Hi! I'm new to the chenford fandom and just finished 506. I wanted to get your take on one moment that felt odd to me. They kept stressing in s4 that Lucy & Tim had moved on from her rookie period, so it felt weird that Tim immediately jumped to that being the reason for her radio stunt. Wouldn't it have made more sense for him to accuse her of punishing him for "moving on" with Thorsen?
Hi! First of all, welcome to the fandom and I hope you're enjoying the show so far!!! I think that's totally up to interpretation, but personally I think it was less about her punishing him in general and more of a reference to the tricks and tests he used to pull on her as a rookie (like stealing her duty belt or digging through the toy chest) that he dropped once she was his aide.
It makes sense to me that Lucy hiding his radio – as a lesson, as holding something over him, in his eyes – would be comparable to the times he did that in the past. I think he views it right away as a test of some sort so that's why his reaction is what it is. She clearly wants something out of him, which is why she's going to all this trouble, like he would do when he wanted to teach her something as a rookie. Like hiding her duty belt in 1x03 was meant to teach her to not keep it unattended, so he assumes this is payback for the same type of thing, just in a Lucy way, rather than a T.O. way.
I love your Halloween series!! How about getting lost in a corn maze (deliberately or not - cue brow waggle lol)?
A|N: I have no idea why my first thought whenever says ‘corn maze’ is that parks and recreation episode where they lose lil’ sebastian in one but... here we are, I guess!
_____________
Look, as the deputy director of the Parks and Recreation department, Bellamy is not opposed to getting his hands dirty from time to time, okay? He’s the one-man task force behind the Arkadia River cleanup initiative, for one, and he’s also pretty much the only person who makes it a point to spray ammonia all over the various parks trash cans regularly to keep the raccoons out. It’s troublesome, sure, but it’s hard to mind when it’s all for the good of the community.
Still, he’ll admit: it’s difficult to think of the greater good of it all when he’s been stuck in this corn maze for the past two hours.
“The next time Kane insists we test-run every single one of the Harvest Festival’s attractions,” he pants, swatting at the stray stalk of corn threatening to snap right into half, “I’m going to stick him in this corn maze and let the Karpoi have him.”
Clarke, thankfully, seems to be handling this with a lot more grace than he is. “Karpoi?” she asks, confusion knitting at her brow. “As in, the grain spirits that look like fat babies?”
“Yeah,” he manages, pausing to take a swig from his bottle. “They’re known to be pretty vicious assholes, though. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really pissed at Kane.”
“I figured,” she says, wry. “I mean, if you’re looking at more reasons to get mad at him, he did send you out here with the one person who was essentially trying to cut your department and budget just two months ago.”
“And there’s that,” he sighs, shaking at his head ruefully. It feels like forever ago that Clarke was here as a state auditor, hell-bent on making his life as difficult as possible. “But it could be worse, you know? I could be out here with Roan, for one.”
She arches a brow over at him, a smile twitching at her lips. “I rank higher than Roan?”
“You rank higher than a lot of the idiots in my office,” he tells her, because it’s true, at any rate, and also he just wants to see her smile, if he’s being honest. It’s one of those disconcerting things he’s realized about himself, as of late: he really likes making Clarke Griffin smile. “Left or right?”
“Right,” she says automatically, turning on her heel towards yet another small, impossibly cramped path. If he goes up on his toes, he can sort of spot the Harvest Festival banner from here, along with the ferris wheel, which he takes to be a promising—
“Hang on,” he stops, frowning. “I think we’ve been here before.”
She stiffens at that, lips pursed. “What?”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve went down this path already,” he points out, jerking his chin towards the slowly turning ferris wheel, the neon of the flashing lights in the distance making him wince. “We saw this a few minutes back, remember? The lights came on, and you mentioned what a pain it was to get Jaha to loan out his generator.”
“I mean, yeah,” she hedges, shrugging. “But I think we were looking at the back of the ferris wheel, at that point? It’s just— I don’t know. It feels like we’re at a different spot.”
