#i think when bellamy died i was so numb to it that i never really processed how upsetting this all was on so many levels | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chronictonsillitis · 3 years ago

Text

once bitten (1/?) - Bellarke (explicit, mafia, a/b/o, arranged marriage)

Clarke is 17 when she meets the man she’s going to marry.

It’s nothing romantic at all. There’s no lightning, no fireworks, no fabled mate bond snapping into place. The alpha just looks her up and down, turns back to her new stepfather, and says: “She’ll do.”

She barely has a chance to get a look at him before she’s hustled off: Bellamy Blake, capo of New York Outfit. He looks— young. Much too young for the sort of reputation he’s already amassed.

The Rebel King, they call him. And now, her fiancé.

***

written for @t100fic-for-blm for ao3 user Who_needs_reality

ao3 or

Clarke is 17 when she meets the man she’s going to marry.

And that’s it.

She barely has a chance to get a look at him before she’s hustled off: Bellamy Blake, capo of New York Outfit. He looks— young. Much too young for the sort of reputation he’s already amassed.

The Rebel King, they call him. And now, her fiancé.

It’s not until later that Clarke is told of the arrangement.

It’s normal, in her world. Clarke never expected to be allowed to marry for love, but she never really considered the alternative either. Perhaps if her father hadn’t died, if her mother hadn’t immediately married Kane, if Marcus’s claim to leadership had been a bit less shaky, if he’d had any children of his own; maybe Clarke would’ve had more choice, and more time. But she doesn’t. Being engaged to a man she’s seen once before she’s even graduated high school isn’t exactly what she envisioned as a little girl. And to someone like Bellamy—

Clarke isn’t afraid of many things, and she’s not afraid of him, but if she were to be afraid of anyone— Bellamy has earned fear. His name is whispered in dark rooms and spit as a threat across battlefields. He’s a beast, a boogeyman: a monster amongst monsters.

He’s handsome, she thinks, when she allows herself to think about it. At least he’s handsome.

She’s put on suppressants immediately after the bargain with Bellamy has been struck, even though she hasn’t presented yet. They all know she’ll be an omega, have known since she was born. It’s rare to test for designation, the procedure exclusive and expensive, but the Griffins have never been known to shy away from something so little as a price-tag.

Sometimes she wishes the test had been wrong. That she’d been born a beta, or an alpha even, and then she wouldn’t have to go through with the idiotic farce of a marriage. But then she thinks harder and realizes there’d be no escaping. Her mother’s beta status hadn’t saved her from not one but two arranged marriages, not that Clarke has ever heard her complaining. If she’d been born a different designation, she’d simply be engaged to someone else. Still, she’d be spared the humiliation of the biology.

With Bellamy an alpha, and her an omega, marriage and mating are synonymous. She’ll have her heats suppressed until the time comes for them to marry, at which point she’ll be married, knotted, and mated; all before she has a chance to get to known her husband-to-be. And everyone will know.

She knows in normal society that people have partners before they marry. That her friends at school aren’t virgins, and that alphas see omegas through their heats without mating all the time. But that’s not an option for her.

Clarke would like to rebel, would like to have someone of her own, on her own terms. Let biology take its course and screw the plans. But it would be a death sentence for that person, if not for Clarke as well. Bellamy won’t take her if she’s soiled. No one will.

For some reason the idea doesn’t scare her as much as it should.

Anyways, it’s a moot point. She’s as safe as it can get barring her own mistakes. It’s traditional in circles like hers to have the wedding right before an omega’s first heat, but these days that can mean anything if you’re lucky enough, and with the help of the right suppressants. Clarke’s got the best money can buy. Bellamy is being relatively generous, even, for letting her go to college first. Maybe she’ll push him again as it closer to the end, aim for grad school, med school maybe. She could buy herself another five years.

College is the closest to freedom that she’s ever had, even with the bodyguard who follows her everywhere. She doesn’t have friends, not really, but she’s off-campus, and she loves her work. She loves going to class, she loves learning. It’s depressing to know it means nothing— she be a trophy wife to Bellamy no matter how many degrees she gets; women in her world don’t work. But still, she’s good at it and that’s— it feels good.

It goes well for three years, no bumps, no mishaps, no failed classes or assassination attempts. No missed suppressants, no unladylike behavior, no loss of innocence. But then— her mother visits.

“Come,” Abby tells her. “We’re going shopping.”

It becomes clear immediately that they’re shopping for something, not just doing something fun. Her mother’s eye is too calculating as she looks Clarke over, too critical as she tugs the fabric tighter around Clarke’s waist, watching the way her breasts spill out of the tops in the size she used to wear.

“You’ve gained weight,” she tells Clarke gravely, like it’s a terminal diagnosis. Clarke rolls her eyes and pulls back, snatching herself away with a frown.

“Who cares?”

Abby raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s tall, willowy. Not like Clarke in the slightest, but why should she be? She’s not an omega, after all. “Your fiancé might.”

Clarke glares at her own reflection. She likes her body just fine as it is. “And I repeat, who cares? I have a year and a half, he can sneer at me disdainfully himself if he’d like.”

“You will see him tonight.”

Clarke whirls at the words, her mouth dropping open. “What— no! He agreed, til the end of college! I haven’t graduated.”

If Abby was the type to roll her eyes, she’d do it now, but she isn’t. Instead she just looks down her nose at her daughter, taking in her wild eyes and flushed face with cool indifference. “He would like to meet you. Speak to you. This has no bearing on the wedding.” She looks Clarke up and down, lip twisting. “God willing, that is.”

Clarke isn’t sure how best to play along. She’s numb through the rest of the day, letting Abby take her into the salon, wash and buff and trim her to a shine, and shove her into a dress that if Clarke was in a better mood she’d describe as lawyer-whore chic and heels that make her look slightly taller than she actually is, although it’s still not a lot.

She looks like a little doll.

If this had been a courtship, if the wedding was not already set, there’d be a chaperone, but it’s too late for that. Her mother drops her off with a sniff and an oblique threat to not fuck this whole thing up. Clarke feels nothing.

He’s waiting when she walks in. She’d like to say she’d almost forgotten his face, but it’s not true. She recognizes him instantly, and the scent that overwhelms her. She steels herself, rolling her shoulders back and shaking her hair. Typical fucking alpha.

Bellamy watches her approach with a small smirk, sipping on a glass of something amber. Whiskey, most likely. He stands as she gets closer, pulling out the chair across from where he was sitting. Clarke resists the urge to take the seat he’s just vacated, just to see what he’d do. It’s too early to show her cards.

She takes the hand he offers and allows him to help her into her chair. He pulls her hair back over her shoulders as she sits. It’s a move Clarke would normally never allow, but as he does it his fingers graze her neck, barely brushing over her scent glands. Her mind goes completely blank, a shudder running through her body.

He’s smiling as he takes his seat across from her, eyes gleaming black with satisfaction.

“You look very beautiful tonight, princess.”

Clarke blinks at him. The haze begins to clear from her head, the butterflies in her stomach going sour. “My name is Clarke.”

Bellamy raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware of that, yes.”

Clarke opens her mouth to say something biting like ‘you could’ve fooled me’ or ‘then save the pet names for your dogs’ or ‘please, alpha, don’t make me marry you’, but she thinks better of it and closes it again. She takes a sip of water, examining the edge of her napkin.

“Would you like a drink? Wine, maybe?”

She shrugs in response.

He seems content to just watch her, not that she’s checking. His scent is heavy with pleasure though, warm and bright and chokingly good. It makes her almost dizzy, and she tries to subtly breathe through her mouth to avoid it. She’s quiet for a long time, wrapped up in her thoughts. He must have missed a blocker, or maybe he takes low doses to maintain his alpha schtick for the Outfit, Clarke’s not sure. Either way, it’s inconvenient for her, and likely any other omega he comes across.

How many others is he around?, her omega wonders nervously. Does he want them? Do they make him smell like this too?

Clarke takes another sip of water. She doesn’t look at him.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?”

She startles at the sound of his voice, pulling her out of her reverie. He’s still looking at her, but his expression is resigned, shoulders tense. His grip around his glass is tight enough his knuckles have gone white. His scent, though still regrettably delicious, is less overwhelmingly intense.

“How what’s going to be, sir?”

Bellamy frowns. “Our marriage,” he says, sounding tired. “And you don’t have to call me sir.”

Clarke bristles, lips tightening. Her voice is hard, and Abby would kill her if she heard the next words out of her mouth. “I will not call you alpha.”

Bellamy actually cracks a smile at that. “You will eventually, omega,” he purrs. Clarke shivers involuntarily, heat shooting between her legs at the crude use of her designation. She rubs her thighs together and his grin widens. “But Bellamy will do fine for now.”

He’s so— irritating, for someone who could have Clarke and her entire family killed at any minute. Who could kill her right now, if he wanted. She’s heard stories of his brutality, and yet, here he is, grinning at her. Boyishly charming, and handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and it should make him look official, but it’s artfully disheveled. His long dark curls graze the collar in a way her stepfather would never allow.

“How’s school?” Bellamy asks, and her eyes snap back to his.

“Fine.”

“What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“What an excellent conversationalist my fiancée is.” He gives her a wry smile over his whiskey, raising his glass. “You can’t bore me into finding another wife, you know that as well as I do. We may as well make some attempt to get to know each other at least little bit before—” Bellamy trails off, his eyes falling to her neck. Clarke resists the urge to pull her hair over her scent glands. They prickle, itchy with just the idea of being touched.

Of being bitten.

“How’s work, then?” Clarke shoots back, sitting back in her seat. “I’d love to hear about your life too. About the— family.”

It’s a trick, and he sees it, but his smile doesn’t fall. If anything, he looks even more satisfied at her challenge. “Oh, how easy it would be spill my secrets to a Griffin,” he says, shaking his head. “But I know better than that. Once we’re married, princess, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Will he? It would be unusual, to let a woman in on business secrets, even if she is his wife. Even Abby isn’t privy to the inner machinations of Kane’s Outfit, nor was she privy to Jake’s before his untimely death. Clarke looks Bellamy over thoughtfully, holding her water to her mouth. “I’ll still be a Griffin.”

His lip curls. “Not by name. And not where it counts.”

She considers him, searching his face for— something. Some sign that he’s joking, or being cruel, but there’s nothing. He’s an open book, or at least he seems like it. “I’m an art minor,” Clarke offers eventually, setting her glass down on the table. It’s a concession. “Painting. And my biology thesis is on differential metabolomics between designations. Or it will be once it’s finished.”

“What does that mean?”

Clarke hesitates. Abby would hate if she answered, hate it if she bored him with the details of her research. That in itself is enough to make her continue.

Bellamy nods as she speaks, asking questions in the right places. He seems more interested than she would’ve expected, given how obvious it is that the subject is well outside his scope of knowledge. She tries not to allow it to endear him to her.

They order, and chat, and eat. He tells her about his sister, Octavia, and abashedly admits he wanted to be a historian when he was growing up. She laughs at that, and he doesn’t get angry. It’s shocking, given his reputation, his alpha-ness, but she’s really not afraid of him. No, Clarke feels regrettably at ease.

Of course, not enough that she wants to marry him. There are times, odd lulls in the conversation, where she can tell he’s holding something back. He’s a crime boss, a lord of the underworld she was born into, and there’s no escaping that. There’s no escaping that she wouldn’t have chosen him, if she’d been allowed a choice.

Clarke sees an opening. She wasn’t planning on asking so early in the year, and hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking him directly, but— he’s here, and he’s listening, and he seems interested.

“I was thinking,” Clarke broaches carefully, giving him a shy smile. Her hand inches across the table, coming to rest lightly beside her water glass. Every move is calculated, every glance and flutter of her eyelashes a glue trap waiting for him to get stuck. “Maybe I could continue my research. I know there’s no need for me to work, but I like it. And I really do think this could be useful to other people.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, and Clarke tries not to shiver as he slides his fingers across her palm. She’s got him, she thinks.

“Yeah. And grad school isn’t that long really, only a few years. Four, maybe five—”

His fingers wrap around her hand, squeezing slightly. “I’m sure something could be arranged.” Clarke’s heart leaps, success roaring through her chest. She beams at him. “I’m sure there are plenty of programs in New York.”

She freezes. “New York?”

“Of course,” Bellamy says, nodding. “I don’t expect my wife to just stay home all day, but we’ll have to make sure it’s a manageable commute.”

My wife.

He’s misunderstood her, possibly on purpose. “I—” she stutters, her throat thick as the wheels spin in her head. “I really like my advisor, actually. I was hoping to apply to the graduate program here.”

Bellamy frowns. “That won’t be possible, Clarke, you know that. Once we’re married, and mated—”

“We don’t have to be.” The words leave her in a rush, spilling out on top of his. Clarke gives him a weak smile. “Or— not yet, I mean.”

Bellamy’s expression is hard, his eyes burning. His hand clamps down around hers. “This advisor of yours, is he an alpha?”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Yes, but—”

“You expect me—” he continues darkly, “—to just leave my fiancée, my omega, unmated so she can spend more fucking years working with another alpha, smelling like that?”

She stiffens, insulted. She takes her suppressants everyday, and she still hasn’t even presented, technically. She doesn’t smell like anything. And she is not his omega. “It’s not like that. He’s not interested in me, nor I in him. And besides that, I’m on suppressants—”

“Not enough, clearly,” Bellamy sneers. Clarke glowers, attempting to wrench her hand back, but he holds fast. “I could smell you the second you walked in. Suppressants can’t keep your heat in check forever, princess. You were close, when I first met you, and it’s been five years. You really think they’ll last another six?”

He leans in closer. His fingers extend down her wrist, clasping around the scent glands there. Twisting, he turns her hand over, frowning at the bare spot on her fourth finger where a ring would sit. “I’m not a patient man, Clarke. I gave you your college years; don’t ask me for more.”

Bellamy drops her hand, and the conversation is over.

****

The rest of the dinner is awkward. They’re both enraged, but both too stubborn to admit it. She can smell it on him though, a sharp tang that makes her feel like she needs to hide, or show him her belly. She does neither, and her cutlery scraping over her plate is deafening in the silence that follows.

He drops her off at her apartment with nary a word. She’s not sure how he knows where to go.

The next day she goes to class as usual, and to the lab. She works with a sort of self-righteous fury that leaves her uncomfortably warm. Her advisor sends her uneasy looks but says nothing, keeping his distance after she snaps him when he points out she’s accidentally borrowed his lab coat. Her bodyguard is equally silent, his menacing presence in the corner of the lab a given at this point. Clarke doesn’t understand why her advisor keeps looking at him, too.

Bellamy is waiting at her apartment when she gets home. She stalks past him without a glance. “What do you want?”

“I have something for you,” he says, his voice husky. “Invite me in, and leave your dog at the door.”

Clarke glances at her bodyguard, who looks unmoved at the rude nickname. He nods slightly. Clarke huffs, and finishes unlocking the door. She doesn’t hold the door for Bellamy, but he follows her anyways.

“This is…charming.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, setting her bag on the breakfast bar. Her apartment is smaller than it needs to be, but still more luxurious than any normal college student would be able to afford. She wanted to blend in at least a little, but the security was non-negotiable.

She turns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well?”

“I wanted to—” he pauses, searching for a word, “—clear the air, before I go back to New York. The next time we see each other won’t be until the engagement party in December.”

Good, Clarke thinks, her nose in the air. Even that is too soon.

“The way I acted at dinner was… regrettable. I know this is an adjustment for both of us, and I shouldn’t have been so— forceful.”

She wishes he wouldn’t look at her like that. His eyes are so dark, pupils huge, and it makes funny things happen in her belly. She hates him, and his stupid alpha scent that she won’t be able to get out of her apartment for days.

“Have you changed your mind?” Clarke asks, expression carefully blank.

“No.”

Her heart sinks, but she does not allow herself to show it. “Fine.”

Bellamy steps closer, taking something from his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Clarke glances at the dark velvet box and flinches internally. She should’ve guessed.

She stands still as he invades her space, taking her hand. She can feel the satisfaction rolling off him as he slides the ring into place. Marking her as his. “There.”

Clarke pulls away, turning from him, and Bellamy goes still. His muscles tense, chest puffing, and his nostrils flare. She frowns. “What—?”

He tugs her towards him, sealing his body against hers. She can feel the growl that vibrates through his chest, the bump of his nose against her neck as he shoves his face into her hair. “I can smell him on you, omega.”

Clarke feels a hot rush of fear and— something else. Something that makes her panties damp, makes her ache for something inside her. For him.

“B-bellamy, wait, it’s just—” Her words cut off into a moan as his tongue slides down her neck, running over her scent glands. He marks her again, with his own scent this time, so there’s no mistaking who she belongs to.

Her omega purrs at the thought, but her conscious mind jerks back.

“Mine.”

No. She’s not his, not anyone’s. Not yet. For now, Clarke belongs to herself. She only has a year left of freedom. She will not submit to him before she must.

His smell though, is overwhelming. So strong, so good; it makes her reactions slow. Makes her head foggy. Makes her want— him. She arches her back, feeling the hard press of his cock against her ass. He grinds forward, fingers sliding over her stomach, over her thighs—

“Alpha, please—”

Bellamy freezes. Clarke whimpers as he peels himself off her, pushing her away, and feels bereft until she gets a whiff of clean air. Her eyes widen, and she backs away.

