#ethereal-bellarke​

[loveisonlyforthebrave8]

okay i'm weirdly intrigued by this idea you mentioned about your ship pairings and i want to know about a few you mentioned in particular, vegaspete/kinnporsche, bellarke (girl u good?), fortpeat/prapaisky, firstkhao/raysand and if you wanna explain a few others feel free

HA! I really thought that post was just gonna float off into the tumblr ether never to be addressed again.

okay, so. i don't really know how to explain it in further detail other than to say that pete can go off and make out with porsche, or arm, or some rando and i'd be like, cool, go baby, you do you. but if vegaspete were even just a thought in vegas' head and he goes off and fucks someone else i am claws out, will fight you to the death motherfucker. anyone comes near vegas and i will literally poison them myself. it makes me jittery knowing he was such a slutty slut before pete. it's almost like i'm jealous on pete's behalf. but i guess it also doesn't help that i know probably half the men he fucked before he probably didn't even want to fuck. and that makes my head hurt. i know it's not rational. but it's where my brain goes sometimes.

and yet kinnporsche is the complete opposite. kinn is a slutty slut before porsche and i am all here for him slutting it up even when kp were getting their flirt on and trying to 'forget about their night together' i was all for him trying to rough up that little twink. but if kp is just at the looking but not touching stage and porsche goes off with someone else i'm gonna rip the other person to shreds. male? female? idgaf, i'll come for you.

bellarke. HA. am i good you ask? oh. i'm barely clinging onto my sanity. but bellarke was so much fun before it all went to shit. my bisexual queen clarke could fuck whoever she wanted (except finn because ew girl) and it did not bother me one bit. i shipped the fuck out of her and niylah, oooft. but the moment bellamy got with someone else i wanted to rip their throats out with my bare teeth. do not get me started on blecho.

fortpeat and firstkhao (i view these differently because they're real people and not characters so it's not necessarily about them being a couple, more who they are partnered with)

fortpeat. some BN and FP fans might have me destroyed for admitting this, but i would fucking murder to see peat and boss being paired up for at least one project. i think they'd work so fucking well together and their chemistry would be FIRE. but the thought of fort being paired with someone other than peat makes my tummy hurt. prapaisky might actually be my only exception actually. i don't like the thought of either of them being with anyone else.

firstkhao are the same. i've seen first paired with multiple people and i am OBSESSED with that boy. he has chemistry with literally everyone. he could flirt with a tree and i'd ship it. but the thought of khao and anyone other than first makes me sad. but their only friends characters have already started having the affect on me. i want to see sand being a slutty slut and making his sex money and making ray jealous. but the thought of ray and anyone not sand is making me antsy.

i dunno. it's a weird thing my brain does with ships/pairings. there are no rational thoughts behind it. my brain just decides one of you is okay to be a massive slut and one isn't allowed within ten feet of someone who isn't the person i want them to be with.

[potpourri-of-ecclecticism]

That even the cracks that drew their thoughts,

Between two opposing sides,

Could not escape a Fate

that was always destined to be sealed.

Behind those closed doors, I’ll find you again.

DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine, props to the awesome creator.

[sitintherain]

listen to mE that fuckin g poster edit someone did w Clarke, madi, and bell........THE WAY THEY EDITED ON BELLAMY'S SCRUFF.............THE WAY THAT MAN LOOKS WITH SCRUFF IN GENERAL....................BITCH! CLARKE, SIS, BABYGIRL, IF U DONT GET THAT MAN'S BEAUTIFUL aSS PERFECTLY BEARDED ROMAN SCULPTURE MASTERPIECE ASS FACE IN BETWEEN UR LEGS SOON ILL BE CRYING IN THE CLUB UNTIL TJE LITERAL END OF TIME

[starboybellamy]

Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, and send it to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable). SPREAD POSITIVITY! ❤

i did not forget about this don’t l o o k at me like that

1. my eyebrows

2. my sarcasm

3. my ability to laugh at people that are trying to hurt me

4. my cleanliness

5. my makeup game?

[sometimesrosy]

You’re kicking the hornet’s nest again Rosy and these antis clearly do not appreciate your logic and reason against their perceptions of canon (which MUST be true or nothing has meaning anymore) and so they MUST defend themselves by trying to shut you down. Not that they could. 😂😂😂

How do i kick the hornets nest by staying in my own corner of my askbox continuing to be a bellarke blog like i’ve been since i started in fandom?

how i ask you?

Me, staying in my lane being a dork with my literary analysis and continuing on with the theory I developed after Hakeldama, season 3, episode 5, which has CONTINUED to be proven true, even though i need to adjust for the story on screen. ONE lane. MINE. No hornets nests anywhere near. 

