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18 January 2017 @ 08:43 pm
from ami_ven

1. How old will you be in 5 years?

2. Who have you been together with for the last 2 hours?
My entire family because the kids haven't been to school since last Tuesday thanks to the weather. I'm losing my mind.

3. How tall are you?

4. What movie did you last see?
I half watched Marley & Me with the kids earlier. Last one I saw in the theater was Force Awakens, I think.

5. Whom did you call last?
My husband a few weeks ago when I was trying to get hold of him after our son was injured at school and needed to be taken to the doctor.

6. Who called you last?
Some random number I don't recognize. Before that was my son on the day he hurt himself.

7. What was the content of your last SMS?
Just my husband seeing how I was while he was at work.

8. Do you prefer to call or SMS?
I hate talking on the phone so texting.

9. What is your favorite place?
I guess my room.

10. What is your least favorite place?
Anyplace with a lot of people <-- this

11. When did you last see your mother?
August 17, 2000. I said bye and told her I'd visit her in the hospital the next day once she was out of recovering and feeling better. She had a massive stroke on the table and fell into a coma that night. I never say her alive again. She was pronounced braindead on the 19th. She was 51.

12. What color are your eyes?

13. What's your favorite Christmas song?
probably the Bing Crosby/Andrew Sisters version of Jingle Bells

14. Are your parents married or divorced?
They were married when my mom died a week before their 29th anniversary. It's  been 16 years, and my dad still hasn't recovered from losing her.

15. When did you wake up today?
I think it was 10am. I wanted to sleep later because I had a headache, but my stupid cat wouldn't leave me alone. He woke me at 4:30am wanting out, at 8am wanting in and then again at 10 wanting who knows what. I gave up after that. It's like having a toddler int he house again.
07 January 2017 @ 04:14 pm

With two new graves dug, Bellamy finally realizes he’s going to need help keeping everyone alive, but first he has to get everyone inside the walls. Bellamy & Clarke friendship. For fanfic50 prompt: grave.

1108 words | rating: PG

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

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

Bellamy clears his throat. "You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

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

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

"What do you care?" she murmurs into her knees.

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

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

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

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

"Just leave me alone."

Bellamy shakes his head. "Not gonna happen, princess. I can't leave you out here alone."

"Why not?"

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

She snorts. "Because you're such a great judge on rational decision making."

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

"Are you really going to sit out here all night?"

Bellamy glances down at her. "If you're staying out here then I'm staying out here."

She frowns. "Why?"

He's tired of dancing around the subject. "Because I don't want anything to happen to you."

"No, seriously."

"I am being serious, Clarke. These kids need you."

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


"God, Bellamy, why can't you just leave me alone?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close, but no.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re the last.”

“Good. Lock ‘er up,” he says, twirling his finger in the air as he follows Clarke. At least they’re all safe for one more night.
20 October 2016 @ 08:56 pm
I follow this site: Lousy Book Covers. Sometimes out of boredom or because of some comment, I check out the actual book. This one made me go to Amazon where I started to read the preview, and oh my god.

The book is Royal Dragon by Mia Angela Maroh. As expected from self-published books with horrible covers, the writing is atrocious. The best I can say is that there weren't any spelling mistakes in what I read. But I only read the first three paragraphs then skimmed the next couple. An excerpt:
Ersa truly was a beautiful woman. She had white hair tied up into a pony-tail. She had blue eyes and a pail complexion. She wore ice blue dress, which was actually made of ice, and blue glass heals. She was loved by everyone yet she was socially awkward. She didn't care much for socializing except with her sister. You could say she wasn't the most intimate person in the world.

She's also one of the "Elemental Generation" with the ability to control ice. She has a sister with red hair that likes to sing. And their parents died on a trip.

Now, I've never seen Frozen, but from what I've heard this is starting to sound familiar.

The book is only 90 pages long, so the preview is a couple pages of description and some conversation Ersa has with her advisor. I have no idea what the rest of the book is about except that she's forced into a marriage with the queen of the dragons or something. I'm pretty sure that wasn't in Frozen, but the first few paragraphs read like thinly disguised Frozen fanfic.

I have no idea why I posted this. I just found it amusing which I needed after watching the Bears get spanked by the Packers. I'm also procrastinating working on my NaNo outline. Oh, and I just bet Meagan $100 that she can't beat Owen's GPA at the end of the year. He currently has a 3.8 (all As and one B). This should be interesting.
10 July 2016 @ 02:41 am
I've been listening to this playlist on youtube the last few days. I didn't create it, but it had songs I liked, so I keep playing it. And now I have a shit-ton of One Direction songs stuck in my head. Why? There are over 50 songs in this list. Why are the 1D songs stuck? Worse: I actually like most of them, and started watching the videos. Now I feel like I must offer a sacrifice to the music gods in penance. I also learned that you can judge the timeframe for each song by how long Harry's hair is.

