I measure my time in lock up in various units. Seven years. Two thousand five hundred and fifty five days. Sixty one thousand three hundred and ten hours and god only knows how many minutes. I’ve had four different cell mates, two were floated on their eighteenth birthdays and one actually requested to be transferred to solitary because apparently rooming with me really is that unbearable. The fourth and last was Octavia Blake, without her I probably wouldn’t have made it to seventeen. Years of age that is.
We’re very alike, O and I. Both named after the family members of Roman Emperors and both of us imprisoned for something we had absolutely no control over - being born. Octavia was an accident, I was a calculated risk. My dads always wanted a child of their own, but not even on our space station in the fucking stratosphere is it possible for two men to conceive a child together, no matter how much they love one another. Their friend Elena, my real mom I guess, offered to have me so that they could finally start a family of their own. But Elena already had a son, officially making me an illegitimate second child - strictly forbidden on the Ark. I watched my dads and Elena get floated simply because I existed and then I was designated a prisoner number and thrown into this cell.
I only have eleven days left. Two hundred and sixty four hours until I turn eighteen and the council decide whether or not I deserve to be floated for my crimes. I’m still praying for a miracle, some sort of divine intervention that saves my life. Octavia’s brother told me once that my surname means ‘lucky’ - I don’t feel so lucky.
because I’m trash, I need a marvelous ladybug inspired plot where muse a and muse b are both superheroes who work together a lot but don’t know each other’s secret identities. They’re around each other in day-to-day life and muse a has a HUUUUGE crush on muse b, but he doesn’t notice, and even if he did realize he wouldn’t want to be with her… because he’s too busy being head over heels for muse a’s superhero identity. but muse a isn’t interested in muse b’s superhero identity because she’s too in love with muse b’s non-superhero identity so she keeps turning down his advances aND THEY’RE BOTH CRAZY FOR EACH OTHER BUT THEY DON’T REALIZE IT AND EVERYTHING IS CONFUSING AND FRUSTRATING AND ANGSTY AND I NEED THIS TWO PERSON LOVE SQUARE
When the Ark broke apart upon entering the Earth atmosphere, everything changed.
For the first time since before Unity Day the Ark was separated, and those trapped within their stations walls fell to Earth with nothing but the blind hope that they would survive. Hydra station exploded in a ball of fire soon after it detached from the Go-Sci ring. Mecha and Alpha station made it safely to the ground. Factory station collided with a cliff face, killing all but one of the people in it. And Farm Station landed smack bang in the middle of the Ice Nation.
Astra’s parents, along with countless other Farm Station citizens, died on impact with the ground and in the four month since their landing the Ice Nation grounders killed many more. In total only sixty three Farm Station citizens survived, and Astra Robins was one of them.
Now she’s reunited with her people and her childhood best friends Monty Green and Jasper Jordan. Bellamy Blake is waging war against the grounders and AJ has to decide which side she wants to be on.
Someone had asked for the front shot of that Fran cosplay I posted before so ere’ ya go. It needed A LOT of work overall, but regardless I was very happy with the helm and ears. I loved makin’ dem ears.
Going to Sakura~Con made me really want to remake this outfit and actually chain-mail the body this time. I’m getting too many ideas at 4AM in the mornin’. XD
Cartoons have been hard on the world’s pet rabbits. You can tell because every single website about rabbits, and rabbit breeders, and rabbit feeding all have to carry this warning: If you try to feed a rabbit nothing but carrots, it will die. It’s like giving a human nothing but cotton candy. If your rabbit happens to like carrots, you have to carefully ration the stuff. Non-cartoon rabbits eat mostly hay and green leafy things. If you give a rabbit a carrot with the green top still on it, it will disregard the carrot part and eat just the top. It’ll be like, “What’s this orange shit?”
It goes back to Bugs Bunny and an old Clark Gable movie from 1934. The film was a romantic comedy called It Happened One Night, and it was a huge hit at the time. There was a scene where Gable was talking around a carrot he was chewing on and the animators for Bugs Bunny depicted Bugs doing the same, in an open parody of the scene that audiences of the time would have immediately recognized (kind of the way we immediately recognize when a Shrek character imitates “bullet time” from The Matrix). That became standard Bugs Bunny behavior, and what followed was 75 years of kids growing up thinking that rabbits were carrot junkies.
The first time Clarke finds Bellamy and Wells curled up
together on the couch together she just can’t resist taking a picture to save
the memory. Didn’t someone say that a picture is worth a thousand words? Well,
this picture is worth all the words in the world and then some.
“Honey I’m home!” Clarke whisper yells when she finally gets
her key in the door. (No, it absolutely did not take Clarke five times to
actually get the lock to turn. It was more like four. Okay?) She pushes the
heavy door open and lets out a small squeak like sound when one of the books in
her arms fall to the ground and hit her toes. This is one of those moments she
really regrets wearing flips flops. Groaning loudly, she reaches down, holding
on to the remainder of her books for dear life, and grabs the hard book off the
“Bellamy?” Clarke whispers, just a little louder than when
she pushed the door open. “Where are you?”
