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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years

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Chopped Choice: Horror Fics!

We received thirteen (13!!!) SPOOKY, SCARY, & FUN Fics for the Chopped Choice: Horror Event! You are all so talented and we loved how you challenged yourselves this go around!

Please try to read as many fics as you can and leave some kudos/comments for the authors!

Voting begins on Tuesday, October 27th at 12:00am EST and ends Friday, October 30th at 11:59pm EST.

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guess we're alike that way (Rated T) [Murphy/Octavia]

Summary: Octavia died 25 years ago. The answer, by the way, is ghosts. Just ghosts. Yeah, it's just as bad as it sounds. Especially Murphy. Why did the only living person who could see her have to be fucking Murphy?

The Haunting of Kane Manor (Rated M) [Bellamy/Clarke]

Summary: When Roan offers Clarke and Bellamy a hundred grand to stay at a fake haunted house for a night for his new reality TV show, they jump at the chance. But what happens when it turns out to actually be haunted?

cause i know in the morning you'll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?) (Rated T) [Echo/Wells]

Summary: Wells liked things to make sense.

Allying themselves with Azgeda when the opportunity came up made sense. Doing whatever it took to make that alliance stick made sense. Entering an arranged marriage with a woman he'd never met for the sake of his people made sense.

The butterflies in his gut whenever he locked eyes with the Azgedan ambassador who was decidedly not his fiancée made no sense at all.

Imitation (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori] *Major Character Death*

Summary: In a remote research station on the planet Nakara, Emori is just starting to get into a rhythm with her work when things take a turn for the worse. It starts off with a dog bite but it leads into a desperate race to survive, as the infection spreads and it turns out that her fellow teammates aren’t all who they appear to be. The race against time will involve keeping emotions and personal feelings in check while trying to stop the creatures from picking them all off one by one.

you can stand under my umbrella (Rated T) [Clarke/Murphy]

Summary: Abandoning the children was definitely a no-no on field trips. But does it really count when you're just completely, genuinely lost in a corn maze?

After six years of working with him, Clarke still doesn't know Murphy's first name, and at this point its definitely too late to ask.

Mad Women (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Four-hundred-and-twenty-three days in the never-ending darkness of the uncharted universe, and Murphy’s starting to wonder if space madness really is setting in. At least he’s not as far-gone as Raven, hidden away in her laboratory, fiddling with alien tech; or Clarke, who is steering them steadfastly into the deep unknown of ‘haunted space.’

Something isn’t right here, even if Bellamy and Octavia don’t want to see it.

When their little ship receives a distress call from an old friend, the tensions between captain and crew finally come to a head, and Murphy faces more than one unpleasant truth.

Bury a Friend (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori, Bellamy/Clarke, Raven/Shaw]

Summary: As part of their Halloween tradition of trying to scare themselves, Emori, Murphy, Bellamy, Clarke, Raven and Shaw decide to step it up this year by exploring an abandoned Asylum - only, it's not as abandoned as they once thought.

it was only a dream? (Rated T) [Spacekru]

Summary: It's just another ordinary day on the Ring until someone points out that it's Halloween. That's when things get weird.

the ghost in you, she don't fade (Rated E) [Bellamy/Clarke]

Summary: The wooded area behind the Collins’ property stretches for about nine square miles with the highway into town bordering the far side and the Blake property guarding the southernmost corner. Nine square miles.

It might as well be a million.

Clarke takes another fortifying breath.

It does no good to think about Bellamy. He’s no longer part of the equation. He’s made that abundantly clear.

The Wanheda Tape (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: "It's the Wanheda Tape. You gotta remember this. It happened like five or six years ago. Those dumbass college kids went into the woods out past the auto shop and got lost and never came back... Seriously, what were you two doing in the fourth grade, living under a rock?"

de omnibus dubitandum (Rated M) [Lexa/Echo/Josephine]

Summary: After vampires took over the world, the Hunter Association was the only thing that stood between the creatures of the night and the rest of humanity. Lexa, commander of the association, was determined to bring the world to a better place, no matter the cost.

And then she met Josephine Lightbourne.

slay your demons (Not Rated) [Jasper & Monty]

Summary: He doesn’t like this. He never has. There is a reason he self medicates with booze and drugs: It’s to stop seeing people like her - dead people.

Umbrella Academy AU but make it Monty and Jasper.

More Than I Do (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Mysterious circumstances surround the sudden tragedies afflicting Clarke's loved ones. Can she figure out why before she loses everyone she cares about? Maybe not, but she's willing to die trying.

———

Honorable Mention of this submission to the Non-Anon Collection:

I’m Demon Proof, Baby (Rated T) [Murphy/Emori] by Anonymous

Summary: Arcadia Investigates is well into its fifth or sixth season, depending on how you count it, and Wilmington Hospital has been just begging for a visit.

Clarke thinks it's very scary. Murphy thinks it's very fake.

Bellamy and Emori are mostly just there to make sure someone gets some usable footage.

#chopped choice: horror #chopped choice 3.0 #submissions

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marauders-groupie · 3 years

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2020 Year in Review

Rules: answer some questions about 2020 and tag some people! I was tagged by @thelittlefanpire - thank you! <3

Top Five Films you watched in 2020:

Knives Out

Ready or Not

Love the Coopers

Chef

The Big Short

(I’ve only recently started taking note of the movies I’ve seen, so I probably forgot others that I liked, but what can ya do.)

Top Five TV Shows in 2020:

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

Lucifer

The Expanse

Why Women Kill

Midnight Texas

Top Five Songs/Albums of 2020:

Miranda Lambert - Wildcard

Taylor Swift - Reputation

Taylor Swift - Folklore

Maren Morris - Hero

Dorothy - ROCKISDEAD

(I’m listing these because I heard them in 2020. Yes, I’m always late to pop culture parties.)

Top Five Books of 2020:

Can I mention my book? Persephone in a Motel Room

Bright Dead Things by Ada Limon (really wonderful poetry)

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman (it was HILARIOUS and really reminded me that writing is fun)

What’s Wrong with You? by Ana Bakran (she hitchhiked from Zagreb to Bora Bora and wrote a phenomenal book)

Midnight Crossroad by Charlaine Harris (although the show is better)

Top Five Fanfictions of 2020:

now i feel your heart beating (alive again) by @alltheworldsinmyhead - a wonderful Bellarke daemon AU!

The Wanheda Tape by @kinetic-elaboration - A sort of a Blair Witch AU, but so, so much better!

99% of things I read in @chopped100challenge

wasn’t ready for her kind by Callico - a Bellarke musicians AU that absolutely broke my heart and put it back together again

the flash calmly going cold by @kindclaws - an absolute masterpiece!