It's not really that bad. Most of the music on the list would be considered crap by most people, but it's fun and reminds me of when the kids were younger and still into pop music instead of all the rap they listen to now.
09 July 2016 @ 02:12 am
The 100 (tv)
Clarke & Murphy
836 words
rating: R
WARNINGS: language; spoilers for season 3

Murphy and Clarke are locked in her room in Polis, but they need to escape before the next Heda is crowned and the kill order goes into affect. Or worse. Tag for s3e07.

Murphy slams his fists into the door. Then kicks it a few times for good measure. He hates being locked up. He's spent his entire life locked up—in that tin can of a space station. In a cell in the Skybox. In lighthouse bunkers. In Grounder prison camps. And dungeons. And now here. At least Clarke's bedroom has better accommodations than any of the other places.

He runs his hands through his greasy hair then clasps them behind his neck. Clarke sits on a chair, staring into space, tears still dripping from her chin onto the pillow she grips tightly in her lap. Murphy rolls his eyes. She's supposed to be our leader? Pathetic.

[WARNING: spoilers for season 3]"Clarke." He snaps his fingers in front of her. "Hey, Clarke, wake up. We have to get out of here." She continues to stare blankly. He considers slapping her silly, but he hates to admit he's kind of afraid of Clarke. He's seen her kill in cold blood. And she's quick with a knife. She's not the "princess" everyone thinks she is. Maybe the Grounders have it right—she is the Commander of Death.

Instead he squats in front of her. "Clarke," he says a little more softly, brushing his fingers across her blood-stained hand. She blinks. Her eyes have this dead, haunted look about them that scares him more than he wants to admit. "Come on, Clarke," he pleads, getting a little desperate. "We don’t have time for you to fall apart now. Save that shit for when our deaths aren’t eminent. Snap out of it already so we can go home."

He thinks about leaving her. Thinks hard about it. What does he care anyway? But he does care. Dammit. He hates them all for making him care. He remembers the concern in Clarke's voice when she recognized his bloodied body tied up in her room. Her immediate response was to help him. To save him. She always has to save everyone. Be the fucking hero. The only person she can't save is herself.

He rubs a hand along his face, wincing at the burn of each cut and throb of each bruise. Then he smacks her. Not as hard as he could, but enough to snap her head back. She jerks away, eyes finally focusing on him. There's a bit of fire in them again.

"Good," Murphy says with a smirk, "you're back. Now we can get the hell out-"

She punches him right in the mouth before he can finish. He tumbles back, cracking his head on the floor. "What the fuck, Clarke?" he mumbles through his hands. The room spins as little blobs of color pop up in front of his eyes.

"You hit me."

"Yeah, to wake you up. You went all comatose." He spits blood onto the floor. "Look, I'm sorry Lexa's dead. No, actually, I'm not because she was a bitch, but we can't stay here. Lexa was the only thing keeping them from stringing us up by our intestines. And even if they stick with her plan, the kill order goes into affect at dawn. We have to leave now or we won't make it back in time."

She starts pacing in front of the bed, fingers tangled in her hair. He approaches her cautiously, like an injured animal. When he touches her shoulder she crumbles. He barely has time to catch her. She clutches his shirt, bawling into his shoulder. He grimaces as her fingers dig into the still-fresh welts across his back. How can Bellamy stand her?

"Clarke, get a grip." He lets her cry for what feels like an hour, but is only a sixty-count in his head then he firmly pushes her away by the shoulders. "Don't make me smack you again."

Amazingly, this gets a small, tired smile. She licks her lips then wipes the tears with the backs of her hands. Her lip's quivering, but she doesn't look like she might implode anymore. The smile only stays a few seconds, but it gives Murphy hope that the old Clarke is still in there somewhere.

"We're locked in here. Any idea how we can get out?"

He can see the wheels turning in her head. She's calculating all strategies and risks, discarding bad ideas, reconsidering them a moment later. It's the Clarke he knows and trusts. He finally lets out a sigh of relief. As much as he hates Camp Jaha or whatever they're calling it these days, he sure as hell doesn't want to stay in this crappy Grounder hotel of pain.

It's kind of funny that even with all the space on the ground, he still feels trapped. Would there ever be a place that felt like home? For a second, he thinks that if he hadn't been such a dick to everyone, he might feel more welcomed. But he is who he is, and there’s no helping that now.

