1. what’s your name, url and country where you live?
2. say the following words: trigedasleng, theolonious, bellarke, c/exa, polis, avgeropoulos, trikru, unity day, wanheda, ‘you’re the most beautiful broom in a broom closet full of brooms’
3. who is your favourite male character?
4. who is your favourite female character?
5. what’s your favourite romantic ship?
6. what’s your favourite platonic ship?
7. favourite season and/or episode?
8. a character you want brought back from the dead?
9. what show would you like the 100 to crossover with?
10. would you rather be a grounder or a sky person?
11. sum up the 100 in 3 words.
I can’t tag anyone lol (this is what happens when you do the challenge after a run)
In response to the person who's therapist made them feel dismissed: The therapist told them if she had a personality disorder, "she would not be able to feel emotions." The core of BPD is extreme emotions, so I'm not exactly sure what planet this therapist is living on. Sounds like another "professional" who refuses to treat someone with BPD.
that’s what I think. You said it much better than I could! Thanks!
I met with my new therapist today and I brought in a filled out checklist and I felt kind of dismissed because she first said that anyone can have the symptoms in the dsm-5 then while I was talking about some of my experiences (I said I felt bad for my friend cuz his dad is dying) she interrupted me and said if I had a personality disorder, I wouldn't be able to feel emotion. And it just really upset me and I'm scared cuz I liked her, but now I feel like she's not taking me seriously.
Wow. That is really not cool. If I were in this situation I would ask for a new therapist. I know it sucks to bounce around therapists and constantly have to start over (I’ve been through a lot of them) but if you don’t feel comfortable then you have to find someone that you can be comfortable with.
I had a therapist that I really liked too, but once I said “I think I have BOD can we talk about this” she completely changed. Some people are just like that I guess.
Happy late birthday, Crissi! Sorry I got sick and couldn’t finish this last weekend. But here it is, as you requested, modern au first kiss. WITH JOKES AND A PUN TITLE.
ao3
“Just give me a patty melt,” Bellamy said, ignoring the menu Monroe put in front of him.
“They changed the menu, doofus, they don’t even have that anymore,” Raven said before Monroe could break the news to him.
Bellamy looked up from his phone, his lips pressed together and his eyes narrowed.
“He’s such an old man,” Clarke said, shaking her head.
Bellamy didn’t have time to glare at her too because Monroe was waiting to see what he wanted. Everyone else had given their order but he’d been focused on these two idiots on Twitter debating about Common Core. He held the menu up and tried to read it but it was blurry. He looked around and was happy to see that his friends were busy talking about something else so he shifted the menu a little, holding it out a little further to the spot where the words came into focus. Right about an arm’s length away and yes, now he could see it.
“Oh my God,” Clarke exclaimed, startling him out of his menu reading. “You can’t see it.”
“What?” he asked incredulous. “No, I can see just fine.”
“I saw that, you are holding the menu out at arm’s length, you can’t fucking see it!”
Bellamy laughed without humor, trying to throw her off but it didn’t work.
“I can come back in a minute,” Monroe said while Bellamy sputtered trying to think up an excuse.
“The old man will take a cheeseburger with grilled onions and no mayo with a side of prunes and a senior citizen’s discount,” Clarke answered Monroe before turning back to Bellamy.
“Fries, I want fries on the side, thank you,” he said to Monroe as she wrote the order down.
“You need readers.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Are you having trouble at the computer, too? Your midrange okay or is it harder to input your grades?”
“My eyes are just tired. I’ve been grading essays nonstop for the last week because the end of the semester is coming up,” Bellamy argued.
“Tired eyes don’t work like that.”
“Oh, because you’re the expert?” he snapped.
“She literally is,” Raven cut in.
Clarke smiled, her shoulder came up in the most adorable shrug from a person who knew they were right. Bellamy hated her right then.
“An optometrist isn’t a real doctor,” he muttered.
“You act like my mom doesn’t say that every Thanksgiving,” she replied cheerily.
Bellamy felt vaguely bad about his comment. He hated Clarke’s mom and didn’t really enjoy being in the same category as her for any reason. But Clarke took it in stride.
“Good news, I have an appointment open first thing tomorrow morning,” Clarke said, rubbing her hands together in excitement.
“I’m not coming to your office. First of all, I plan on sleeping in tomorrow because it’s fucking Saturday,” Bellamy said. “I can’t believe you set your own hours and choose to work on Saturday morning when you could be sleeping.”
“I bought my practice from Dr. Reynolds and he was always open on Saturday and took Thursday off. It’s a good schedule. It means people who work all week can still see me and besides I didn’t hear you complaining about it when you needed someone to sit in your apartment when the cable guy was coming to fix your internet on a Thursday.”
Bellamy made a face. She was right.
“It’s on the house, Bellamy,” Clarke said. “Your eyes will thank me.”
He glanced down at his phone to avoid looking at Clarke’s bright, excited eyes.
