#the100fic

[astrarchee]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Abby Griffin/Raven Reyes Characters: Abby Griffin, Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake, Lincoln (The 100), Marcus Kane, Callie Cartwig, Anya (The 100) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Minor Character Death, Kyle wick friendship is important, vodka aunt!callie, nosy bff!octavia, mid-way time skip, Side Callie/Marcus, side linctavia, Side Anya/Bellamy, Side Clexa - Freeform, time skip midway through Summary:

When Raven meets Abby, they both assume it will be a one night thing. However, when Raven walks into class at her university only to see Abby teaching it, it becomes clear that things maybe were not meant for one night.

[fire-of-the-sun]

Paths to Eden

A Kabby fanfiction on AO3

Synopsis: Determined to find Abby after her decision to leave the Bunker, Kane searches for her, ready to die by her side. But life isn't through with them yet...

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522870/chapters/48709595

[through-the-untempered-schism]

Royoza Fan Fic

This is the fault of @Selina_Hypable 

I’m working on getting an account on Archive of Our Own, but since it seems like that’s going to take a few days, here’s da beginning of this crazy fan fic (crazy for me, I don’t do this, K? cool.) that will star the epic love story of Charmaine Diyoza and King Roan of the Anomaly.

(I might be having a little fun making up Anomaly mythology. Enjoy!)

Prologue

The Anomaly [Octavia has left]

“It’s done. She made it through.”

Upon hearing her mother’s words, Hope finally turns away from the green aurora wall, obscuring the life it had just swallowed. She clenches her small fists, and scrunches her eyes close.

Leaves crunch and a warm breath tickles her ear as her mother pulls her in close. “She is brave. She is strong. She will survive.”

Tears squeeze out of her shut eyes as Hope starts to shake. Her small arms encircle her mom’s neck, her breath quickening. “But she won’t be living with us,” she huffs. 

Diyoza’s eyes grow sad and turn inward. Softly, she responds for herself, “No, but she will save us all.”

The anomaly roars its strange roar, and Diyoza picks up her daughter and turns her back to it. It is time for them to face the King.

Chapter 1

Five Days Later

Diyoza sits propped up in the corner of her cell, arms resting on her bent knee, head supported by the bars behind her. Her jaw is loose as she breathes through her parted lips, the taste of stale heat and rusted iron clinging to her dry mouth. Three days she’d been in this cell. There’s no escape. Not from this kind of prison. 

The first day she had paced and plotted. As soon as the blind fold and ropes binding her hands had been untied through the bars of her cell, she turned and grabbed the bars, frantically crying for her daughter. “Where is my Hope? Where did you take my daughter? I’m her mother, tell me my daughter is safe!” 

She played the role of altruistic mother for three hours. Being that the sentiment is completely true, it was not difficult to do. The extended time frame forced the guards to acknowledge some part of shared humanity, that of motherhood. We all come from mothers, and we all understand its bond. Though the guards never moved to acknowledge her words in anyway, she watched the back of the guard directly in front of her door as his muscles began to tense and stiffen his posture for the last hour of her play. She then fell silent for an hour. When she started talking at the end of that hour with a soft, dangerous voice, she saw the shoulders of all 10 guards stiffen.

“I don’t know who you are or where to came from, but I’m going to take a guess and assume you are descendants of Earth, like every other human being I’ve met in my two-hundred and eighty years of life.” Her words were slow and measured, never quickening in passion. “I’m going to assume you read your history books. Which means you know exactly who I am and what I’ve done. On the peculiar chance you don’t know who I am, let me introduce myself. It’s only fitting that I should share my story with my capturers. Even the history books mess up sometimes.