Mind yo own bizyness you bitter antis.

Oh. hey y’all. I just made a connection. If you’ve been following my analysis of the characters as the four elements, relating to the head/heart/soul/body issue, and how much I’ve struggled to find Murphy’s place in that symbology, I have finally discovered the correct philosophy to fit this story.

It’s not the four elements or four humors or four seasons like we have been saying, like y’all might be familiar with in Hogwarts four houses (which comes from that tradition.) I’d been thinking that maybe it was chinese symbolism with the fifth being metal and air switched for wood, but that doesn’t fit.

And then by chance while researching mandalas and sacred geometry for a different scifi project, I stumbled upon PLATONIC SOLIDS. Plato thought the universe was made up of FIVE elements. Earth, Air, Fire, Water and ETHER.

The fifth Platonic solid, the dodecahedron, Plato obscurely remarks, "...the god used for arranging the constellations on the whole heaven". Aristotle added a fifth element, aithêr (aether in Latin, "ether" in English) and postulated that the heavens were made of this element, but he had no interest in matching it with Plato's fifth solid [x]

So like there’s MURPHY. He’s ether. And if you say, but “what is The Fifth Element?” I would say “It’s a science fiction movie and also LOVE.” This fits with his goal to “not die alone” then later to “be immortal” then maybe “morality not mortality” and also fits the fact that he’s got the longest running relationship on the show. It’s heaven, spirituality and love. A nice concept.

ANYWAY, I thought I’d do some reaching, which some people call “literary analysis like yo high school teacher taught ya.” 

[sissywissykins]

Bellarke has a big talk coming

Right now Bellamy is holding a lot of stuff back waiting for the right moment to talk to Clarke about it. The radio calls continued because it didn't seem like he was done with that conversation even if Clark was. Saying sorry about the whole almost killing her thing even though the first second that Murphy is awake and Bellamy sees him again thats the first thing that he says to him. I'm wondering if the voice clip from the season trailer will be a part of the conversation or if it was just a misdirect for the trailer. Ether way guys damn I want this conversation.

[starkdelinquents]

Blog rate plz! + I follow you because your content just makes me happy, and you're just a beautiful soul in general! ☺️

That makes me so happy to hear. Thank you

URL: explain please l alright l nice l great l spectacular l RAVEN REYESIcon: alright l nice l great l spectacular l CLARKE GRIFFINTheme: alright l nice l great l spectacular l NATHAN MILLERPosts: alright l nice l great l spectacular l MONTY GREENOverall: alright l nice l great l spectacular l BELLAMY BLAKEFollowing: no, sorry but ily l  from now on l of courseComments: The things you post are SO GOOD. If I’m having a bad day or need to see what I missed in the fandom you’re one of the blogs I check. Just all around amazing blog and blogger =)

Join the celebration! 

[bellarkeauideas]

bellamy is talked into auditioning for the bachelor by octavia who is tired of him being single and all up in her personal life 

meanwhile clarke is talked into auditioning for the bachelor by raven who is also tired of clarke being single and reflecting on everything that went down between them and finn 

and at first clarke and bellamy cant stand each other and bellamy wants to say no to her by the end of the first episode but the producers are like “keep her for a few more for the views” and bellamy has no choice and this leads to them actually getting to know one another and actually falling for each other, but then some drama goes down and clarke actually requests to leave the show and she leaves when she’s in the final two and there’s all kinds of fanfare from the people that watch the show wondering what the hell happened because they were sure he was going to choose clarke

and then one dark night a few weeks after the finale airs bellamy shows up at clarkes apartment and they get into this big fight about the drama that happened and the fight ends with bellamy screaming “GOD DAMMIT, SHUT UP! I LOVE YOU, FUCK!” or something along those lines because hes sick of her trying to find every excuse for them to not love each other

and theres a long heated moment where she just stares at him in shock and hes breathing heavily glaring down at her and then all at once they both move and are kissing one another and its like nothing can pull them apart not even their own Issues. 

[bellarkelifestyle]

thanks @ethereal-bellarke for the tag!! :) 

Rules: Tag 9 people you want to get know better!