“Clarke—” He looks apologetic, but she doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust him.

She shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling slightly. “Go away.”

Bellamy holds up his hands, taking a big step back. “It’s fine, I won’t—” his teeth girt together, like he has to force the words out. “I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes are still black though, and she hears the word he doesn’t say. Yet.

“Just go.”

“I will, but Clarke— you have to call your mom. You can’t— your scent.”

“There is nothing wrong with my scent,” Clarke spits. Her whole body is hot, stomach cramping. She feels shaky, dizzy like she has a fever. Her panties are soaked, like she’s gotten her period. “It’s you. I don’t smell like anything, so it must be you.”

“It’s not,” Bellamy swears. He takes a half step forward. “Clarke—”

She can’t listen anymore. She turns tail and runs, locking herself in the bathroom. She sets the shower on cold and pops a couple of fever reducers for good measure, stripping off her clothes. There’s no blood on her underwear, of course. Just slick. More than she’s ever seen. Clarke’s throat closes.

She’s— she’s fine. She’s just sick. Bellamy will leave, and she’ll go to sleep, and when she wakes up everything will be back to normal. He’s just— imagining things. Being an alpha.

Alpha.

Clarke shivers, struck by the unrelenting need to open the door, to check if he’s still there. She gets all the way across the room, fully naked with one hand on the doorknob, before she catches herself. She throws herself into the cold shower.

It’s going to be fine, she thinks, shivering under the icy water. She feels just fine.

****

It’s not fine.

She feels so horny she can’t breathe, even after the shower. She stays under the water so long her lips turn blue, and even that isn’t enough to stop it.

By the time she gets out, Bellamy's gone. Clarke doesn't have a chance to be grateful. In his place, standing impatiently in her hallway is Abby, car keys in hand.

“Get dressed,” she orders her daughter, voice rife with irritation. “Let’s go.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat,” the doctor tells her mother once they arrive at the clinic. Nobody looks at Clarke where she sits flushed and sweaty on the exam table. She clenches her thighs together, wincing as the paper crinkles underneath her ass. It’s humiliating, sitting there in the hospital gown, her thighs dripping with slick. She’s not even fully in heat yet, not even close, but the fire in her belly is almost overwhelming. She can’t even imagine what a true heat will be like.

The room is cold, AC blasting in an attempt to keep her heat at bay, and it makes Clarke’s nipples prickle uncomfortably beneath the gown. The fabric feels rough on her skin. She wants to tear it off, needs to tear it off, but—

She crosses her ankles, squeezing her fists tight.

“Can you stop it?” Abby asks.

A doctor shrugs. She’s an alpha, Clarke can smell it despite the woman’s blockers, but just barely. Not like it was with Bellamy. Her hair is long and dark and shiny, hanging down in sheets over her white coat. “We can postpone it. For a time.”

Abby waves a hand. “Do it.”

Still, no one acknowledges Clarke. Not when they grab her arm, not when they inject her with the emergency suppressants.

“How long will they last?” Abby asks brusquely. Her eyes follow the needle, not bothering to check her daughter’s face.

“Three months, give or take. If you bring her back in next week, we can do some bloodwork to pin it down more precisely.”

“Yes, we’ll do that. We have an entire wedding to plan so it needs to be exact.” Abby sniffs at the inconvenience, like it’s Clarke’s fault she has to move up the wedding, and it’s not fair. Clarke didn’t ask to see Bellamy, and she sure as hell didn’t ask for him to skip his blockers and throw her into heat. Hell, she didn’t ask to be engaged to him in the first place.

“Of course.” The doctor nods like this is all fine, all normal. Like her patient’s life isn’t about to be uprooted, like she’s not going to be pulled out of college and married off like chattel. Like Clarke wants this. Or like it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t. “She’ll have to keep her distance from the groom until then. If his scent was enough to set her off now, then a second exposure before the marriage could result in—”

Clarke glares at the ring sparkling happily on her finger. She wonders if he did it on purpose, because she asked about grad school. If this is her punishment.

“I won’t do it,” Clarke says quietly. Two sets of eyes turn towards her, two sets of neatly plucked eyebrows arched questioningly. Her fists clench. “I won’t marry him.”

Her mother’s eyes flash, expression darkening. Clarke resists the urge to shrink back, to hide behind the exam table.

Abby’s annoyed gaze flicks to the doctor, who shrugs apologetically. “A side effect of the suppressants, most likely. They have a tendency to make omega patients a bit less”— she searches for a word here, hands waving dismissively—“pliant.”

Clarke flinches.

“The effects are temporary, of course, nothing to worry about,” the doctor continues. “But perhaps we should move this conversation to my office.”

The two older women exchange a meaningful look, moving towards the door without another word towards Clarke. She’s left alone, three months ticking down over her head like a pipe-bomb ready to blow. She could give in now, let it happen. Let it tear her life apart in one ugly explosion.

Instead, she starts to plan.

#bellamy blake #bellarke #The 100 #bellarke fic #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

sometimesrosy · 4 years ago

Text

Anonymous said:

Clarke was her happiest when she was with [l/xa] too.. She even wanted to stay. I don't think Bellarke can relate :D

+++

She was really not. She was canonically suffering from PTSD, kidnapped and imprisoned, she was terrified for her people who were on the edge of being eradicated, she was terrified for lxa who kept talking about her own death and was being plotted against, she was terrified OF her own people whom she loved and whom reminded her of all the horrible things. she was terrified of love, which was a weakness and yet she still felt, for lxa, for her mother, for her people and yes, for bellamy.

She was first enraged at Lxa for kidnapping her, then refused to talk to her, then tried to kill her, then was faced with the inability to kill her, then had to deal with the azgeda, then had to deal with hakeldama, then had to face bellamy when she ‘asked’ for his help and had to confront how she hurt him... and actually that was the first time all season that she actually felt emotions. You could see her breaking down and feeling again.

Bellamy rejected her, which is painful, because he was her best friend at least, if you don’t believe she loved him (which she did, she gave up her life for his with Roan,) and THEN she was able to have some emotions again and she decided to relax and get closer to Lxa then. (in case you’re not following the story, bellamy rejected her, and then she turned to lxa to make her feel better. that is called “a rebound.”) And YES, she loved Lxa then. YES. She allowed herself to get closer to her.

HOWEVER, she was not vulnerable to Lxa. She refused to let Lxa comfort her or care for her. And when Lxa put ANOTHER kill order on her people (how many kill orders is that by now? ten?) and offered AGAIN to let Clarke stay with her as her lover if she abandoned everyone she loved and knew to the not so tender mercies of being eradicated by Lxa’s warriors, Clarke did not choose Lxa, who you say made her happy. Nope. She chose to leave lxa. She chose her own people, which includes Bellamy.

Once that decision had been made, to stop trying to keep Lxa from killing her people, to stop trying to play politics in Polis, to stop trying to get Lxa on her side and help protect her people (like she SWORE to do, and then didnt’ because she canonically has no honor,) THEN Clarke allowed herself to express her feelings for Lxa. Those feelings are love, yes. Absolutely.

But she is not intimate with Lxa. She refused to talk with her, even in naked in bed. She can’t share her feelings with Lxa. She can’t share her worries or her weaknesses or her pain or her hopes and dreams or fears.

Yes, she had a moment of happiness when she slept with Lxa, who she absolutely loved, but you know you could say the same thing about when she slept with Cillian. She was HAPPY with him. She had FUN. No one was dying (which you couldn’t say about when she was with Lxa.) She felt safe (she wasn’t but she felt like she was.) He was hot, just as hot as L. She got to DANCE. She got to forget all the struggle and have some HOPE (which she absolutely did NOT get with Lxa, the only way she could be happy in that moment was to completely ignore that Lxa was about to try to kill all her people and they were about to go to war.)

In short. Clarke was N. O. T. happy in Polis with Lxa. She was traumatized. She was numb. She was in love with her ENEMY who she had to manipulate and/or convince into helping her people instead of killing them. Worse, the woman she loved was talking about dying so Clarke had to ALSO protect her, because she was ALSO the only chance for her people’s survival. And her best friend hated her, or so she thought.

Also the woman she loved had IMPRISONED her. She was a captive. Gilded cage maybe, but she was not free. She wasn’t staying there of her own free will. In hakeldama L reiterated that she was a prisoner.

How do y’all just ignore the freaking canon so thoroughly?

Clarke canonically never trusted Lxa. She canonically always trusted Bellamy, shoot even when he was her enemy. No I take that back. She DID trust Lxa. In season TWO. And then Lxa stabbed her in the back and asked her to move in with her while her people died.

In what world do you think being in love with the woman who has betrayed you and keeps trying to kill your people who you are trying to save makes you HAPPY?

Do you even know what happiness means?

Just stick to Clxa fanfiction and stay out of The 100 fandom. You know you hate the 100. You keep erasing it to replace it with fanon.

#i almost posted this with full ship name because sometimes i forget about how toxic that fandom can get #i don't want to be in the tags at all with this post

59 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 6

Previously on Atlantis

The moment she woke, Clarke kept her eyes closed and just listened, realizing that things were not what she’d expected. She felt the familiar weight of her blankets, and she smelled the smell of her parent’s house, the smell as old as time, that she often never noticed, but after being removed for so long, inhaled greedily as she dug her face in her pillow.

There were noises downstairs that finally registered before she opened her eyes, held her breath, and hid in the pillows. She heard some clamor of her parents making breakfast, coffee steam sifting up through the vents. She heard the squeak and chatter of some birds in the trees outside her window. For a moment, Clarke pretended that she was miles underwater, and there might be a beautiful girl awkwardly standing outside her door.

But there wasn’t, and there wouldn’t be. Clarke rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling before digging the heel of her hands into her eyes and sighing. A day ago, she was in a beautiful palace, and now she was back at her parent’s house, without a job, without a career, without a mentor, without any idea of what was to come forward.

Her body was completely healed, a feat that was mind-blowing considering her wounds and condition after the explosion and being stranded at sea. But now, when it was quiet, and she was safe in the familiar, Clarke realized the massive grief heaped upon her, that surviving came at a cost.

When it got to be too much, when she cried silent tears that covered her face and left her chest fluttering and aching, Clarke wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, hoping to find some sort of center amidst the flood of absolute pain that washed over her entire body. She wanted to take another sleeping pill and pass out until her heart didn’t hurt anymore, but that seemed unwise.

As soon as she made it down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, Clarke realized she’d made a horrible mistake and should have stayed in bed.

“Clarke! Oh my God!”

“We were--”

“I’m so glad you’re--”

“You look!”

The chorus of voices erupted and she took a step back, confused and overwhelmed by the outpouring of her closest friends as they began to circle and reach out and smother.

“Okay, okay, back up everyone,” Abby jumped in carefully, keeping the horde from her terror-stricken daughter. “Give her a moment to breathe. I’m sure she’s not used to being around people, they had her in isolation due to exposure during the explosion.”

“But luckily, she didn’t come in contact with any of the pathogens she was studying,” Jake smiled graciously behind the island as he added more pancakes to the pile forming on the large breakfast display. “Better safe than sorry though.”

“You should have seen your mom. I think she nearly got arrested for trying to break into a government installation,” Raven offered with a smile as Abby hit her shoulder.

“Come sit,” Octavia hurried, clearing more of a path. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really,” Clarke smiled softly and took the seat anyway.

The friends shared a look as Clarke sat there and looked at the display of everyone trying to be normal. Abby hovered, rubbing her daughter’s back, soothing away the worries that remained. No one knew about the ten minutes ago, where she broke down and clawed at her chest in her bed. No one.

“Your appetite will come back,” her mother promised. “Let me make you a little plate. Everyone can dig in. Your friends have been anxiously waiting to see you.”

The general hubbub of people moving about the kitchen really only settled well after Clarke had a plate set in front of her. She ate a blueberry and nodded, smiling at her mother to tell her not to worry. It felt like before, like how it always was, since middle school, the whole gang fighting over this and that, piling over each other to eat. Even when college and life took them different ways, they were never far off. There was something grounding in it, just like her sheets, just like the noises of the morning.

“So what happened, Clarke? We only heard bits and pieces on the news,” Raven explained between mouthfuls of Jake’s famous pancakes. “They kept repeating the same things, over and over again.”

“What did they say?”

Clarke already knew the story. She’d been held in a government facility for six hours and briefed on how to behave and what to say. She had a business card with FBI on it and Agent Barne’s number hidden in her sock drawer.

“Just that a bad storm led to the ship sinking. I can’t imagine how bad it must have been,” Octavia shook her head. “At first they said no survivors. We all thought you were dead for seventeen hours.”

“I’m… I’m…” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, looking guiltily at her food, afraid to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you’re not,” Bellamy interrupted. “And you don’t have to talk about what happened.”

A pointed look was exchanged between him and the rest, warning them to behave and not push.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she shrugged, perking up a bit and deciding to pick up her fork. “The storm was bad, and then I woke up in a government hospital. I wish there was a better story. I was checking weather reports in the navigation center, and I think we hit a wave or gust and I must have hit my head and blacked out.”

“It’s not every day that a concussion is a blessing,” Jake offered, finally taking his seat with the rest. “But it must have saved you.”

“A blessing,” Clarke repeated, contemplating the word for a moment before taking a big bite of breakfast. “Like these pancakes. I feel better already.”

The group chuckled and refused to talk about the accident again, while Clarke ate and smiled until she couldn’t any longer. She explained that she was still a little drowsy, and wanted to lay down. Every person promised to be back and see her again, demanding that she call if she needed anything at all. With grateful and long and tight hugs, her lifelong friends filed out as Clarke slipped upstairs.

It truly was exhausting, to finally think about it, to remember the storm and her colleagues and all of the people who died. The numbness-- that was the true blessing of Atlantis. There wasn’t time to grieve when her body was overloaded with stimuli, unlike now, where everything was mundane and allowed her to think.

Clarke slipped into her childhood bed again, and she pulled the blanket over her head, rolling into herself tightly before drifting off to an uneasy sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

For about a full week, Clarke existed in a fairly mundane routine of recover that all at once suited her and drove her nuts. Simultaneously, she felt prepared to do something-- anything-- and yet, could not imagine doing anything other than nothing. Her body and mind and soul needed time to come back, and she knew it. It didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach, but she begrudgingly listened.

Every morning she got up and had a special breakfast her father made, even though her appetite was minimal and favored banalities. And then she would take a walk, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone before coming home to shower and read or watch tv before a nap. Usually someone came by in the afternoon before dinner to occupy her, keep her busy, keep her doing something. Then came a family dinner, every night, her mother arriving right on time to join them. Dinner led to a movie, which then led to sleep.

It was a safe and easy schedule in which she didn’t talk about anything with anyone.

Until the arrival of the invitations for the funerals for the people finally confirmed dead after the concluded investigation into the crash and retrieval of bodies from the water, an initiative led by the Atlanteans as a gesture of good faith.

Two weeks after her return, Clarke found her schedule consisting of funerals, nearly every day, each more difficult than the last, but as the final crewmember standing, as the only representative of her research team, she sat there at each and remembered with everyone else, commiserating in their grief. It helped and hurt, as any cathartic thing is meant to do.

The third week she returned somewhat to her normal schedule with an intermittent funeral, the last residual ones ending quickly.

A month after her return, Clarke felt marginally normal, except that she had no idea what the future held.

It took five weeks for her to schedule an appointment with the university, despite her mother and father telling her she could take more time.

Only after six weeks, did Clarke allow herself to really think about her time in Atlantis. Most of the time, she found herself daydreaming about Lexa in some form because it was one of the few thoughts that made her feel unburdened and less heavy in her chest. But, she actively kept herself from thinking too much, often shaking away the thoughts when her mind began to drift.

After the nightly movie, and after she excused herself to sleep, Clarke sat at her desk and look at her laptop, knowing full well what was about to happen. She moved to lift the lid and then stopped, closing it and drumming her fingers along the top before looking over her shoulder at her closed door, straining her ears to hear anything.

Though it was quiet, she hurried to place an old sweatshirt near the bottom of her door to block out any light, listening again, closer to the hall, at the familiar noises of her parents getting ready to go to sleep.

Satisfied that no one would see her, Clarke ripped open her laptop, and quietly as she could type, logged in and began to type her query.

L-E-X

Backspace.

A-L-E-X-A-N

Backspace.

P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S O-F A-T-L-A-N-T-I-S

Enter.

In the dark room, the glow of the screen colored her face, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip and looked at the photos first, and upon not finding many, looked through the first few search results. Little was known about Atlantis, let alone the heir to the throne, and any pictures that existed were not good.

Mildly disappointed, Clarke slumped back in her chair and toyed with the scroll, debating what to do with no information and how deep, exactly, she was willing to dive into conspiracy theories and doctored photos.

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L

Enter.

Clarke paused only to look back at her door and close her laptop slightly, though not all the way, when she heard a sound in the hall. She held her breath and waited for her parents to go to bed before opening it fully again.

There were more search results for that name, and Clarke mildly regretted it, because the images of Lexa, in a skin-tight suit, with a weapon, was a little disorienting. And then she stood beside her father, who was, even though it was an understatement, an actual mountain of a human. Lexa had his eyes, his chin, his grin, and goodness, did she have a similar fitness regime.