I was born into a family that loved me. But our world was dying. Literally we were clogging the planet with our waste, refusing to clean up after ourselves, or to efficientize our process because “the cost was too high.” Figuratively, we were electing fear and terror as our ruler instead of controlled, logical patience. Tears appeared in the seams of Life’s Portrait, and as we pulled and pulled, the tears began to touch more and more of the portrait and its occupants. Including my family who loved me. When I was 18, my mother was killed during a domestic terror attack. My father and I were the only guardians of my three younger siblings, and my mother had been the breadwinner. My father’s health prevented him from working in any serious capacity. Back then things like an “education” and “viable careers” mattered. They needed those to succeed. So I joined the Navy. Did you know most countries military’s will hand you the world if you just give several decades of your life to its service? Well, mine did. And I was good at it. Really good. I was a three time decorated Navy Seal, doing the impossible for my country, so I might give a life to my two brothers and sister. It worked too...Wistful is not an adjective I ever identify with, but thinking about them, how they took care of each other in secondary school, stayed at the top of their class, got into the best universities around the world...well, it makes me wistful for a time when they were happy. 

Of course the story doesn’t end there - you see, I never got to be a part of their lives very often. My trips home were limited. Killing war criminals is very time consuming. But it paid well. Two had already graduated from their schools, one of which became a big shot accountant at a big and powerful law firm, the other who went into academia to teach and do research at a premier university. The third, my younger sister, became an artist, at the forefront of a group of individuals leading a neo-impressionism movement. Our careers scattered us. But the three of them still got home to celebrate the important things, both big and small. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries of our mother’s death...they shared those things always. Even so, they always made me feel completely included when I could come. Our familial bond was too strong. 

You’re probably thinking you know how this story ends. My siblings are killed in some event for which my government is responsible. I start up a terrorist organization for revenge. But that’s not the case.”

A furrow appears in Diyoza’s brow, the first crack in her mask, and is gone in a second.

“My name is Charmaine Diyoza. I worked with the United Liberation Army to destroy facist governments like the one that destroyed my country. At the time of my capture, I was the most wanted criminal in the world. They put two bullets through my father’s head for harboring me, and keeping me safe. They saved me when I slashed my own throat. They sent me on a galactic mining trip with hundreds of other unwanted criminals to die. 

I do not just have blood on my hands. There is enough blood to soak my body 100 times over. That is what I was responsible for - until Hope came along.” She finally pauses, a heavy silence settling over the group. “Tell me,” she whispers softly, “what do you think a woman like me would do to save the one who gave me back hope?”

Diyoza stopped and listened to the silence. The only sound was the whispering wind in the branches of the trees. The soldiers made not a single sound, afraid to twitch or so much as breath. Diyoza slowly backed into a corner of the cell, sliding down to sit, her arms propped up on one knee in front of her. A low laugh escaped her lips, and she leaned her head back against the bars, never once closing her eyes.

Day two was their turn to make a move, and she didn’t have to wait long. She had heard the sound of a group approaching for some time now. Her cell was suspended high above ground, nestled amongst branches, with a platform three feet away from the bars encircling her cell on all four sides, leading to the trunk of a tree upon which a staircase wide enough for four people at once circled around and around, until reaching the bottom. It had taken this particular group twenty minutes to ascend. It was the only way up or down from her position.

She had been given no food or water, and the heat was sweltering. The leaved branches at least provided shelter from the sun, but it didn’t prevent the heavy, wet heat that rolled and settled over every inch of her body and clothing. She had moved to stand 15 minutes ago, and her body shook with the effort. But she stood leaning a shoulder against the rods of her cell, one ankle crossed over the other, arms crossed, head tilted, nonchalant superiority radiating from her body. At least she hoped. 

Three of the ten guards stepped aside from the front of her cell to make way for the delegation. No, not a delegation, she decided looking at the knives and swords strapped to their muscled bodies. At the front stood a woman with sun-kissed brown hair, burnt honey skin, and amber eyes. A single sword lay on her right hip, her hand resting on its hilt, but she bore no other weapons like the rest of her companions. Either she is far more deadly than she looks, or she is a royal delegate sent with a dozen soldiers. Looking at the well woven cloth of her garments, still bright in color and in firm shape, she decided on the latter. 

The woman stopped in front of her cell, crossing the 3 feet boundary to stand at her door. She was close enough that Diyoza could see the slight wrinkles on her forehead, and the crows feet at her eyes. Aged, but younger than her own two-hundred and eighty years.