Relationship status: single lmao

Lipstick or chapstick: mmm lipstick i guess

Last song I listened to: Guys My Age - Hey Violet (that song is so addictive i swear)

Last movie I watched: Love, Rosie (it just makes me feel good okay plus lily collins and sam clafin are both gorgeous so)

Top 3 characters: BELLAMY BLAKE x 1000, um stiles stilinski, and erm this is hard either scott mccall, malia tate/hale or isaac lahey (i just really like teen wolf)

Top 3 ships: BELLARKE AF if you couldn’t tell by my blog, probs scallison and well either stydia or frary idk

im so indecisive srry tagging (if y’all wanna): @nowwesurvive @freckle-bellamy @bel-ami-blake @negasonic-teenage-what-da-shit @commanderclarke @magic-and-timetravel @its-mrsbrightside @spiderdoctor-67 @baerry-allens-wife plus anyone else who wants to do it!!

[clarkegriffintitties]

bellarke reunion angst + "i love you"

bellarke fight + “YOU LEFT ME!”

Thank you lovelies for the prompts! I combined these two because it worked out well with the way I went about them. Sorry it took me so long; Some days I am feeling more inspired than others.

Tagging @mommabeargriffin ​ because she asked me too

The march seemed endless. It took several days to reach the valley and every time Bellamy saw a patch of green on the horizon, relief washed over him, before coming to realize, his eyes had betrayed him yet again.

He couldn’t help but wonder if this was like what Clarke had felt all that time after Praimfaya.

Clarke.

The name alone brought tears to his eyes, as it had for the past six years, but now, knowing she was alive all along, he felt an even greater sadness.

If only he had known. If only she could have reached him. Of course, even then, that wouldn’t have changed anything. They still wouldn’t have had the fuel to get back to the ground, but Bellamy couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have known.

And now, even after every one of his Godforsaken prayers had finally come true, Bellamy still wished he hadn’t returned to the ground.

Clarke was happy. She had the life she always wanted and deserved, a sound coexistence with someone she loves; No hate, no war, no chaos; just sweet, everlasting peace.

Then Bellamy reigned down from the sky, an impending dark cloud leaving nothing but disaster and grief in his wake.

She could have lived out the rest of her days in Shallow Valley with Madi by her side, free of conflict or danger; Just the two of them. Damnit, she could have been safe.

Of course, there was no telling if Eligius would have still departed to Earth, but even then, he was the one to make the deal with Diyoza. He was the person responsible for freeing Blodreina from Pandora’s box. And he betrayed Clarke by allowing Madi to take the chip. It could have all been avoided if not for him. He was the man to blame for wreaking havoc on Clarke’s eternal serenity. She would never have that again because of him.

And now, with Eden growing closer with each step, how could he blame Clarke for never forgiving him when he couldn’t forgive himself?

The first sight of her upon returning to the valley left him speechless. His eye caught a bobbed blonde swimming through the blinding green of vegetation.

It had only been a few days, and yet, Bellamy felt like he was seeing her for the first time in six years, all over again.

First came relief, an incredulous laugh rising to the surface, only to be subdued seconds later by the cruel lump in his throat. He took a few steps back, leaning his hands on his knees as he bent down, choking back an unbearable sob that ripped through any last remaining hold on reality.

Pain, regret, grief; it all berated him in one senseless punch to the gut. Guilt, self hatred, horror; it suffocated him, leaving him heaving for his breath as if he was strung up in the air again, the noose determined to squeeze every glimpse of life from his struggling limbs.

Bellamy began to feel his legs carry him in Clarke’s direction. He had to physically grab onto a nearby tree to stop himself.

He couldn’t be selfish. Clarke hated him after he broke his promise to protect Madi. After all this time, she still trusted him. After all this time, she was willing to put her faith in him with the single most precious thing to her. She counted on him, believed in him, after six years, and he turned around and drove the dagger right into the flesh of Clarke’s back. He felt her skin give way as the pointed blade broke through, shattering whatever love she had left for him.

As Clarke’s eyes finally landed on Bellamy’s, he turned away, leaving his heart behind with the thousand unspoken words dangling lifeless from the tightening noose.

As Bellamy walked away, Clarke fell to her knees, just as she had after Praimfaya, a silent scream tearing through the thick air, an all too familiar warmth hitting her cheeks as she wailed into the night.

After having reunited with Echo and the others, Bellamy wandered off, digesting that this is where Clarke had lived since he had left, while Octavia rationalized how they would take the valley back from Diyoza.

He followed the distinct path carved into the land, worn from the many passes of the rover. The essence of Clarke vibrated in everything around him. The lush imagery imitated the soft curves of a pencil, every line delicately placed with purpose and intent. The sky reflected the tranquility crystallized in Clarke’s eyes, holding a globe of the Earth within their depth. The roots of the trees whispered her secrets, the birds sang her sorrow, the flowers embodied her ethereal aura, and the berries burst with her delight. Walking through Eden, thriving on her essence, it felt like the warmest of embraces; Clarke’s lips pressed into the dip of his shoulder, her breath tickling the side of his neck as she quieted his hushed sobs, one hand caressing his head, the other soothing his back. He finally felt home.