Slowly making her way through the gallery, Clarke smiled to herself when she thought about Lexa, shy and with red-tipped ears, kind and gentle and soft to her for no reason at all. And then she looked at Lexa’s biceps.

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and shook her head.

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L -B-I-C-E-P-S

Clarke hesitated before smiling to herself.

Enter.

XXXXXXXXXX

The meeting at the university didn’t turn up much good news, as the semester was just ending and the summer was approaching. With an epic catastrophe to handle and fix, the powers behind all decisions, didn’t have any answers other than to enroll Clarke the following semester to finish her degree requirements.

It was fair and just and gave Clarke time to recover and get back into thinking about existing again. Of course, Clarke found anything reasonable to be exhausting, in and of itself, and so she hated having to wait, hated losing her research, hated everything about everything that left her stuck.

Three days later, however, she found herself back at the Spindrift, unsure of why she was there, and marvelling at how it operated when it was opened. People were buzzing about, familiar with their duties, as if it hadn’t opened merely two months prior.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Barnes,” Clarke smiled, shaking the agents hand as she approached the waiting area.

“Thanks for coming down.”

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men that picked her up for her ‘appointment.’ When she looked back, the agent was not amused.

“You are being formally offered a position here, at the Spindrift.”

“I might formally ask why?” she furrowed and looked at the blue folder that was handed to her, complete with the seal of Atlantis on it. “I’m still in my degree program for the Masters, and haven’t decided to complete the doctorate…. Is this salary serious?”

“Government salaries are never a laughing matter.”

“I could make three times this in the private sector.”

“Yes,” the agent nodded. “And you would never work with any Atlantean healers or products ever again.”

“Why me?”

The agent opened another folder she was carrying.

“You searched Atlantis comma Princess Lexa six times,” Barnes read from the folder, dragging her finger along the words there. “And Biceps comma Aquagirl, approximately a dozen.”

The manilla folder shut quickly.

“Per the queen herself, in conjunction with your university and the United States government, you are being offered a position at the Spindrift for research in intercontinental knowledge sharing.”

Clarke furrowed and shook her head, not sure of what she was following entirely. There was certainly some mortification in there, she knew that, felt it eating her alive in front of the agent with an inability to change her inflection at all.

“I find this idea the best case scenario, and you to be a complete risk to yourself and the sanctity of Atlantis,” the agent muttered, tossing the folder on the table. “Accept it so that I can watch you behave yourself and stop doing searches online of a reclusive and dangerous foreign entity that only you have visited.”

“You… you-- you hacked my computer?”

“You are an intern and only living non-Atlantean who has been to Atlantis, of course your government is watching you.”

“But why? I don’t know anything.”

“You know enough.”

“Who else has seen this?” Clarke blushed, though she attempted to hide it as best she could. There surely was no surviving this level of mortification.

“No one.”

“Was my offer made because of-- because I know--” she paused and took a breath. “Who did this?”

“This offer was asked for by the Queen herself on behalf of one of her greatest medical researcher. Apparently you are the only person this researcher could tolerate.”

That feisty old broad, Clarke thought to herself as she shook her head.

“How is… um, how-- How is the-- uh-- How is Aquaman? I heard about a battle before--”

“You have seventy-two hours to think about this. I will only ever communicate with you regarding official matters in this office, and anything relating to activities done by Atlantean royal family are unofficial until commented upon by official state representatives.”

“You sound like a blast at parties.”

The agent didn’t move at all at the comment.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologized. “That was rude. You are just so-- intense.”

“I’ve worked fifteen years with the King to make this a reality. If I wasn’t intense, it would be for nothing.”

“Can I ask about, um, the Prin-- about Lexa?”

“Officially, no.”

“Unofficially?”

“Unofficially, no.”

“But you just set it up like you would say something unofficial.”

“I cannot control any inferences made.”

With growing frustration, both at the agent and herself, Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the seal on the folder. It was something, and some sort of direction in a time when she very badly needed it.

“Unofficially,” the agent finally started, lowering her voice. “Just save the pictures. Why would you keep searching the same thing?”

“After a brief, embarrassed pause, Clarke nodded and looked back at the agent.

“I’ll look this over and get back to you. Unofficially or officially or whatever, thank the Queen, if you see her.”

The agent nodded instead of arguing, nudging her head slightly so the agents would continue to escort the scientist back toward the entrance.

XXXXXXXXXX

Three months after her shipwreck and rescue to an untouched land, hidden in the depths of the sea by a beautiful princess with a mythical bloodline and inheritance in the shape of a trident, Clarke sat at her desk in a very small cubicle, in a very small office, with six other research associates.

It was a very tedious job for the first few weeks, and just on the horizon was the actual research that Clarke hoped would lead to figuring out what the healer did to heal her so quickly, and if she could figure out how to help other people.

There was an element of escapism to worke each day, enough that Clarke found herself staying late to avoid her worried family’s glances and the mothering that all of her friends did. It was appreciated but also extremely stifling for someone who was stubborn and willingly admitted it.

“You heading out soon?” Wells asked as he shouldered his bag and looked over the cubicle wall to see Clarke’s small desk, covered with pictures of Atlantean books.

“Yeah, in a bit,” Clarke nodded, not looking up from the notebook she was writing something down quickly.

“I could wait around and we could go grab dinner. There’s this great place in town. Only like fifteen minutes from the main gate.”

“I’m not sure how long a bit is going to be. I want to finish looking at this property sheet before we get samples next week.”

Kind and bright, Wells was a soft-spoken doctoral student with a knack for keeping an eye on Clarke without being overbearing. Always firmly pressed in his khakis and tucked primly with his button downs, he hid behind thick-rimmed glasses, but ran marathons. He wasn’t overwhelming in the eye he kept on his co-worked. Sometimes, Clarke thought he might even fancy her a little bit.

When Wells didn’t say anything, Clarke looked up and offered a smile as he debated the next step for the evening.

“Get out of here,” Clarke told him. “I won’t be too much longer, and some quiet will help me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Have a good weekend.”

Clarke watched him nod and returned to her work, doing her best to transcribe an ancient language with limited training and the most basic knowledge of what some of the ancient plants used. She felt like an archaeologist, investigating something she would never truly understand, and yet she’d been there. She’d heard the words spoken.

The ‘little bit’ she mentioned gradually turned into a while, and the evening settled outside on the water, calming it until the waves were nearly non-existent. There was still a fading light outside when Clarke closed her notebook and shut her laptop for the evening, and it only truly disappeared after she shouldered her bag and shoved in a few folders to work on over the weekend.

With a final look around the office, Clarke nodded and made her way to the door, preparing for two long days of her parents making sure she was alright. She needed her own place, and enough space to stop thinking about--

“Lexa?”

The same smile, the same caught look in her eyes, the same stance, the same eyes-- the entire package looked back at Clarke expectantly. Gone were the formal Atlantean clothes, and in their place was simple jeans and an old sailor’s sweater, a shoulder lovingly patched by expert hands. Gone were the intricate braids and armor, and instead a wild mane perched itself atop Lexa’s head, blown about by the wind and her hands in equal measure.

“You’re here late.”

“You’re here.”

“You said you’d be close.”

Without meaning to, Clarke took a step forward before catching herself. Lexa tucked her arms behind her back, ever vigilant to remain proper and royal.

“Have you eaten?” Clarke finally broke the quiet.

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.”

“I’m honored.”

“Care to show me around?”

The question came with a grin, and Lexa extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again as she hadn in the Hanging Gardens. That was all she needed, to remember that it hadn’t been a dream, that three days, three months ago happened.

There really wasn’t a question to it at all.

Clarke nodded, smiled, and took the arm offered to her, and whatever else would come attached.

119 notes · View notes

travllingbunny · 4 years ago

Text

The 100: 7x08 Anaconda

The mini-rewatch of season 7 that @jeanie205 and me did during this mini-hiatus is finished, and with that, I’m going to finally post my reviews of 7x08 and 7x09, hopefully before the show returns.

I’m tempted to start talking about the opening scene without any introduction, just like the episode itself started with no “Previously on” and no cold open (the latter, I believe, for the first time since season 1, when the show still did not have any opening titles).. but I’m going to still say a few general things before going into details under the cut.

When it was first announced that an episode of The 100′s final season would be the backdoor pilot for a prequel show, that info was met with a lot of hostility (to the effect of “why waste a full episode on new characters instead of those we know”), which didn’t surprise me much. What did surprise me was that people mostly seemed to expect the episode to be 100% set in the past and unrelated to anything from season 7 - which, as far as I know, is not how backdoor pilots normally work, they still have to fit within the season they’re a part of. The structure of the episode is more in line with what I expected - while most of the episode is set in the past, the framing device is a scene of Clarke confronting Bill Cadogan in the Stone Room on Bardo, and the long flashback is both setting up a possible prequel, and revealing things relevant to the plot of season 7. The biggest connecting points are the Anomaly Stone on Earth, the importance of the Flame for Cadogan and the Disciples, and Cadogan himself, who is clearly not going to be a character in the prequel except possibly in flashbacks, but who is one of the main antagonists of season 7. The episode works as a backdoor pilot but is also interesting as a part of the backstory of The 100.

I really enjoyed the episode - and as it turns out, I enjoyed it even more on rewatch, when I could stop and soak in all the new info and details - and I hope the prequel does picked up, as it has a lot of potential to be interesting, though there is one big concern I have about it. More about that at the end of this post under “Prequel speculation”.

So no Previously on this time (unsurprisingly), no cold open - and we get a brand new version of the opening titles - since this episode technically fully takes place on Bardo, these opening titles start with the Bardo Stone Room and end with another shot of the Stone Room we haven’t seen before in the OT, one with the Stone. The Stone Room is where they begin and end, just like the episode itself. And just like Clarke and the rest of her group have been stuck in this Stone Room for 4 episodes.

But I actually don’t mind it in this episode. At least Clarke is in the focus of these few minutes we spend in the present, and I really like these few minutes. We start with an expanded version of Clarke's response to the news of Bellamy's "death", with slow motion, distorted angles and close-ups of Clarke’s face showing shock and grief and numbness (and I’m going to post another screenshot of that, because I want to savor the moments when the show focuses on characters’ grief before going back to the action - and not just the type of grief that results in going off the rails and murdering people.) We also see Raven on the verge of tears, and Miller choking a little - the other two people who have been Bellamy’s friends for a long time. Clarke being Clarke, she picks herself up the moment she sees someone else in pain (Raven) and focuses on honoring Bellamy’s memory, just as Bellamy did in 4x13 when he believed Clarke was dead, and tells Raven they need to save Octavia and Echo: “We do this for him. We do this for our family” - acknowledging that saving them is something of particular importance as they were people important to Bellamy, and also including them in the “family”, as the term these people use to describe their group and the bonds that have formed over time. (Family is bond closer and less close than friendship. You can be someone’s friend and their family, but you can also be a part of someone’s family without necessarily having developed a friendship with that person, due to the overall bonds and loyalty.)

Then we get the first meeting between Clarke and probably the season’s main antagonist, Bill Cadogan, who comes to another wrong conclusion when he thinks she recognized him because she has the Flame (and, he hopes, Callie’s memories), when it's actually from a video Jaha showed her.

Gabriel has another moment where he helps Clarke (as when he covered for her in 5x13) and silently communicates with her to let her know that the Disciples believe she still has the Flame, so she could keep up that pretense. These two work well as a team.

The bulk of the episode is the flashback framed as Bill telling a story to Clarke - though we don’t actually see the flashback from his POV, and he doesn’t even appear in many of the scenes. In fact, it is almost all from Callie’s POV, and some of it from Reese’s.

And we get back to Clarke and the Stone Room in the end, with the shocking “twist” of Clarke and the Nakara group seeing Octavia, Echo and Diyoza as Disciples. Shocking for them, not for us - we know they had no choice.

Clarke saying “You killed my best friend!” has caused some pointless (but in this fandom, expected) drama, where some fans saw that as “confirmation” that Bellarke is and will remain completely ‘platonic” - even though that makes no sense. What did anyone expect her to call him? My boyfriend? He wasn’t that. The man I love? My soulmate? Someone expected her to say that to an enemy she’s never met before, in front of a bunch of her friends and other people? Very unlikely, even if he hadn’t still been Echo’s boyfriend when he “died”. Some thought “Bellamy” or “him” would have been better, but what would that mean to Cadogan? He’s never met her and knows nothing about her, and she was trying to make it clear how much Bellamy meant to her. If anything, the fact that she’s singled him out as her best friend is a big progress from their usual habit of never defining their relationship to each other - except for Clarke including Bellamy in the collective designation of her “friends” or “family”.

I love the way the Chromatics cover of Neil Young’s “Into the Black” was used in the ending montage - so I made two gifsets about the use of the song for the Cadogan family scenes, and for the scene with Clarke:

https://travllingbunny.tumblr.com/post/623186143096307712/its-better-to-burn-out-than-to-fade-away-the

https://travllingbunny.tumblr.com/post/623186346138370048/its-better-to-burn-out-than-it-is-to-rust-the

Flashback

This is our second look at the world pre-apocalypse - after the brief scene of Josephine’s memory in 6x07, where we saw Josephine and her friend in the diner. But that scene took place several years before the apocalypse (depending on how much time was needed to get from Earth to Sanctum on Eligius 3, which did not have damaged engines as Eligius 4 did after the uprising), since Josephine and her family and the rest of Mission Team Alpha were already on Sanctum 7 years before the apocalypse. And Josephine and her friend were far less interested in the current events than Callie or August, so we only got a few outside references, including the magazine covers which showed that Diyoza’s capture was the main national news, and that Becca was already very high profile and on the cover of a technology/science magazine.

This, however, is the very day of the apocalypse. In the first scene - Callie Cadogan and her friend Lucy in Callie’s and her mother’s home, after participating in a protest as parts of environmentalist group with the familiar name Tree Crew - we get lots of info about just how crappy this world was even before ALIE started a nuclear apocalypse, through various news items on TV (see this post) - and it is like 2020, only taken to the 10th degree:

natural disasters as a result of global warming (a deathly heath wave is mentioned), new diseases (Coronavirus “Russian Ankovirus” outbreak), economic inequality (one of the news is that measures aimed at poverty relief haven’t met with support in Congress), internment camps in USA, anti-government protests in the USA that end up with riot police beating up protestors, together with technological developments, such as the first orbiting hotel (I wonder if anyone was already using it - if they were, there would be more survivors in space, but it doesn’t seem this ever became a part of the Ark), or the first brain transplant. a medical development which begs some ethical questions (since I’m pretty sure that a person with a functioning brain is still alive... I cant think of several different scenarios, disturbing to various degrees).

The world’s population has risen to 11 billion - I guess that’s why ALIE thought there were “too many people” (but her reasoning was as flawed as Thanos’ - instead of killing people, how about increasing or just better redistributing resources?).

It’s also confirmed that a Wallace was the POTUS at the time, meaning that the President and the administration went to the underground bunker at Mount Weather to survive the apocalypse (after which, as we know, they did the North Korean thing where they nominally live in a republic but their leaders are really hereditary).

Callie calls the US regime at the time “fascistic”, echoing how Diyoza characterized it in season 5.

Callie,her friend Lucy and August were all members of the environmentalist group Tree Crew (who already had the same symbol we later see Trikru the clan using), apparently declared illegal or terrorist or something by the Wallace administration.

Callie and Grace Cadogan also used to be members of the Second Dawn cult, led by her father Bill, together with her brother Reese. August also used to be a member. Possibly as a child of some other members.

Becca Franko - described as “tech tycoon” and “reclusive billionaire” - had not been seen in public for a year, since she went to her Polaris space station (to work on the Flame, as we know), a year after she created the first ALIE (and quickly realized ALIE had a fatal flaw). She also owned her own network.

One other piece of info about this world: they had holograms as a means of communication.

Something that was not in the news and not known to the public: it seems that quite a few people were “in the know” about the fact that a nuclear apocalypse may happen (whether they suspected it would be ALIE, or thought there would be a nuclear war) - and even had a code word for it, “Anaconda”. Bill Cadogan was one of the people who knew it. The POTUS and his administration obviously had enough time to evacuate. It’s mentioned that a lot of people immediately started trying to get to the bunkers.

Cadogan and Becca did not personally know each other before the apocalypse, but he apparently had “friends” in many of the space stations. This explains how she knew where the real Second Dawn bunker was located. But whoever these “friends” were, they clearly did not pass on that knowledge to the future generations on the Ark, since even Jaha, who researched Second Dawn, was only able to find public info - articles, Cadogan’s biography - and didn’t even know where the decoy bunker was, let alone the real one.

The most important thing the backdoor pilot needs to do, of course, is introduce compelling, interesting characters. It did pretty well in that regard - Callie is a likable protagonist, and the fact that the antagonists - Bill and Reese Cadogan - are her father and brother, gives more emotional resonance by putting family relationships at the center. The new characters have some similarities to the main characters from The 100, but are at the same time different enough.