“Charmaine Diyoza, you are hereby notified that you and your daughter are prisoners of the King on account of your actions against the Word of the Stone.” The lion lady’s eyes looked right into her own as she read out the judgment. “The chaos and disorder you have wrought in the few months since your arrival has been considerable and difficult. Under the Laws of the Anomaly, you and your daughter face severe punishment.” Lion lady stopped here, and paused for a lengthy amount of time, enjoying the sight of the weight of her words settling over Diyoza’s traitor frame. 

Diyoza could face any consequence for herself. She already had many times over in her lifetime, what’s one more scar? Except for her daughter. Hope. She had struggled for so long to move on from her blood soaked past, never quite able to stop drowning in it long enough to live. But then she learned of her pregnancy...other humans still lived...she spoke to people who wanted to do better. At first, it didn’t happen. And then we found this god forsaken planet moon with a peaceful society where kids can be kids and grow to be adults with normal problems and a normal life. Until that too turned out to be a lie. Now, she’s here because she knows what she heard, and she will do anything, anything for her daughter. 

A shadow fell over Diyoza’s face as she realizes that as long as they have Hope, she’s fighting with her hands tied behind her back. Still dangerous, but not effective enough to overcome this enemy.

“Hope is receiving the same treatment as you. No human contact, exposure to the elements, and kept without sustenance. She will die by tomorrow if left like that.” Her head tilts, amber eyes gleaming, as she observes her prey, “Though I suppose you could survive a day or maybe even two beyond that,” her eyes dropped to the scar on Diyoza’s neck, “I am sure you’d have no desire to.

The King is willing to spare you and your daughter if you agree to meet and tell him everything you know about the Stone and plans of the Skairipa girl. If you don’t, your daughter will die, and he will get the information he needs from you one way or another.” She straightens her head and reveals a charming smile, sending chills down Diyoza’s spine as she hears the words she says next - “I have no preference for which option you choose.” The smile lingers as she begins to back away. “Simply let a guard know when you are ready to talk, and your daughter will be saved. Otherwise, we will continue tomorrow after her death.” She lightly spins on a heel and walks through her guards to the front of the group to start down the stairs. Diyoza re-evaluates her assessment of the woman being a warrior. 

Diyoza stays standing for another 20 minutes, before allowing herself to slide to the floor, taking up her pose to sit in silence for the remainder of the night.

The sun rose on day three. Diyoza sits propped up in the corner of her cell, arms resting on her bent knee, head supported by the bars behind her. Her jaw is loose as she breathes through her parted lips, the taste of stale heat and rusted iron clinging to her dry mouth.

She knows what she must do. She is trapped in enemy territory, with no leverage or friends on the outside or inside. They have her daughter. She either lives to protect her daughter another day, or dies doing nothing. As she unglues her mouth, moving her tongue to form the words around the cotton its stifled in, she knows she’s making the easiest decision of her life. 

“I will speak with the King.”

[fauhnas]

both fallen under

Clarke had never actually seen Bellamy partake in karaoke night before. Even when he was plastered, which didn’t happen often, no amount of egging on had gotten him to take the mic before tonight.

“C'mon Blake, you’re up.” Raven said, lightheartedly grabbing Bellamy’s arm in attempts to remove him from his seat in their booth.

Amused by the scene before her, Clarke smiled into her glass rather than trying to help Bellamy out of his mess. She reached out, giving his hand a sympathetic squeeze under the table as Raven continued to tug on his arm, both knowing she wouldn’t give up any time soon. He shot Clarke one last pleading glance before finally allowing their friend to pull him from his seat, but she just shrugged. He should know by now not to make bets against Raven Reyes.

“I’m not drunk enough for this, Raven,” he tried one last time, desperate to talk his way out.

“Maybe you’ll consider that next time you think I can’t convince Monty to ask for the bartender’s number,” she said cheerfully. “Now get your ass on that stage.”