Five good/positive things that happened to you in 2020:

Because I haven’t been able to stick my head in the sand with business trips, I’ve had to face my own life and add some really great, positive habits like doing yoga

I renovated my home so it looks like artsy chaos and it’s very good for my inspiration

I’ve met some really nice people :)

I went fucking feral which was really nice

I published a book!

All in all, 2020 may have been a shitshow, but there were some really good parts and I’m choosing to focus on that as I move into 2021.

I’m tagging: @carrieeve @star-sky-earth @poppykru @burninghoneyatdusk @eyessharpweaponshot @lizzybizzyo @kay-emm-gee @killianjoner @queenofchildren

#tagged

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thelittlefanpire · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Raven Reyes, John Murphy & Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes & John Murphy & Nathan Miller, Octavia Blake & Monty Green & Jasper Jordan Characters: Octavia Blake, Jasper Jordan, Monty Green, John Murphy, Clarke Griffin, Raven Reyes, Nathan Miller Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Found Footage, Horror, Urban Legends, Exes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Witchcraft, Ghosts Summary:

"It's the Wanheda Tape. You gotta remember this. It happened like five or six years ago. Those dumbass college kids went into the woods out past the auto shop and got lost and never came back... Seriously, what were you two doing in the fourth grade, living under a rock?"

Chopped Choice: Horror Submission

#chopped: the 100 fanfic challenge #chopped: the 100 fanfic edition #chopped choice: horror #submission

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 5 years

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Would u be willing to write about space kru and everyone else watching the video like the one Jordan original found about Josephine but in stead it being The video of Clarke’s finally moments with her calling out for her family, not wanting to die alone?

Hi love! I was turning off these prompts, but this one is just so deliciously angsty, I couldn’t resist! I hope you guys are ready for one last ‘I wish you would write a fic where…’ prompt!

It’s strange how a single word could paralyze him.

He stands in front of the computer, everyone huddled around him.Murphy, Raven, Jordan to his left, Miller, Echo, and Emori to his right. He’ssitting in the chair where Jordan once sat, scrolling through the files untilhe sees a single word. A word that makes him stop. A word that he wonders whatwould’ve happened if they had searched just a little bit further.

Wanheda.

Bellamy can hear someone gasp, maybe it’s him, but he isn’t sure atthis point, as everyone stares at the screen. “No,” Raven says, putting herhand up to cover her mouth. “I-It can’t be. They’re trying to trick us—”

“Just like they had Clarke ‘trick’ Bellamy and paralyze him?” Murphydrawls behind him, but even his words lack their usual heat. “Seems to be a prettyintense trick for Clarke to pull.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Jordan snaps next to him. The man had grown colderand colder as the true nature of Sanctum became revealed, his once cheerfuldemeanor slowly cracked. Became something else, a little more twisted and dark.

Bellamy’s hand rests on the mouse, but he can’t bring himself to do it.He can’t click on the file. As if reading his mind, Echo places her hand gentlyon his and moves the mouse until it hovers over the file. She clicks, a video poppingup on the screen.

The bed is empty.

Bellamy almost lets out a breath of relief when he sees the bed clearof Clarke. The logical part of his brain knows it’s too much to ask to thinkthat this isn’t what he thinks it is. There’s too much evidence. Clarke’s oddbehavior, the previous tapes, and god, Josephine herself. But he isn’t sure if he’scapable of watching this.

A figure enters, carrying someone in their arms. The girl is wearing asilky blue dress, her limbs still and head cocked in a manner that doesn’t lookcomfortable. “Oh my god,” Raven breathes behind him, her words cracking. “Isthat—”

“Clarke.” Bellamy finishes, his eyes already wet with tears.

He moves her arms from across her lap so it falls to her side. Shedoesn’t moves or fight back. Instead she lies still as he straps her in thetable, reaching out and untangling her legs. There’s something that lightsinside Bellamy’s chest – an anger he hasn’t felt in a very long time. As Russelladjusts Clarke’s limbs, he wants to reach inside the video and rip the man topieces. Red taints his vision as he watches him situate her so she lies flat onher back.

“Why isn’t she fighting?” Miller asks, his voice huskier than Bellamyremembers. “Why is she just letting them do that?”

“The paralytic agent,” Bellamy responds, shutting his eyes. “It’s whatthey did to Madi, Gaia, and Diyoza. You can’t move at all.”

Russell moves her dress so it’s untangled from her legs and runs hishands down it so it smooths out. “I’m sosorry, Clarke.” The man says, his voice more regretful than Bellamyexpects. “I know you wanted nothing morethan to find peace, and I do not relish taking this from you. But you have tounderstand, I miss my daughter. You told me at dinner that you would notapologize for doing what you had to do to save your people. I will admit, Iadmired your conviction. You honestly to which you wish your people to be safe.”

Russell hesitates, running his hand down her head. Bellamy’s handssqueeze into fists. He thinks absently that it would hurt if he could feelanything.

“Oh no, Clarke. Please don’t cry.Please don’t—” Russel reaches out to her cheek, his thumb brushing away atear.

“Don’t you touch her,” Bellamy says dangerously under his breath,knowing full well there was nothing he could do. “Don’t you—”

“You’ll be okay, Clarke.”Russell says gently. “You desperatelywanted peace. And I am going to give it to you. That’s what you wanted morethan anything, right? Peace from your previous actions. I can give that to you.”

“Fucker,” Murphy breathes under his breath. “I’ll kill him.”

Bellamy doesn’t argue, like he usually would.

Only if he doesn’t kill him first.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.”Russell states, still brushing her cheek. “You’llget what you wanted, and I’ll have my daughter back.”

There’s a small noise. A sob. It’s soft, but it’s there. “Please,” Clarke’s small voice echoes inthe room. It’s as if she’d shouted. Bellamy holds his breath, stunned at thenoise. “Please don’t.”

Russell looks up from where he is. “Simone,please. The paralytic agent is wearing off. We need to do this quick if it’sgoing to be painless.”

Bellamy is going to be sick. He doesn’t know why they decided to researchhere. He vaguely hears their conversation about ‘information’ and ‘research,’but he can’t even wrap his mind around it now. Something like bile rises in histhroat as Russell busies himself in the room, grabbing the straps on the sideof the medical bed, tightening them until he buckles them across her chest.

“Please,” Clare tries, herwords strained. Bellamy can see she’s fighting against the paralytic,swallowing. “This isn’t the way to dothis.”

“Simone!”

Russell moves to leave the area, but Clarke manages to turn her head everso slightly. “You will remember me.”She states. “You won’t be able to runfrom it because I will be staring directly at you. You can’t hide from what you’vedone, if you do this.”