The comparison between Callie and Clarke is the most obvious. Oddly enough, Jason tried to draw a difference between them by saying Callie is focused on saving “everyone” rather than “her people” - which makes me scratch my head, unless he means that Callie will always remain absolutely the same through the prequel show, since Clarke also started off by wanting to save everyone - and that was her driving motive for a long time, until the plot kept putting her in situations where she had to choose between her friends and family and strangers, where the latter would often be aggressors attacking her people. What strikes me as the biggest difference i- not just between Callie and Clarke but between all these prequel characters and the main characters of The 100 - is their background and the world they have grown up in. Clarke and Callie are both “princesses” - from the privileged background, but in Clarke’s case, it’s privileged relative to the majority of other people from the Ark, like the Blakes or Raven (which meant things like, nicer living quarters, opportunity to watch recordings of old soccer matches as entertainment, probably less worry about not getting the medicine you need), but in comparison with the way the most of the viewers live... definitely not. The world Clarke was born in is a post-apocalyptic world of scarce resources and constant fight for survival, and even her happy (by those standards)’ life in that world ends a year before the Pilot, when her father is executed and she has spent a year in solitary confinement, expecting to be executed herself - before she’ and 99 teenagers are sent to Earth as “expendable”. On the other hand, Callie, Reese, August, Tristan and others grew up in a world similar to our own. There are, of course, many people in our world who also have to fight for their own day-to-day survival every day, but the Cadogans are rich, and the rest of the Second Dawn members and their families are no doubt not far off. This is Callie’s house:

Some of these middle-class and upper middle-class kids are rebellious, idealistic and optimistic and worry about the fate of the world, like Callie, Lucy and August. On the other hand, there’s Reese, whose driving motivation is to impress his father and gain his love. He’s a rich boy with daddy issues, but he’s also a victim of emotional abuse - maybe physical, too (if we take into account a cut scene showing a training session where his father injures him, under the explanation of making him tougher or whatever). Callie and Reese are only the second sibling dynamic we see explored on the show (I’m not counting Emori and Otan, since the latter appeared very shortly), and this dynamic - a sibling rivalry between a rebellious girl who is her father’s favorite even while she opposes and rejects him, and her jealous brother who wants to impress his father - is completely different from the Blakes. (It reminds me a bit of Gamora amd Nebula - and I’ve just realized this is the second time in this review I’ve referenced MCU.)

Watching this family dynamic, I was reminded of another family that paralleled and contrasted the Griffins: the Lightbournes. Particularly when Grace called Bill a narcissist with psychopathic tendencies and he was entertained by that, In the flashback in 6x02. Simone called Russell a megalomaniac - but that was really said as a cute joke, as the Lightbournes were happily married, and Simone was just as bad as Russell, and even more ruthless than him. But in both cases, we have destructive rich white guy megalomaniacs who made themselves into gods, and want to bring back their dead daughters. Daughters are both extremely intelligent, brilliant and charismatic, but completely different in personality. (The mothers, while all very different, seem all to have been medical professionals - I’m not sure about Grace, but Callie does mention learning how to stitch a wound from her.) Callie sees that her father is an a-hole and rejects his values, and is an idealist and altruist who wants to do the right thing and save people (while Josephine was a selfish narcissist). Her mother Grace is somewhere in between, as she also left Second Dawn and doesn’t fully agree with Bill - but will often go along with him, and tries to keep peace between the other family members, and thinks their family needs to “set an example”. With the Griffins, we had an idealistic, altruistic father and a daughter with similar characteristics, who adored him and misses him after losing him, and a mother who was similarly concerned with helping others, and the conflicts between them were about how to go about these solutions. With the Lightbourne, we had the evil version of the Griffins, and the Cadogans have a more complicated dynamic. Callie is more comparable to Clarke, and Bill to Russell.

But one aspect in which Bill Cadogan is much worse than Russell is - where Russell loved his family, maybe a bit too much, considering what he did to bring them back, Bill loves himself and his “savior” role more than anything. Maybe his love for Callie comes close - and I get the impression that one of the main reasons he loves her is because he respects her and she challenges him - but it is still not his main motive. He is ready to punish his ex-wife for disobeying him by leaving her to die. Reese is an a-hole, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for him when he thinks for a moment that his father is worried for him (when Bill runs up to Reese, who's injured) but Bill immediately shows that all he cares about is getting the Flame, so he can get the final code for the Anomaly.

Another issue is, of course, that Callie, Reese and Grace are POC, but I don’t know if race - or sexuality, or gender - will ever be raised as an issue on the prequel show itself - or if the world pre-apocalypse and right after it is supposed to be as post-race, post-sexuality, post-gender as the current timeline of The 100 is. On The 100, for instance, Thelonius and Wells Jaha being black or Clarke being bisexual or a woman, were not issues that affected their status - only class issues existed; if the pre-apocalypse society was different, then the show could explore Callie, Reese and Grace being very privileged in terms of class and status in SD as Cadogan’s family, and lack of privilege in other respects.

I’m not sure I fully buy the way Callie easily goes along with her mother and leaves her best friend to die. It seems to go against the rest of her characterization. But maybe it shows that she still wasn’t a full-blown rebel at this point, in spite of participating in the protests against the government and in spite of rebelling against her father - maybe she still wasn’t able to really rebel against her mother, too.

Interesting line - as Callie stitches Lucy's injuries, Lucy says: "I don't want to be scarred for life" - which may be foreshadowing for Callie being scarred and haunted by the fact she left Lucy to die? Unless Lucy turns out to somehow be alive - but worse for wear. Which would again haunt Callie, too.

I guess Callie’s failure to at least try harder is supposed to be what drives her to try and save other people, after she learns that there was still room and resources for almost 100 more people in the bunker - and when she sees August fighting tooth and nail to save his girlfriend, when she is barred from the bunker because she’s not “Level 12″. August is clearly a character the show is setting us up to like - these scenes are reminiscent of Bellamy fighting to open the door for his sister, and his name evokes the Blakes (Octavia was named after Octavian August’s sister)..

(Sidenote: Callie mentions a high suicide rate (20 suicides in the last 6 months, twice as many attempts) - and this is something that would realistically happen in such a dire situation. It’s a bit unrealistic that it apparently never happened with Wonkru.)

The SciFi plot points relevant to the overall plot make an appearance when we see the Anomaly Stone on Earth, which Bill found in Machu Picchu and brought to the bunker (and we get an explanation why he didn’t use it right after the apocalypse but spent two years in the bunker instead - he didn’t know how to activate it - not being able to find the last two symbols)... and when, two years later, Becca Franko arrives from Polaris in her pod, as we saw in 3x07, with Nightblood as the cure against radiation she’s about to offer everyone, and the Flame in her head.

A few words about how I feel about Becca. While she is here positioned in opposition to Bill Cadogan - who is definitely a megalomaniac a-hole and a villain - I can’t see her as a pure unambiguous and unproblematic good guy we should stan, as Callie stans her. For starters, Becca is also a megalomaniac - she calls her second AI “the Flame”, comparing herself to Prometheus! (But she makes me think of Dr Frankenstein, and the full title of Mary Shelley’s novel was Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus.) She is, of course, as a genius scientist, a lot more capable and competent than Cadogan,but she also has a huge savior complex (only she is focused on the idea of her AI being the savior, rather than herself), and is also another big capitalist - a “tech tycoon” who owns her own space station and her own network (and was so powerful and politically relevant that the Chinese and the Russian space station were refusing to join the rest of the stations until the US station destroyed Polaris - Becca was apparently seen as a rival strong enough to challenge the US government?). She worked for a big corporation (Eligius) which colonized other planets and used people - prisoners - as “expendable” work force that can be left to die if necessary. And knowing that she had Nightblood developed more than 7 years before the apocalypse, and that she was worried about what ALIE could do - I wonder why she didn’t offer Nightblood as the solution for a potential apocalypse before it happened, rather than isolating herself on Polaris to work on the Flame. That was one questionable decision - another one was putting the people on Polaris in danger and letting them die, so she could get the Flame to Earth. I could be more understanding of this decision if I could embrace the idea of the Flame as more important than anything, the one thing needed to save the world, as Becca believed it was. But her idea of a sole savior who will help everyone after being enhanced through an AI is something I find pretty questionable and a bit disturbing in general. To be fair the Flame definitely did fulfill its role once and help a person with a good mind use it to save the world - Clarke in season 3. But that was one time, to save the world from ALIE. This, however, doesn’t really justify passing the Flame on and on and giving people political power with it - even without knowing how distorted her initial idea would become in the Grounder society, surely anyone can see the potential for tyranny there? And Becca was aware that 1) the Flame could also make a bad person become even worse and powerful (as it has with Sheidheda) and 2) someone like Bill could use it to destroy the world, according to Becca herself. Seems like a way too big a risk to take.

There are apparently 744 different Anomaly symbols, which means an “infinite” number of combinations, according to Becca (err, not really; it’s a really, really huge number, but it’s not “infinite”, which bugged me a little, since I wouldn’t expect a scientist, especially one who uses the Infinity symbol as her logo, to use the word “infinity” as an exaggeration).

Becca manages to activate the Stone, not because of any scientific knowledge she has, but because the Flame, apparently, gives her enhanced hearing - allowing her to hear the sounds of the Stone, where each sound stands for a symbol. (Dogs can apparently also hear those rather unpleasant sounds.) Everything in this episode makes it clear that it is the Flame itself that Bill needs to find the code, it's always been about that. (Him thinking Callie is in there is just a bonus - emotional connection.) The Flame had no one's memories/spirit in this episode before Becca died, and Becca made it clear to Callie that it’s all about the Flame itself. If the Disciples knew Clarke didn’t have the Flame anymore, they wouldn’t need Madi or Sheidheda - it’s not about the memories, not even Becca’s., it’s that piece of plastic that's buried on Sanctum, if it can still work. (Or maybe they need Picasso :p.)

The most mysterious moment and the biggest question of the episode is - where (when?) did Becca go and what did she see when she activated the Stone the second time and when she and Callie saw the white light coming from the Anomaly? This is different from the green light we see when the Anomaly takes you to other planets. The white light is probably connected to transcendence and/or the Judgment Day that Becca said she saw - which Cadogan, with his typical arrogance, believes he is ready for. but Becca believes no one is.

"It wasn't to open the bridge to another world, it was to remake this one" - this line would make me think that our protagonists are meant to rebuild the Earth - but at this point, I find it hard to see how this could happen over in just 7 episodes, with how the current storylines are going. So maybe they’ll focus on rebuilding Sanctum, after all.

For opposing Bill’s plans, Becca is locked up for 5 days, tied to a pipe (geez!) and, guessing what’s about to happen, she explains the Flame to Callie and tells her to take it and never allow Cadogan to have it, as she believes he could destroy the world with it. (Another often asked question was how the Flame survived Becca’s burning - we learn that it can and that it’s programmed to save itself.)

Becca is burned by Second Dawn Disciples led by Reese Cadogan, presumably at his dad’s orders. Which maybe was supposed to evoke the popular idea of “burning a witch”, but the historical fact that burning at the stake was the traditional punishment for heresy fits even better. There’s been speculation that the memory we saw in 5x10 was his - but that’s incorrect: Madi experienced that memory, she felt being burned, screamed and yelled what Becca was yelling, and we saw it from her POV - the Second Dawn members that were around her and herself reflected in their helmets.

Another memory we saw from Madi, the one we saw her draw in 7x09 (and which I initially mistook seems to be a memory of Becca or other people going into the Anomaly) seems to actually be a memory of the moment when Becca first interacted with the Anomaly Stone and talked about it with the other people in the room - Bill, Grace, Callie and Reese. In other words, every one of the Flame memories from this period may be Becca’s - we have no evidence that would help us learn who else took the Flame after her death. It could be any of the characters who stayed on Earth - Bill is the only one who definitely has never gotten his hands on it.

Retcons and Easter Eggs

I’ve always thought that the world-building, especially when it comes to the Grounder society and culture, was the weakest part of the show. Jason obviously followed some of the common tropes of post-apocalyptic fiction when it comes to the portrayal of Grounders, but didn’t think things through - and at some point, probably realized and/or heard/read all the criticism of the show and thought: “This really doesn’t make any sense”, came up with the Second Dawn backstory, and eventually came up with this expanded backstory, which gives many new explanations. Even though we still don’t have the answer to the biggest question: how a society made of bunch of modern people, survivors, could deteriorate into a tribal society with a medieval level of technological development and lack of knowledge about science and the past culture and history - over a few decades. I guess we need to see the prequel for that, but there are some ideas how it could have happened. I liked most of the retcons in this episode, such as:

Trigedaslang was devised by Callie as a child. The idea of a new language developing naturally over less than 100 years never made sense. (The “it’s a pidgin” explanation never worked either - as Trig apparently developed without the influence of any other language or necessity to communicate with people who don’t speak English. It’s just distorted/changed English.) The only reasonable explanation was always that it was an artificial language - we just didn’t know when it was made.

Finally we get an explanation about the fact that Grounders originated from the Second Dawn survivors and were influenced by their mottoes (”From the ashes, we will rise”), but at the same time, worship Becca as “Pramheda” and make their leaders take the Flame - in spite of the fact that Cadogan and Becca were rivals and that the latter was burned by the Second Dawn members.

The fact that two factions already exist - Callie’s (adores Becca, wants to save as many people as possible by using Nightblood, clearly trusts in science) and Reese’s (Second Dawn true believer, burned Becca, needs the Flame for other purposes) may start to explain how things started going wrong and the society fractured.

Speaking of which, the Conclave seems to have originated from Reese Cadogan’s obsession with the fights his father made him have with him and his sister, and his dumbass idea of using a duel to determine who gets the Flame. This is a better explanation than “it is after an apocalypse, so they just started having death tournaments for reasons”. Callie, on the other hand, is much more pragmatic and doesn’t seem to care much about tournaments as a way to prove oneself - because she doesn’t need to, so she does the Indiana Jones/Harrison Ford thing and just pulls the gun and shoots him in the shoulder. One of my favorite moments in this episode.

“Tree Crew” gets the award as the least expected and funniest new piece of info/retcon, though that begs the question of how the other clans got their names. I’ve joked that Ice Nation were a group of ice hockey fans... but for all I know, maybe that’s true! :D Or maybe the “Trikru” name was later misinterpreted as something to do with living in the woods, so the other clans started having names like “Boat people” or “Shallow Valley people”.

August made up the term Nightblood.

"You must choose wisely" comes from something Becca said to Callie, about choosing the person to give the Flame to. Too bad that later Commanders didn’t know it meant “find the most qualified person” and instead got the weird idea that it meant making a bunch of kids fight each other and that one of them winning somehow means the dead Commander’s spirit “chose” their successor.

One thing that definitely makes a lot more sense now is the Grounder’s bizarre fashion sense, I can easily see a bunch of 21st century upper middle class/rich teenagers thinking it would be super cool to wear warpaint, tattoos and dreadlocks (even if you’re as white as the original Sheidheda), and some later Commander going: “I want to wear a crown! No, you know what would be cool? That thing Indian women wear on their foreheads? You know that thing? I could wear that!”

Easter Egg: Callie was reading Ovid’s “Metamorphosis” at home just before the news of the nuclear apocalypse came - the same book that Niylah gave as a gift to Octavia not long after they went into the bunker (5x02). And maybe it is literally the same book - they sure weren’t printing any new books and someone had to bring that book initially to the Second Dawn bunker during the first apocalypse. In 5x02, it was symbolic of Octavia’s transformation into Blodreina. Here, it may be symbolic of Callie becoming a leader, or the transformation of the entire society.

But some other retcons don’t work well:

The Flame’s abilities have been retconed so many times, but this is the first time we learn that it enhances the Commanders’ senses - which is a big plot point, as it allowed Becca to hear the sounds of the Stone. We have never heard about that before or seen any indication that Lexa or S5/6 Madi had any enhanced sight or Matt Murdock-like super-hearing.

So why was Becca called the Commander aka Heda? I don’t mean the fact that she was never one - Callie could have decided to call her the first Commander as an homage. But why that term? The flashback in 3x07 made it look like it was because Becca was wearing a suit with the word “Commander” (because she took the actual Commander’s suit before she left Polaris) - but since everyone knew who she was, why would that make them start calling her Commander?

Prequel speculation

There’s a lot of reasons why I’d like to see the prequel picked up. Firstly, because Callie is a likable and charismatic protagonist. Reese could be an interesting antagonist as he is her brother - and while he has been a grade A a-hole so far, there’s room there for character development, especially with his relationship with his sister, backstory of abuse by their father and the probability that he’ll understand at some point that he won’t be able to get the Flame to his dad even if he gets it. There’s also the fact that their mother will need saving at the start of the new show (if it gets picked up), and certainly a lot of other possibilities for family drama. And we’d probably also see Callie change and be faced with difficult and morally ambiguous situations that test her, much as we’ve seen with Clarke over the seasons.