Read on AO3

[commanderlexaofthegrounders]

Can’t Tame This Wild Heart

Clarke is excited to participate once more in the volunteer program that her mother joins every summer. Helping other communities have been a balm to her heart after the death of her father and Clarke can't wait to begin. Little does Clarke know that this time things are going to be slightly different. Heading into the depths of the african  jungle Clarke will find someone who has been lost to the world. A young woman who behaves rather differently. Who doesn't speak her language and has clearly no manners. Clarke will begin a journey of discovery; finding friendship, adventure and a wild heart that cannot be tamed.

Art by AleksRin and edition by @unaligned-valkyrie

[fandammit]

It took me literally nine months to get to it, but here’s chapter 1 of 10 (!!!!) for the sequel to An Alchemy of Stardust. I hope everyone enjoys it - especially the fantastic cover art by @zoemorgans, who is forever the best. Please comment and/or leave some kudos! In the meantime, here’s a little snippet...

She lets out a noise that seems to be part gasp, part sob, her eyes wide as she takes in the world. He knows he should be taking in the same sight - the lushness of the trees, the way the light reflects off the lake around them - but all he can see is Abby and the way the sunlight filters through her eyelashes, how she tips her head up and lets the breeze ruffle through her hair.

She turns towards him and laughs, the sound so purely joyful, so filled with delight that he can’t help but wrap his arms around her. Her own arms immediately find their way around his shoulders, her fingers twisting in his hair as he lifts her up off the ground and spins them both around like they’ve both gone twenty years back in time. She shrieks with laughter and for a moment all he can think is that the sound is somehow sweeter in the open air and warm sunlight.

The minute he sets her down, she presses her body closer to him, crashing her lips against his in a kiss that tastes like redemption and feels like sunshine. In it, he pours his own hopes, lets himself indulge in every feeling of want and longing and tenderness. Allows himself to think of nothing but the feel of her in his arms.

[theclaravoyant]

Bellarke: ‘I walked into the public bathroom at a mcdonalds and you’re dangling halfway out of an air vent do I even want to know what you were doing’ au

so ... apparently somebody prompted me bellarke a while back ... would a bellarke author like to pick up your bellarke plz ...

[ofhouseadama]

“Don’t be an ass.” + Roarke please.

He might be less infuriated, if he couldn’t understand her motivations, if he did not understand his place in them. Memory is a distorted looking glass, but he remembers the morning of the Conclave, Clarke’s last aborted attempt at an alliance, at salvaging the Ogeda before its survival was left to fate and the untrained hands of the Skairipa. 

Five years is a long time to think, and Roan has wondered many times what might have happened, had he agreed to the alliance then, in the courtyard, holding her stare. 

But he’s holding her stare now, in the bed of the cabin where he found her, weeks after the bunker door opened. Up in the mountains, with a family of wolves to keep her company. Half-wild, half-tamed, growing vegetables in her garden and hunting with four-legged companions, lifting her voice to sing with them in the moonlight. She is no one now, not the Wanheda, not even Clarke Griffin -- but a woman who lived five years alone, carved out a hard existence with her own two hands. Names, he knows, are just things we give to other people. 

On his trips -- as often as he excuse them, always alone -- he gives her hearty stew, fresh bread and butter, liquor from the bunker’s still. She inhales it, and he remembers what it’s like to go hungry. 

He steals the bread from her plate one night, watching her eat, and her hand claps around his wrist before he can see her move. They both startle, and he laughs, dropping the thieved sourdough. Her face shudders, then opens again at his near-laugh, her lips curling into a canine grin. 

“Don’t be an ass,” she chides him. 

Come back to Polis with me, he wants to say, because he infuriates himself, because her people do not need her but he might. Come to Azgeda with me, to explore the ruins of his childhood, the settlement that will spring up in time. But he is merely yet another who shaped her into poleaxe she became, the ruthless girl who stepped over the bodies of hundreds to save thousands more. 

She is at peace. Or something close. 

“You never ask me to leave with you,” she says, tracing the line of his cheekbone with the backs of her fingers. 