Russell hesitates. He doesn’t look at Clarke, but he doesn’t leaveeither. His hand rests against lab counter, as if he’s considering turningaround.

Then, he leaves.

Leaving Clarke alone.

The paralytic agent must be wearing off. Clarke’s fingers start tomove, her arms pulling against the restraints. “Please let me go,” she says softly, even though Bellamy knows sheknows that no one can hear her. “I’msorry. I’m so sorry, please…” Clarke squeezes her eyes shut.

She looks impossibly small.

Bellamy knows Clarke to be many things. Small is not one of them.

“I want m-my mom.” She says,her chest heaving. Something inside Bellamy breaks, and he has a feeling he maynot be the only one. “I don’t want to bealone, please. Please.”

No one answers.

Russell and Simone aren’t on screen.

Clarke’s toes curl as she twists her legs against the restraints.

“Please don’t make me die alone,”Clarke says, her eyes lifting to the ceiling. Bellamy isn’t sure what she’slooking at, but it chills him to his core. “Please.”

Russell and Simone enter the screen, both sharing a moment before settlingon either side of her head. “This’ll beover soon, Clarke, we promise. It’ll all be over soon.”

“Enjoying the home video?”

Everyone startles at the voice, Bellamy swiveling to see Clarke’s facestaring right back at him. Josephine smirks at them. “Don’t stop on my account.We’re just getting to the good part.”

Clarke screams.

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #i wish you would write a fic where #prompts #lindsey writes #drabbles #john murphy #raven reyes #jordan jasper green #nathan miller #jospehine lightbourne

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pyrrhicmessiah · 4 years

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Send “five times kissed” for a drabble. // for @notatlas

one. ~1830

Greek mythology claims that when Zeus created humans, they originally had four arms and four legs, but they were too powerful, so he split them apart and they were destined to spend their entire lives searching for their other half. Clarke, as a classical arts student, did not believe in myths, but saw them as vessels of culture. They were windows into different eras, seeking to answer the overarching questions about the human existence. Why do we love? According to the Greeks, because we are only one half of a full self. She found that quite irritating, because she was not half a person. She needed no one to complete her. And while that was true, meeting Scott for the first time settled something deep within her. His voice, his laugh, his smile -- they were an answer to a question she hadn’t known how to ask. It was her birthday and her parents had thrown a large party, and when they tired of dancing, they snuck out of the ballroom when no one was looking. It may have been her party, but she couldn’t have cared less. They snuck into the library, browsing the shelves for some of their favorite books and discussing them as they sat entirely too close to be considered proper. Their hands brushed as she passed a novel to him, and their eyes met. Seconds later, the poor book had fallen to the floor, entirely forgotten as they shared a kiss sweeter than any novelist could describe.

two. ~1920

She stepped down from the stage, her set finished, and nearly ran into him. “ You have a beautiful voice, ” he said, with a smile that seems so familiar to her that it instinctually conjured one of her own in response. Do I know you? She wanted to ask. She could have sworn she’s seen him before. I have to know you. “ Thank you, ” she replied, instead, and then: “ What’s your name? ” He gave a little bow, “ Scott. ” Scott. It felt like deja vu, but she couldn’t place why. “ And you are? ” He prompted, expectantly. She smiled coyly, “ They call me Griffin when I perform -- for security’s sake. ” Technically even being in this speakeasy was illegal. She took a step forward, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “ But you can call me Clarke. ” Taking a step back again, she nodded towards the bar. “ Care for a drink, Scott? ” After a few drinks, she tugged him out into the alleyway and they kissed under the moonlight. It wasn’t sloppy, as first kisses usually were. They kissed like they’d been doing it all their lives, with no intention of stopping.

three. ~2019

“ Boarding group J59 please approach the ticket checkpoint, boarding group J59 please approach the ticket checkpoint. ” Her parents rose to their feet, looking to her expectantly. Passage on the United States’ space station was reserved for the wealthiest and most-skilled people in the country. When they’d told her their applications had been approved, for her father’s technical skills and her mother’s agricultural advancements, she’d told them she wouldn’t come. It was Scott who’d packed her a bag, Scott who told her to leave because the earth was dying; projections were dismal, and everyone knew it. She met her parents’ eyes, regret and love passing between them as she rose to her feet. They wanted her to board; Scott wanted her to board. But as she clutched the RFID ticket that had been hanging heavy around her neck all day, the idea of leaving him was even more unbearable than she’d ever imagined. “ I’m sorry, I love you, but I can’t go with you. ” Before her parents could react, she turned and sprinted past the crowds of people waiting to escape to the stars. Outside the building, families cried and wailed, pleading to be let in, a line of armed guards held them back from the doors. She spotted a mother, desperately pleading with a guard to let her daughter through. Just as the guards were about to physically restrain the woman, Clarke slipped through the line of guards and positioned herself between them. “ She has a boarding pass! Let her through. ” The guard was too astonished to say anything as Clarke slipped the lanyard from around her neck and draped it over the younger girl’s head. “ Hurry, they just called your boarding group. ” The mother sobbed and gave Clarke a tight hug, but she quickly disengaged herself and shoved through the remainder of the crowd to reach the parking lot. When she reached her parent’s car, abandoned with the keys still inside, she got in and set the GPS for Beacon Hills. She pulled up to their house, threw the car into park, and was struggling with her key at the door when it opened. “ Clarke-- ” Scott didn’t get to finish whatever he was planning to say because she dropped the keys and jumped up to kiss him, her legs wrapping around his waist even as his arms reflexively caught her. Every cell in her body both relaxed, from the relief at being back in his arms, and burned with the promise that she would never leave him again. Not intentionally.