Clarke looks up. "I have an idea."

Murphy claps his hands. "About fucking time, princess."
08 July 2016 @ 10:48 pm

The 100 (tv)
272 words
rating: PG

Since she came back, Clarke is always there whenever Bellamy turns around, even when he doesn’t know he needs her. Bellamy’s thoughts during his emotional conversation with Clarke in 3.13.

Title: Little River Band

I don't know how long I've stood out here, listening to the softly lapping waves. The sun's gone down so it’s been a while. When I hear the crunching of rocks, I know it can only be one person. Octavia isn't talking to me and Jasper would never come out here for a heart-to-heart so that leaves Clarke. I don't need her sympathy right now. Or the way she can crawl under my skin and get right into my soul. I hate it. I want to hate her. To hate the world right now. But the only thing I hate is myself.

I last about five seconds before I confess every sin in my heart. I don't know what it is about her. She doesn't even have to say anything and I'm bearing my soul to her. And I'm crying. Goddammit. I wipe away the tears and try to look anywhere but at her, but her face keeps drawing me back—the gentleness of her eyes, the sadness in her lips.

She wants to know if I'll ever forgive myself. I don't see how I can. I remember sitting under that tree with her a lifetime ago. I thought I was a monster then, but that was nothing compared to this. My mother wouldn't even recognize me. But Clarke always sees me. Even in the dark.

When she reaches for me, I can't think of anything that I deserve less, and nothing I want more than to feel her arms around me. I don't know how she forgives me, but maybe if she can do it, so can I. Maybe. Some day.
06 July 2016 @ 07:15 pm
I received THREE reviews on the last story I posted to AO3. That's nearly a record for me. Just one more review, and it'll be tied for most reviews, lol. It also has a record number of bookmarks (7) and is tied for most kudos (40). Of course all of those other stories have been up for years. I'm so used to getting no reviews, I was a little shocked to find something in my inbox.

I'll never understand how people get hundreds of reviews on their stories.
04 July 2016 @ 06:10 pm
The 100 (TV)
Bellamy/Clarke friendship
3013 words
rating: PG

Bellamy tries to be the friend that Clarke needs while she deals with what happened in The City of Light even if it tears apart his heart.

For fanfic50: confide. Title by Jeannie Kendall.

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

“So," Bellamy says, leaning on the wall next to Clarke. It's late; everyone not on watch is asleep. Of course Clarke is up. He's not sure she sleeps anymore. Day or night, whenever he’s on patrol, she's wandering around.

"So." She pushes her hands into the pockets of her jacket. He hadn't noticed her trading in her Grounder leathers for standard Ark attire. Hadn’t realized how much he missed the familiar look until now.

He mimics her pose—hands in his jacket pockets. She lets out a soft sigh; he's not sure if it's just relieving stress or from agitation. He sighs in return. She leans her head back against the cool metal; he leans his head back. Finally she looks up at him, eyes narrowed.

[spoilers for the end of season 3]"What?” He shrugs. They stare until Clarke relents with a roll of her eyes. Bellamy chuckles and bumps her shoulder. "You okay? You've been out here for a while."

"Have you been following me?"

"No, I just happen to notice you when I'm on patrol." That's half a truth. He doesn't tell her that he actively looks for her while on patrol even if he isn't actually following her.

She looks away. "I'm fine."

"’Cause you don't look fine."

"Well, I am." There's no fight in her words, though. She sounds as defeated as she looks. Like the weight of the world's become too much to bear. He wishes she'd let him bear some of it for her, but that's not Clarke.

They're quiet for a while, just staring up at the stars, their breath puffing from their mouths. Bellamy glances down at Clarke. Her hair is still braided and matted, but it looks like she made an effort to straighten it out. She's lost the hard edges she sculpted in Polis. Gone is Wanheda. He thinks that might actually be a problem. He's watched her transform from this seventeen-year-old bossy know-it-all to a confident, although bossy, leader of a bunch of delinquents to the larger-than-life, Grounder commander. Now the Grounder part of her is disappearing. What if that's the part that's been giving her all the strength?

She lets out a long breath, her eyes fluttering closed.

"You ready to talk about it yet?" he asks cautiously. "Because I think you need to talk about it. If not with me then with your mom or Raven. Someone."

"I'm fine," she murmurs.

"Clarke, you're not fine. I know you're not because any time anyone brings up the City of Light, you change the subject."

She tenses at the name, and for a second he thinks she might bolt, but then her shoulders slump. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Maybe I can help. Sometimes just saying it out loud can make you feel better."