“You never ask me to stay.”

Pausing, she worries the pad of her thumb under his chin. “Your place is among your people. Mine -- is not.” 

“Five years of solicitude is enough penance.” Fingers curling in the golden waves of her hair, he pulls their faces close. “There are worse sins than a crisis of faith. Besides, Pakstokodia, when has anyone ever apologized for making you who you are?” 

Her brow furrows. “Wolfheart?”  

“You yearn for your place in the pack, to defend it,” he explains. “I know who you are. And I am sorry, for the Conclave. For everything that led up to it, that was within my control. It was... a zero sum. In the end. One that left me half-dead in a fountain, crawling out of the black rain and trying to hold my insides together with one hand.” 

“I deserved this,” she whispers. 

“Any of us did.” 

Her bed is worthy harbor for their broken souls, fragmented and splintered as they are. Laying next to her, he can almost believe that they will never have to sacrifice their humanity again. One of his hands anchors to her hip, calloused fingertips wandering lightly over warm bare skin. Under the furs, none of the world’s problems can reach them -- the cabin is now as much his escape as hers. 

There are the new clans, and the old, tension lines revealing themselves as they begin to reclaim the Earth. Roan is thirty-four, and so, so tired. 

“I didn’t think that kings apologized.” Her palm flattens over his heart. 

He is not a king here, not in bed with her, he could say. Instead, he brings their mouths to meeting, traces her bottom lip with his tongue. 

When she reaches climax her voice joins the wolfsong outside. 

In the morning, he leaves, like he always does. He must return to his people, to the battle lines being drawn. He does not ask to leave, like he never does. Instead he lingers on the uneven front steps, turning to her as he fastens his cloak. Nuclear winter is biting, and unyielding, but he is an Ice King and he will never let the cold show. 

Clarke appears in the doorway, wrapped in flannel and one of his furs.

“Will you come back?” she asks, as if she does not know the answer.

But it is a question, and a start. His lips quirk into a smirk. 

“Don’t be an ass,” she chides him, padding barefoot to him, to brush one last kiss against his lips. She presses a piece of paper into his hands. “Give this to my mom, tell her I’m thinking of her.” 

“I’m a king, not a messenger boy,” he teases her, in a tone of voice that no one else would know was teasing. He readies his horse for the hours-long ride back down south. 

She bares her teeth, smiling. “But I’m your Wolfheart.” 

“Mine?”

Stepping into the snow, she does not flinch. Like an Azplana. But he has not given her that name. 

“Come back,” she orders him. 

So he will. 

[slackru-blog]

Day 9 of the smut-a-thon!

1. Hot Tub: @kane-and-griffin 2. Wine Cellar: @shefollowedfires 3. Walk in closet: @abbygkane 4. Bed: @beautiful-rebellious-sunflower 5. Rooftop: @skaihefamarcus 6. Couch: @fandammit 7. Kitchen counter: @abbykomskaikru 8. Pool: @ultrahotpink 9. Shower: @ofhouseadama 10. Office in lab: @abigailkanes

Today’s chapter is let the only sound be the overflow by @ofhouseadama Preview: Marcus’ thumbs paint soft lines along her cheeks and jaw, brushing his lips against hers, the barest of touches. Eyes heavily lidded, he looks at her like she holds the world in the palm of her hand.

[A/N: This collaboration was the idea of #thesinbin, a very, very popular channel on the KabbyFam Slack. If you haven’t heard of it before, you can check out our tumblr for more information about who we are and how to join! Our cover is by the wonderful @missninjacookie. The complete list of fabulous, amazing authors is above!]

[grounderlife100]

To whoever would like to check it out,leave feedback and constructive criticism here’s my story about 4x07;a reflection over what happened to O.

This fic is a prelude to my posts on March 31st,the day on which we’ll sadly be facing the first anniversary of Lincoln’s death. =(

[likecrackingwaterrevived-blog]

I will be updating Where The Whipers Fall tonight

[fire-of-the-sun]

“Promises”

Additional/Extended scene for 4x02

[fauhnas]

I Want to Trust You

X Files au based on the episode Ice.