four. ~2152

She and Madi were fishing at the river, like they did every day, when they see the impossible: a person slowly approaching the bank, coming from the direction of their village. Protecting Madi was her only thought as she ran out of the water and tackled the person to the ground. It wasn’t very difficult, he was mostly just lanky limbs, and he didn’t struggle much at all. Kneeling over him, with her knife at his throat, she finally paused to assess the stranger. Only to find he wasn’t quite a stranger; she’d seen him, or rather, drawn him before -- from one of her dreams. “ Damn it! I told Isaac this was going to happen! ” “ Who’s Isaac? ” Clarke demanded, steel in her voice, despite her confusion. “ Who are you? ” His hands were up in a display of surrender, even as she had him pinned to the ground. “ I’m Stiles. We -- ” “ How many of you are there? ” Madi came around to peer at the man over Clarke’s shoulder, “ How are you alive? ” “ --- Called it. ” Clarke’s gaze whipped up to see another figure coming down the bank, hands held high in surrenders -- also somehow so familiar. In a flash of movement, she’d pulled the lanky man to his knees, her knife still to his neck. She’d positioned them squarely between Madi and the approaching man. “ Do not come any closer. ” “ It’s okay, we aren’t going to hurt you, ” the third person to approach them made her heart stop. “ We just couldn’t resist --- the fried fish anymore. ” His arms were held above his head too, and when she met his steady gaze with her own, for some reason, she believed him. Slowly, she let let the blade fall from Stiles’ neck. Her hands moving instead to hold Madi behind her as she took a step back towards the water. “ Who are you? ” Her instincts were at war, half of her screamed to run and hide, but some deeper part of her had to know who he was. It’s important. He’s important. Some part of her whispered. A smile so sad it broke her heart crossed his features as he replied: “ Scott. ” *** Being near Scott sparked something in her, waking a slumbering part of her soul and slowly bringing her back to life. Caring for Madi had taped her back together, but as their little family expanded, it felt as though her wounds actually started to heal over the next year. Her nightmares became less and less frequent, replaced by dreams of herself and Scott so vivid that she knew -- despite how impossible it seemed -- that they were memories. At first they were just flashes -- his smile and laugh, the strength of his embrace -- but as they grew closer, the memories became clearer to her. Falling in love with him was the most natural thing in the world. They sat by a fire one night, and as she looked at him, she was struck by a sudden realization. Who they had been, who she was, and what he was to her crashed into her like a wave. True alphas had a true mate, a perfect equal and match; it was said they were born under the light of the same moon and would live many, many lives together. When the alpha ascended to their full nature, they stopped aging, leaving their mate to either receive the bite or continue to reincarnate. Tears sprang to her eyes and when he noticed, he brushed them away gently. “ ----- You waited for me. All this time? ” Realization dawned on him, wonder spreading over his features as he searched her eyes. “ I would wait for you forever, Clarke. ” “ I love you, ” she whispered through her tears, half sobbing, as she pulled him in for a kiss. They’d kissed a few times, hesitant and exploratorily, but this time she kissed him like she was suffocating and he was the oxygen she’d needed to survive.

five. ~2156

They’d brokered peace between Diyoza’s crew and Wonkru after several tense days. The pack had helped immensely, making Clarke wish her mate would’ve just intervened all those years ago when she first landed on the ground. They were incredibly effective. But Scott had respected her enough to figure things out on her own, had trusted she could make it out alive despite the odds. She had no idea how he’d done it, staying in the shadows and only helping when the situation truly threatened her life. If it had been her, she would’ve damned the consequences and done whatever it took to save his life; she did not deserve him. Leaving Madi at the fire with Isaac and Stiles, she laced her fingers with Scott’s and led him back to their home. They curled up in the bed, limbs entwined and foreheads resting against one another’s. “ Scott? ” She whispered, peeking at him through her lashes. “ Yes? ” “ I don’t want to forget you again. ” As much as she wanted to forget those initial 200 days on the ground, as much as she’d like to forget she was ever Wanheda, the thought of forgetting him again was untenable. He pulled back from her, propping his head on an arm so he could see her better. “ What do you mean? ” She sat up slightly too, her gaze flicking down to the birthmark on her wrist: she now knew it was a tattoo she’d gotten three lifetimes ago, containing the pack’s symbol. It had stayed with her even when her memories had not. Looking back up to him, she was settled in her decision. “ I want to be a real part of the pack. I can’t lose you again. ” “ You are a real part, Clarke, you’re essential, ” he assured. She knew he’d give her every opportunity to change her mind, though, she wasn’t expecting the conversation to end tonight. “ You’ll never lose me. ” “ I’m going to ask you every day until you agree, ” she informed him, her smile softening the warning to a promise. He was laughing softly when she kissed him, and neither of them could stop smiling as they kissed again and again.

#notatlas #&. IN PEACE MAY YOU LEAVE THIS SHORE ( drabble. )#&. I DOUBT YOU CAN HEAR ME ON THIS PIECE OF CRAP RADIO ( answered ask. )#&. EVERY STAR THAT'S EVER FALLEN KNOWS THE WAY TO WHERE WE'RE GOING ( sclarke. )#&. I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU ANYMORE ( v. reincarnated mates. )#long post cw

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thetravelerbewithyou · 5 years

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Tagged by @raven-reyes-of-sunshine 💗💗

5 Things You’ll Find In My Bag: lipstick (at least 3 different types), tissues, purse, keys, phone. And 12/10 times a lot of garbage.

5 Things You’ll Find In My Room: books and books and books, at least 3 cups, socks on the floor, a small suitcase, candles

5 Of My Favorite Things: A good cuppa tea, having dinner with friends/family, cuddles, a good book, big and comfy jumpers

5 Things I’m Currently Into: CRITICAL ROLE, bullet journaling, the 100, tumblr (how horrible is that though), the throne of glass series,

5 Things On My To-Do List: finishing the outline of my paper, write my paper, getting my shoulder taped, food shop, writing a food shopping list

Tagging: @thegriffin-blakefamily @caduceus-tealeaf-derolo @carrieeve @oh-darlingheart @anilengka @dracoterrae9099 @great-wanheda

#tag games #i feel like there are a lot of books on this list #oh well who cares

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kinetic-elaboration · 8 months

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October 14: Vague Blogging Troped Exchange

I am feeling very tired, which honestly is probably good because this is a normal time for me to go to sleep. I should capitalize on that. I don’t even know because like I haven’t done that much this weekend! Yet again I’ve done way less than I intended!

I have started work on my Troped Exchange fic, which, thank goodness, because I really, really needed to start. I continue to be plagued by the same doubts that have followed me every step of the way thus far. In particular, I’m really afraid that it isn’t scary (some irony there I guess…). I just… I don’t know. I do like the idea. I like it a lot more than I did at first. I think it is cool. I am mostly avoiding the fear that it’s actually just kind of dumb and transparently lame. But it’s not a horror to me. I’m trying SUPER hard to make it a horror, to add in stuff I feel is objectively scary, but it’s just not hitting.

Or at least it’s not hitting ME that way because of course horror is very subjective. I think this particular sub-genre of horror is interesting to me but not scary to me. But that doesn’t mean it’s objectively not scary. That’s what I’m trying to tell myself anyway. I’m trying to tell myself that if I just add in things that I think are objectively spooky, SOMEONE will be spooked, even if that someone isn’t me.