He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but she seems almost flustered, somehow. “No,” he says, squinting over at her, “ we were here, because I remember seeing the sign for Sue’s Salads, too. Is— hey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says, in a voice that’s a little too controlled to be convincing. Then, brightly, “Shall we just go further down this path and see where it leads us?”
“Not when we know that it leads to a literal dead end,” he huffs, throwing his hands up frustratedly. “Seriously, Clarke. Could you just— I don’t know, trust me on this?”
“I do,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. “But I think you’re wrong when it comes to this, okay? I have a good feeling about this path,” she insists, hitching her backpack higher up against her shoulder. “I can’t explain it, but I just do.”
She’s already moving, so he has no choice but to follow anyway, swearing lowly under his breath. “I can’t believe you’re advocating for me to follow your gut instead of cold, hard logic,” he says, rubbing at his face impatiently. “Who are you and what did you do with Clarke Griffin?”
“Karpoi possession.”
“That’s not how they operate,” he scowls, trudging after her carefully. The path seems to be growing smaller, if it’s even possible, the stalks high enough to cast long shadows against the dirt. “And it’s not just that— you’ve been acting a little weird all day.”
The look she shoots him is distinctly unimpressed. “I’m fine, Bellamy.”
“Yeah?” he counters, snorting. “You were late for work today for one,” he says, ticking off his fingers. “Then you mistakenly ordered a whole basket of muffins from JJ’s instead of your usual, and then you lost the map to this maze, which is—”
(Unprecedented, he nearly says; the realization dawning on him all at once. She’s determinedly not looking at him, her cheeks flushed, and it takes everything in his power not to laugh because he should have known that this is exactly the convoluted sort of thing Clarke Griffin would get up to, really.)
“You know what?” he says, casual as can be. “Let’s just— take a minute. Do you still have the muffins from this morning?”
Her gaze jerks back up to him, surprise evident. “Yeah,” she says finally, a small smile playing on her lips. “And uh, some juice too. Jasper offered me some juice boxes before I left.”
“Perfect,” he grins, unzipping his jacket and laying it down on the ground; biting back a smile when he feels her settle in next to him, close enough he can feel her breath warming the side of his neck, knee pressed up against hers. “I could use a break anyway.”
Marie's interview, coupled with Octagorn's awed expression during the Echo scene, makes me think that she might banish Jaha and Clarke from the bunker...
I think this is Grade A speculation. Especially as we know, thanks to the synopsis for 4x12, that Clarke is leading a group to save a friend. What I’m hoping happens:
Octavia banishes Clarke (I think Jaha is still in the Bunker in 4x12- because 4x12′s synopsis says that Jaha and Kane disagree, which means they have to be in the same place) and then uses the list that Clarke wrote to come up with the idea to pick 100 people from each Clan (it can’t be a coincidence that the Bunker holds 1200 people, and with Luna-the lost of her clan-dead, there are only 12 clans).
Bellamy “If I’m on that list, you’re on that list” Blake, will follow Clarke out of the Bunker, because he never planned to be in it in the first place and he darn sure won’t be in it if Clarke isn’t.
lushatrocity replied to your post “A ficlet I’m not gonna write because it will hit too close to home:...”
This happens to me and the hubs often!
It’s just such a tiny little thing that honestly isn’t even *that* big of a deal, but then you realize it’s not nearly as common with couples of the same race and you’re just like...oh, right.
verbam replied to your post “A ficlet I’m not gonna write because it will hit too close to home:...”
:(
*thanks boo*
practicingproductivity replied to your post “A ficlet I’m not gonna write because it will hit too close to home:...”
That sucks.
practicingproductivity replied to your post “A ficlet I’m not gonna write because it will hit too close to home:...”
Shit. The assumptions people make. Jfc. Like that anyone puts any thought into making an assumption like that, just boggles my mind.