Several other things mentioned by Jason in his interviews sound quite exciting:

Lost-style flashbacks to the characters’ lives pre-apocalypse: I’d love this. It would present a contrast before and after the apocalypse, and flesh out characters, and let us learn more about things like, what the Battle of San Francisco was, which wars was Diyoza in, more about Diyoza’s role as a freedom fighter/terrorist... can we get more Diyoza backstory?

the possibility of seeing the origins of the Ark and ancestors of our main characters like Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia (and we know we would see the ancestors of these characters, Jason mentioned that - the guy clearly does know what the fandom likes and wants), immediately doubled my interest. I just hope there’s a good idea how to do that without 1) the two stories looking completely disconnected (it seems this won’t be the case as Jason mentioned that Callie’s people will have to go to space to make more Nightblood and this will allow crossovers) and 2) with a good explanation how the people on the Ark, 97 years later, did not know about the survivors on the ground, about the Earth being survivable, or about the Nightblood, which had been used by Eligius years before. The line "Dad had friends on more than one space station. They already know we're here" also begs for an explanation.

on the ground, we’ll see Callie and co. looking for more survivors (after all, there were more bunkers and other shelters) and offering them Nightblood as a “cure” - which could lead to a lot of interesting situations (and potentially pretty current commentary, if there are people who refuse it)... On the other hand, this could also lead to some more moral dilemmas when they run out of the Nightblood shots (they have 2,000 at the moment, and again, Jason has indicated that they will run out of NB and will have to create more).

Some of the big questions include - who becomes the actual first Commander? How does the society develop from there? When and how is the Anomaly Stone deactivated on Earth, and where is it now? How does Becca’s knowledge eventually get lost? We’ve heard it’s because the data got corrupted/deteriorated over time, but it’s a little too convenient that even Madi still had Becca’s memories, but the scientific and technological all other knowledge was gone during the following 95 years.

I have some ideas how it could go. A lot of people (including, obviously, Bill himself in-universe) wonder if Callie became a Commander and would like to see her be the first Commander. But Callie is the first Flamekeeper, and I don’t see her going “I’m the best and most qualified person, I should have it”. This doesn’t preclude the possibility - she may finally take it for similar reasons Clarke did in season 3, because she has to in order to do something important and there are no other candidates around. But that would be too optimistic an option. Maybe Reese manages to get his hands on the Flame, but Callie or August or someone from her faction manages to disconnect the Stone so he wouldn’t be able to get it to Bill? Or maybe someone else - say, Tristan, who so far can be summed up as “that while guy a-hole who hangs out with Reese” - managed to get his hands on it and then make himself Commander? If people like Tristan or Reese become the Commander, that would work better in terms of explaining how things went so wrong with the Grounder society.

There have been speculations if these characters are ancestors of this or that character we know. Maybe Tristan is an ancestor of this Tristan from season 1 (the guy who was sent to ‘slaughter’ the 100 and was killed by Kane in 2x01)? People are often named after their grandparents, sometimes even after their parents, or celebrated ancestors - names can get passed on like that, and Tristan isn’t exactly the most common name. Or, if Tristan manages to become a Commander - that would make it a popular name.

In any case, the prequel needs to provide a convincing explanation how the society of these survivors and their descendants went from what we see in this episode to the Grounder society we know. But this is my big concern about the prequel - and it’s the problem that many prequels have: however they get there, we know how things turn out; we know it all somehow goes wrong, and that not only will the antagonist fail in their initial goal (getting the Flame to Bill), but the protagonist, Callie, will ultimately fail in her attempts to create a better society. Instead, the Grounder society will descend into tribalism, worship of violence, and constant wars between a bunch of clans, the Flame won’t be given to the person chosen as most qualified but will be fought over by a bunch of children selected on the basis of “special blood” (as Nightblood becomes rarer over time) and forced to kill each other, and most of Becca’s knowledge will be forgotten, as Grounders become technologically underdeveloped and unable to really defend themselves from the Mountain Men, who will learn about them in a few decades and start using them as blood supply.

On the other hand, knowing that the protagonists will fail and that everything will go wrong is often the case with prequels (e.g. regardless of their quality, Star Wars prequels were certainly watched by many people), or, for that matter, with some period dramas (e.g. Babylon Berlin, which I love - set in the Weimar Republic, which means that we know all the time while watching the show that things will go horribly wrong on the level of the society). Sometimes that sense of doom doesn’t turn me off as viewer and actually makes the story more compelling in a way. But that would certainly be a difference from The 100 - no matter how dark, we can still hope things will turn out well and a good solution will be found. Or maybe everything will go even worse. We don’t know how things turn out with the humanity in general. In this prequel, we would know.

Body count for this episode: in the present day, no one. in the flashbacks... over 10 billion people.

Rating: 9/10

#the 100 #the 100 7x08 #anaconda #the 100 backdoor pilot #the 100 prequel #callie cadogan #calliope cadogan #clarke griffin #bill cadogan #becca franko #reese cadogan #grace cadogan #becca pramheda #the anomaly

19 notes · View notes

frecklesandfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

7x14

It’s Thursday, and time for more thoughts no one asked for but I’m sharing anyway, but I don’t have to be happy about it. I said I’d finish so I will...but I’m still pretty upset about last week and the spoilers I’ve heard about this week. So I guess these are ~bitter~ thoughts.

Previously on The 100: The entire show was fucking ruined, and thanks for that, JRoth

Call-Me-Bill really is on my last goddamn nerve at this point

Oh look, it’s Gaia. Exactly no one in my house cares. Okay, but it is sweet how happy Madi is to see her.

Aw, Indra and Gaia holding hands actually does please me in my little Mom heart. I’m such a sucker for mother/daughter dynamics.

“Hey baby,” omg Mackson you are SO CUTE

All of this hugging is too sweet

I think it was pretty heavily foreshadowed that Octavia would understand that Clarke killed Bellamy because of Madi, due to her relationship with Hope. Still, this scene broke my heart. Eliza knocked it out of the park.

HOWEVER, Echo’s little monologue about how Bellamy felt would have been better served if it came from, say, a dying Bellamy?

I always sort of love it when Clarke loses her shit.

Here’s a match made in hell with Cadogan and Russ!Heda

Also I already screamed this into the wind last night but Bardo had the tech to save Russ!Heda but not BELLAMY FUCKING BLAKE???

Making a deal with the devil here, but is the devil Sheidheda or Bill?

Mackson being all holed up in bed and talking about their feelings is what I need in these dark times. And a Daddy Miller mention!

Gabriel’s delight at the piano! Niylah’s stash of Monty’s moonshine! Hope and Jordan’s cute lil moments! (When I think that they are basically teenagers it makes me sad.)

Madi is not having it with Clarke’s bullshit. She’s speaking up for Bellamy when everyone else was like, “All good, Clarke.” And she’s had to leave her friends behind! “You’ve ruined my life, just like you ruined your own.” is ooooooof.

Murvenmori moments are my favorite. And the growth! The GROWTH from Murphy, wanting to save everyone on Sanctum.

Thank you JESUS for this Indra/Octavia interaction. It has been two goddamn seasons. And yes. Indra, Abby, and Kane were all complicit in the atrocities of the bunker. So was Miller--but he seems to have accepted that at the beginning of last season. Did Abby ever?

Oh for fuck’s sake with this invisibility suit.

I ship Hope and Jordan hard and I hope these two little orphans make it work. Sweet babies.

Gabriel is the delight of my life at all times. I just adore him and I will follow Chuku Modu’s career avidly.

Drunk Niylah + cranky Echo = gold. I like this establishment of what fans thought--Echo/Ash never told Bellamy her real name. How sad. Their relationship was a tragedy. He was mourning Clarke when they got together, he was in love with Clarke when they returned to the ground, he spent all of their time on Sanctum trying to save Clarke, and then he died. Twice. All of that and she kept fighting for him, when he didn’t even really know her.

I knew what was coming and still screamed when Russ!Heda stabbed Gabriel. ALSO, Gabriel is a fucking KING and saved Madi’s life!

Mother/daughter fight scene! CAN THIS FUCKER DIE ALREADY?

I was so numb (and angry) last week over Bellamy, but I 100% cried over Gabriel. Partially on behalf of Hope, but also because he was a fabulous character.

Madi is so brave, and so dumb. She’s 100% Clarke’s daughter, sacrificing herself to save the others.

NO no no no no Emori no

Well THAT was a worrisome ending.

Bellamy Blake is still dead and I’ll die mad about it.

In short: Indra makes amends, Echo has a name change, Gabriel gets the kind of death Bellamy deserved, Madi, Hope, and Jordan do teenage things, Mackson finally gets a little attention, and JR Bourne chews scenery.

#the 100 spoilers #jackie's rambling again

4 notes · View notes

clarkgriffon · 5 years ago

Text

Look, my dudes. I’m a pessimist, I’ve always been very real about that and the fact that I find it dangerous to get too hopeful about things... but after 6x06, I’m finding it hard not to be.

I mean, just looking at the bare bones of the episode, all of Bellamy’s scenes were him mourning Clarke. All of them. He’s crying or tearing up in almost every shot. He goes back and forth between defeated and righteous anger, but he never stops looking like he’s about to cry. We have never seen a reaction to a death on a show like this.

There are two that come close, and they’re still different. The first is Clarke mourning L/exa, in that she gets multiple moments throughout the back half of season 3 and the episode where she cries with her mother in 4x01, but still, with so much else going on plot-wise, Clarke doesn’t have time to mourn L/exa besides those little moments, and I really feel the only moment that even gets close to Bellamy’s reaction to Clarke’s death in 6x06 is L/exa’s actual death in 3x07 and the break down with Abby in 4x01.

The other one is Octavia mourning Lincoln, which also comes close, but Octavia’s mourning is so warped that it’s hard to compare. There are certain moments that strike me as similar- one being her watching Lincoln be shot (3x09) and the other being when she gets his journal and cries over his body in Demons (3x12). But that’s still just two scenes, and the rest of Octavia’s mourning is warped by numbness and revenge.

We’ve still never had anything close this. An entire episode where the entire purpose of Bellamy’s screen time was to emphasize his loss. There’s no ambiguity there either, like with many Bellarke scenes. There’s nothing to imply, it’s stated. Bellamy says, “Not Clarke.” He says they do what Clarke would’ve wanted. He tells Murphy that Clarke cared about him. Russell referenced the loss of a loved one, and Clarke is the only one who’s died.

If this was Bellamy’s reaction losing her- can you imagine getting her back? The amount of sheer emotion that’ll come from that reunion? It’s hard for me to imagine a universe where that doesn’t push Bellarke into action - or at the very least, a universe where that doesn’t cue to E/cho that her boyfriend is deeply in love with this other individual and she is now back from the dead (again). So, yeah, I’m spec-ing it. Even if there’s no canon Bellarke this season - which I’m not not saying will happen - I think that Clarke’s return will have to be the catalyst for the B/E breakup.

If they handle Clarke’s return with even half the emotion of Bellamy’s reaction to her loss, I don’t see a universe where B/E can continue.

#the 100 #the 100 spoilers #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 meta #speculation #mira muses

211 notes · View notes

octannibal-blake · 6 years ago

Text

love me in whatever way

rating: Mature (language)

words: 2,943

(ao3)

One of the first rules they teach you in medical school is that you are, by no means, supposed to have any attachment to the patient.

And of course, Clarke breaks that rule within a year of her first real job.

It’s not that she had planned to grow attached to Bellamy Blake. It just happened. He’s been there for her worst moments, supportive and calm and strong. Without him, she’s almost sure she would have fallen apart, nothing left but a pile of broken pieces and dust.

It goes like this: Clarke moved nearly 3,000 miles from home for a job as an Emergency Room Doctor at Arkadia Memorial. Why? Because there was nothing left except an ex-fiancé and her best friends grave in her home town and this was her chance to start over. Exciting as the job was, settling in proved to be difficult. Until it wasn’t.

The Meeting: a new doctor believes in the privacy and respect of all humans, even one’s who have committed a crime. And yes, even if the crime was within the same two hours that they arrive at the hospital. Enter the cop: Bellamy fucking Blake who is argumentative and the epitome of the Big Dick Energy™ in the worst way. She convinces him to leave after an explosive argument that could have very well gotten her fired, because professionalism is often synonymous to kissing ass, but karma seems to be very, very real. The patient somehow manages to slip his bed restraint and stab her in the arm with a pair of surgical scissors. Good thing there was a cop around, huh?

Despite the less than stellar circumstances that brought them together, she makes her first friend that day. Bellamy sits with her to take the police report once the patient is restrained, and even waits while one of the nurses removes and cleans the small wound in her arm. She learns that he’s new to the policing thing and she’ll never forget his answer when she asked him why.

“Things are weird right now for cops,” his leg was bouncing anxiously as they waited, his eyes watching as each nurse passed by, “And I asked myself how to make it better? How to stop all the fucked up stuff they keep doing and still bring justice to those who deserve it. The answer was easy: Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

In any other situation, Clarke would have found quoting Gandhi to be a tad bit pretentious, but something strange fluttered in her stomach. By the time he left to haul the patient off to jail and fulfill his duty, he was smiling at her and she found herself hoping to see him again.

As it turns out, the hospital was mostly his beat, so she began to see a lot of him. Responding to security threats. Bringing in forms. Mostly, being on guard for arrests who were on the fast track to jail but needed some sort of treatment first. So they talked. Sometimes for minutes. Sometimes for an hour – their lunch breaks weirdly coincided on almost a weekly basis.

What She Learns: Bellamy grew up under difficult conditions. A single mom in a poor neighborhood who later became absentee working three jobs to provide for her kids. A younger sister, five years younger than him, three years younger than Clarke, who relied on him and who he felt responsible for taking care of. He raised her, essentially, and she’s off now somewhere in California living a nomadic lifestyle with her hippie boyfriend. He has a dog. His best friends name is Miller. He likes history and baking and gardening. He also played lacrosse in high school. She learns everything about him.

Fuck him for that. Honestly. Because now, she’s standing in front of him as he lies in one of the sterile hospital beds and contemplating smacking him on the forehead and falling into his arms in tears.

She’s not emotionally unstable. Not really. He just brings out something in her she had forgotten existed.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He jokes, but it falls onto the hideous tile floor between them with a thud. She blinks at him, trying to find some semblance of professionalism. Her hand is slightly trembling as she grabs his chart on the wall.

The words are blurry. She can hardly make them out, but she catches enough. Gunshot wound. Right arm. Significant blood loss. No vital damage.

“You know, Princess,” she can hear the hope in his voice, like the stupid nickname will somehow erase the severity of the current situation, “This was really just an elaborate scheme to see you. I figured I would change it up, you know. I love a good roleplay.”

She has to remove herself from the room, finding her nurse and requesting the needed supplies.

“Oh, I can do that. There is a car accident in room seven.” Maya tells her, starting to move towards Bellamy’s room.

“I’ve got this.” her voice is surprisingly stable, “Won’t take long.”

She thinks about waiting outside the room until the supplies arrive. She’s not sure she can look at him again without breaking down because, fuck, he was shot. And with that understanding comes a myriad of emotions, the first of which is: what if he had died and she never told him how she felt?

The Most Recent Development: She and Bellamy became fast friends, spending more time than probably necessary together. Including, but not limited: trivia night on Wednesdays, Movie Night on Saturdays, and frequent daily texting. He was her first connection in the new town and she attached to him quickly. Except, then they weren’t just hanging out. They were making out because they’re two single objectively attractive adults and of course he’s good in bed. It’s been a thing for a couple of months and she just saw him four hours ago for fuck’s sake. Naked and happy and in one piece.

She pushes open the curtain and reenters the room, checking all the wiring and tubing to make sure it’s hooked up right. A bag of O negative is hanging above his bed, next to the bag of morphine. His eyes flutter open at the touch of her hand.

“You should see the other guy.” He smirks and she hates him at this moment. He must sense it because he sighs. “I’m fine, Clarke.”

The gunshot wound says otherwise.

She’s saved from the projectile word vomit she was about to spew on him as Maya shuffles into the room, pushing the cart with her requested supplies. She thanks the nurse and dismissed her with a nod, turning back to organize the tray. She wraps her foot around the chair and pulls it to her, sitting at his bed side.

“It’s not even that bad.” He continues, and she can feel his eyes trying to find hers. She keeps hers focused on the computer, typing in his name and birthdate. She shouldn’t have that memorized. She shouldn’t actually be treating him because the rules say not to. But she sure as hell won’t let anyone else do it.

“Really, the silent treatment?”

Clarke finally makes eye contact, glaring at him as her fingers peel back the blood-soaked bandage from his bicep. The blood is, luckily, beginning to clot and there is an exit wound almost straight through. In and out. A clean shot and if she were objectively speaking, she would tell him he’s lucky.

But it’s not really that lucky considering he got shot in the first place.

She packs and presses a thick set of gauze to the wound as her other hand begins to organize the items around her tray. She calls out to the Maya for an extra dose of numbing agent but continues to look anywhere but directly at him.

“Clarke…” he groans, leaning back against the flattened pillow.

“Don’t move.”

“You can’t actually be mad about this. I’m a cop. These things happen.” He tells her softly and she can feel his eyes on her. She hates it. She hates that she’s mad about it because a) it’s a complete violation of boundaries as a professional and b) it means she cares more than she should.

The Ugly Reality: They aren’t just friends. Never have been. Things are messy and complicated and in the midst of all of it, she could have lost him. Just like that.

She knows what his job is. She’s not naïve. It’s dangerous and crazy things happen all the time and maybe she’s being unreasonable. It’s another day on the job. Another risk that always has to be taken.

She removes the gauze once the bleeding has stopped and wipes around the area with a sterilizing solution. She hears him suck in a breath at the way it, undoubtedly, burns. She grabs the numbing agent and finally glances up at him, “Deep breath. This is going to hurt.”