I don’t generally tend to feel anything while I write anyway. I mean, that sounds very sad but I just mean that my dominant emotion while writing is that I feel myself creating, and I care about, like, the craftsmanship of it. What should this sentence be like or what’s the pacing or what’s a good word for right here or how do I get from x to y, etc. etc. I’m not feeling sad if it’s a tragedy or happy if it’s a comedy or scared if it’s a horror. I care about what I can do to create that emotion in future readers but I don’t feel it myself. I feel like this is pretty obvious but from what I gather other writers don’t experience this, so that’s why I’m explaining in such detail. Anyway, so I can feel things about my own writing when I re-read it later. And there have been a couple times when I’ve been a little spooked out while writing horror in particular but that’s sort of an exception. One of those time was while writing the legend-within-a-story of The Wanheda Tape, and I think that was because I was writing kinda late at night and also because that IS my type of horror, and the other time was when I was marathoning spooky ficlets in 2018, and then it wasn’t one particular story, it was just the collective experience of writing so much horror so fast.

So all of this is just me trying to convince myself it’s fine. I mean in the grand, grand scheme it’s obviously fine. Nothing bad will happen if the story isn’t good or if it isn’t very scary. I am trying my best at my extracurricular activity that I do for fun. The main thing is that I finish it in time. I’m a little worried about that but not very much so—I have plenty of time still. I’m worried that this is the only thing I’ll write this spooky season, which would be a real shame because I really do want to write those ficlets, but… really getting this done is the most important. I’m just really, really curious to hear other people’s opinions on it, if any. It’s hard to write in a vacuum, not sure if I’m heading in the right direction or not.

#the year 2023 #2023: writing thoughts

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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I hadn’t written anything for 4x01 yet and… Well. Smut happened. Thanks to @akachankami for the beta! [FF] or [AO3]

Echoes

“Your room, ambassador.”

Echo spits the words, the poisonous venom so thick in her voice that Marcus takes a step in front of Abby without thinking twice about it. The young woman doesn’t like them and she might have forged a bond with Bellamy somehow but it definitely doesn’t extend to him or Abby. Maybe she’s angry to have been demoted from War Chief to glorified baby-sitter or maybe it is just the fact that her advices to have them killed went ignored…

Marcus isn’t sure.

And he doesn’t quite care.

In time, he would have to try and change her mind but that could wait.

“Chancellor.” Abby corrects, easily stepping aside to stand next to him. Her voice is soft and hard at the same time, in that particular way of hers he has always marveled at. She stares straight at the blond warrior without flinching. “Not ambassador.”

They haven’t really discussed the Chancellor issue yet although he supposes there isn’t a lot more to talk about. Abby doesn’t want the job – or rather would prefer for him to have it – and there is no way they are tempting fate by bringing Jaha into this. Pike is dead, power falls back on the Council… They don’t have a Council anymore… He is a little confused about what the Charter would have to say about that but he figures the lines are blurry enough that they can call it and not being challenged.

Not that any of that really matters anymore.

Except it does, doesn’t it? Because their people still need someone to guide them.

“He bears the mark of the Thirteenth Clan.” Echo states, her eyes shifting to his arm. The burn scar is covered by his sleeve but his other hand presses on it, unconsciously confirming her claim.

“Ambassador is fine in Polis.” he says, to cut the conversation short. He doesn’t particularly want to debate on titles and honorifics, first because he doesn’t really care and, second, because he really wants some peace and quiet.

“Chancellor.” Echo repeats carefully anyway, ignoring him. “Is that your word for commander?”

“In a way.” Abby offers tersely.

“But Wanheda is in charge now.” the warrior retorts with a small disapproving frown. “What sort of commanders leave their second in charge to be ambassadors?”

The sort who knows he won’t be commander long, Marcus thinks.

“The good ones.” Abby replies, defensive.

It seems to amuse Echo more than it convinces her. She turns to Marcus, face set in stone, her gaze evaluating. “Yu don badan kru.”

You have loyal people.

“Em praiz yu?” he asks. Does that surprise you?

He supposes Azgeda isn’t that used to showing loyalty to their authority figures. It is a large clan, possibly the largest, and everyone can’t be happy with their monarchs. He knows Echo was loyal to her queen, maybe less to her king, but he thinks it’s the exception rather than the rule.

And, as if to confirm that impression, she dismisses the question by waving an impatient hand in Abby’s direction. “I will take you to your room.”

“Thank you but we don’t need two rooms.” she answers.

Marcus’ head turns so fast he feels something snap in his neck, not certain he heard her right. In the split second it takes him to find her gaze, he thinks maybe she wants to stay with him in case things go south – and he can’t fault her for that – but any thought of possible escape plans and damage control flies out the window when he meets her eyes.

This has nothing to do with things possibly going south with the Grounders.

There’s no question on her face. She’s not asking him, she’s telling him.

“I see.” Echo says and he thinks they revealed more than maybe is wise. “We provided clothes for you to borrow until the servants can wash yours. If you need anything, King Roan wants you to feel free to ask.”

He breathes a little easier when the girl finally leaves the room although the moment the doors are shut behind her he feels trapped. He turns toward Abby who has picked up something from the table in what he figures to be the living-room part of the room. It takes him a few minutes to realize it’s a leather bound notebook full of sketches.

He’s pretty sure this was Clarke’s room before it was theirs. The room Lexa intended for Skaikru’s ambassador.

Abby looks tired, worried and vulnerable.

“She will be alright.” he offers and, when she looks up at him, he nods to the notebook in her hands. “She’s your daughter, Abby. Through and through.”

He intends it as a compliment but the smile that graces her lips is wistful. “That’s what worries me. I always thought she had taken after Jake but…” She stops and shrugs, her hand absentmindedly coiling around the ring she carries on a chain. His eyes follow the move and there is suddenly an odd tension in the room, as if they just summoned a ghost. She clears her throat and lets go of the ring to study him. “How are you? And don’t say fine.”

If he has to list everything that hurts, he thinks they will still be standing there the next morning. He steps closer to her instead and, when he is within reach, he brushes the tips of his fingers against the bruises around her neck.

He doesn’t need to ask what happened. He knows what happened. If anyone knew something in the COL, everyone knew. He knows what ALIE made her do, what Clarke didn’t sacrifice.

Maybe that’s in part why he put her in charge while he decided to stay behind, because leadership is paved with sacrifices he doesn’t want, can’t, make anymore. He feels guilty about leaving that weight with her but he knows Bellamy will be there to ground her, just like Abby used to do for him.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side as his touch become a bit firmer. He’s probing more than he’s touching now, making sure she’s fine.

“I would do it again.” he whispers quietly. He knows where her mind is gone. He doesn’t need a key or ALIE to know her thoughts. She’s blaming herself and he can’t let her go there because, if they go there, they will never climb out. “I don’t regret it.”