"Bellamy, I really don't want to talk about it. It's complicated and confusing and-"

"So Lexa was there."

She startles at his blunt statement, her eyes wide and glistening. He doesn't want her to cry. God, he hates it when she cries. She looks away, confirming his suspicion.

He shifts his weight, curling his toes inside his boots to relieve the urge to run. This conversation is already awkward as hell, and he knows continuing it will only make things worse, but he can't stop—it needs to be done. "Is that why you don't want to talk to me about it? Because of Lexa?"

She swallows hard. "I don't want to hurt you, Bellamy."

He chuckles. "I'm a big boy, Clarke. I can handle listening to you talk about your girlfriend." It's the closest either of them have come to acknowledging his pretty obvious feelings for her. It's the truth, though—he’s adult enough to just be her friend if that’s what she needs. Even if it hurts.

"You hated Lexa." Her voice is so small he can barely hear her.

He shakes his head. "I never hated Lexa. I didn't trust her, but I didn't hate her."

"She was just trying to protect her people."

"I get that. But-” He licks his lips. He doesn’t want to hurt her. That’s probably impossible in her current state.

“But?” she prods, turning to face him.

“She betrayed us. She left me in that mountain to die after I risked my life saving her people. So you can see why I'm a little bitter." Her brow furrows, so he pushes on. "We would have never done that. You would have never done that. You would have fought until every person was out safe. And maybe if she'd stuck by us things wouldn't have ended the way they did." He looks away. He didn't mean to unload on her, especially when she's grieving, but that's been building for awhile. He bites down on his lip to keep from saying anything else.

He tries to ignore the soft sniffles, but they tear at his heart like razor blades. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I shouldn't have said that. Not now."

"But that's how you feel."

He can't look at her. "But it's not about me right now. This is about you. And Lexa was important to you." He doesn't know what else to say. He's pretty sure she's not going to talk to him about it now.

"I never meant to hurt you, Bellamy."

"I know. You did what you needed to do."

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity to Bellamy. Clarke finally looks away, her eyes shifting to the ground between them as one tear after another drips down her cheeks. His heart collapses in on itself. If it was any other time, he'd probably pull her into a hug, but he can tell the wounds are still too raw, and his words stung a little to deep. "I just wish I could understand what you saw in Lexa. I know my vision is clouded by Mount Weather. And I didn’t like the way she was manipulating you-"

"She wasn't."

"She was, Clarke. I get it, though. She wanted you in Polis, so she did what she had to do to keep you there."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

He wants to tell he does know because part of him wanted to do the same thing. To convince her in any way possible to come home, but he hadn't. Lexa had. It was another strike against her in his book.

"I stayed because I wanted to stay. Because I could help more in Polis than here. Because-" She stops, her mouth snapping shut as more tears flood her eyes but don’t fall.

Bellamy lets out a long breath, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. This has to be the most painful, awkward conversation he's ever had. Especially with Clarke, and they've talked about some strange, painful things.

"Because you were in love with her," he finishes. The words taste like ash in his mouth.

"I never-" Her voice quivers, and she sucks in a rattling breath to fight back the tears. “I never told-”

"I'm sure she knew, Clarke. You think you're closed off and cold, but you wear your heart on your sleeve more than you know." It's one of the things he loves about her. But he's not going to tell her that now. Maybe not ever.

Clarke sniffles as she collects her emotions which twists his heart even more. "She was there," she whispers after awhile.

"In the City of Light?" Finally, she's talking about it. Maybe she'll get some closure.

"She saved me. I was so weak, and everyone was attacking me. I thought it was over."

Bellamy pictures Clarke slumping on the throne, her life slipping away. And Murphy's arms, elbow deep in Ontari's chest, keeping Clarke alive.

"And then she was there. I wouldn't have found the kill switch without her. I wouldn't have been strong enough."

Bellamy doubts that. "You think it was really her—an imprint on the chip?"

"I don't know. I believed it then. I needed to believe it was her, but when I made it to the kill switch, Becca was there. She told me I controlled the A.I. That I could affect the world."

"And now you're not sure if Lexa was real or not." No wonder she's so conflicted. She nods. Her hands come up to cover her face, hiding more tears he knows are there. He feels sick inside. Sick that she had to go through that. Alone. That she's still trying to do it on her own. Then there's his own heart, being shredded up as he tries to be a good friend. "Clarke," he says softly, moving a step closer. She trembles when he rests his hand on her shoulder.

Suddenly she pushes his arm away, taking several steps away. That hurts more than he thought it could.