You know, I think it’s mostly because they aren’t thinking. I get that serving is a fast-paced job and they most likely aren’t even aware they’re doing it-- nor do they necessarily mean anything by it. It’s just a shitty reminder that the world at large does not think you *belong* together.
lushatrocity replied to your post “Introducing: The 100 Meta Library”
Please make sure to include April's work in this. It's a little concerning that your first list didn't include any women of color...
This blog will make an effort to include all meta, regardless of the opinions expressed or person who writes it. The people I tagged in my introductory post were honestly urls that popped to the front of my head.
The fact that the list, as you said, didn’t include any WOC (though I believe you’re incorrect)? I had no idea. That preliminary list was just a list of the blogs that I thought of first. Of course the opinions of WOC will be included. Of course I’ll include @bellamyblakesprotectionsquad2k17.
This isn’t directed to just you, but guys. Come on. Someone not being on a thrown-together list, where I explicitly stated that I probably forgot some obvious people, isn’t a reason to be concerned about inclusion. If it was a pattern, yeah sure, come at me with pitchforks.
This will be the only time I post something like this publicly. Any other issues with how this blog is run will be settled privately in the future. This is a place to enjoy meta, not engage in discourse. Do that on your own time.
Just wanted to say I love how patient you are! My only hang up with the separation in act 6 is that it will stir up the hate towards Abby - since she stopped them testing the Nightblood on Clarke. Roan, Papa Miller, Luna, etc. would still be alive, you know?
Dad Miller is still alive now! And I expect him to make it through the Season (there are three empty bunker spaces now that Raven. Clarke and Bellamy aren’t coming back)! I’m more concerned about Abby’s ability to survive the Season honestly, they still haven’t fixed her brain issue. She’s in a bad way.
I also don’t think we can or should blame Abby for actions she committed while she was not (literally) in her right mind. Just like Raven she was sick and her smashing the tube was the result of her hallucination.
Also, Roan and Luna would most likely have died anyway, remember how horrified the Grounders were when they realized Abby created nightblood with science? The Grounders were ALWAYS going to throw the Hunger Games, there was no stopping it.
I would love to see a fic about Clarke fighting for Bellamy (since we know that is sorely lacking in canon)...
Look, there are a few things that Clarke really prides herself on. Staying calm and rational in the face of danger is one of them, definitely, as is the ability to remain unfazed at whatever curveball earth decides to throw her way.
She’s been here for a while, okay? She’s seen some weird shit. There’s not much that can get under her skin, at this point.
Well, except for when Bellamy goes missing for twelve whole hours.
“You can’t be serious,” Raven goes, incredulous, when she catches her gearing up to head out. “Look, I know he’s a little late but I’m sure he’s fine.”
“He was supposed to check in two hours ago,” she snaps, prowling the length of her tent until she manages to uncover Bellamy’s hunting knife concealed under a pile of blankets. Strapping it to her side, she marches out, gesturing for Raven to follow. “The last time we talked, he was crossing ice nation territory. And as much as I know you like Roan, well. I trust him about as far as I can throw him.”
That pulls an exasperated sigh out of her before she relents, dropping a walkie-talkie in Clarke’s upturned palms. “You seem to like Roan well enough when he’s not putting a sword through Bellamy’s leg.”
“I’ll like him better if it turns out he had nothing to do with Bellamy being M.I.A.”
“You’ll probably like people more, generally, if they stopped trying to kill Bellamy.” Raven muses, ignoring the withering look Clarke shoots her way. “It’s a short list.” She adds, patting at her shoulder comfortingly. “Have fun! And radio in once you’ve met up with your boyfriend.”
“I hate you.” She huffs for the lack of a better response, before heading out of the gates.
+
It’s not like Bellamy is her boyfriend, or anything.
The only reason Clarke didn’t deny it entirely is probably because there is some truth in her caring for him far beyond anyone else. But that’s how it’s always been with them: he’ll cross a field full of grounders to rescue her, and she’d let villages burn to keep him safe. He’d risk his life for her over and over again, and she’d fight tooth and nail to protect him from harm.