She searches his eyes for a moment and smiles, tension leaving her shoulders. She cups his cheek and pulls him down a little… He meets her lips without a moment of hesitation. When she deepens the kiss, his mind flashes back to his arrival in Polis, to that room and the things ALIE asked her to do to convince him, to seduce him… It makes him mad that the AI manipulated them that way, exploited something that is still so new and fragile… So precious to him…

“Marcus?” she asks against his mouth, uncertain.

He kisses her harder in reassurance, forgetting all about restrain or any half-cooked thought of maybe taking it slow. All that’s left is the adrenaline backlash of a near-death experience. His and hers alike.

Her fingers find his hair, tangle in it to better take control of the kiss… He gives her that much, slipping one of his hands under her shirt, the other one moving from the small of her back to…

The bandage catches on her belt and he breaks the kiss with a hiss. Cradling his wrist in his other hand is instinctive, his jaw clenches as he waits for the pain to pass but it won’t go away. He has been ignoring it for hours and now it’s back with a vengeance.

“Let me see.” she orders. There is no room for argument and no hope of distracting her now, she has her doctor stance. She ushers him toward the couch and fetches her medical bag. At the face she makes when she opens it, he knows they’re not as well stocked as she would have liked. She shots him an amused look while she washes her hands in a bronze bowl by the bed. “I hope you didn’t tear my stitches.”

The bed they will have to share unless he offers to be a gentleman and take the couch.

He doesn’t let himself think about the bed yet.

He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t fit on the couch anyway.

“I tried my best not to, does that count for something?” He flashes her a sheepish smile.

He knows that he popped out at least one of them but he doesn’t offer the information. The emergency stitches she put before they left the tower were done in a hurry, not her finest work but good enough to hold.

He lets her unwrap the bandages on his right hand, automatically flexing his fingers once it comes loose.

“Was it too tight?” she frowns, her fingers ghosting over the marks the gauze left on his skin. They shy away from the angry red wound and the black threads crisscrossing over it. “I don’t like the look of this one.” She finds an antiseptic balm in the bag and starts smearing it over his inner wrist. It smells strongly of wild herbs and it reminds him of the meadow not too far from Arkadia. At his questioning look, she smiles a little. “It’s one of Nyko’s remedies.” Her fingers linger even after there is no more balm to apply. “Marcus…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” he promises.

“We focus on what comes next?” she asks, maybe a bit bitterly. There’s always something coming next and no time to come to terms with what is happening around them. It sometimes feels like it’s been that way since Jake’s death.

“We have to.” he reminds her, brushing her hair back with his free hand. She takes a deep breath and nods once. She grabs more bandages, compresses, and medical tape and proceeds to wrap half his arm in them. “Do you think there’s enough?” he jokes at some point.

He gets an aggravated look in answer.

“I know you.” she simply states.

And maybe he doesn’t have the best track record with not undoing her handiwork.

He’s about to call her out on it – because he’s seen her refuse Jackson’s help earlier – when there’s a knock on the door. They exchange a look, suddenly tense.

“Come in.” he calls. Nothing happens and, after a second, he corrects himself. “Minop.”

The door is opened a crack and in slips a skittish young girl who gives a small bow.

“Yu sad op washin sok, bandrona?” she asks.

The words aren’t entirely familiar, aside for the ambassador one, and it takes him a moment to realize what she’s asking him.

“Do you want a bath?” he defers to Abby. Her whole face lights up at the prospect and he doesn’t even need a vocal answer. He can’t help but chuckle a little at her eagerness, although he supposes it would be good to get rid of all that grime. “Sha. Chof.”

The girl bows again and disappears, leaving the door open. She comes back before Abby is done wrapping his wrist up though, followed by more servants carrying buckets of hot water. He watches them while she takes care of his left hand, making sure to look suitably chastised when she lectures him about the stitch he has indeed popped out at some point today. He’s not a fan of needles so it gives him as good an excuse as any not to look as she redoes everything.

It’s only when the servants start lighting candles that he realizes the sun is setting. It’s later than he thought. He wonders if the kids made it back to Arkadia already or if they’re camping somewhere. He hopes they’re alright.

The girl from earlier keeps throwing them curious looks. She’s young but there’s no doubt she’s in charge. She commands the others, instructing them to place candles here and there, to make sure they have everything they would need…

Abby is starting to wrap his wrist in an impressive bandage when the girl wanders closer, her head bowed in deference. “Beda ai lid in dina, bandrona?”

Should I bring in dinner, ambassador?

His stomach rumbles in answer. He can’t remember the last time he ate and he’s pretty sure the same goes for Abby. Food hasn’t been one of ALIE’s priorities.

“Sha. Mochof.” he accepts with a smile.

“Chit ste yu… tagon?” Abby asks before the girl can scurry away again.

Her Trigedasleng is still hesitant but Marcus can’t help but smile with pride. She’s having a difficult time learning and usually sticks to simple sentences. Like asking someone their name.

“Dalys, Skaiheda.” the servant offers.

“I’m not…” Abby frowns and then winces as she struggles to piece off a sentence. “Ai laik nou Skaiheda noumou.” I’m not Skaikru’s leader anymore. She glances at him and he confirms she got it right with a nod so she soldiers on. “Ai laik fisa.” I am a healer. She makes a face and shakes her head. “Can you ask her if I can take a look at her hand?”

He blinks, surprised by the request, before realizing that the girl has been keeping her right hand closed in a fist. He translates and Dalys offers her hand with obvious reluctance, probably only complying because he asked her too.

There isn’t a soul in Polis that haven’t suffered because of the COL. The burn on the girl’s hand looks bad but not as bad as other things he saw in the streets earlier. He leaves Abby to treat it, wandering around the room. The servants are done with the candles and the bath but the water is smoking and there’s no putting a toe in there without ending up boiled.

He gravitates back to the couch and the table when the food has been brought. It’s nothing outlandish, cold meat and some fruits… It looks so tempting to him but he forces himself to wait until Abby is done and sends the servant girl on her way before filling two plates. They start eating well before the door swings shut once more and they’re left alone.

They’re both too starved to talk. They swallow down the food as if they haven’t been used to being on ration all their lives and he really can’t remember the last time he ate. Before Polis? Before capturing Pike? Before…

It’s a little embarrassing how clean the plates are when they finally put them down.

They share a small awkward smile and Abby stands up to go check the still steaming tub. He can’t really see her from the couch, the ‘bathroom’ area is tucked away in a corner near the bed. His fingers drum on the armrest and he wonders if she will take it personally if he takes a nap while she washes up because…

His train of thoughts die when she comes back in his line of sight, jacket and shirt gone. She’s only wearing a black tank top over her pants now and not only it doesn’t cover much but it is very obvious she has no bra underneath. She found a hairbrush somewhere and she’s trying to untangle her hair.

“Are you staying over there?” she asks, her lips quirked up. It’s almost a challenge and he has never been good at ignoring her challenges.