"I can't," she says. "I just can't do this, Bellamy. Not now. Not so soon-"

He sighs. "I'm just trying to be your friend. Nothing more. I told you, if you don't want to talk to me then talk to your mom. Talk to Raven. Hell, talk to Monty—he'll listen. You need to work through this, and you shouldn't have to do it alone."

"I don't want to forget her." She sobs into her hands.

Bellamy's eyes shoot open, his mouth gaping. "When did I ever say that you should forget her? I don't want you to forget her. You loved her. Why-"

Maybe he's not ready to do this either. He runs his hand over his face and through his hair, pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck in frustration. He takes a step towards her, but then thinks better of it. Instead he paces a few steps away to calm his racing heart.

"Clarke, look at me." His voice is barely above a whisper. He closes the distance between them, stopping short of her personal space. He waits until her eyes meet his. It's too dark now to see anything but black coals. "I want you to listen very carefully to me. I'm not trying to make you forget Lexa. I don't want that, just like I wouldn't want someone pushing me to forget Gina. She was important to me. Lexa was important to you. Focus on the good memories. For a long time whenever I thought of Gina it was tainted by-" He swallows hard, forcing the words out. "By her death. I couldn't see past it to the good times we had together, and that just fueled the anger. And we both know how that turned out."

Amazingly, he gets a small laugh from her. He's glad she's looking away because he can’t hide his relieved grin. "Forget all of the bad things—the betrayal, the manipulation, her death. Think about-" He's not sure what to tell her since every one of his memories of Lexa is clouded by his mistrust and dislike for her. "Think about what made you want to stay in Polis. How she made you feel when you were together. Think about how she loved you. She loved you so much she tried to change her entire culture to impress you. That's some kind of love."

The truth of it hits him hard—Lexa attempted and almost succeeded in changing the way her society functions. She risked everything. And she did it all for Clarke. He rubs the back of his neck. The fact that he could never live up to that destroys him a little.

Clarke sniffles again, but her tears seem dried for now. "I almost stayed," she whispers. "In the City of Light. A.L.I.E. gave me the choice. I could have stayed and been with Lexa forever."

Bellamy looks away and tries to keep his breathing even so she won’t hear the pain in his voice. "Why didn't you?"

"Because people were counting on me."

Bellamy nods. What else is there to say? The weight of it crushes him every moment of the day, too. There is always someone counting on them to fix everything. He watches her hugging herself.

"And because Lexa wouldn't have wanted me to. She would have wanted me to keep fighting. To save our people—Skaikru and Grounders."

He thinks she might start crying again, but she just takes a long breath, letting it out slowly. "And because I promised you I'd come back. I wouldn’t abandon you." She looks anywhere but at him.

He's so caught off guard he just stares at her, mouth slack. He blinks away the prickle of tears. Finally she looks up at him. "I couldn't hurt you like that again."

Screw it, he thinks, and wraps his arms around her. She doesn't hesitate or flinch away this time. Her arms pull him in closer, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy." Her voice catches. "I should have never left. That was selfish-"

"Stop it Clarke. Just stop, okay?" He pulls back so he can see her face, pushing her hair from her damp cheeks. "Remember that whole forgiveness thing we talked about?"

"You said it was hard."

"It is, but I think this is one you can give yourself. I told you, I'm over it. I'm tired of being hurt and angry. It happened; it's over, and now you're back. End of story."

She sniffs, her hands gripping onto his wrists. "And you've forgiven yourself."

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "No, but I'm working on living with myself. It's the best I can do."

She frowns as she works through it all. He brushes her tears away with his thumbs. "Clarke-" He tries to put into words what he's feeling, but it's all jumbled in his head. He sighs. "What we've been through-" He pauses again. "We were tossed down here, completely unprepared for even basic survival. Then we're thrown into one war after another." She looks up at him, brow knit together in that cute way that kills him every time. He loses his train of thought for a second. "What I'm trying to say is our lives are completely screwed up, most of it through no fault of our own. We're doing the best we can. We're still alive, so I think we're doing okay."

He reluctantly pulls his hands away, shoving them in his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. She wipes her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. They go back to looking at the stars twinkling miles and miles above them.

"Do you think," she asks, her voice soft, but void of the distress he heard earlier, "that if we were still up there on the Ark—if it didn't die—that we'd be friends?"

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. He's thought a lot about it, and he doesn't like the conclusion he's come up with. She won't like it either, but he won't lie to her. "Clarke, if we were still on the Ark, we would have never met. We have nothing in common, and run with completely different crowds. You're- Were-" He hates bringing up the word slung around like a slur those first days. "-part of the privileged. I was a freaking janitor."