But Clarke chased after his trail of fallen tears, guided by her sheer desperation.

“So that’s it?” she howled after him, her voice hoarse from her strained cries.

Bellamy dropped his head in shame, his shoulders tensing at the clear pain in her voice.

Exasperated, he gave in, turning around, unable to meet her stare. He braced himself for her harsh, but deserved, words. He closed his eyes, the tears making their descent past his dispersed freckles. He could hear Clarke exhale into the thin silence at the sight of his disheveled appearance.

“You promised, Bellamy.”

The words jabbed at his heart and he could only squeeze his eyes shut tighter.

“I put my faith in you for six years and you broke my one promise.” Clarke said more to herself than Bellamy.  

“Clarke-”

“No, no! You don’t get to just ‘Clarke’ me this time, Bellamy!” she cut him off, echoing his tone.

“What do you want me to say?” He brought his gaze to hers, hastily wiping away his newly shed tears that came as a result of the look of hurt in her eyes. “That I’m sorry? That I take it back?” He worried his lip between his teeth. “Because I don’t.”

Clarke shook her head in disbelief from what she was hearing.

“How can you say that?” She stepped closer to him now, jabbing a finger against his chest. “You don’t get to choose what happens with Madi. You don’t have a say in her decisions.” Her tone only rose. “She’s like my daughter, Bellamy. You had no right!” Clarke seethed through a clenched jaw.

Bellamy did not falter. He stood his ground, keeping his eyes wide, even through the sting each word had on his soul.

“This is not the Bellamy from my stories!” she sobbed.

Bellamy backed away at that, confusion taking over his defiance.

“Wha-“

Clarke didn’t let him finish his sentence. “I told her you would protect her; do anything to ensure her safety when you finally came back to us! I trusted you with her. The Bellamy I knew would have never betrayed that trust. And now,” she raised a hand at him, trailing off for a moment. “Now, you’re standing right in front of me, but I’ve never felt more alone.” The words came spewing out of Clarke as though she was a broken faucet, the spout no match for the inner dam. “You left me, Bellamy. And I’ve been waiting for you to return to me for six years. I confided in you through that stupid piece of shit radio every day. For two-fucking thousand days. Imagine my surprise when you finally come back, only to put the one other person I had, in harm’s way.” she scoffed, this time being the one to turn her back and walk away.

“You wanna know why I did what I did?” Bellamy called after her.

Clarke paused, her gate falling out of sync.

Bellamy took her hesitation as a cue. “I didn’t poison my fucking sister just to stop her from destroying the earth.” He knew he would only cause more issues for them if he continued, but he was running on adrenaline and hell if he was going to stop now. “And nope, guess again, not because she was going to kill everyone in the valley.” The words came out heated and sarcastic. “I did it for you, Clarke. Because I already lost you once,” He had to swallow the lump in his throat. “And I am not doing that again.”

“Seriously, Bellamy? You got through it once, so you would have been fine! My life does not come before Madi’s!” She yelled.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Bewilderment graced his features.

“Please, enlighten me.” She didn’t hide the fury in her tone.

“I can’t lose you again, because I love you, Clarke.” His lips thinned into a straight line. “And if putting the AI in Madi would keep you alive, even if you hated me for it, then so be it.” He shrugged his shoulders, defeated.

“It was worth the risk.” He mimicked her words spoken so long ago, now just the kiss of a memory of who they once were, and how far apart they had fallen.

[sanctumslider]

The 100 Fic: Take My Name, I Offer My Soul

[A03] [ff.net]

The giving and taking of names for five relationships as each one begins; Memori, Marper, Mackson, Zaven and Bellarke. This story is meant to be read as a whole, but the sections can standalone as well, and are written in order.

~Mars~

What’s in a name?

What’s in a name, but a collection of letters, a jumble of sounds marking you as unique.

But there is power in a name.

In the naming, you can give something power. In the naming, you can take power away.

Your name can become you.

Or you can become your name.

Outsider.

Cockroach.

Traitor.

Thief.

Freak.

Murderer.

Tainted.

A name can burn you, a brand upon your skin. It can overcome you, until it is all that defines you. Until you’re sick of fighting it, tooth and nail, to be something more. Until you resign to it, until you accept it, and follow where it leads you.

But sometimes, rarely, impossibly… you find someone with the same names as you. With the same twisted brands upon their skin.