He doesn’t quite know what they’re doing. If they’re going there tonight, if it’s clever, if it’s too soon… Those are all valid questions he should be asking, they have only kissed twice after all if they don’t count the ALIE act. He simply follows her lead instead. Like most of the time.

He pushes himself to his feet, something that is more difficult than it ought to be because he feels like he has just climbed up a giant tower with his bare hands – and oh wait… – and joins her in the other part of the room. The mood is entirely different here, it’s cozier. The candles make it… intimate. And the steam rising from the tub…

He swallows hard. He should be too tired to entertain any wicked thoughts but the thoughts are here all the same. They can’t not be here when she’s toeing off her boots and unbuckling her belt as if it’s something they do every day – and he finds he desperately wants them to do that every day.

He watches her pants flop around her ankles in a daze. He watches her foot step out of them and kicking them to the side where, he realizes, her jacket and shirt lay in a heap. And then he watches her foot come closer to him. Only then does he let his eyes roam up her shins, up her thighs… They stop briefly on the simple black cotton panties she has on and up they go again, lingering on the stretch of skin between the band of her underwear and the hem of her tank top… He studies the shape of her belly button as if it holds the answers to all the questions in the universe… His gaze has made it all the way to the nipples visibly peaking under the fabric when she pushes his jacket off his shoulders.

She’s gentle when she slips it off his forearms and he looks up, seized with anger and dread when he spots just how bad the bruising around her throat looks like. He leans in when she tosses his jacket with the rest of her clothes, brushing a soft kiss against the abused skin, careful not to put too much pressure on it. Her hand immediately shoots to cradle the back of his head and he doesn’t know what arouses him more: the quiet sound his beard makes as it rasps against her flesh or her small gasp that can’t be mistaken for anything but pleasure.

He lets his mouth trail down the curve of her neck to her shoulder.

His shirt is bundled in her fist halfway to his side and he returns the favor by pushing hers up her back. He feels the scars under his palms and it makes him falter briefly. He lets out a slow breath against his skin, unable to accept what would have happened if…

“What comes next.” she reminds him and he nods slowly. He knows. He knows but… “What comes next shouldn’t be so terrible…” she jokes and he chuckles.

Just like that, the bad memories fade and he gets back to exploring her skin with his mouth, his hand spread flat between her shoulder blades. It makes her shirt inch up and he’s fascinated with the amount of flesh it reveals. He entertains the thought of dropping to his knees, of nuzzling her stomach, of trying and venturing where the shirt is temptingly bundled under her breasts…

She forces his shirt off before he can act on it and, suddenly, she’s right there, in his space, hands and mouth roaming on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her close. Her caresses become less purposeful and she rests her cheek against his shoulder, her palm still running up and down his arm slowly.

It’s like the eye of the storm.

He’s pretty sure she can feel him against her stomach. It’s half the reason why he calmed things down, because he wants her to be sure, to be…

She drops a kiss on his skin and sneaks her hands between them. He doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline but the sound of his belt being unbuckled seems unnaturally loud. She pops the button open and the zipper down and nudges his trousers down before planting a kiss on his lips and walking away.

It’s cold without her body pressed close to his and he doesn’t like it.

He wants to ask what’s in her mind but the question dies on his tongue when she passes her tank top over her head and flicks it in the vague direction of the heap of dirty clothes. He can only watch. He can only watch as the panties follow the same path. He can only watch as she carefully places the chain with her ring on the table by the bed and as she reaches for the cloth in the washing basin. He can only watch as she runs it over her neck and down her arms, scraping at the dried blood, the soot and the grime.

The bathtub is still steaming but it should have been alright to step in now.

He doesn’t tell her.

He can’t, not when the sight is so riveting.

The moment she runs the cloth over her breast, he knows they just passed the point of no return.

He’s painfully constricted in his underwear so he crouches down to unlace his boots, never taking his eyes off her. He wants to follow the cloth’s path with his mouth. He does a quick job of getting naked, particularly when her hand disappears between her legs.

He’s right behind her in a flash, his hand covering hers, rubbing the cloth just where… Her head falls back on his shoulder, her breath catching in her throat. He could get addicted to those sounds very quickly, he decides, letting his other hand run over her ribcage and all the way to her breast.

“Marcus…” she whispers when he circles her nipple.

He’s frustrated by the barrier of cloth between his fingers and her so he tries to nudge it away but she seems to come back to herself and turns around in his arms.

“Abby.” It’s almost a whine but he doesn’t care. He wants her. He needs her. There would be time for games later, time for…

“Soon.” she promises. She runs the cloth on his neck, on his shoulders and down his arms. She’s trying her best to be efficient, he can tell, but she can’t stop herself from touching any more than he can. She’s bent on cleaning them up and a part of him understands why, they smell and taste like blood and death, but it’s not the part who’s in control right now. His brain isn’t doing the thinking right at this moment.

He doesn’t stand still while she washes him, his palms roam on her back, on her ass… They’re relentless in their exploration and his fingers clench against her flesh when she brings the cloth to his inner thigh, when she playfully wraps it around his length and…

“Abby.” he growls. He’s throbbing already and he doesn’t think he will last long if she plays that game. It’s not her hand he wants.

He kisses her because it’s the only logical thing to do, the only thing he can do. The bed is right there but they end up against the wall instead. He snatches the cloth from her hand while she’s distracted by his mouth and tosses it away. They’re clean enough, he decides. It might have been better to wait after the bath but he can’t quite care.

He bends the knees a little, still kissing her, and runs his palms under her thighs. He doesn’t give her a warning before lifting her up. Pain flares in his wrists and he groans but he doesn’t let a small thing like that deter him. Her hand wraps around him again, tortures him with bliss… He bows his head to let his lips run on her collarbone, to her breasts…

He pins her against the wall with his hips to free one of his hands, to bring it between their bodies… The second he touches her she drops her forehead on his shoulder, short of breath. It soon turns to panting as they find a rhythm to their strokes…

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore and he takes his hand away. She lifts her head from his shoulder, he brushes her hair back, drawing her in for another kiss… He doesn’t need to tell her what he wants. He puts his hand back under her thighs to better support her as she guides him inside her…

He’s careful at first, too painfully aware of exactly how long it must have been for her. But the sounds she makes with every new inch delights him too much and he can’t really control the buckling of his hips. Her fingers dig in the back of his neck when he buries himself in her.

He wants to ask if she’s alright but the growl that escapes her throat is almost feral.

“Move.” she commands and then soothes her harness with a mind-blowing kiss. “Please…”

He doesn’t really need more than that to grant her request. He thinks he’s drunk on the little noises she makes when she gets close but it’s nothing to what he feels when she actually climaxes with his name on her lips.