She frowns at him. "I don't care about that."

"Yeah, I know, but the chances we'd have ever met are slim to none. Besides you were in lockup the last year." He gives her a crooked smile that gets an eye-roll. He feels like he's making some progress. "And you're way out of my league anyway. I knew that the moment I met you."


He throws his hands up. "Just thought I would put that out there." He can't help grinning ear to ear hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. The little pieces of his heart start to glue themselves back together. No matter how much he wishes things were different between them, what he really wants is for Clarke to be happy.

A gust of winter air kicks up. Clarke shivers from head to toe, and Bellamy has to admit he's cold, too. He bumps her shoulder. "Come on, let's go inside before we freeze to death."

She ducks her head, apparently trying to hide her smile. Then she hooks her arm in his as they walk back to the door. "You know," she says, "I don't think I'm out of your league."

"Really? I swept floors, Clarke. And not even in important parts of the Ark. Like on some sub-level of a section of a station no one cared about."

She laughs, shaking her head. "I think if we'd met on the Ark—by whatever circumstance," she adds the last part quickly to keep him from commenting, "I think we'd have eventually become friends."

"And what part of our first days on this planet makes you think that? The part where I was a total ass? Or the part where you were a bossy-"

She smacks his arm, but she's still smiling. He can breathe a little easier now. "We figured it out eventually."

"Yeah, because if we didn't work together we'd be dead."

She glares up at him. "Are you really that against the idea?"

"No, just being realistic."

"That's my job. You're supposed to be impulsive and arrogant. What happened to that Bellamy?"

"He's growing up." He stops as they get to the door. "For the record, if we'd managed to get past the wanting-to-kill-each-other stage of the first few days, we'd definitely be friends."

Clarke studies him for a few moments. "You don't believe that."

"I want to believe it because the idea of not having Clarke Griffin in my life is incomprehensible." He pulls the door open then moves out of the way so she can enter first. "Of course, it'd be a lot less chaotic and confusing, too."

"Shut up."

He smirks as he slams the door behind them. "Whatever you say, princess."
19 June 2016 @ 08:55 pm

His eyes slide closed, and he has to force himself to stay awake. They'd offered him some full time hours at the restaurant for the week. Sixteen hour days plus the commute there, between jobs, and back home were going to kill him. It left him six and a half hours to shower, sleep and eat. And spend time with Octavia. In his life, there literally weren't enough hours in the day.

--From "Unbreak My Heart," a modern au The 100 fic
12 June 2016 @ 08:46 pm

“What’s it like having a sister?”

“Like having the most obnoxious, spoiled kid you know live in the same quarters as you.”

Clarke thinks of this girl, Gracie, she knew in third grade. She was annoying and always chasing after Wells. “Sounds dreadful.”

“Only problem is, you love the kid so much, you not only put up with the behavior, but you find it endearing.”

--Dreadful indeed. From a The 100 fic I’m writing.
05 June 2016 @ 09:21 pm
Take any six sentences for one of your current works in progress and post them.

(almost forgot)

"Are you going to tell me you're pregnant?" He's teasing, but the thought sends a shot of panic through his system. He bites his cheek. "Please tell me you're not pregnant."

"It's triplets. Bubba says we can get married at the biker hall, but I gotta shank a bitch to get in first."

-From a modern au The 100 fic where Bellamy and Octavia are trying to sort out their lives after their mom dies.

05 June 2016 @ 06:44 pm
98F--That's what it was around 6pm while I was grilling chicken for dinner. Ridiculous. I'm covered in sweat now. Like my hair is actually dripping wet.

Just looked and our average high this time of year is 72F. Really fucking ridiculous.

I think it's supposed to be cooler tomorrow--like 85F or something.
Stolen from angelus2hot.