And you see that your names, the names those people gave you, the names they gave her… they were true yes, but they didn’t have to define you.

Sometimes a fire can burn brightly enough to cleanse those old names away, can kindle a passion you hadn’t thought yourself capable of. Sometimes you can find something, someone to fight for.

“John.”

His name sparked off her tongue, in a way that was always so unique.

His mom had used that name in disgust, in anger, hanging like ash in her mouth.

Jaha had used it too heavily, too purposefully, a suffocating weight trying to snuff him out.

The others used his second name… Murphy… and since he met her, since he had started to find a new path, he thought they might use it with fondness, friendship… even with the love of a family.

But when she named him… in joy or anger or passion or fear… it set fire to the space between them, and when he used hers…

“Emori.”

…it closed a circle. Together they burned hot and fast, as jumping sparks set alight to dry kindling. They were a constant chaos, and sometimes they burned so brightly that one of them would get hurt.

But they would always be drawn back to each other, pulled to the heat, lips hot like molten gold, blood burning, souls on fire.

~Venus~

Sometimes it comes upon you slowly, steadily, quietly. Sometimes it creeps up from beneath your feet as softly as the whispering trees. Sometimes you think you’re looking for fire when really, you’re looking for something, for someone to ground you.

She would never have thought at the beginning, when everything was new and exciting, that she would have ended up here. When she jumped from the gangway of the Drop Ship and her boots first sunk into the dark, loamy soil, how could she have imagined being where she stood today?

She thought she was in it for the fight, for the rush and the adrenaline and the blink of an eye.

Until she was buried beneath a mountain, and all she wanted was more time.

And he gave it to her. He brought her back from the brink more than once, with a promise of a future. He gave her life, and hope. In a dying world of bloodshed and anger, he believed there could be something better, something more. If only they had the patience to wait, and watch it grow.

“Harper Green, my wife.”

They couldn’t marry, not really, but when you’re the only two people standing, you can make the rules.

“Monty Green, my husband.”

In each other’s names, they found home. They found a life. They found time. Moments of quiet, moments of tears, moments of laughter. Moments of everything a full life should hold.

And with the moments, built each upon the next, with time ticking on as steadily as dawn and dusk on their old world below…

“Jordan Jasper Green, our son.”

So came one last name, born in the same sky as his parents, gifted with a life and a legacy and a potential.

And time kept ticking, slowly, steadily. Each day one more rotation of orbit, each day perfect in its banality, each day breathing in the life of the ones she loved.

It wasn’t what she had pictured, when she met him in the middle of a ramshackle camp in a forest. It wasn’t what he had expected, when he came to know her buried deep beneath the ground.

But they wouldn’t change it for all world, their little life lived long in the shadow of a dying Earth.

~Mercury~

In the deep and the dark and the cold, you start to forget who you are. You’re swept away, gasping, drowning in a tidal wave of hate, selfishness and anger.

Survival is paramount.

All else is secondary.

But then how do you stay sane? No one can drown forever and not die.

You grasp hold of something. You take hold with all your strength, anchor yourself against the raging currents that threaten to rend you apart.

One person will sink, claimed by the depths of despair.

Two people will kick and struggle and fight, help each other stay afloat amidst the chaos of a world that makes no sense. When you get tired, you know he won’t let you go.

It creates a love and a loyalty like no other, limitless as the ocean.

And there’s no one to tell you not to get swept away so fast. No one to tell you to think, to hold back, to be careful of getting hurt.

So you give yourself over completely, you trust in him utterly to keep you safe, to keep you sane as you will do for him. You love him with a furious determination, and he loves you with an unending certainty.

“Nate”

A name spoken in a whisper of a breath with questioning eyes. A careful and rare name, reserved. His other names, Miller… Nathan… he gave them freely to people who knew him, to people who cared for him, who laughed with him, who fought with him and watched his back.

But that one syllable, a trickle off the tongue, that name is for the people who love him. Because that’s all his love needs. It doesn’t need lots of words, to be drowned in declarations or complications. It just needs to be returned with as much as is given.

“Jax.”

It was an accidental name, a new name, not one he had owned before.

It wasn’t Eric, the name he had never felt he belonged to. The name that died on the lips of his mother, and sometimes came to life on the tongues of those like Kane who had known him as a child.

And it wasn’t Jackson, Doctor Jackson, the name he grew into, the name he used as a shield.

It was Nate’s. Vulnerable and open and honest and theirs.

They belonged to each other, standing fast against the sucking eddies and undercurrents that tugged coldly at their legs.

