- Well, I keep hearing the guitars playing and people singing, when it’s nobody around. - You see, in certain mental states we found that auditory hallucinations (…) - But it’s mainly folk songs. - Oh my god.
Prompt (any relationship) "Everyone fears my horrible/badly behaved/unusual pet so I'm confused that it seems to like you so much."
When Bellamy adopted the meanest cat at the humane society, Octavia just rolled her eyes. “Figures,” she scoffed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, holding the wriggling, hissing ball of fur in his arms.
“Nothing,” she muttered. “You just sort of have a thing for difficult people. And animals, apparently.”
Octavia was probably right, but Bellamy fell in love with the standoffish grey cat the moment he met her anyway. The rest of his friends, however, were not huge fans of Dido. “Like the singer?” Monty asked, puzzled, when Bellamy announced her name.
“No. Like the Queen of Carthage,” Bellamy grumbled.
“Whoever she’s named after, she’s kind of a bitch,” Miller observed. “I mean, that cat hates everyone.” Bellamy took umbrage at his wording, but Miller was not wrong. Dido hissed and spat at anyone who wasn’t Bellamy, and only indicated that Octavia was her second favorite by hiding under wherever Octavia sat on the couch. But around Bellamy, Dido was cuddly, always insisting on being on his lap when he was supposed to be writing his dissertation and sleeping at the foot of his bed.
He not-so-secretly sort of liked that Dido hated everyone but him.
But then Raven dragged her new friend Clarke over for movie night and to everyone’s everlasting shock, Dido didn’t hiss or fluff up her fur at the newcomer. Hell, she didn’t even run away. No, the moment Clarke sat down on the couch, Dido jumped into her lap, circled twice, and sat down. And there she remained like a goddamn traitor through the entire movie.
(When Clarke moved in two years later, Dido started sleeping at Clarke’s feet instead of his. But he didn’t care. Much.)