He saves her. She saves him right back.
So, yeah. The whole boyfriend thing just doesn’t seem to cut it when it comes to them.
(And if she harbours a secret fantasy or two about being with him from time to time- kissing and sex and holding each other- well. That’s her secret to keep. In fact, she should probably just… stop thinking about it now.)
+
Roan is there to receive her at the gates when she arrives, arching a brow in question when she slams the door of the Rover behind her.
“Where’s the other half of the dynamic duo?” he remarks dryly, drumming his fingers casually against the hilt of his sword.
Folding her arms across her chest, she sizes him up, evaluating the likelihood of being able to take him in a fight. Her chances are slim to none, though she does feel a little better when she thinks about the concealed pistol in her boot.
“That’s what I came here to ask you,” she says, drawing out the word pointedly. “The last time I checked, he was crossing your territory before he fell off the radar. Knowing that the Ice Nation has a penchant for taking prisoners only strengthened my suspicions that you have him held here.”
He considers this for a tense, drawn-out minute; long enough for her to start feeling antsy, reaching instinctively for Bellamy’s knife.
“Them,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “We have them, though not as prisoners. One of your men was injured en-route, so I very kindly extended an invitation to Bellamy to bring him to one of our healers. They’re probably still there.”
For a second, she can only stare. “Oh.” She manages, licking at her lips. “Well. Can you bring me there?”
“Considering how you’ve stormed all the way here to demand that I give you back your Bellamy? Sure.”
“My people,” she corrects frostily, falling into step next to him as he sweeps an arm out for her to follow. “I came here to get my people back.”
The look he shoots her is amused and pitying, all at once. “But you care about him more.”
Her cheeks heat at that, involuntary, and she resists the urge to do something childish like flip him off. “Let’s just make our way over in silence.” She declares primly, marching ahead while he trails behind her, shaking his head in a way that she knows is supposed to mean kids.
+
Bellamy startles when she taps at his shoulder, hand going reflexively to his gun before she stops it by curling her fingers around his wrist, holding him still.
“Clarke,” he blinks, his relief palpable as he takes her in. It morphs into alarm quickly enough, his gaze roving over her for injuries. “Is something wrong? What— why are you here?”
“You’re seriously asking me that when you haven’t checked in with— any of us for hours?” She gapes, swatting at his shoulder angrily. “Jesus, Bellamy! I was worried sick! I thought you were lying dead in a ditch, or that Echo had finally gotten her claws into you—”
“The walkie-talkies died halfway through our trek,” he interrupts, frowning. “And then Bryan cut his arm on a tree branch, and Roan insisted that I bring him here. I was going to contact you whenever I found the opportunity to.”
“That’s not good enough!” Clarke seethes, her hands shaking by her sides. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? I got in a car and drove all the way here, I left everyone else behind—”
His fingers curl over her shoulders then, holding her steady. The regret and concern in his eyes makes her feel a little guilty for having shouted, but not enough to apologize for it. “I’m sorry,” he says, soft, rubbing at her arms in a placating fashion, “I should have figured out another way sooner.”
“You think?” she sniffs, feeling suddenly and stupidly tearful. “Put yourself in my shoes for a second. If it was me that was out there, you would have sent out ten search parties by now.”
That pulls a smile out of him, wry, belying the intensity of his words. “I would have run all the way here if I thought you were hurt.”
She gives a little watery laugh at that, dropping her face into his shoulder. His jacket smells faintly of the cool winter air, of gunpowder and mint and home. “God, the things we do for each other.”
She senses his smile rather than sees it, though the brush of his lips against her temple is unmistakable. “The things we do for each other,” he echoes, sliding an arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side as the others begin filing out of the room. “You ready to go home now?”
“As I’ll ever be.” She murmurs, leaning into his touch slightly before disentangling herself from him; both of them leading the charge home.