They wouldn’t drown. They would hold on tight. They would kick and struggle and keep each other afloat, even in the moments when it would be so easy to just sink, sink down to the depths and let the cold fill their lungs.

Waiting until the day the bunker opened, life could flood in, and their heads could finally break above the water.

~Jupiter~

You don’t know you’re in a cage until you see someone who’s free.

Boundless, intangible, ethereal.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, met someone like her. It had been so long ago, maybe he never had.

He didn’t know why he wanted to help her. He shouldn’t. She was the other, the unknown.

But she was also a hurricane, soaring, mind quick as lightning and just as deadly.

How could he be anything but pulled towards her? When she was everything he had wanted to be, back then at the beginning, before he had made his choice and doomed his crew.

His first mistake was to try to catch her, to pull her down, as if she was a little bird in need of protection.

He quickly learnt how wrong that was, how impossible. As unpredictable and changeable as dry autumn leaves whipped up into a dance, she caught him.

“Raven.”

Her name heralded her storm, her strength. From the moment he saw that bird shining through her code on his monitor, he knew something was going to change. Something was going to be different, this time.

And when her cool lips caught his in the darkest part of the night, he knew he would follow her anywhere.

Even if that meant pushing through the blood and the screams, even if it meant teetering on the brink of death. As long as he could fly by her side.

“Zeke”

She said the name for the first time with a wicked grin and a whispering breath, fingers dancing lightly over the middle name Ezekiel on the monitor, next to where he would lie down to sleep. Her lips brushed his, a ghosting promise.

He would leave Miles behind on the tongues of loved ones long dead. He would keep Shaw, for the people he still wasn’t sure he could trust. But this new name, she claimed it. For the new him, for the new future.

And when they woke, he couldn’t wait to be free. To be free with her and follow her at the slightest changes in the wind.

~Sol~

What’s in a name?

A name is taken. A name is offered. It is so much more than the sum of its parts.

A name can be simple, but it can be said in so many ways that each time it’s different.

A name can be a lingering shadow.

Wanheda.

A name can be a responsibility.

Big Brother.

And sometimes names can be bigger than themselves, they can stretch beyond their bounds and become a reflection of one another.

The Princess and the King.

Names can cause friction, they can force you down a path you didn’t want to tread, down a path you can’t be followed.

From the moment you say a name, it can be a fight, it can be a plea. It can be a million questions and answers and thoughts spilling out into the stars.

Sometimes you can own too many names, sometimes you can be trapped by one.

Sometimes you can take a name for granted, believing that with every sunrise and sunset, it will always be there to roll off your tongue with a grin or a frown, a whisper or a shout.

Until the day it’s not.

Until the day it’s not there to be said, for over two thousand sunrises, for over two thousand sunsets.

And you realise just how much you had come to rely on it, that name that was one half of your own. One half of your soul.

But when you finally get to say the name again, it trips on your tongue. It gets stuck, tumbling out without the hidden words that need to be said. And then you’re pulled away with a hundred names and responsibilities and fears that you simply can’t do it.

It never seems to come. It always seems like there’s one more disaster, one more horror, one more way to scream their name without saying the words.

Because your names aren’t fire. They aren’t quick to kindle, crackling with heat and passion and urgency.

They aren’t earth, able to grow old in wisdom and in peace.

They’re not water, swept away by a raging flood into a limitless ocean.

And they’re not wind, whipping and turning and wheeling with a boundless freedom.

Your names are precious, they are powerful, they are unique. They shine brighter than only one of you can contain.

And they needed time. They needed to leave the old world, the old sun and constellations behind. They needed to find a second beginning.

“Clarke.”

He had said her name more times than he could remember, than she could count. But this time it was new, it was different. It held a meaning it hadn’t held before.

“Bellamy.”

It shone in her smile, in her eyes, so bright and blinding and perfect.

Two names, so much more powerful than one, sealed with a kiss on their new world, in the stretching shadows cast long by twin suns.

[bettsfic]

i’ve finally decided to buckle down and finish a few of my wips. i have two scenes left to write of a bellarke Our Souls at Night au and then probably a bit of revision, so expect that tomorrow maybe?? i won’t have time to make a photoset tho so i hope yall share it with your friends anyway.

and then a post-canon Secret History fic that maybe has three or four more scenes but which i need the book to finish to check on canon consistency, and i won’t be home for another week, so expect that later maybe. it doesn’t matter because only like 3 people and a cornchip will read it. 

and then. THEN. i seriously need to work on actual publishable material, so i will sink into the ether and hopefully come out with a complete short story collection and a book proposal. 

pray 4 me

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

You act so proud of your reply to the other clexa anon (which wasn't hate at all, more indicative of YOUR mindset) yet you ignore the real point: Les/biphobic representation IN MEDIA. Nowhere did anon say bi/pan women falling in love w/men is wrong IN REAL LIFE. Congrats on misrepresenting anon's point. Then you go off on a tangent defending the "validity" of your ship when it's nothing to do with the ask. Then you attack grammar, because improper grammar MUST mean their argument is less sound.