Fired a gun? no
Been married? yes, for 16 years now
Fallen in love? yes.
Gone on a blind date? no--I've never been on any dates. I was always friends with the guys I had relationships with, and things just kind of progressed organically
Skipped school? no, never even crossed my mind as a kid
Watches someone give birth? no
Watched someone die? no
Been to Canada? yes if you count driving an hour to Niagara Falls just for the hell of it
[more... whoever wrote this has a thing for travel]Ridden in an ambulance? yes
Been to Hawaii? no
Been to Europe? no
Been to Las Vegas? no
Been to Washington D.C.? no
Been to Nashville? yes, when I was in 10th grade--with the school orchestra.
Visited Florida? yes--we went to Disneyworld for our honeymoon
Visited Mexico? no
Seen the Grand Canyon in person?no (
Flown in a helicopter? no
Partied so hard you puked? no, thankfully, but I didn't start drinking until I was in my 30s and knew better
Been on a cruise? no
Served on a jury? no, thankfully (too many anxiety issues)
Been in a move? yes, too many to count--the last one in August 2010. It was hell.
Danced in the rain? yes--I remember this one time in college, we had this horrid heat wave. I didn't have AC so I sat in my oven apartment where it was 100+F every single day. After weeks of heat, it finally rained. I ran outside and danced in the parking lot of my building. A neighbor came home and laughed then started dancing because we were just so happy for something other than blistering heat.
Been to Los Angeles? no
Been to New York City? no
Played in a band/orchestra? yes--I played violin in my high school orchestra
Sung Karaoke? no
Made prank phone calls? yes, when I was a kid, before the invention of Caller ID, lol
Laughed so much you cried? yes
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? yes
Had children? yes--five! In 2000, 2001, 2002, 2006 and 2010.
Had a pet? yes--many, many cats and a few dogs here and there. We have currently adopted a stray cat we named Snickers, who may or may not be pregnant.
Been sledding on a big hill? yes
Been downhill skiing? no
Been water skiing? no
Ridden on a motorcycle? yes, when I was little--the neighbor took us each for a ride aroun the block.
Jumped out of a plane? no
Been to a drive-in movie? yes, all the time when I was a kid. Last time was in 2007. We took the kids to see Spiderman 3. Wish we'd known the theater was there the entire 2 years we lived in that town--we ended up moving months after the Spiderman thing
Ridden an elephant? no--what a very random question
Ridden a Horse? no
Been on TV? no
Been in the newspaper? yes, for school stuff
Stayed in the hospital? yes--five births and gall bladder surgery
Donated blood? no
Gotten a piercing? yes, just my ears
Gotten a tattoo? yes--two of them. One is a semicolon on the inside of my right wrist, the other is five birds (one for each kid) on the inside of my left forearm
Driven a stick shift vehicle? no
Driven over 100 mph? no--I feel guilty if I go more than 5 miles over the speed limit
Been scuba diving? no
Lived on your own? yes, in college (from 18-22) before I met my husband
Ridden in the back of a police car? no, but my oldest daughter has many, many times
Broken a bone? yes, both of my ankles multiple times, luckily never both at the same time
Gotten stitches? no, unless you count the sutures I got during my 1st c-section (all the others used staples)
Traveled Alone? yes
Gone backpacking? no
Owned more shoes than I could ever wear? no
Been to Russia? no
Seen four countries at the same moment? no
Actually seen the cows come home? no
Visited San Francisco/Crossed the Golden Gate bridge/Explored the Marin Headlands? no, but my husband really wants to drive down there one of these days
02 June 2016 @ 05:04 pm
The 100 (tv)
398 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS: spoilers for season 2

Takes place shortly after the events of the season 2 finale.
Picking up the pieces of your life isn’t as easy as watching them fall apart, especially when there’s no one there to help you. Bellamy + Clarke friendship. Written for the prompt: “toy” at fanfic50

(Title: All These Things I’ve Done by The Killers)

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

[cut for spoilers for the end of season 2]It inevitably has to be done. Mount Weather is too important a resource to leave it a tomb. Bellamy volunteers to help—it makes sense he should have to clean up his own mess. Now that he's here, though, the enormity of the task overwhelms him. He stands in the center of the dining hall surveying the damage. Three hundred eighty souls lost at the flip of a switch.

Bellamy swallows back bile as he slowly rolls the nearest body onto her back. Then sucks in a gagging breath at the small boy tucked under her in a desperate, yet futile, attempt to protect him. He picks up the stuffed bear clutched tightly in the boy's hands as the room blurs around him.

He did this. This little boy is dead because he saved his people. He keeps telling himself that they had no other choice, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re all dead, and their blood is on his hands.


He startles, blinking the world and Kane into focus.

“I could use some air,” Bellamy mumbles then leaves without waiting for a response.

He carries the bear up to the surface where the smell of wet grass and the feel of the warm sun remind him that not everything around him is death. Clarke quoted Oppenheimer to him once: “I am become death.” Sounds about right. They’re both destroyers of worlds now.

He wonders where Clarke is—if she’s safe or if she’s alone. Then he wonders why she isn’t here because he really thinks she should be here. Not that he wants her to suffer with him, but he’s not sure he’s strong enough to pick up the pieces without her. He needs her to lean on when he stumbles and slips. Instead she’s left him to fall with no net to catch him.