He closes his eyes as she injects it, scrunching his nose in pain as the fluid enters in. She does one in the back and one in the front, and he lets out a shaky breath when she finishes. She massages the flesh around it as it kicks in.

“You’re really not going to talk to me?” he sighs. His eyes are watery when he opens them and she hates herself for looking. It causes something uncomfortable to rise in her chest, and she feels something beginning to burn behind her eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” she grabs the suture that Maya has prepped and begins working. He doesn’t flinch as it penetrates his skin, instead focusing on her so intently that she begins to feel like she’s under a microscope.

“Shit, I don’t know.” He grumbles, “But you aren’t looking at me and I don’t know what to do.”

It comes out before she can stop herself, “Not get shot, for starters.”

He snorts, “Yeah, I must’ve forgotten to not do that today.”

Sewing a person back together is strange concept. The body, delicate as the pair of jeans that rip or the tear in your favorite pillow. She concentrates on the next suture and silence fills the air once more. It’s not tense, just tired. He’s tired from the blood loss. She’s tired of tip-toeing around the truth.

The Conclusion (as of ten minutes ago): she’s in love with him. Completely. Recklessly. It wasn’t supposed to happen. They made rules about it because he made it clear he doesn’t date, and she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Except things got very serious and she knew it should stop, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She didn’t want to. Doesn’t want to. But how does she tell him that when this is his life? And he’s made it clear.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally as she clips the last thread, “For what it’s worth.”

She sits back on the stool and peels off the gloves, finally allowing herself to look at him. He’s alive, his cheeks are rosy, and his chest rises and falls with each breath. He’s here and things can continue like normal.

They can’t.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispers, and something wet trickles down her cheek and she swipes at it quickly, hoping it’s just a fluke because damn it, she isn’t going to do this here. She steels herself, blocking every inch of her that screams at her not to.

“Do what? You’re a great doctor, I barely felt a thing…”

“No.” she closes her eyes for a moment, willing the emotions back to their cage, “This. Us. Whatever this is. I can’t…”

The bed squeaks as he leans up, and he grips the side rail for support. His eyes, despite the morphine induced haze, are incredulous as he stares at her, “You cannot be serious right now.”

She presses her lips together. Her nostrils flare.

“Jesus, Clarke, you couldn’t have done this earlier? If you wanted to break up with me, you didn’t need to wait until I got shot for an out.” He’s swinging his legs over the bed before she can stop him and grabbing at the tubes attached to his arm.

She rushes over to his side to swat his hand away, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“You treated me. I’m leaving,” he says matter-of-factly, “I can’t be here right now.”

She grips his hand as he tries to peel at the tape holding the IV to his arm, “Stop. You need to rest.”

“Rest? Clarke, you’re trying to break up with me in a hospital room!”

“How can we break up? We aren’t even together! You made sure of it!”

He stops pulling then and she lets out a sigh of relief. “What are you talking about?”

Her hands drop to her sides. “You’re the one who said that this couldn’t be more than it was.” He still looks lost, eyebrows knitted together, and face scrunched in either pain or confusion or both, so she continues. “I understand why, now. This job is dangerous and being attached to someone, you have to worry about more than just yourself in the field. But I got attached and I just need some space because I really don’t know what else to do…”

“Clarke, I’m in love with you.” It comes out as a half-groan, half-plea and she nearly swallows her tongue.

“What?” she manages to choke out. She thinks maybe she misheard him. She heard what she wanted to hear instead of what he actually said.

“I was half in-love with you when we met,” he confesses again, shaking his head derisively.

“Then why…” her brain still can’t form coherent sentences.

“Didn’t I tell you before?” he finishes, “I guess we were both on the same page. You thought I didn’t want anything serious and I didn’t want to rush you into anything serious. But fuck, Clarke. When I got shot, you were the first person I thought of. All I could think about was you. How would you react? How could I have gone this long without telling you how I feel? What if the shot had hit me somewhere else, you would never know.”

It takes a moment for everything to sink in, for the fact that Bellamy loves her to hit. But when it does she laughs. Covering her eyes with her hands she moans, “We’re a complete fucking mess.”

“Yeah, well…”

She realizes that he’s laid himself bare before her, but she has yet to do the same. Something catches in her throat as she looks at him. “I’m so scared.”

He must know what she means because he steps into her space, reaching up with his good hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. His thumb caresses her cheek gently, “Me too.”

“What if something worse happens? Next time the shot is deadly. Or the person you’re arresting decides to hurt you. Or you, I don’t know, get hit by some asshole who hates cops? God, Bellamy, I can’t lose you.”

He pulls her into his chest and she buries her nose into his neck, wrapping herself into his familiar scent. Musk and sweat and just, Bellamy. She tries not to let her mind run away with all those thoughts, tries to be here in the moment but the reality is so much greater than both of them.

“This is my job, Clarke,” he murmurs into her ear, “Just like being a doctor is yours. The world is dangerous and all of those things you said, could happen to anyone. But just because the danger is there doesn’t mean we can put our lives on hold ‘just in case.’ If you can’t look past that, I understand. But I needed you to know how I feel.”

The Future: When she closes her eyes, he’s there. When she imagines her life years from now, he’s standing right there. She can’t let that go. Bellamy Blake is her future.

She pulls back, curling her fingers into his white t-shirt and pulling him forward. The kiss is soft, a bit sloppy because he’s still weak and dazed from everything. She pulls back quickly and he tries to follow her but she just smiles. He leans his forehead on hers instead.

“I love you, too,” she finally whispers, “In case I haven’t made that clear.”

He smiles, “Yeah, I was hoping you did.”

She helps him back down to the bed and he grabs her hand, pulling her down for another kiss. “Just so we’re clear. We’re like, a thing now.”

She giggles, “Yes, we are.”

“So, will you go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Sorry, Officer Blake. You’re on strict bed rest orders for the next couple of days.” The doctor in her can’t let that one go, despite wanting nothing more than to go out with him on an actual date.

He huffs, “It’s just a scratch. I can handle a date…”

“You need to rest,” she tells him, “But I’ll come over and cuddle later if that helps convince you.”

She leans down to kiss his cheek just as the curtain is pushed back.

“Shit, sorry Doctor,” Maya squeaks, “I’ll just…uh…”

Clarke laughs and gives Bellamy’s hand a squeeze, “If I get fired, I’m coming to your house and mooching off you.”

He calls out to her as she leaves, “Hope you get fired, Doc!”

The End: She doesn’t get fired. But she does go to his house. And she doesn’t really leave after that.

#bellarke fanfiction #my writing #hurt + comfort

62 notes · View notes

vvakarians · 6 years ago

Text

Closure

An ending to a relationship in my D&D Campaign and the end of a relationship in my friend group. Under the cut.

Never had Bell needed to set foot in Blackthorn Prison, a veritable fortress to keep the most hated of the dead behind impenetrable walls. It’s exactly what every single one of the prisoners deserved. A cold, hard view to keep them company while the rest of eternity passed them by without even a second glance. This was their torture. Somewhere in the back of Bell’s mind he wished that it was harsher; he wished that the temperature could be felt to a sharper degree, the hardness of the walls and the absence of light dialed up to an intolerable level. At the very least it was a comfort that this is where Davorin had ended up. It was perhaps less than what he deserved but it was something. Ielia had written to him that the paladin would be put into more fitting conditions soon, Bell was just impatient. Rightfully so.

His prosthetic landed with a crack against the stone and he silently winced at the sound. Normally it wouldn’t have been much of an issue but the circumstances under which he had gotten it was...complicated in this situation. It harbored memories that Bell would have rather left under lock and key. While he strode past long dead criminals and evil spirits, Bell tried to shove down all thoughts of that night. Those moments did him no good to remember, not now. New pain fueled him and he wanted to wait for Davorin’s sniveling face to rear up before he let him have it with the old.

Thankfully, the hiss of some half rotted creature drew him from his stupor and he snarled at it, slamming down his heel on the hand that had lashed out from the bars. There was a whimper and an angry screech in reply as it shrank back into it’s cell, two golden eyes peering at him from the darkness. Nothing but pity and a quiet annoyance roiled in Bellamy’s gut for the thing, it had brought this on itself. A waste of skin now, perhaps that’s what would become of Davorin. He had been so prideful, so vain; that was fitting of such a man. As he walked away, Bellamy found himself wishing Ielia would enact that punishment. Or something equally as damning and painful. Something that befit a selfish traitor.

Confidence surged through Bell as he rounded the corner and spotted a familiar silhouette slumped over on the bench in a cell. Stripped of his plate armor, weapons, and shield, Davorin looked insignificant. Even the horrific burn scars where his tattoos had been seemed like a small thing compared to what he had been before. Dressed in just a plain undershirt and his trousers, he looked fittingly pathetic. It was refreshing to Bellamy as he remembered that he towered over this man both literally and figuratively. The man didn’t even raise himself until Bell was inches from the door to his cell, no doubt the familiar clack of his prosthetic telling who his company was before he saw the face. An icy pit of anger welled up inside of Bell as he watched Davorin slowly look up, sadness creeping over the once handsome features of the paladin.

“Bell--”

“It’s Lord Kaldwin to you. My first name is reserved for people who actually care”, Bell spat back before Davorin could even finish his sentence, gaining a shocked expression from the other man.

“Really? Already writing me off, just like that?”

“Don’t see why not, seeing as you made the snap decision to just fucking leave like you did. Real nice touch by the way, leaving your shit for me and your daughters to pick up. Or did you forget that you had a family?”

Those grey blue eyes Bell had found comfort in once narrowed at him, full of frustration and a hint of malice now. He hadn’t taken care of himself even in death, the other man noted that his beard had gotten scragglier and there were deep lines where there hadn’t been in life. Maybe, just maybe, his isolation was getting the better of him.

“Why are you here?”, Davorin mumbled, his voice streaked with pain.

“Closure. Ielia told me I was free to come ask all the questions I wanted. Seeing as I was the person closest to you, I think that’s a free trade off don’t you?”

“Then ask. Don’t dance around me with your bullshit”

The smallest pang of guilt pierced through Bell’s mask of confidence but he swallowed it expertly, keeping his head high.

“Fine. What happened? We both know that you shouldn’t be here unless you died, Davorin”

There was a derisive chuckle and Bell watched while the paladin pulled away his undershirt slightly, revealing his broad chest. Where there should be a smooth --albeit hairy-- expanse of muscle on the left side, there was a giant, gaping hole. The edges were still torn, still healing over. It would take centuries for that to completely close., if it ever did.

“Shar took what she wanted. Watched her crumple it into dust before I faded away if you want to really know, it was quite painful”

Bell scoffed, feeling his anger return in waves, “A fitting end, don’t you think? You did metaphorically rip out a few people’s hearts. Mine included”

Uncomfortable silence filled the wing as Davorin leaned back and settled in, watching Bell stand there for a moment. Panic gripped him slightly while he waited for an answer, a comment, anything. This was a little more than unnerving. The other man’s voice nearly gave him a start as it echoed amongst the stone walls, quiet and almost too sad to bear.

“I thought you said you’d never hate me”

Those simple words were enough to enrage Bell and he surged forward to slam into the bars of Davorin’s cell, his cane clattering to the floor with a tremendous sound. His knuckles gripped the metal with white knuckles while he fought back the urge to spit curses in every language he knew. Instead, he decided on the quiet, terrifying anger.

“You broke that trust years before I uttered those words, Davorin! It was one thing to not remember you had a daughter, or that you were practically married to an evil deity of secrets! Amnesia is a bitch and I realize that. What you failed to let me know was that you let that deity fuck with my memories! Memories, by the way, that were of you attempting to kill me! This was before you had any inclination of becoming a revenant, you settled into the security that I wouldn’t remember any of that! It’s not even you attempting to kill me that takes the cake, it’s the fact you would lie to me like that!”

Shock and terror filled the human’s features and he scrambled to get up, to walk forward and meet Bellamy at the door. But the other man took a step backwards shakily, letting go of the bars right as Davorin’s fingers brushed against his. Rage was boiling within the aasimar and he was about to throw inflict wounds onto a dead man just for the hell of it.

“Bell, I didn’t know about that when I found you again! Look at me and tell me that you think I would do that now”

A scoff escaped Bellamy as he shook his head in disbelief, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes, “It doesn’t matter if you wouldn’t do that now. Our trust is broken. I can’t even tell you if I know you wouldn’t anyway, it doesn’t erase the fact you did it once. That was enough to ruin everything. And it’s only part of the problem”

“What on earth have I done besides that?”

For a moment the words caught in Bellamy’s throat, the pain choking him and leaving him without air. His fists clenched at his sides painfully, nails digging into the meat of his palms. He couldn’t just walk away, he couldn’t. With hot tears running down his cheeks, leaving molten trails of gold on his skin he let his voice ring out in the prison.

“You broke your promise that you wouldn’t leave again”

Davorin’s eyes blew wide with a surge of sorrow, a shattered sound filling his sound as he let his hands fall away from the bars. The blue in his gaze was completely whisked away into grey while he sat back down onto his bench and let his face fall into his large hands. There was nothing but pure hatred and numbness at Bell’s fingertips as he scooped up his cane, leaning on it heavily while he waited for something. Anything. It felt as if years passed by as he stood there, wiping away shining tears that stained his skin. This time he did start when Davorin’s thick Imenian accent reached his ears.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I had no intention of harming you, nor Rosette and Nadya”

“I don’t want your apology, Davorin. It’s impossible to swallow when you did harm us. You left a six year old girl wondering why her father left her behind, and a woman looking for comfort wondering why she keeps losing people. Your brother thinks it’s his fault that you turned out like this, and Divines know what the hell Anya thinks! We haven’t even found her yet. The part for me was that...I had no warning. I had to go through so many stages of grief in a handful of seconds”, a bitter laugh echoed along the halls as Bell took a breath, “Even worse than that was I had planned on proposing to you after we destroyed my father. I think I can definitively say that I dodged a pretty large fucking bullet there. The man I fell in love with wasn’t ever real. The Davorin Sokolov I know wouldn’t have done any of that, but perhaps I had fabricated him”

Another bout of silence fell upon the two, and Bell had finally gathered the courage to turn around, to just leave. Until the other man spoke again, softly this time, almost incoherent through his tears.

“I love you, Bell”

With a shock, even to himself, Bellamy smiled at Davorin through his own tears and laughed without any of the bitterness from before.

“We both made mistakes, it seems. Proved fatal for you”

“What..what are you going to do now?”

Bellamy cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on the head of the cane, his leg had started to ache. But he could still walk away.

“Why would I tell you?”

#bellamy kaldwin #my boy is no longer with his ex LMAO #he has a bf now thank goodness but that was a whole trainwreck #i'm not friends with the person who played dav anymore #and this will be the last time i write about him #mal writes

2 notes · View notes

imtinkerbell · 7 years ago

Note

Five times kissed - nealonfire i am here for this meme every time

On Monday she said she’d be going on a trip. She didn’t know where, she didn’t know when. But that evening she kissed him goodnight long after he’d gone to sleep. Without direction, the fairy got into her car, assumed a name and left. Storybrooke was the same day after day, sometimes even Neal was the same. Sometimes she felt like she was going crazy sitting here day after day and watching the world move on without her. So she decided to move on from it in turn. The road out of Storybrooke felt endless, but she reached a train station and bought a ticket, where she’d end up, who was really to say. It was wrong to leave, selfish probably.

But as the train pulled away from the station in Boston, her fears were replaced with visions of what the world ahead of her could be. A dangerous world for a young woman riding alone, but a world that she longed to find the heart of. Neverland had been too small and like a mouse in a cage she was eager to enter a world that felt unending. That freedom embraced her like a friend from another lifetime. She cherished it and determined that she would never let it go.

On Tuesday a week had passed calls and texts had gone long ignored on a phone that had died two cities ago. This world was still new no matter how far she traveled, every inch unfamiliar, every face foreign to the fairy. Except the one in her wallet that she carried with her. As she sat on a bus in Louisville she could hear the sounds of someone else’s headphones, just distantly enough to feel far away, like a memory of a time when she hadn’t traveled alone. A song on the radio and a kiss shared between two people in love, deeply in love. It all felt so far away.

Sometimes Tinkerbell didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror. Her curls had been brushed out, the fake identification she’d had created didn’t bear her own name. In the blazing Summer heat she dressed anything but fairylike. In a mirror she might have been a stranger, inside she might’ve felt the same. This place was too hot, the sticky air left her to dwell on her thoughts. Busses were a terrible way to travel. Next time, a train would be best, she decided. The thought was only of herself, the rest of the world no longer mattered. She’d eaten meat at a barbecue restaurant off the side of the road, the first time she ate meat since Neverland. She’d tried to avoid it but this place made her remember that change often came in the ways we least were to expect it.

Wednesday in Bozeman, Montana, late Summer wildflowers had flooded a landscape unlike anything she’d seen. To live in a place like this forever would’ve been a dream. She laid in a field of tall grass watching clouds pass her by. Warm sun pounded down on her face but she didn’t even care anymore. This place was perfect, this feeling was perfect. For the first time in a long time, she felt as she should’ve been all along. Maybe if this land really had magic, her wings would’ve sprung from her back by now. but even she wasn’t fool enough to let a fantasy like that claim her.