Oh Nonny,

Do you feel better now? Now that you’ve let it all out?

First I’d like you to point out where I was proud, in the negative/haughty sense you seem to indicate. Statements without evidence is just opinion and therefore not persuasive. You need to provide evidence or your arguments fall flat. PEEL, Nonny, PEEL. Point, EVIDENCE, example, link. I’m pretty sure we covered this in Year 8, come on.

Now we broach the much bigger subject of fiction vs reality and how they impact one another. Honestly I could do an entire meta on this without your help and/or encouragement.

The OG anon in no way indicated that when she was talking about les/biphobia that they were talking purely about media. In fact, the exact quote was “damaging tropes condoning homophobic and biphobic prejudice.” Which seems to indicate that they were talking about how fiction can inform our real world prejudice, which is how I interpreted it. The trouble with text is that we can often be misinterpreted, so I’m open to the idea that I might be wrong, but I need you to convince me nonny, and so far, you’re not.

I only used real world examples to emphasise my point, but mainly used the “the 100” text as evidence, as that’s what we were talking about. I still don’t see how Bellamy and Clarke ending up together is les/biphobic in anyway, since Clarke is not a lesbian, Clexa was left on mutual if tragic terms - with them both still very much caring for each other, and as I have stated before a bi woman ending up with a man is in no way biphobic because attraction is a spectrum not an either or game. She has just as much right to be attracted to Bellamy as she did to Lexa.

The relationship between reality and the fiction we choose to create and consume is an incredibly important one and I think it is vital to think of them together. Often fiction informs our thoughts and prejudices just as much as our real life experiences, which is why tropes like “Bury Your Gays” and the general misunderstanding of multiple gender attraction can be so destructive.

By indicating that they thought Bellarke would be les/biphobic, OG anon did indicate, at least to me, that bi women getting together with men in real life would be equally damning. That’s not okay with me. I argued accordingly.

By accepting something in fiction, you accept it - even in a small way - in life.

I will agree that that paragraph where I indulged in a little Clexa vs Bellarke was petty and immature, but do you know what nonny? I felt petty. I felt angry and annoyed that we are still having these pointless arguments two years later. I will never understand the pain Clexas went through. I didn’t identify with either Lexa or Clexa, and while I empathised and understand on an intellectual level, I don’t really have that emotional connection to how everything ended for you. But to still hold on to a broken dream and try to drag others down into your pit of despair years later? Frankly, it’s pathetic.

It was petty, but I felt petty, and I indulged in that pettiness for once in my life and I am not sorry. You will not get an apology from me for pointing out the flaws in “the 100”’s writing team. I really wanted to root for Clexa, but it felt ridiculously rushed and I didn’t believe in it. Not in that “we are soulmates forever” way. It didn’t feel earned and I will keep saying that.

And finally, the grammar jab. Again, not my finest moment, I could have been less sassy about it. But I am an English tutor. I had just come back from doing this for 2 hours, and honestly? Would it have killed them to use a colon?

We are a fundamentally judgemental race, the only indication we have of each other is the text we are sending over the ether. If you don’t have the patience or self respect to proof check your own work before sending it to someone, how do you expect them to respect you?

Internet speak has fluid grammar it’s true, but that anon was clearly not using that, and the tutor in me riled. Grammar is the easiest way to make ourselves clear in a text-only format. Choosing to ignore that also sends a very clear message.

4/10 for execution.

If you feel this mark was unfair, resubmit your anonymous hate to the ask box with the appropriate recommended changes or feel free to message me at any time for a more direct feedback session.

We’re both aware that you can do better.Remember I’m always here to help you improve and present your best self.

- Professor Qwerty

[octannibal-blake]

Hi, love your fics! "kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap" for bellarke. (If you let me be specific....I'd like this in canon. I love Bellamy's scruff but I wouldn't be mad if there's a scene where clarke's sitting in his lap, shaving his beard off, and there's sexual tension)

gah thank you so much!! um, again, canon bellarke is my SHIT and writing this was truly an ethereal experience because like…bellamy blake and a beard has truly changed me. tbh i love it and think he looks amazing. but anyways, i hope this is everything you wanted and more, nonny! 

