11: What do you like best about this fic? // The Golden Age that Never Was
There’s a few things? Oh man I should be writing short answers and yet HERE I AM NOT DOING THAT
* The worldbuilding has been so much fun. Like, shifting the Guardians to Lune, giving them all roles, creating this culture with its entrenched and brutal classism, but also being able to have like…Seraphina with her garden, or the fruit that Jack just doesn’t know, or this abundance of gold and the frescoes and the cobblestones of the City of Lune etc. I really enjoy describing this place?
* Taking my time. I have no chapter plan, I’m winging it, I’m not trying to top the SALverse experience, and I don’t care if people don’t really like the story (I mean I’m very glad people do, I really want people to like it!, what I mean is - the story isn’t going to change for the people who don’t like it). I always wanted to write a Golden Age fic, and doing it is as epic and sprawling as I always imagined it would be. There’s no writing schedule (which meant you know, sorry for that 9 month hiatus) and I’m basically following the characters along. Sometimes it’s infuriating, but one of the things I love the most about fanfiction in general, is how you’re not bound to industry rules. The only ‘rules’ I follow are basically tag frequently and often, and a rise/fall of pacing and hurt/comfort when I can. That’s it. Lol. Everything else has been instinct and happy accident.
* Realising how much I always loved Rise of the Guardians and the characters within. I had a few experiences at the end of SAL that made me think I didn’t like the media anymore, when instead it was just a few pockets of fandom giving me a hard time and some irl stuff that was crushing me. I took a break, I even said in asks I was ‘done’ - but time helped a lot, and I came back to Jack and Pitch and realised that they were waiting for me, and that you know, it felt amazing to be writing these characters again. If I stop writing Rise of the Guardians after this, it won’t be because I’m ‘tired’ of the characters, it will only be because I have so many other stories to write. It’s felt a little like a kind of homecoming.
Just another Huddling For Warmth Because Of Totally Plausible Yet Unexplained Plot Reasons fic. You know the drill. Bellamy and Clarke fell in the river during winter. They had to get naked and cuddle in the bunker or else they’d die. It’s science.
“Hurry up,” Bellamy called from the cot. “I’m freezing over here.”
“I don’t even understand how you got undressed so quickly,” Clarke grumbled and stepped out of her sopping wet pants.
“Practise,” Bellamy said. “I do it every day.”
“Funny,” Clarke shot him a look and wriggled out of her sweater.
“I wonder if we already have hypothermia,” she said and paused next to the cot. “Maybe this counts as paradoxical undressing.”
Bellamy snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Quit stalling, just come on already,” he held his arms out.
Clarke huffed and dropped herself into his lap, scooting backwards until her back was flush with his chest. She drew her legs up and hugged her knees.
“Better?” she asked.
“Barely,” Bellamy grunted. “Your hair’s all in my face,” he complained and pushed her damp hair off her neck.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her hands coming up to weave her hair into a side braid.
“S’okay,” he sighed and he swept the remaining loose strands to the side. The callused pads of his fingers were gentle against her skin. She shivered.
“Here,” he leaned forward and pulled the ragged blanket over them both.
“Better?” he asked.
“Barely,” Clarke echoed him. The blanket was so cold it almost felt damp.
She felt the rise and fall of his chest against her back in what had to be another world weary sigh. She grinned and was about to tease him for it when he circled his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.
She froze for a split second before letting her hands come up to brace against his forearms. For a moment, they were quiet.
“So what now?” Bellamy’s voice rumbled next to her ear.
Clarke shrugged, the movement awkward under the weight of his arms.
“I guess we wait.”
He grunted his assent and dropped his head, his lips brushing her shoulder.
“Is fatigue a symptom of hypothermia?” he asked, his breaths already coming heavy and slow.
“Well, yes,” Clarke said. “But its also a symptom of swimming against the current in a half-frozen river.”
“Hmph,” Bellamy said. His eyes drifted shut and his thumb rubbed absent-minded circles against her hip. “So is it okay if we take a nap or is that giving in to the hypothermia?”
“Giving in?” Clarke asked, bemused. “You can’t just will your way out of hypothermia,” she said.
“I’m not a doctor, Clarke.”
“No one would mistake you for a doctor, Bellamy.”
“Rude,” he mumbled.
She could feel his smile against her shoulder.
“Okay, come on,” he shifted her out of his lap and laid down on his side before tugging her down with him.
“You’re serious about this nap?” Clarke asked.
“Well, yeah,” he banded an arm around her waist. “What else are we going to do?”
He hitched a leg over Clarke’s and pinned the blanket down around them. Clarke breathed in sharply and Bellamy’s arm stiffened around her.
“Sorry,” he muttered and pulled his leg back. “Too far?”
Clarke rolled over to face him.
“No,” she placed a tentative hand on his chest. “It’s just…been a while,” she explained. His arm relaxed around her waist and Bellamy rubbed his hand up and down her back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, ducking down a little to meet her eyes. She nodded and closed her eyes while curling a hand over his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Clarke said. “Just don’t- Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Her piercing blue eyes blinked open again to search his face.
He swallowed hard and nodded once before averting his gaze.
“I won’t,” he said. “I’m here. I’m always here,” he said huskily. “But you-“
Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into his shoulder.
“You don’t go anywhere either, okay?”
She sighed in relief and pressed her face into the crook of his neck.