“Put the gun down, Bellamy.” Clarke said as she raised her own weapon and pointed it at her partner.

She wasn’t going to shoot him. She didn’t know if she would be physically capable of it when they weren’t positive he was infected. But the others didn’t know that.

So she trained her firearm on Bellamy, using her eyes to plead with him: just put the gun down. We’ll figure this out.

“C'mon Clarke,” he shook his head. “You know it wasn’t me.”

She hated that she couldn’t be sure.

Read on AO3

[commanderlexaofthegrounders]

Like an Open Wound - Clexa Bodyguard AU

Art by the awesome Rin, check her edits (@AleksRin)

Summary

Famous musician Clarke Griffin, known in the industry as Wanheda, is in the process of relaunching her career with a new image, to leave behind the negativity and bad press surrounding her. She's going on tour very soon, so her manager decided to hire a team, to Clarke's dismay, with the sole intent to keep Clarke safe from her extremely ravenous fanbase.

Enter Lexa Woods, who has been tasked to watch over the very wild rock star. Finding a stubborn woman who was free-spirited had been nothing but a challenge for the disciplined security expert. Suffice to say that they were going to clash.

Clarke and Lexa will spend the whole tour together and in the process learning that they aren't so different after all. That maybe, they can find a common ground between being in the spotlight and the shadows, leaving both their hearts exposed,  like an open wound.

[fandammit]

Kabby/The 100 Fic Masterpost (Updated and reorganized 5.27.17)

Kabby AU

Tabula Rasa: On Ao3 || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 [WIP and it’s been a minute since I’ve updated] Modern (kind of post break-up) AU. Abby and Marcus come back into each others lives after years apart.

Wonderwall: on Ao3 || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 [WIP] Modern AU. Marcus Kane and Abby Griffin: former high school rivals, potential hottest hookup of the 20 year reunion. 

An Alchemy of Stardust: on AO3 || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 Witch!AU. Abby Griffin is a witch and Marcus Kane is no fool. Season 1 retold as a witch AU. 

Kabby Post S2 Hiatus 

My soul is useless without you Written for the Kabby week prompt: Moment you first shipped them/sold your soul. In the moments after he and Abby are freed from their chains in Mt. Weather, Marcus thinks of the ways they’ve been saved.  Hearts without Chains Marcus and Abby, immediately after Mt. Weather.

Uneven Odds Abby learns that Clarke is gone. Sequel of a sort to Hearts without Chains.

Sleep Patterns (Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5) Marcus makes sure that Abby gets enough rest. Set during post S2 hiatus. Inspired by this gifset and the accompanying tags. 

First Snow Written for the @kabby-holiday-fun day 1 prompt - baby, it’s cold outside. Abby and Marcus huddle for warmth as they witness their first snow together. 

Shiver Sharing a bed for body warmth, obviously.

Seeing Red Defensive!Marcus fic.

This version of you Marcus thinks about shaving his beard. Abby convinces him otherwise.

Drive Marcus decides to try and teach Abby to drive.

Lips Marcus catches himself staring at Abby’s lips

Flu Season (Part 1 || Part 2) Marcus gets sick. Abby takes care of him.

Parenthood Marcus and Abby realize they’ve adopted 46 delinquent children.    

Season 3: Canon compliant

Moments with you Kabby missing moments set during Season 3A

Burn Abby tends to Marcus’s arm after he’s been branded.

Always Marcus comforts Abby the night after Clarke leaves in 3x05.

Already; Almost Four times people thought Kane and Abby were already kissing and one time they actually almost did. 

5 Ways to Stay Alive Marcus tries to distract himself from the pain in his hands during the torture scene. Written based solely on the preview.  

Season 3: Canon divergent

Our love came unannounced Marcus and Abby share a bed and a few other things, too.

I won’t let this happen to you One shot about the extended promo scene from 3x09.

Simple in the Moonlight (Part 1 || Part 2) Abby and Marcus, the night before his failed coup.    