“Fine.”
She squealed so loud it startled him, and Raven, and the old couple in the booth behind them. But she looked so thrilled he gave her a small, reluctant smile. Like he was in any position to say no to her.
He’d been in love with Clarke Griffin, ahem, Dr. Clarke Griffin, OD, for a solid three years but the timing was never right. He was dating someone or she was dating someone, and now it’d been so long, they were such good friends, it never seemed like the right time.
So the next morning he walked into her office with three coffees and refused to take off his sunglasses as he checked in with her lone Saturday receptionist in her incredibly bright waiting area, cursing the floor to ceiling windows and the sun for being so bright at 8AM.
“This is for you,” he said, placing the coffee on the counter. “Your boss is a monster for making any of us be here this morning.”
The receptionist, a mousy brunette, blushed and thanked him. “She’s not that bad.”
“Oh, she’s definitely that bad,” he said as she gathered paperwork and made a little folder with his name on it.
“If you’ll come right this way.” The receptionist led him past the rows and rows of frames and mirrors, past a kid’s play area, and down a hallway to a room where he was instructed to sit in a chair in front of several machines. The woman took his blood pressure, heart rate, and then had him look through a machine to read some letters.
“I’m going to need you to look at the red dots through there, try not to blink, because this is a glaucoma test,” the woman said.
Bellamy pulled his chin back from the machine and shook his head.
“Nope,” he said forcefully.
“You’re such a goddamn baby,” Clarke said from the doorway.
He looked over his shoulder to see her leaning against the frame in her little white coat, jeans and a t-shirt under her white coat, but still, she looked more professional with that coat on.
“I’m not letting your employee get that puff of air in my eye.”
Bellamy might have been avoiding the optometrist on this reason alone. If he was being honest with himself he could admit that his vision hadn’t been great in the last year or so but he’d had one of these glaucoma tests a few years ago at a general check up with his doctor and he was solidly in the realm of opting out of it forever.
“Let her puff your eye,” Clarke said, crossing her arms.
“No.”
“Are you nine instead of 29?”
“Mock all you want, I’m not doing it,” he said stubbornly. He went so far as to stand up from the chair.
Clarke tilted her head though, and glared, and he rolled his eyes before sitting down again.
“I can’t even keep my eyes open enough for her to do it,” he argued.
The poor receptionist looked uncomfortable.
“Roberta, you can go back to the front desk. I’ll take care of the whiner.”
Roberta rushed out of the room and Bellamy cleared his throat as Clarke took her place on the other side of the machine. He really didn’t want to have this test.
“Can’t I refuse this test?”
“You could,” Clarke said. “But I’m not going to let you.”
“I should have gone to a different doctor.”
Clarke huffed. “Put your chin on that ledge and look at the red dot.”
Bellamy did as he was told. His eyes blinked fast and started to water as he tried to keep them open and watch the red light in the machine. He heard Clarke operate the machine, the click of it making his heart speed up before it made a popping sound. His eyes involuntarily clenched shut at the sound and the feeling of air.
“I actually got that one before you closed!” Clarke said excitedly.
“I heard they use this at Gitmo,” he said, trying to calm his heart.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re dramatic?” She gazed at him for a second before diving back behind the machine.
“No,” he grumbled.
After three tries she was able to get a reading on his other eye and Bellamy was wound tight enough to snap. But Clarke came around back to his side, put her hand on his back and rubbed back and forth a little longer than a casual touch.
“I’m proud of you, Old Man. You survived and your pressures look like you don’t have glaucoma. I’ll let you skip that test next year.”
Bellamy actually sighed relieved.
“But you’ll still have to have it every other year.”
He tensed up again. “You’re a tease.”
She raised an eyebrow and he tried not to wince at his word choice.
“Is this my coffee?” she asked reaching for the coffee next to his.
“Yeah, before you puffed air in my eyes I was feeling more generous.”
“Aw, thanks.” She took a sip of the coffee and gestured to the door. “Let’s get to the real fun part!”
Bellamy followed Clarke into another room, the exam room from the looks of the chair she had him sit in and the mirrors on the wall in front of him. He fiddled with the armrest while she punched some numbers into her computer.
“This is a phoropter and it’s gonna tell us that you need reading glasses,” she said dragging the large piece of equipment that looked sort of like a mask from the other side of the chair over his eyes.
She turned off the lights and a chart appeared on the mirror. He went through lense upon lense, telling her which one made it easier for him to see the letters on the chart clearer. She deftly turned the knobs as she went, making dumb puns. Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a better being in the room with her. Even if he felt like the old man that she accused him of being.
“How do you get a blonde’s eyes to twinkle?” she asked as she sat in front of him with a bright light looking into his eyes.
“You hate blonde jokes.”
“Not this one, it kills with patients, you know, because I’m a doctor and I’m smart and they’re paying me lots of money,” Clarke explained, her smile wide.