Yet in this perfect place, with this perfect feeling, she thought of Neal, of how much she’d missed him. Two months it’d been since she left. Sometimes she still got texts, maybe a call. But the fairy never answered. Faye Bellamy rarely answered calls or texts unless they were from the new people she’d met along the way. The name had grown on her. But something about it still felt separate from herself. She held Neal’s picture in her hand, they’d been in a bar in Boston and someone had snapped a picture of them together. They’d been kissing, red faced from alcohol and laughing too much. She kissed the picture and all at once felt like this place wasn’t as perfect as she initially thought. Perhaps it was time to move on, maybe in a week. Maybe a week more of this serene joy would do her mind some good.

That’s what she always said when she stuck around a place for too long. Most places she was never in for more than a week but this one? This one stuck. Maybe something that could stick to her heart was just what she needed.

Thursday brought rain, lots of rain, how did Seattle rain in one of the hottest months of the year? She’d run inside a store to get out of the sudden downpour. A bookstore not unlike one in Boston she’d gone to with Neal. Every day now it felt like she was missing him more and more. She’d stopped checking for his texts. Did he still miss her? Did he still think of her? Had he moved on? Assuming she’d left for good? Most of her things were still there, not that she had many. The jealous pang dissipated after only a moment. She sat in a corner with a book of poems. She flipped through them until fate intervened.

“Pull My Daisy” by Neal Cassady, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg.

Why did his name follow her? Perhaps it was time to turn back. But she couldn’t. How could one return after running away so selfishly? She’d decided on the train from Bozeman to Seattle a month ago that it was a selfish thing to do. But it was the first time she’d been selfish in over thirty years. How could you cage a bird that’d finally known freedom? She could see a couple by a window reading together in a perfect silence together. They’d glance at each other from time to time, smiling and sometimes telling one another about what was happening in their book. It pulled at the fairy’s heart. She hated them because she was envious that they had one another.

Maybe it was wrong to leave but wasn’t it worse to tie a man down to someone who would never be happy where he would be happy? It wasn’t right. They didn’t want the same things. Yet when finally the reading man leaned over and kissed his girlfriend, Faye couldn’t help but imagine it was Neal and she was the young woman so eager to receive it. For months she’d wondered if she had been in love at all and yet, in that moment, she knew she had been.

But was she still?

Curiosity turned to longing, longing to heartache. By Friday she was weeping in Wyoming in an airport with a single gate. She must’ve looked insane. By a large fireplace with the most picturesque mountains she’d ever seen just out the window, she had no idea what had set her off. Perhaps it was the realization that it was October finally dawned on her. Storybrooke felt too far away now, she couldn’t arrive there soon enough and the moment she realized that home was still hours out, something simply burst inside of her. A bubble that had been brewing all along, but she’d ignored it, run from it at all cost.

Maybe it was the phone call she finally made.

Friday in San Francisco in a club not far from the ocean. She never went to clubs, but she needed to numb her mind. The heartache had been too much. A drink later, a few drinks later, laughing with virtual strangers later, dancing and grinding and oh god what had she done later? She stumbled back to the motel she’d managed to get a room at. She’d kissed him. He looked like Neal, maybe he didn’t but he looked just like him when she squinted, she’d burst into sobs and kissed him. She hadn’t stumbled away she ran. She’d been running for months and now – now she was sitting on the dirty carpet of a motel room fumbling with a cell phone she’d not charged in weeks.

“Neal-i-its Tink-T-tinkerbell….I miss you. I-I’m coming home…I-i’m sorry.”

He was asleep probably she spoke to his answering machine like it was a lifeline she didn’t know she’d needed. Far out in the middle of a place she no longer wanted to be she had to get home.

The next morning she was on a plane to Wyoming, the only flight she could get but the only one that would bring her closer to where she needed to be.

The train from Chicago to Boston took ages, the car she’d abandoned still sat in the lot but needed a charge, the battery had died from not being used. She drove as fast as the disgruntled car battery would allow. The border into Storybrooke was hard to see through the tears that streaked down her cheeks. Tink ran up the stairs, not Faye not a woman determined to run but Tinkerbell, the fairy who had taken too long to learn what she’d wanted. She struggled, fumbling with her keys in shaking hands at the door.

The door practically burst open and yet, when she’d arrived, he was gone. This place had been theirs. Yet only the few pieces of her remained. She’d see him eventually, he’d never leave his son and Storybrooke was too small. Gracelessly she collapsed in a heap in the center of what had been their tiny living room for two. Had he given up on her? She couldn’t blame him, how many months had it been?

But her heart was still broken. In two pieces on the floor of an apartment meant for two. Her backpack was thrown unceremoniously from her shoulders. The door was closed and locked. The picture she’d kissed so many times thinking of him was pulled from her pocket. It was as descheveled as she must’ve looked.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured with no tears left to cry. Tinkerbell kissed the photo and placed it face down on the nightstand. She took a shower, washing away the past six months of her absence and laid down alone in her bed, six months of longing lingering on unkissed lips.

#this is from 3 months ago and i finally have an idea #technically there are kisses every time #technically >.>#nealonfire #Anonymous #long post for the ts #do you end up writing something you're super proud of and then hate urself immediately after #i can relate

1 note · View note

bloglive · 7 years ago

Photo

angst words: 1589

As you walked through the woods on your way back to the Arkadia for the first time in a least two months, the warm sun was sinning in your face, illuminating the small droplets of sweat that lined your forehead, making your skin look dewy and heathy.

‘’I can’t wait to be back’’ you said with a big grin on your face to the tall dark haired boy that was walking beside you, you haven’t known him for a long time, but in the short amount of time you have known him, the two of you have been getting really close, he was there for you when your sister died fighting a grounder ‘’yeah me neither’’ he sounded distressed like he had committed a horrible crime, ‘’bell what’s wrong you sound upset’’ you questioned with concern filling your soft voice, ‘’no it’s nothing don’t worry sunshine’’ he said this time the tone of his voice was a lot more cheerful, but you could still hear how he wasn’t completely okay, but you decided to let it go, he wound talk to you when he was ready he always did.

As the Arkadia came to sight, you turned your view point to the boy beside you, you couldn’t read his face like you normally could. Something was for sure wrong, and it was messing with his attitude, around you he wound always be happy and smiling, but right now he seemed depressed, ‘’bellamy what’s wrong’’ you said as you softly grabbed his wrist as you stopped walking, ‘’y/n I told you nothing is wrong’’ his voice was hard like it was the times that he had tried to push you away, because he was scared of letting people into his life, ‘’Bell you haven’t said a word in days, you only speak when it is completely necessary’’ you replied in a caring voice, ‘’I don’t want you to hate me’’ his said looking you in the eyes as tears started to form in his waterline, ‘’Bellamy I could never hate you’’ you said pulling him into your arms, holding him tight into your chest, he heisted to wrap his arms around you, but when he did he was holding on to you like you would die if he ever let you go, his face was resting in the crock of your neck, you felt a small spot on your shirt beginning to dampen from his tears. you pulled away and looked him in his eyes, their were red and swollen and the lack of sleep was showing in the dark purple backs under his big brown eyes, his freckles lining his cheeks making him look like a young innocent kid, you flashed a sweet smile, the smile that Ballemy loved seeing, and he loved it even more when he was the course of that sweet angelic smile on your face, ‘’come on let’s get going’’ you said eagered to get back and see your dad, the only family you had left after the death of your you sister (or brother), he nodded knowing what most likely would happened the instant you placed foot on the camp again.

But he just couldn’t bring himself to tell you that your dad had passed, from an injury he had sustained while he was helping building the camp walls stronger.

As you walked into the camp with a smile that went from ear to ear, you were so happy to be back, and see everyone again, ‘’y/n am so sorry for your losses’’ an elderly woman who had looked after you and your sister when you were younger back on the ark, ‘’losses?’’ you asked confused at the statement she had made, ‘’yes, your sister(or brother) and you father, they were both good people and deserved a much longer life then their got’’ she said placing a hand on the side of your shoulder, ‘’if you ever need anything you can always come to me’’ she said in a reassuring voice, ‘’thank you’’ you replied not knowing what was going on. She walked away and all these people came up to you and told you how sorry their where.

You looked around for Kane, he had to know what was going on and why all these people were telling you why her father was dead, you had known Kane for the majority of your life since your dad and him were friends ‘’Kane’’ you shouted the second you saw him, you ran over to him as fast as your legs would go, ‘’y/n how are you holding up’’ he asked with concern not only filling his voice but his eyes, ‘’fine why wouldn’t I be’’ you asked still unknow to the fact that you were the only on left in your family, ‘’Bellamy didn’t tell you’’ he asked surprised ‘’told me what, and why are people telling me that my father has passed away’’ you semi yelled in frustration that no one were telling you anything. ‘’come here, I think that it is best if you sit down’’ he told you as he softly grabbed his hand around your wrist as he guided you to a place where you could sit. ‘’now that on sitting down, will you please tell what hell is going on’’ you asked, something in you kept telling you that, you didn’t want to know but you had to know, ‘’y/n I am so sorry but you dad have passed away, he died while helping out in the camp’’ Kane said looking at you with pity, ‘’what when’’ you asked as the tears started to form in the corner of your eyes, ‘’he passed away a few days after your sister(or brother) did’’ you looked at him as the hot tears started to spill down on your cheeks, ‘’did he suffer’’ you struggled to ask though your broken cry’s, ‘’no he was comfortable, and I know that I’m not your dad but I will always be here no matter what.’’ his answered trying to make you feel somewhat better about the fact that you were all alone, ‘’you asked if Bellamy had told me, was this what you meant, did he know’’ you questioned in a low and hard voice, ‘’yes he knew, he might have had his reason for not telling you’’ he said as you got up on your feet to go find Bellamy, anger crowding your mind, Kane grabbed your wrist trying to stop you, ‘’y/n you’re upset don’t go off doing something you might regret later on’’ he said as he was trying to get you to sit down again, ‘’hell yeah I’m upset, a person I trusted my with my life has been lying to me for weeks’’ you shouted as you harshly pulled you hand back and walked of.

‘’you’’ you yelled the seconded you saw Bellamy standing at the gate taking with some guy, ‘’y/n I am so sor-‘’ in the middle of his sentence he felt a warm hand land on his face with full force, ‘’I should have told you I know that’’ he said not sure if he should look at you, ‘’yes you should have told me’’ you said as tears formed in your already bloodshot eyes, from all the crying, ‘’my dad died and you didn’t tell me, what did you think would happened, did you think I would put the mission at risk’’ you yelled on top of your lungs, Bellamy turned his face towards the ground not wanting to look at you knowing that he really screwed up this time, ‘’look at me god damn it’’ you said in a low harsh voice, he looked up at you, the tears that had been in your eyes had made their journey down your rosy cheeks, all he wanted was to hold you and tell you how sorry he was for not telling you, but he knew that you wouldn’t let him near you, ‘’y/n just let me explain’’ he asked pleading you to hear him out, ‘’explain what exactly, because were I’m standing there is not much explaining to do, you didn’t tell me that my dad the last family I had died’’ your voice was cold and with no emotion, ‘’I didn’t want you to freak out’’ he replied trying to make you see it from his point of view, ‘’freak out’’ you chuckled darkly, ‘’my sister were killed right in front of me as their made an example out of her, I didn’t get to hold her or tell her that everything was going to be okay as she took her last breath Bellamy, I didn’t kill the man who sliced her throat because you told me that, it wasn’t the way to get peace, I put my anger and sorrow behind me for the greater good, and you didn’t think to tell me that my dad had died because I might had freaked out’’ you said as the tears in your eyes had stopped, at this point, you weren’t sad are angry you were just numb, ‘’y/n I’m sorry that I lied to you’’ he said you could hear the regret in his voice, ‘’I’m not upset that you lied to me, I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you’’ you said as you felt your heart break into a million small pieces, you turned around and started to walk away not wanting to look at him anymore, the felling he used to make you feel was gone, just like everything else.

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fanfic #the 100 bellamy #the 100 bellamy fanfic #bellamy the 100 #the hundred #the hundred fanfic #bellamy blake #reader x bellamy #bellamy fanfic #bellamy x reader #x reader #bob morley #bob morley x reader #reader x bob morley #bellamy x #the 100 kane #marcus kane

13 notes · View notes

hermionegranger · 7 years ago

Text

What if This Storm Ends? - Chapter 4 “1,000 Years”

Chapter 3 | FF.net | AO3

Relationship: Bellarke

Summary: Picking up where season 4 left off, the penal colony has just landed on Earth, but the prisoners that exit the ship are not who she expected…

A/N: This originally was going to be a one shot, but it got enough positive feedback that I decided to keep it going. Comments always appreciated! I’m also posting on Fanfiction.net.

Warnings: None.

Words: 4,798 (total)

Bellamy was being pulled back into the ship by his shackles, connected to the line of delinquents. He nearly tripped, refusing to look anywhere but the hole in the trees where Clarke had vanished.

The men who had ran after her had disappeared, engulfed in the Earth's foliage; it was green, bright, and alive.

How. How had they survived all this? The Earth, the delinquents, and her.

He'd seen the planet from above: raging in an angry layer of flames, until there was nothing but stillness and silence.

Until the Earth itself was darkness and death.

He thought it slightly poetic, really. The end of the world, all over again. It reminded him of all the greek tragedies he loved so dearly.

Sometimes, he thought of Clarke and Icarus. He thought of how Icarus had flown so close to the sun, had shone so bright and beautifully, only to be snuffed out by the heat.

And then he'd think of Clarke in flames, after she'd saved them all.

Just then, Murphy shoved his shoulder into Bellamy's, pushing him forward into the ship's hull.

"Look alive," Murphy smirked.

The pun was not lost on him.

Bellamy jerked his gaze forward as he climbed up the ship's ramp, reminding himself his nightmares had been just that: nightmares.

Not truth.

The guards pulled them deeper into the belly of the ship, before pushing them each agaisnt the wall just outside the entrance to their cells. With their arms and legs wrapped in iron, there was nothing they could do but wait.

Four guards stood at attention, guns at the ready, five feet from them, awaiting orders, when Bellamy heard Raven whisper, "I can't believe she's alive..."

Bellamy kept his eyes on the guards, swallowing hard.

Raven leaned closer, "the Nightblood, it actually worked."

He shot her a quick look, then nodded towards the guards in warning. Now was not the time.

Raven pursed her lips in slight annoyance and readjusted her stance as she leaned agaisnt the wall, shrugging.

A moment later, the commander was upon them, his face red in anger. Nearly as red as his man's blood that was smeared across his uniform.

Bellamy smirked.

In an instance, a fist collided with his stomach, forcing him to double over in pain.

"I told you: you and your friends would be safe if you told me the truth. You lied." The commander forced Bellamy back up and slammed him agaisnt the wall. "You told me everyone was dead. You told me this Earth was as empty as the sad excuse of a space station we pulled your sorry asses from."

"I thought it was," Bellamy mumbled through the pain, soft enough that only the commander could hear him.

With the commander so close, and the echo of pain running through his abdomen, he couldn't help but think of his first days on the Gagarin.

The commander thrust him agaisnt the wall again, "you knew her. Who is she. She's clearly one of yours."

One of mine, Bellamy thought, almost laughing. If only. If only she had ever been his.

"Clarke," Bellamy growled through gritted teeth. There was no point in lying. The commander had heard her name slip from his lips like an untold secret.

He hadn't meant to say it. He was too stunned to think. But when he heard it: that soft way she said his name, as if it was a promise, he couldn't stop himself.

Perhaps it was a promise. Her way of promising.

All those years, she had promised him so many times... so many things... simply by saying his name.

"Clarke," the commander repeated, throwing him against the wall one last time as he retreated to eye the group in full. Her name on his tongue sounded wrong, as if he was stealing something that was never supposed to be his. Possessive anger began to swirl in the pit of Bellamy's stomach, telling him to protect her name from this man's lips, telling him he didn't deserve to say her name.

"She was supposed to be dead," Raven spoke up, clearly trying to pull the commander's attention away from Bellamy. He let his guard down slightly, grateful for the distraction.

"Well, she isn't very dead, is she?" the commander spat at her, "how. How is she alive when the whole world burned."

Raven shrugged, refusing to be intimidated by the man in front of her.

The man who had took his time as he tortured her for information three years ago. Who had took his time as he tortured them all, one by one, bit by bit.

"I have no idea," she said simply. "We left her for dead."

The words stung. He remembered that moment, staring down at the Earth as it glowed, a canvas of yellow and orange and red swirls.

It had almost looked like a sunset.

But while he watched the Earth burn, not knowing if Clarke had succeeded in reviving the comms system...

His hands had shook in regret, and nothing could still them.

They hadn't stopped when Raven opened the Ark doors, or when the oxygen had revived them, or when he had laid down his cold, empty cot to sleep amongst the stars again for the first time in a year.

He'd awoken that first night shivering, drenched in cold sweat.

Cold sweat.

The thought had caused him to wretch, though there was nothing in his stomach. He heaved and heaved until his stomach ached and tears ran from his eyes.

He watched as they dripped to the floor beneath him, mixing with the expelled insides of his stomach, and he wondered if they were caused by the dry heaving or the memory of her.

