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CAT this was devious (thank you). Putting these under the cut just in case lol.
get drunk with: Eloise. I feel like we could get on if she relaxed and got outside her head a bit. I have also been the insufferable (queer? maybe?) white feminist teenager, I get it lol.
make out with: Daphne. We could have some fun.
date: Benedict, he could get me into all the sexy artist parties (and then I would leave his ass and hook up with Genevieve).
marry: Anthony. Listen...LISTEN!! I would never have answered this way last season but his unhinged and stressed to the max oldest sibling energy really spoke to me this season.
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2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?
I’d love to write a zombie apocalypse AU!
I’ve never tried my hand at that (frankly, I used to hate dystopian scenarios), but I really want to write a well-rounded story with outline and everything.
Unfortunately, I think I just want to write it because I’ve gotten used to zombie AUs often featuring road trips and deep conversations at mesas, so I don’t know if my motivations are right.
4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?
I already spoke about a few here.
I was prompted to write a Bellarke spies/secret agents AU for Bellarke Bingo quite a while ago! I’m working on that in my head. So far, they’re definitely going to be on the opposing sides of war, there might be a ~Problematic torture scene, but we’ll see how it goes and what ends up in the actual fic. :)
29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?
Anything written by @alltheworldsinmyhead, hands down.
bellarke + she loves me (the musical) please! you're awesome for doing this <3
The problem with knowing that Bellamy is her internet penpal is that now, Clarke has to live with it.
On one level, it wasn’t actually surprising; if she’d thought about it, she would have known Bellamy and August had a lot in common, the same general age, one younger sister, parents out of the picture, intelligent with dry, somewhat dark senses of humor. But there are thousands of people like that in the world. She can’t be blamed for not thinking there might actually only be one of them.
Monty is the one who found out, in that Monty was the person she brought for backup because, in general, it’s dangerous to meet strangers from the internet, especially when you have exchanged almost no demographic information. August could have been almost anyone, and while Clarke definitely wanted to meet him, she also didn’t want to get stabbed.
So Monty went in first, told Clarke it was her hot coworker she definitely didn’t have a thing for, and left.
And then Clarke went in, trying to figure out what to say, and ended up in an argument with him, because that’s how they roll, and never at any point did she say, “I’m Aeris,” and he never asked, because of course it wouldn’t be her.
He emailed this morning and she still hasn’t looked at it. What’s she supposed to say, after all? He’s going to ask why she wasn’t there, except that she was, and they talked, and he doesn’t know any of that.
She puts her head down on the counter, groaning, but she only manages it for about ten seconds before there’s a sound next to her, and she looks up to see a cup from her favorite coffee shop, and Bellamy behind it.
“Hey, sorry I was a dick last night,” he says, with a small smile. “You didn’t deserve that.”
Her stomach drops, guilt flooding her system. In some sense, it’s true, but the whole thing is kind of her fault. She’s the one who stood him up, and just because he doesn’t know it was her doesn’t mean she didn’t deserve the brunt of his irritation.
“You’re fine,” she says. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“Still.”
“Thanks for the coffee.” She takes a sip, can’t help asking, “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?”
“You look kind of tired.”
It’s not actually a lie, and he must know it, because his face screws up with displeasure. “Thanks.”
“Sorry for expressing concern.”
“It was a shitty night.” He leans on the counter next to her, and Clarke takes a sip of the coffee, not letting herself look at him. He’s always been attractive, obviously, and while she hasn’t always liked him, precisely, she has always been drawn to him, on some level. He’s interesting. “Did you ever hear about my girlfriend who lives in Canada?” he asks, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Your girlfriend who lives in Canada?”
“That’s what Miller calls her.” He sighs. “It’s just–she’s this girl I know online. She moved to town a few months ago, and we finally decided to meet up last night. She didn’t show, so–I was in a shitty mood, and I took it out on you.”
“She didn’t show?” Clarke finds herself asking.
“No. I guess I don’t blame her.”
“Yeah? Why not?”
“I’m a strange guy she met on the internet. If she was my sister, I would have told her to never meet up with me. Especially since she doesn’t really know anything about me. I could have told her my name, linked her to my Facebook. But I didn’t.”
“Just because you’re not blaming her it doesn’t mean you have to blame yourself,” Clarke tells him. “If she didn’t ask–”
“Yeah.” He straightens up, running his hand through his hair. “Anyway, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you. Just–sorry I was a dick last night.”
“You’re a dick all the time,” she says, nudging his shoulder, hoping to regain some equilibrium, get back to something like their usual dynamic. “Seriously, Bellamy. I appreciate it, but you’re the one who had a bad night, you don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’m fine.”
“Taking care of other people is how I make myself feel better.”
“Yeah? So what do you do if there’s no one around to take care of?” He frowns, and she takes another sip of coffee. “Would you have bought yourself coffee, or just felt shitty?”
“Hot chocolate and still felt shitty,” he says, with a wry smile. “I have a sweet tooth.”
“Really?”
“When I’m in a bad mood, yeah.”
She lets herself reach over and squeeze his shoulder, just a quick touch. “I’m really sorry about your girlfriend who lives in Canada. She was probably just nervous. Or didn’t know what to say.”
“Yeah, I get that. It’s not like I don’t–I was nervous all fucking day yesterday.”
“Now that you mention it, I noticed,” she teases.
“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.” He clears his throat. “We should probably get moving, get the store open, right?”