He squeezes his eyes shut against the too bright world, tears pooling at the corners, and forces the resentment back down. After a few seconds, he lets out a long breath. No matter how much he wants things to be different, the fact is Clarke isn’t here and the boy is still dead and there’s no one else to blame but himself.

Bellamy sets the sad little bear on a rock—nobody left to love it—and goes back inside, the feeling hitting a little too close to home.
31 May 2016 @ 09:26 am
These two... they deserve to be happy. Well, everyone does, but Miller and Bryan hit me right in the feels.

The 100 | season 3, episode 16

(spoiler free preview)

[episode 15 and 16 were full of too many feelings]

Otherwise known as:

Miller and Bryan are the cutest couple. Fact!

I have so many emotions right now.

30 May 2016 @ 11:07 pm

I've been writing a bunch, but I need some focus. Maybe this will help?

fanfic50 | The 100 | Bellamy/Clarke
001. Love 002. Hate 003. Pain 004. Joy 005. Fear
006. Trust 007. Betray 008. Promise 009. Appreciate 010. Annoy
011. Death 012. Blood 013. Grave 014. Life 015. Breath
016. Mind 017. Think 018. Share 019. Toy 020. Guard
021. Moonlight 022. Sunshine 023. Wish 024. Undecided 025. Heaven
026. Dispose 027. Illusive 028. Inside 029. Home 030. Sleep
031. Phone 032. Discover 033. Investigate 034. Confide 035. Follow
036. Threat 037. Survive 038. Together 039. Remember 040. Mistake
041. Try 042. Fall 043. Redo 044. Experiment 045. Hollow
046. Missing 047. Broken 048. Sympathy 049. Collide 050. Writers' Choice

13. Meanwhile, Life Goes On
19. All These Things I've Done
34. Worn Around the Edges
So, instead of adding to the 1500 words I wrote very early yesterday morning, I made more art. This time a new header for my wordpress blog. Because why not?

The theme that I'm using has a red line at the top and all of the links are red, so I decided to stick with that. The fandoms in the header were the ones I just happened to have pictures saved for on my computer. There's definitely a sci-fi thing going on, lol.
30 May 2016 @ 09:35 am
More feelings. So many feelings.

The 100 | season 3, episode 16
(spoiler free preview)

[very feely type scene]

Otherwise known as:

The bromance is back on!

What’s a little stabbing between friends?



"No hard feelings, right guys?"
Why does the text editor have to be so temperamental?

First: I don't have spellcheck in the visual editor so I have to switch to HTML to check my spelling.

Second: Inserting a Spoiler Tag fucks everything up.

  1. It makes anything that is centered move to the left. Sure, it's still centered relevant to the items (text is centered with photos for example), but it's lined up on the left under the spoiler tag. I managed to fix this by inserting <center> tags around the spoiler tags.

  2. This ends up adding to one of the other problems, namely whenever you switch between HTML and the visual editor, LJ adds spaces before the spoiler cut. So if you go back and forth five times to change little things, there will be 5 extra lines before the cut. WTF is up with that? As I was trying to figure out what was wrong with some text, I kept having to delete extra lines. This even happens if you use the "edit" link after posting because it goes into HTML mode before switching to the visual editor.

  3. Then there's the text issue I am having. Text after pictures gets It takes out all of the line breaks I put in. It looks fine in the visual editor, but when it's posted, half of the lines are squished together, while others are where they are supposed to be. The end of each of my picspam posts has 4 lines with alternate titles. They are on 4 separate lines until I post. Then line 1 and 2 are squished together with no space between the sentences, and line 3 and 4 are together with no space between, but it keeps the line break between 2 and 3. Huh? The only way I was able to fix this was to add an extra line break after lines 1 and 3. It looks stupid in the visual editor, but fine when it posts. This only happens after I put in spoiler tags. Before that it looked fine.

  4. EDITED TO ADD TO #3: Apparently, it's not the spoiler tags? I don't know, because I've had issues with them on my stories, but the text problem I have is also showing up under photos with in spoiler cuts that aren't at the end. I'm not sure which thing is causing it, and not in the mood to figure it out. The text under one photo at the beginning did the lost line break thing. I added a photo and text after the cut--it looked fine. Put it behind a cut--looked fine. Bolded/colored it like the screwed up text--looked fine under the jumbled text of the first picture, but was jumbled after the last picture. I just don't even... It's so annoying.

Does this shit happen to anyone else? It happens at the end of my stories I post, making the last paragraph almost impossible to read, but I forget about so don't notice for days or weeks or whatever (I should probably go back and check older stories).