Hair Two times Marcus hesitatingly ran his fingers through Abby’s hair and two times Abby deliberately tangled her fingers in Marcus’s hair

Post S3 Speculation & Season 4

Truth is like blood underneath your fingernails Kane and Abby slowly grow back together again. Post Season 3 speculation, written prior to the end of the season. In the same universe as “Simple in the Moonlight.”

8 Ways to Say I Love You All the different ways that Marcus tells Abby he loves her. Post S3 speculation

Things you said... prompt fics  Post S3 speculation.  when you thought i was asleep | after we kissed | when you were drunk | that made me feel like shit | when you were scared and crying | while we were driving | when we were on top of the world | under the stars and in the grass

We’ll collect the moments one by one A few small moments between Marcus and Abby during their 9 day stay in Polis. Set during season 4. 

Kabby fics unconnected to a specific timeline OR set in some post series timeline

Before and After “Abby,” he says. And her name is a line of poetry he can’t quite remember.

I’ll start a riot Abby is taken captive and Marcus will stop at nothing to get her back. 

How I said “I love you” prompt fics 10 different one-shots featuring the many ways that Marcus and Abby say “I love you” to one another.

Things I said instead of “I love you” prompt fics Go back to sleep || There’s enough room || Can I hold your hand? || I picked these for you || I brought you an umbrella

Other characters/genfic with background Kabby

15 Ways to Build a Life Community building during the post S2 hiatus. Slightly AU.

Hairstyles Octavia and Abby bond over grounder hairstyles. Marcus reacts to them.

Your love for her Indra is more perceptive than you think.

Winter Skies Adventures of Dad!Kane and Octavia.

Gallows Humor Reflections and revelations around a campfire. Mostly Dad!Kane and delinquents, with background Kabby.

All of your Pieces Clarke watches her mother fall in love. Set during and immediately after Season 3.

Trade your broken wings for mine (discontinued) Arkadia rebuilds. A series of semi-connected ficlets post-City of Light. General fic with a healthy dose of Kabby, both as main characters and background characters.

With a little help (discontinued) The delinquents talk to one another and to Kane and Abby about why they aren't married.

With you by my side Set during season 4′s DNR. Mackson with background Kabby.

The 100 general fic 

I built a home (until it disappeared) Short fic inspired by this gifset from @shefollowedfires​. Octavia, Bellamy, and Marcus watch Arkadia burn down. Set during S4.  

The light you stole [WIP] Dark!Abby AU. Abby becomes a vengeful queen after the death of Marcus and Clarke. Inspired by this beautiful, moody, fantastic dark!Abby AU mix + headcanon of the same name by @shefollowedfires​.

Safe to say Dad!Sinclair and Raven. S1, the night before Raven heads to the ground. 

Red Marcus holding Vera as she dies. 

In the future, there is a me who is happy Eric Jackson loses his mother and decides to recede forever into the background of the world. Abby Griffin has other plans for him. 

Rome is built on ruins Eric Jackson thinks he might be broken. But he also thinks that Clarke and Abby and Jake still manage to love him, anyway. Jackson and Griffin family feels prior to the show. 

[bobmorleysglasses-blog]

Chapters: 31/? Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, John Murphy & Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake/Jasper Jordan Characters: Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Thelonious Jaha, Wells Jaha, Abby Griffin, Jake Griffin, Octavia Blake, Monty Green, Jasper Jordan, Raven Reyes, Finn Collins, John Murphy (The 100), Nathan Miller, Monroe (The 100), Harper (The 100), Dax (The 100), Roma (The 100), Fox (The 100), Sterling (The 100) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Space Colony ARK, Greek Mythology - Freeform Summary:

Bellamy and Clarke are set in an arranged marriage on the Ark at the ages of 5 and 10, in an effort to ease the gap between the richest and the poorest of civilians. But, with the hope the pair find love together naturally, no one tells them until their 18, but pushes them together periodically. As it turns out, some loves are truly meant to be.

--Also, this fic. READ IT. IT’S MY BOOK-CHILD.