Clarke squints her eyes in the dimly lit room and pushes the
front door closed with her butt. (When your arms are full you gotta do what you
gotta do right?) She throws her keys into a vase by the front door. (A vase O
has made her opinion about its “disgustingly designed looks” a countless number
of times, but she was the one that actually picked it. A small little fact
Clarke reminds her about over and over again. “It looked way better in the
store,” she always says to defend herself.)
If you had told Nathan Miller a year ago that his partners for guard training would be his best friend and a baby, he would have scoffed in your face. But here he stands, his arms crossed and his expression stoic as he listens to Bellamy bark orders at the new recruits, only every other sentence out of Bellamy’s mouth is punctuated by some kind of gurgle or giggle.
Miller glances at the baby out of the corner of his eye, trying not to smile.
Amelia is swaddled up in her sling, tightly pressed to Bellamy’s chest. At ten months, she’s big enough and alert enough to be facing outward, eager to see the new sights each day. She is currently holding a dandelion between her chubby little fists, and every few seconds Bellamy’s hands come up to fish it out of her mouth as he speaks.
“Bellamy, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Clarke whispered as they stood behind another couple with a toddler at the Easter display in the middle of the mall. She hovered closely to Bellamy, who had Willa propped on his hip and she brushed her finger along the wispy hairs that framed the toddler’s face.
Bellamy scowled playfully, “What are you talking about, this was Octavia’s favorite thing to do growing up. Every kid wants to meet the Easter Bunny!”
Their fifteen-month old was dressed in a yellow dress and dinosaur tennis shoes, slobbering on her fingers as they shuffled forward with the queue.
Clarke’s eyes drifted to the pastel colored display, dragging her gaze over the overly animated Easter Bunny costumed that donned the throne. She grimaced and brought her face back up towards Bellamy’s who shifted under Willa’s weight. “It’s just so… creepy.”
Bellamy turned, Willa fidgeting with the sash on her dress aimlessly, and he saw the thing. It was a musty looking costume, the face almost manic: plastered into a Grinch-like grin and lavender eyebrows that turned down almost menacingly. Bellamy cleared his throat, “No, it’s fine… it’s cute.”
Skepticism clouded her face and they stepped forward again, now arriving at the front of the line. Bellamy adjusted Willa so she sat on his other hip and he brushed a hand along Clarke’s jaw comfortingly.
Clarke let out an uneasy breath and they stepped forward, a overly-perky mall attendant ushering them towards the throne.
“Well, looky here!” The bunny said jovially and Clarke offered her best smile. “Who is this pretty little thing?”
The bunny reached out with his gloved hands and Willa realized what was happening. They were only a foot away from the bunny and her eyes were darting all over. She met her mother’s gaze with fear and Clarke saw her breathing quicken. Bellamy, however, wasn’t paying attention to that and began to hand Willa over to sit on the bunny’s lap.
That’s when the panic set in, Willa began to squirm and thrash, wetness welling up in her tear ducts. Bellamy was smiling until he looked back at Willa encased in the costumed-creature’s arms and he watched helplessly as her lips quivered.
One. Two. Three.
A high pitched wail ripped through Willa’s lungs and her arms flailed as she tried to escape the Easter Bunny.
A muttered fuck escaped Bellamy’s lips and he panicked, looking to Clarke, who’s eyes were wide with horror. “Well, go get her Bellamy!”
Bellamy lunged forward and grabbed the small girl, who’s face had reddened and snot began to drip from her nose. “Shh, shhh, baby, it’s okay!” He rocked her gently and Clarke wrapped her arm around his waist and lead him away, apologizing silently to the mall attendant and the parents in the queue who now held on to their own children with apprehension.
Cupping the back of Willa’s head, Bellamy tried to sooth the girl who’s whimpers were slowly quieting but her eyes still wet with tears. As soon as they were far enough away, Clarke circled in front of Bellamy and wedged her hands around Willa, transferring the girl into her own arms.
Bellamy protested slightly, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, fishing the car keys out of his pocket as they exited the mall. Willa had thrown her arms around her mother and relaxed her body against her, breathing steadily.
They reached the car and Clarke tucked Willa into the car seat, sliding into the passenger side as Bellamy started up the engine. Soft music sounded from the stereo system and Bellamy looked over at Clarke innocently. Clarke threw a look over her shoulder and saw Willa had nearly fallen asleep already, fingers curled around her stuffed elephant.
Looking back at her husband she pursed her lips, “Never again.”
“Never,” her voice staccato, “again.”
Bellamy’s face drooped as he gripped the steering wheel.
“Now, let’s go home you big idiot,” she said, tone more teasing than angry this time. “And, no, we’re not going to see fucking Santa Claus either.”
Clarke was staring forward (totally not trying to hide her smile, not at all) as a grin tugged at Bellamy’s lips and he put the car in drive. He was in trouble, but not that much trouble.