That’s his undoing.

He reaches his release with a cry of her name.

For a moment, they bathe in the afterglow and everything is perfect, calm, peaceful. Then he starts coming back into his body and he can’t quite help a wince. She must glimpse it because she immediately unhooks her legs and places her feet down.

“Do I have to stitch you up again?” she chuckles.

“Entirely worth it.” he shrugs with a smile.

He flexes his wrists a few times until she grabs his hands and turns them palms up. She studies the bandages attentively but when no stain of blood shows up she trails her fingers to his elbows and steps into the space between his arms, looking up at him with a smile, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“We are doing it again.” she declares.

“As you know, I never argue with my doctor.” he lies, which warrants him a small playful whack on the shoulder. He embraces her, resting his chin on the side of her head. “I love you.”

He doesn’t let himself think about it or make it a big thing. Compared to everything they’ve been through… It’s not scary to say and it’s not scary to think.

It’s easy even.

The easiest thing he has ever done.

The smile that immediately stretches her lips is bright if a little wistful. He knows what she’s thinking about. Six months. Six months isn’t long enough. Six months is…

“We will have to make the most of it.” he shrugs before she can say anything.

Her face softens, probably because of this gift of his to always know what she’s worrying about. She cups his cheek, her thumb tracing random paths in his beard.

“I love you.” she confesses, just as easily as he had. As if they have been saying it for years instead of for the first time. The kiss is gentler than the others they’ve shared today but it soon turns heated again. “Bath.” she mumbles against his mouth, carefully guiding him backward.

He lets out a disappointed groan but he knows she’s right so he doesn’t fight her on it. He’s the first to step in the bathtub and the warm water wrapping around his calves in an immediate relief to his aching muscles. He sinks in the bath with a content sigh.

“Keep your arms out.” she warns. “I made the bandages as waterproof as I could but I don’t want the wounds to get wet.”

He obediently rests his arms on either side of the tub and spreads his legs as wide as he can to make space for her. “Get in.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, with a blissful sigh of her own.

It’s frustrating, not being able to wrap his arms around her as she snuggles against him, or not being able to help her wash her hair – something he will definitely do at some point, he decides – but the safe bubble they’re in compensates for it.

He drifts off while she rinses the shampoo off her hair and only wakes up way later, when there are only a handful of candles left burning and the water is cold around them. Abby is curled up against his chest and he can’t help a smile even as he nudges her awake.

He can get used to this.

Even if it’s only for six months…

It makes it all worth it.

#marcus kane #abby griffin #kabby #the 100 #kabby fic #salvation my ass stories

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years

Text

Voting for Chopped Choice: Horror is officially OPEN!

You know how voting works so we wont bore you with lots of details. Remember to rank fics based on the USE of the tropes and theme and to rank ALL fics in each question, so we can avoid any technical difficulties! Your #1 spot should be the best answer and your last spot the least likely answer for the question. Please try and read all the fics so you can vote fairly! Reminder, you must include a URL, and you may only vote once, we will NOT count multiple votes by the same person.

Voting will be open until October 30th at 11:59pm EST! You can vote here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/HKZGDNQ

For this event, the writers had to create a story with the theme of their choice and include four tropes of their choice with at least one trope from the horror section! Thanks to all our AMAZING writers, these fics were so spooky and we are so glad you decided to share them with us!!

———

guess we’re alike that way (Rated T) [Murphy/Octavia]

Summary: Octavia died 25 years ago. The answer, by the way, is ghosts. Just ghosts. Yeah, it’s just as bad as it sounds. Especially Murphy. Why did the only living person who could see her have to be fucking Murphy?

The Haunting of Kane Manor (Rated M) [Bellamy/Clarke]

cause i know in the morning you’ll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?) (Rated T) [Echo/Wells]

Summary: Wells liked things to make sense.

Allying themselves with Azgeda when the opportunity came up made sense. Doing whatever it took to make that alliance stick made sense. Entering an arranged marriage with a woman he’d never met for the sake of his people made sense.

The butterflies in his gut whenever he locked eyes with the Azgedan ambassador who was decidedly not his fiancée made no sense at all.

Imitation (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori] *Major Character Death*

you can stand under my umbrella (Rated T) [Clarke/Murphy]

Summary: Abandoning the children was definitely a no-no on field trips. But does it really count when you’re just completely, genuinely lost in a corn maze?

After six years of working with him, Clarke still doesn’t know Murphy’s first name, and at this point its definitely too late to ask.

Mad Women (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Something isn’t right here, even if Bellamy and Octavia don’t want to see it.

When their little ship receives a distress call from an old friend, the tensions between captain and crew finally come to a head, and Murphy faces more than one unpleasant truth.

Bury a Friend (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori, Bellamy/Clarke, Raven/Shaw]

it was only a dream? (Rated T) [Spacekru]

Summary: It’s just another ordinary day on the Ring until someone points out that it’s Halloween. That’s when things get weird.

the ghost in you, she don’t fade (Rated E) [Bellamy/Clarke]

It might as well be a million.

Clarke takes another fortifying breath.

It does no good to think about Bellamy. He’s no longer part of the equation. He’s made that abundantly clear.

The Wanheda Tape (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: “It’s the Wanheda Tape. You gotta remember this. It happened like five or six years ago. Those dumbass college kids went into the woods out past the auto shop and got lost and never came back… Seriously, what were you two doing in the fourth grade, living under a rock?”

de omnibus dubitandum (Rated M) [Lexa/Echo/Josephine]

And then she met Josephine Lightbourne.

slay your demons (Not Rated) [Jasper & Monty]

Summary: He doesn’t like this. He never has. There is a reason he self medicates with booze and drugs: It’s to stop seeing people like her - dead people.

Umbrella Academy AU but make it Monty and Jasper.

More Than I Do (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Mysterious circumstances surround the sudden tragedies afflicting Clarke’s loved ones. Can she figure out why before she loses everyone she cares about? Maybe not, but she’s willing to die trying.

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Honorable Mention of this submission to the Non-Anon Collection. It won’t be counted in the voting, but we’d love for you to read it!:

I’m Demon Proof, Baby (Rated T) [Murphy/Emori] by Anonymous

Summary: Arcadia Investigates is well into its fifth or sixth season, depending on how you count it, and Wilmington Hospital has been just begging for a visit.

Clarke thinks it’s very scary. Murphy thinks it’s very fake.

Bellamy and Emori are mostly just there to make sure someone gets some usable footage.

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Please try to read as many fics as you can, take some note, leave some kudos/comments for the authors, and don’t forget to vote!

#chopped choice: horror #chopped choice 3.0 #voting

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