Author's Note: Watching all the SDCC things from over the weekend got my mind wandering a bit. Going to conventions has always been a dream of mine, something I simply assumed I would do one day. San Diego being the big dream, of course. And then I remembered a small, little detail about myself: I have crowd anxiety. If I have a crowd induced panic attack at a Farmer's Market, how the hell am I supposed to survive Comic-Con? And thus my musing on the topic have led to this little ficlet…(And yes, I am jumping on the Bellamy Blake as James Potter in the Marauders TV show, because I love the idea and can't think of anything better.)


"You sure you're okay?" Monty asked, squeezing her arm gently so they wouldn't lose each other in the crowd. Clarke's hand was tightly around her necklace, fingering it in attempt to ground and calm herself.

"Yeah, no, I want to keep going," she assured him. Right now she was fighting it, keeping her eyes steady on Monty's back. Just don't look at the sheer amount of people around them, crowding in, leaving no escape, and she could get through to see her favorite actors from her favorite show. It usually worked. Just don't look at the masses.

She and Monty watched every episode of The Marauders together each week, whether they did it from the same couch or messaging each other from their separate homes. They read all the fanfictions, kept up with the cast on social media, watched behind-the-scenes, anything they could get their hands on.

They always joked that the cast seemed dorky enough that she and Monty would get along with them if they ever met in person. Then after a couple drinks, the two of them would joke that they'd meet the cast and Clarke would end up dating Bellamy Blake and Monty would date Nathan Miller. They knew there was no hope of this ever actually happening, but it didn't stop them from their outrageous fantasizing. So, when Clarke's dad got her tickets to SDCC for her birthday, her and Monty were literally jumping up and down, bubbling with excitement for the months leading up to it.

The first day they went to the panel, sitting near and exit as Clarke was wont to do and quietly gushed to each another as the cast and director talked about the past seasons, the upcoming seasons, and other tidbits. Afterwards they had hit up some of the vendors and their other, less popular fandoms before trying to venture for autographs.

The line wasn't so bad. It was long, so "bad" in that sense, but the tenseness in Clarke's shoulders wasn't as awful as she had been anticipating. She still fingered her necklace constantly, though. At least a line wasn't a moving horde, everyone was headed in pretty much the same direction, so she didn't feel too overwhelmed yet. An autograph, a smile, and a short conversation with Bellamy Blake later, she stood off to the side, waiting for Monty to finish his time with Nathan Miller.

"Still holding up?" he asked as he joined her.

She nodded. "As good as to be expected. Better now that I've officially met Bellamy Blake," she swooned. "Not that he'll remember me in the slightest, but still. I have photographic evidence that he had his arm around me."

Monty pulled out his phone and showed her his picture with Nathan Miller. "Yup, pretty sure I can die happy now," he joked. "Want to head back to the hotel for the day?"

"Yeah, I think I've done as much as I can handle. It'll be good to not feel like a mountain troll is sitting on my chest," she joked, but could physically feel the truth of her words.

The next day they were walking the floor; Clarke had one hand grasping her necklace, the other either in Monty's hand or holding his shirt in a death grip. Why had she thought she'd be okay at Comic-Con? San Diego of all of them?

Her chest felt tight and she regulated her breathing, trying to look only at Monty's back. In and out, in and out. She heard a loud commotion and made the mistake of looking up. Suddenly all she could see was bodies. People pressing in on all sides. No space in between them. She felt her throat begin to close. She rapidly looked around for any space, any opening. Somewhere to escape. She saw a bright, "Exit" sign and the smallest semblance of a clear path leading to it. She rapidly tapped Monty's shoulder to get his attention. Tears forming in her eyes. Panic rising as it took him longer than a second to turn to her.

"I need…I'm going…" she gestured frantically at the sign and took off running, hoping he gathered what was happening.

She burst through the door and past the few scattered people to the open courtyard behind the building. Tears streamed down her checks. Clarke raised her hands above her head and began pacing, trying to calm down her shaking breath. Long in, long out. Long in, long out. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest as she tried to slow it.

When, after an eternity, she could finally stop moving without feeling like she was going to be crushed, she sank down onto a patch of grass. She wiped at her eyes before closing them and focused on the feel of the grass between her fingers. She breathed slowly and controlled, her heart beating at a slower pace, though still as loudly in her ears.

"Are you alright?" someone asked her.

"I'll be okay. Just trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person," her voice still shook a little. She opened her eyes found a face she was very familiar with, if only from watching it through a TV screen. "Oh my god, you're Bellamy Blake." Her breath caught for a whole other reason.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I am." He paused. "Are you sure you're alright?" He was crouched down in front of her, though still a pace or two away to give her some space.

"Just a mild panic attack. I have crowd anxiety."

"And what possessed you to come to San Diego Comic-Con?" he asked astounded.

"You, actually," she shrugged. "Well, The Marauders in general." A small part of her brain acknowledged that if she wasn't recovering from a panic attack she probably would be a little more flustered about talking to her celebrity crush.

"Hey, wait, I think I remember you. You came for an autograph and picture yesterday."

Clarke laughed, the release of tension feeling great on her too tight chest. "You could say that about anyone here for The Marauders."

"No," he protested. "Well, yes. But I remember you. You were the Griffin in the Slytherin shirt."

Clarke bit her lip. He did remember her. "Yeah, that's me. I usually go by Clarke, though."

"Well, Clarke," he smiled. Her heart skipped a beat at the way his tongue curled around her name. "I have an interview with the rest of the cast in less than five minutes. But maybe next time you come see us, you pick a less populated convention than San Diego?"

"Yeah, sounds like a good plan."

He smiled at her one last time before he got up and hurried on his way.

"Was that Bellamy Blake?" Monty asked in awe as he came to sit next to her.

Clarke nodded distractedly.

"So, I'm guessing you're doing okay now, then?" he teased.

She stared after Bellamy as he disappeared into the door of the building marked, "Interviews, Authorized Personnel Only."

"More than okay," she agreed.


As always, favorites and reviews are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day. Also, I finally broke down and got a Tumblr, DracoTerrae9099. I really don't know what I'm doing (technologically challenged and socially awkward over here; please don't judge me). But feel free to come chat at me about Bellarke or my stories or basically anything.