“Yeah, sounds right. I’m sure she’ll get in touch soon,” she adds, and at least she really is sure. “Maybe she saw how hot you are and got intimidated.”
He snorts. “Yeah, that must be it.”
*
On her lunch break, she finally reads her email. The message from August is about what she expected, a charitable interpretation of her blowing him off, a couple suggestions of why she might not have showed up.
I got cold feet, I’m sorry, she writes, and then erases it and replaces it with, Had to work late, didn’t have your cellphone. She stares at it for another minute and then finally settles on, I just couldn’t. I’m so sorry.
Then she buys Bellamy a hot chocolate and a brownie and goes back to work.
*
The next few days are more than a little surreal. Bellamy has, not unreasonably, decided she’s a sympathetic audience for his concerns about his internet friend, which puts her in the unfortunate position of trying to talk him through how best to deal with his crush on her.
It really shouldn’t be hard, either. After all, not only is she in a uniquely excellent position to tell Bellamy exactly how Aeris feels about him, the fact is that she returns his feelings. Before she’d known August was Bellamy, she’d already liked both of them in their own ways, and their being the same person is the best news she’s had in years.
Except, of course, that she knows about it and he doesn’t.
“You could just tell him,” says Monty. “And, honestly, you really should. Like, I get not doing it at first, but the longer you go, the more awkward it’s going to be. Just–tell him you panicked, you didn’t know what to say, but you like him and you want to make out.”
“What if he doesn’t want to make out with me?” She’d like to say the question hasn’t been bothering her, but, honestly, that’s total bullshit. She’s been thinking about it basically non-stop.
“He definitely does. Like, I would be money on that. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be just as good news for him as it was for you, okay? You’re a great outcome here.”
“Except I’ve been lying to him.”
“Panicking,” Monty corrects. “Definitely lean hard into that. You’re panicking.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It should. Look, you’re not some supervillain sitting on your ice throne plotting ways to make his life miserable. You’re just–as confused as he is. So figure out how to tell him and tell him. Because it sounds like this could be really good.”
Clarke puts her head on his shoulder. “You think I’d have an ice throne?”
Monty laughs. “Yeah. It would be fucking badass.”
*
If you’re willing, I want to try the whole meeting up thing again, she emails August two days later. I promise I’ll show this time.
As she hoped he would, Bellamy tells her about it at work the next day.
“You’re going to give her another chance?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d regret it if I didn’t.”
“What if she bails on you again?”
“Then I’ll give up on her, I guess. I can take a hint.”
Clarke leans on the counter, watching him restock. “How did you two meet?”
“Book forum,” he says. “I know I’m a nerd, you don’t have to tell me. I don’t know why I didn’t just give her my name. I’ve always gone by August online, ever since I was a kid. I like Roman emperors, I thought it sounded cool. And every time I think about telling her something about myself, I second-guess it.”
“So you’re just going to find out everything at once?”
“I always just jump right into the deep end of the pool too.”
She worries her lip. “Can I walk you over?”
“To meet her?”
“Yeah. So you’ve got someone around if she doesn’t show up again.”
His smile goes warm, and Clarke goes all fuzzy inside. He’s so close to being hers, somehow. She just has to nail the landing. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Then, yeah. You’re welcome.”
She gets changed after they close, as she usually does, and Bellamy does something of a double-take when he sees her.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you in that top before,” he says, when she cocks her head.
“You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s nice. Very blue.”
“As opposed to all my other slightly blue tops.”
“I’m nervous, shut up.” He holds the door open for her. “Terra is wearing blue.”
“It’s a good color. So, where are you guys meeting?”
“Marco’s, just a few blocks away. You don’t have to come far.”
“How else are you going to know it’s her? Or do you just have to talk to every girl there in a blue top?”
“She’s going to have a copy of the first book we talked about.”
“Which is?”
“Arcadia.”
“The Stoppard play?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything else?”
“How much do you think she needs?”
“Just trying to figure it out.”
“She said she’d have the book and a flower on the table. Aeris is a flower girl from a video game, so it’s thematic, I guess.”
“But you don’t have any Roman emperor stuff?”
“I’m supposed to find her.”
They’re at Marco’s, so Clarke makes herself exhale. “Find her with this book,” she says, pulling her copy out of her bag, “and this flower, right?”
He stares at her, jaw agape. “Clarke,” he starts, but she doesn’t let him go on.
“I saw you and I didn’t know what to do,” she admits in a rush. “I sent Monty in first and he told me you were there and–fuck, I’m sorry. I was trying to figure out what to say and it was so much easier to pick a fight because I thought you’d be disappointed and–”
He cups her face and leans in to kiss her, and the relief of it is so profound it feels like a living thing.
“So you just let me complain to you about you for a week?” he asks, but he’s smiling.
“You started it.”
“I did.” She can see him swallow. “I saw you come in and I really thought it was you for a second. And then I told myself it wasn’t and I was being an idiot and I picked a fight with you.”
She laughs. “That’s one way to deal with that situation, yeah.”
“Like you did any better.”
“I didn’t.” She twines her fingers in his hair, tugging him back in to kiss him again. “I’m really glad it was you. I’m sorry I didn’t just–I couldn’t figure out what to say.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he says. “And I’m really glad there’s only one of you.”
“Me too.” She leans in for one more kiss. “So, are you ready to finally get dinner with me?”
He laughs, bumps his nose against hers. “I thought you’d never ask.”