Monty had found him the next morning, asleep on the bare floor, next to a pile of dried stomach bile. It had smelled horrible, but Monty ignored it, forcing Bellamy to eat what small provisions they had brought. Monty hadn't said anything, but his presence was enough to remind Bellamy he had a job to do. Even if he didn't want to, he had to live. She had died for them to live.

Bellamy hadn't wanted to wake. He hadn't wanted to eat, or sleep, or face another day.

And back then, he hadn't known why.

Why one death, of all the deaths he'd seen and caused, had made him feel as if his soul had been ripped from his body, plucked from each string that kept it tethered to him, one by one, until he was numb.

But he knew now.

#gif credit to #lexawells #fanfiction #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 fanfiction #the 100

40 notes · View notes

badass-blakes · 7 years ago

Text

Silenced - Part 2

The 100 are thrilled to be on earth. Clarke, *yn*, Finn, Jasper, Monty, and Octavia set out to find Mount Weather, where they make a shocking discovery. Tension in the camp heightens as Bellamy and his group keep busy removing wristbands. *yn* becomes very suspicious of Bellamy and his story.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

Based off of “the 100″ series, off the CW.

_______________________________________________________________________

*yn* hit the ground with a thud as she stepped of the cold metal of the dropship ladder. She spun around to see that a most of the 100 had gathered next to the dropship gate. Amongst all the commotion, she picked out as much as she could of the situation.

“That’s Octavia Blake! The girl they found hidden in the floor!” A girl hollered from the group. *yn* watched as a Octavia who stood next to the gate threw herself forward ready to pounce at the girl. She was drawn back by a dark haired, dark eyed boy in a guard's uniform. Did they really send a gaurd down here? No, they couldn't have. They’re to selfish for that. *yn* thought.

“Octavia no, let's give them something else to remember you by.” The boy in the guards uniform said.

“Yeah? Like what?” She snapped back.

“Like being the first person on the ground in over 100 years.”

There was a deafening silence that filled the room as the boy pulled the switch to open the door. *yn* felt her heart flutter as she watched the first bit of sunlight escape through the crack of the door. As the door opened completely, the delinquents were blinded by the sunlight that was so foreign to all of them. A breeze of fresh air flew over them, nothing like they had breathed before on the Ark. It was crisp, and full of life.

Octavia slowly walked down the ramp and hesitantly stepped off unto the earth's surface. Her face formed a smile as she threw her arms into the air and screamed:

“We're back bitches!”

*yn* let out a smirk as she felt the earth below her feet. It was soft, and lose, so different from the solid metal she had felt under her feet the past 16 and a half years. She looked around to see Jasper and Monty in the distance, she approached them unsure of what she would say, her and Monty had never officially met.

“Uh, hey” *yn* said kinda awkwardly.

“Hey, *yn*!” Jasper started, “I don't think you’ve officially been introduced to Monty. *yn*, Monty. Monty, *yn*.”

“Hey, I’ve heard lots about you *yn*” Monty exclaimed.

*yn* chuckled, “ditto” she said.

Jasper looked off into the distance, “Let's go see what's on the go over there” He nodded in the direction of the same blonde girl from the dropship and another boy. *yn* looked over to Monty who gave a shrug and the both turned to follow jasper.

“Ah cool,” Jasper started “A map, they got a bar in this town? I’ll buy you a beer.”

The other boy whipped around, “You mind?” He demanded, shoving Jasper away.

A group emerged from the woods towards them. “Woah hey hey hey! Hands off of him, he’s with us”

“Relax we're just trying to figure out where we are.” The boy stated.

“We’re on the ground. Is that not good enough for you?” *yn* traced the voice to the same guy in the guards uniform standing next to his sister, Octavia Blake.

* yn* tapped Monty on the arm. “Who is that?” she asked.

“Bellamy, Bellamy Blake.” He responded. *yn* gave Bellamy a good, and could help but to feel as if something sketchy was going on with him, she put the feeling aside and listened back into the conversation.

“We need to find Mount Weather, you heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority.” that's when *yn* realized the boy speaking was Wells Jaha, the chancellor's son.

“Screw your father” Octavia scowled. “What. You think you’re in charge here? You and you little princess?” She finished.

“Do you think we care who’s in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather. Not because the chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier well get and the harder this will be. How long do you think well last without those supplies? Were looking at a 20 mile trek, okay? So if we wanna get there before dark, we need to leave, now.”

“I got a better idea.” Bellamy started, “You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change.”

“Privileged or not we were all sent down here by the same assholes.” *yn* spoke up.

Bellamy looked at the girl and raised a brow. Clarke looked at *yn* and a smirk almost appeared on her face. At least someone down here had common sense.

“Shes right, we all need to go in order to be able to carry enough supplies.” Wells stated. The same boy that saved jasper gave Wells a shove.

“Look at this everybody, Chancellor of earth.” he scoffed.

“Think thats funny?”

*yn* watched as the two boys rolled around on the ground. She shook her head. No way they were gonna survive on earth if everyone kept acting like 5 year olds. All of the sudden Finn jumped in between the two boys from the side of the dropship.

“Kids got one leg, wait till it’s a fair fight.” He remarked.

“Hey spacewalker?” Octavia stated, “Rescue me next.”

_______________________________________________________________________

*yn* walked over to the blonde girl she had saw many times but did not know her name.

“So, when are we leaving? Not all of us are as idiotic as rest of them.” *yn* gestured towards the group Bellamy had gathered. The girl smirked.

“Any minute now, so be ready.” She stated. *yn* started to walk away to get ready, but was stopped by the girl’s voice.

“Hey wait.” the girl started, “I never caught your name.”

“Oh sorry, it’s *yn*.” *yn* responded.

“*yn*” the girl repeated almost to herself, “I’m Clarke.”

Clarke watched as *yn* walked, she was possibly the one person the she might actually like down here.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bellamy stood next to Murphy and nodded towards *yn* and Clarke who were together, talking.

“What are we gonna do about that?” Bellamy asked.

“Clarke is harmless, but I don't know about that other bitch. She’s not one of the privileged. The others seem to listen to her, she could persuade them.”

“Then we’ll just have to get her wristband too.” Bellamy shed a evil smirk as he looked at the two girls.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Come on Finn you said you were gonna go first now quit stalling.” Clarke spoke firmly.

*yn* watched Jasper and Finn talk as Finn handed Jasper the rope.

“Jasper, I didn't know you had it in you.” *yn* teased light heartedly.

“See you on the other side.” Jasper said to Finn Jokingly, but there was some seriousness behind it. Jasper gripped the makeshift rope and with one hop was sent flying across the river. With a bit of a rough landing, Jasper stood up and looked around and picked up a sign that was old but read “Mount Weather”

“We made it!” He exclaimed holding up the sign letting out a cheer, as did the rest of the group. The moment was instantly cut short when a spear came flying through the air and hitting jasper directly in the chest.

*yn* watched in horror as her only friend collapsed onto the ground.

“*yn*! We need to get cover.” Finn said pulling her along. *yn* too numb to act.

“We’re not alone”

_______________________________________________________________________

The group sprinted as fast as they could in between trees, *yn* stopped and looked behind, some unrealistic part of her mind was hoping jasper was okay.

“*yn*” Monty hollered. “We need to go.”

*yn* snapped out of her haze and continued to run until Monty tripped in front of her and her eyes landed upon a sight that made her stop in her tracks, and her stomach churn. It was a skeleton, but it was unlike any human skeleton that any of them had seen.

“Who are they?”

“What are they” Clarke said holding the skeleton head, she dropped and it hit the ground with a thud as a scream rang through the woods.

“Jasper.” *yn* heart fluttered. Her friend was alive. What she just saw didn't matter anymore, *yn* had to save the only friend she ever truly had. She ran as fast as she could to where the screams were coming from.

“He’s alive.” Clarke stated following *yn* through the trees.

“Clarke! *yn*! Stay in the trees.” Finn urged pulling them back.

“Hes gone.” Clarke muttered in disbelief. “They took him”

Just as fast as *yn* had hope, it was taken away from her.

_______________________________________________________________________

The group walked into the camp leaving all of the other delinquents eyes locked on them, interested in what was going on. Bellamy felt relief wash over him as he spotted octavia but it was quickly taken away when he observed the open gash on her leg.

“What the hell happened?” Bellamy asked helping Octavia with her leg.

“Turns out when the last man from the earth died on the ark, he wasn't the last grounder.” Finn stated, the whole camp went silent.

“We’re not alone down here.”

“Where is your wristband?” Clarke asked Wells, looking at his bare wrist.

“Ask him.” Wells grumbled gesturing toward Bellamy.

“How many?” Clarke asked.

“24 and counting.” Bellamy's bitch as *yn* like to call him said. She didn't care what his name was.

*yn* gave Bellamy a glance that must've pierced through to his soul.

“You idiots.” Clarke started. “Life support on the ark is failing. By taking those off your not just killing them you're killing us.”

“We’re stronger than you think. Don’t listen to her, she's one of the privileged. If they come down, She’ll have it good. How many of you can say the same?” Bellamy ranted “We can take care of our-”

“Can’t you see that none of that matters anymore?” *yn* interrupted. “I am one of you, I was used and abused by those people up there more than I can count. But as much as I hate to admit it we need them. Who here can perform surgery? Huh? Who here can build a secure home that will keep us safe?” *yn* paused and grabbed Murphys knife from his hand and held it up.

“Who here has a weapon, other than a knife made of scrap metal? Those people may be total assholes, but they are our only chance of survival. These people living down here hit Jasper with precise precision from across a river. They are skilled, they know about this planet. And hell we don't even know how many of them there are. If our people come down I won't be treated well either, but isn't that better that being dead?” *yn looked at Bellamy. He opened his mouth to speak but *yn* shove past him before he could.

*yn* walked away, she couldn't take it anymore. She was sure Bellamy was giving some speech about “whatever the hell you want” but she didn't buy it. There was something more to his story than he was letting on, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hey! So I know my part 1 was a bit rushed and well not the best. I was just really excited haha! I think this part is much better! Please don’t be mad there is not much Bellamy x Reader. I think it it really important for this relationship to take time and not be rushed and work out itself. Hope you enjoyed!

#silenced #silenced series #the100 #the100fanfiction #the100fanfic #fanfiction #bellamyblake #bellamy x reader #bellamy x *yn*

9 notes · View notes

kl4us4 · 8 years ago

Text

THE RED STRING

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Summary - According to the myth of the Red String, the gods tie an invisible red cord around the ankles of those that are destined to meet one another. On the ground, everything is different and the rules are non existent. In the midst of a war, this is how Bellamy Blake discovers that red string.

Song - Saturn by Sleeping At Last

masterlist // TRS masterlist

“Y/N! Y/N!”

The words tumble from his mouth fiercely, sending shivers down your back. You can’t see who the voice belongs to. It sounds so far away as if you’re underwater. But you’re not. As you look around, you’re met with the familiar halls of the Ark. However, it’s quiet. Unlike most busy days, an eery silence stands with you as you walk. The only noise is the sound of your voice being called but it’s blocked out.

“You’re home, finally. What took you so long?”

“Mom?”

“Of course, who else would it be?” Her voice is smooth, laced with kindness and silk. “It’s almost ready.” She smiles, her back facing you as she looks over the boiling pot. You don’t answer. For some reason, in this dream, your mother cooks dinner even after your father dies.

“Y/N.” A smiling voice makes you turn around and through blurry vision you look up. He looks exactly like how you remember him - eyes matching your mother's ones, wrinkles defined as he smiles. It makes your chest ache.

“Dad? What’re you doing here?”

“Don’t worry. Your mother’s with me now. And everything will be alright.”

“Wake up!” You expect the light to burn your eyes, but it doesn’t. The sun hasn’t risen above the horizon yet when you’re met with Jasper’s face above yours, “The radios working.”

“Finally!”

Suddenly, you’re alive. As if you touched an electric fence, you jump up. You don’t even bother putting shoes on as you run past Jasper from your tent. He lets himself smile, watching you as you rush away. Though he knows your mum well, he stays where he is. You need your time and Jas gets that.

The tent seems so far away in the dark like you’ll never reach it. Ignoring the slight discomfort and pain in your feet, you push through the tent. There sits Raven, the fire from outside glowing onto her features as she listens to Abby speaking.

“Hold up, looks like we have an eager guest.” Raven smiles, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

There’s a pause that fills the tent as your heartbeat refuses to slow down. You can’t wait to hear her voice again. She can finally tell you that everything's going to be fine and that she’ll see you soon. She can tell you that you’ve done well on earth.

Static. And then, “Raven, I’d like to talk to her alone, please.” Abby’s voice is polite, however, you can’t help but cling onto the sense of urgency and wary in her tone, “Y/N. How are you?”

“Alive. What do you want?” You cut to the chase, wanting nothing more than to be away from the person who had to save the Chancellor from the hands of death.

“I think you know what I want. I’m sure you’ve heard the Chancellor is still alive, no thanks to you.” You can almost picture her face, mouth in a tight line after spitting the distasteful words from her lips.

Anger bubbles inside you but you keep calm. Your voice is steady. “You should probably think before you choose your next words. I don’t think you know what you’re accusing me of. Where’s my mom?”

“You were with Bellamy Blake. His record isn’t clean, but yours is.” Her voice seeps through the static and you hope no one outside the tent can hear, “You’ve never broken a law, I don’t believe that you helped that man.”

“Where is my mother?” You repeat, more forcefully now.

"You don’t have to protect him.”

Outside, Clarke's blue eyes gaze at the twilight, her chest rising and falling softly but with the hidden weight of the Ark placed upon them. Her eyes seem dull now as her thoughts travel to her mother. She didn’t care to even hear her voice. And she didn’t feel bad or worry about it. Wells had confessed, tired of getting shit from Clarke. Her mother is the reason her father is dead.

Something brings her into focus. The sky isn’t as dark as it once was. Small flickers of a light shower their way down the sky, passing the top of the rising sun.

“Bellamy! Y/N!” Clarke voice breaks the silence of dawn, making you jump, “Come quick!” The commotion draws attention, waking teenagers up. They begin collectively freaking out.

“Dude, what is that?”

“I don’t know..”

“Is it from the Ark?”

Running from the room, your eyes immediately look upwards. Bellamy stands beside you, his eyes scanning the sky. His chest falls. “The flares didn’t work.”

Your heart sinks with realisation, weighing you down like an anchor. You know where your mother is. She’s on her way down from the Ark. But not in the way you had hoped for.

“No.” You whimper, shaking your head, “No, no. She’s fine, she’s fine.” He watches you as you turn, rushing back into the tent. You pick up the radio, “Abby. Please tell me my mother isn’t-” You pause, feeling yourself about to choke up, “Is she alive?”

There’s no reply. You think for a second that Abby must have left or maybe the connection cut off. But the silence is all you need as an answer. You hear crying and shouting outside. People have lost loved ones.

A few seconds pass. You don’t move. You wish the thick silence would just suffocate you already instead of standing beside you and taunting you. When a tear slips down your cheek, you flinch.

What were her last moments like? Was she sober for them or was she oblivious to what was really going on? You can’t help but wonder if only you had kept your wristband on. Maybe she wouldn’t have volunteered. You would do anything to go back and change it. Trading your life for hers would have been worth it. But you can’t. Were her last thoughts of you?

You’re not sure you can stand this stuffy tent anymore. Though the outside world doesn’t have the same comfort as the Ark did, you want to be there. You want to be surrounded by green. Silently, you stand. When you step out of the tent, it seems like everyone's watching you.

Your eyes are wet and wide, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you try to make sense of everything. For the first time, it seems like everyone is on the same page. Everyone is grieving for their people and you are united.

Eyes drowning in the sea of people, they look at you. You feel like you’re supposed to say something. “It’s... It’s going to be okay. I believe that.” You nod, feeling your eyes tear up even more.

Bellamy watches you, his lips parted slightly. All he feels is guilt. This is all his fault and there you are, eyes red and cold as you speak. It should be him speaking - apologising to everyone.

He can tell you have nothing else to say so he speaks up, “Normal procedure today. Groups one and two, go hunting.” His eyes meet yours and his breath leaves his body when you look at him. He walks to you, moving you back into the stuffy tent, the radio silent on the bench. “Y/N, your mother?”

You shake your head, lashes wet with sadness but you no longer cry. He still can’t breathe. “I’m sorry.” Beginning to feel his eyes tear up, Bellamy doesn’t quite care, “I’m so sorry.”

With hesitation, he steps forward just like when you shared your first kiss. His warm hands find your cold cheek and his fingers are through your hair.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you feel numb. You’re not sure if you feel anything when Bellamy touches you. All you feel is cold. You’re not sure what you’re saying until you hear your voice a few seconds later. You look into his glossy eyes.

“I will never forgive you.” From those five words, you feel yourself firing up. Bellamy’s quiet. His hand falls from your face and he stands there, chest quickening. “Everything bad that’s happened has been because of you. My best friend - no, my brother - ” You exclaim, eyes burning, “Nearly died because of you! I nearly died.”

“I thought it was the r-”

“No, all those people, their blood is on you.” You feel the anger dissipate, now you just feel upset.

“I know it is.”

“Good. Forgiveness isn’t going to change the fact that you’re a murderer.”

277 notes · View notes