs over her knuckles as he steps closer.

“Fine. You were right,” Bellamy says softly. “We need rules or someone’s going to get hurt.” They both look at the mounds of dirt marked by simple wooden crosses. He sighs, letting her hand slip from his. “Maybe if we work together we won’t be digging graves every other day.”

Clarke sniffles then wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. When her entire body trembles, Bellamy puts a gently hand on her shoulder, turning her towards camp. She goes without protest, his hand sliding down her arm as they walk. He squeezes her hand once when they get to the gate. She gives him a weak smile then walks in ahead of him.

Bellamy takes one last look into the dark forest then glances at Miller standing guard. “Anyone else missing?”

“You’re the last.”

“Good. Lock ‘er up,” he says, twirling his finger in the air as he follows Clarke. At least they’re all safe for one more night.

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences~*~Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, in progress, for your cat — whatever.~*~

Bellamy doesn’t let him pass. “How about you go talk to your girlfriend and leave Clarke alone. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“She apparently doesn’t want to talk to you either.”

“Which is why I’m here and she’s there and we’re not talking. See how that works?”

–from my modern au The 100 fic

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences
~*~Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, in progress, for your cat — whatever.~*~

Bellamy suddenly clamps his arms around her with a growl.

“Quit wiggling around,” he says into her ear, voice rough.

Clarke bites down on her lip to keep from laughing. “Sorry.”

Bellamy leans his forehead against the back of her head and shakes it. “You’re killing me, princess.”

–from an untitled modern au The 100 fic in which everyone goes camping.

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences
~*~Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, in progress, for your cat — whatever.~*~

Strong hands caught her, setting her back on her feet. She remembered a second too late that she was wandering around the forest alone, not at all paying attention to her surroundings. Bellamy would be pissed.

Sure enough she looked up into dark, angry eyes. She felt her face flush, sending prickles down her neck as the heat of embarrassment fought with the sting of the winter air.

“What are you doing?” Bellamy demanded, dropping his hands.

–a random The 100 fanfic (aren’t they all–one of these days I might actually finish one)

Last Lines

lastlines_072116

Bellamy tosses another clump of dirt away. “Finn is a nice guy; he’s just a dumbass. He didn’t think he’d see Raven again, but he should have told your right off the bat.”

–a random The 100 fic

Last Lines

lastlines_072016

“I’m gonna take a quick shower-” She starts to get up but I gently press her back down. “I’ll be like fifteen minutes.” She takes the water but just turns the bottle around and around in her hands

–a The 100 fic

Last Lines

lastlines_071916

My heart thuds painfully against my chest, threatening to tear free. I’m pretty sure Clarke can hear it. It takes effort to keep my breathing steady.

–A The 100 fanfic (that’s pretty much all I write any more)

Six Sentences on Sunday

sixsentences

~*~Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, in progress, for your cat — whatever.~*~

He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Just saying you have that look about you.”

“What look?”

“Like you have a Titanic-size stick up your ass.”

Monroe nearly snorts beer out of her nose. Traitor, Clarke thinks.

–From a modern AU The 100 fic I’m working on.

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