His eyes were starting to water from the effort of keeping them open while she shined that line in them so he gave in to her joke.
“Fine, tell me how.”
“You shine a light in her ear,” Clarke said with a giggle before she moved the scope to her ear before putting it back on the counter.
Her smiled was that one where her tongue came up behind her teeth and her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was beautiful.
“You’re cornea,” he said straight as he could.
Clarke covered her mouth with both her hands.
“That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me. You played along and make an eye doctor pun!”
Bellamy tried not to grin like an idiot.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious,” he brushed it off. “What’s the verdict, doc?”
She cleared her throat and brought the big machine with the lenses back and put it in front of him. He couldn’t really tell but he knew she was doing something off to the side and then a new chart slid in front of him.
“Can you read that last line?”
It was handwritten, he could see that, it was a little blurry though and he wasn’t sure of what he was seeing, he needed to be sure.
“It’s a little fuzzy,” he said.
“Okay,” Clarke said, adjusting the knobs just a touch.
Then he saw it.
If you can read this line you need reading glasses. Probably a little bit of a prescription to see your computer too. And while we’re at it would it kill you to ask me out?
He stared at the words. He read them over at least three times. But he wasn’t sure what to say. Dumbfounded was probably the best way to describe his feelings at the moment. Bellamy had just convinced himself that she didn’t want him, that she just wanted to be his friend. And that was fine. He was fine suffering in silence. But now she was making a move. He licked his lips.
“You know if you can see it and I’ve just made a fool of myself you can blink twice and I’m gonna go hide in my office and Roberta will take care of your paperwork.” She let out a nervous laugh. “We can forget this happened.”
“I think Roberta likes me,” Bellamy said without thinking.
“What?”
“She blushed when I gave her that coffee this morning,” he said deciding to stumble through what he’d started.
“Well, who wouldn’t blush, have you seen you? I’ve got a mirror if you haven’t,” she explained, her nervousness still bubbling but she was trying to hide it. “You’re very charming, too, even when grumpy.”
Bellamy read the line one more time before pulling away from the machine and trying to glance at Clarke in the dark room. She was out of arm’s reach now, like she was ready to bolt out of the room if things went south.
“It’s funny, the first line I can read fine, but there at the end it kind of trails off, maybe my eyes are tired,” he offered with a hint of a smile.
“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or if I’ve read the situation very wrong.” Clarke took a hesitant step towards him and moved the phoropter off to the side so he didn’t have to look around it to see her.
“A guy’s gotta work up some courage, I didn’t get to sleep in this morning,” he said as Clarke bit her lip. “Plus, you made me do the eye puff test. Shouldn’t boyfriends be exempt from that?”
Clarke took another step forward, her eyebrow going up.
“You took quite the leap from date to boyfriend.”
“Sorry if I’m presumptuous, I can’t help it, I’ve been in love with you for years, also friendly reminder you didn’t let me sleep in this morning.”
He felt his heart pound. He’d laid it all out there and he saw her face when he said he loved her. She was shocked.
“You’re an asshole,” she finally said, but she was right next to the chair now, he turned to her.
Clarke leaned over the armrest, bracing her hands on his biceps and kissed him. She tasted like coffee and he was so relieved that he sighed into her mouth. She kissed into his mouth and moved a hand to his neck while he reached for her waist and lifted her into his lap awkwardly. They didn’t stop kissing and he was pretty okay with never detaching his lips from her body.
But someone knocked and opened the door just a crack, startling them apart. Once he saw that the person wasn’t coming in he nipped along Clarke’s neck.
“Your 9AM is ready in exam room two, Dr. Griffin,” Roberta said from just outside the door.
“I’m just finishing up in here and then I’ll be out, make sure they’ve got a mag-AH-zine.”
Bellamy was thrilled with the sound she’d made when he’d reached that spot under her ear. The door shut and he moved back towards her lips, licking and sucking along the way.
“You know she could totally see us, right?” Clarke said.
He pulled back surprised. “She was standing outside.”
“That’s a wall of mirrors, you idiot.” She gestured over her shoulder. “The door opens to the mirrors.”
“Okay well, one, we should have sex in here, at some point, when we’re the only ones here, and two, I forgot there were mirrors because I’ve been waiting to kiss you for a hundred years.”
Clarke’s eyes softened. “Charming, even when you don’t get to sleep in.” She gave him a chaste kiss. “I’ve already got three pairs of frames picked out for you and I actually have to work today but only until noon so go pick your frames and go home and nap. I’ll swing by after and you can take me to lunch or we can just do more of this.”
She rolled her hips and he groaned.
“Both good choices.”
“You’re gonna look so good in glasses.” She brushed some hair off his forehead.
“Is that what put you over the edge? Is it predictable for an optometrist to have a glasses kink?” he asked, rubbing his hand along her back.
“I don’t know, didn’t cover it in medical school,” she admitted, kissing him again.