P.S: I was listening to the song Dearly Departed by DeVotchka while writing this. the title came from it. You can listen to it here. 

how i missed your heart (beating next to mine)

(ao3)

There is a strange sense of deja vu being back on Earth. You would think the second nuclear apocalypse would make everything different, but it stills seems eerily familiar. Perhaps it’s because six years later, Bellamy is standing in the same place he had been thousands of days ago. He’s standing on the balcony of the lab watching his friends drink and laugh together like nothing had changed. Like they didn’t carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Maybe it’s because they didn’t. Maybe he carried it all. Maybe he still does.

“You think it’s time we finally have that drink?” a familiar voice pulls him from his reverie. He turns to find her, still unsure if everything that’s happening is real. Clarke. She’s alive. She survived.

Their reunion hadn’t been glorious. In fact, it was a simple lock of the eyes and a half-smile before they had to disappear into the woods to escape their newest enemy. Of course. They always have fucking enemies. But now he gets to look at her, really look at her for the first time in 2,205 days. She looks healthy, her curves softer than they’ve ever been and her skin glows in the bright light. She’s cut her hair into a shorter bob and somehow managed to add color to it. She smiles like she hadn’t been left behind to die. Left behind to die by him. It makes his heart feel like it’s going to shatter into a million pieces – he knows because he’s felt it before. He felt it the day they left.

“I’m not much of a drinker anymore,” he says as lightly as he can despite thinking of the months he spent drinking away pain and loathing on the Ark. He’s not proud of himself, after all, they had chosen him to lead them. He did. He was a leader during the day, but at night he would numb himself to the responsibility. He would numb his heart so he could better listen to his head.

He feels warmth seep into his sleeve and freezes, his body unraveling at the smallest touch. She’s real. She’s real. She’s here.

“Bellamy,” she whispers his name and it’s a godsend. He always loved the way it fell from her lips and he spent so long believing he’d never hear it again. When he looks at her, whatever she had been about to say dies on her lips. They stare at each other, all their unspoken words hanging in the air. I’m sorry. I forgive you. I’m happy you’re here. I missed you. So much.

“Clarke!” Raven’s voice interrupts the moment, “Get your ass down here and drink with us!”

She steps back from him with a sad smile, like she wishes more than anything they could just have one fucking moment to themselves. But it’s just like old times. Just when they have a second to breathe together, someone always takes it away. He can’t really blame them this time. After all, they too are trying to comprehend the fact that their friend is alive.

He follows her over to the group, if only because he’s not quite ready to be away from her again even if it’s only for a moment. Not to mention he’s done six years of brooding on his own, he can’t take much more. His cup remains filled with water as they all laugh and tell stories of their years apart. They’ve lost so much but in this moment it feels like they’ve gained so much more. It’s late into the night before people begin to drift off, one by one. Eventually, he and Clarke are the only two left awake.

“I didn’t even know you could grow a beard,” she muses and he can’t help the chuckle that slips from his throat.

“Me either,” he admits, “It just kind of happened.”

And it did. Shaving became a tedious task by the end of their stay on the Ark. He was spending long days working on the rocket and using the rest of the time to sleep. Shaving wasn’t exactly a priority.  

“No razors on the ring?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Didn’t really care to do it, honestly.”

She hums in response before standing and holding a hand out to him. He raises his eyebrow in question and she grins (fuck, when did her smile start lighting entire rooms?), “Let’s go take care of it.”

He feels that sense of  deja vu again. Clarke Griffin is standing in front of him, hating on his beard, and acting like no time had ever passed between them. She’s forgiven him, he realizes. Of course she would. Only she would brush off being left to die and chalk it up to, ‘you did what you had to do.’

“You don’t like my beard, Princess?” it comes out before he can really think about it and she looks just as surprised as he feels but she plays it off.

“Eh.” and with that, he finds himself following her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She pushes him on the bed and demands that he sit and he’s trying not to let his mind go there but it all feels extremely intimate.

He hears her fumbling around in the attached bathroom and she emerges a few moments later with a bottle and old scalpel. He eyes the tool warily and she laughs softly.

“Trust me, it works a lot better than a knife,” she tells him. She places the items on the table and puts a hand on his cheek to examine the patches of hair that have grown along his chin and neck. His heart slams against his chest at the contact and suddenly the air feels thick.

Seemingly unaffected by the closeness, she grabs the bottle from the table and pours some into her palm before rubbing into the overgrown areas, “It’s conditioner. Surprisingly hard to make. “

He grunts, unable to form coherent words in this exact moment. 48 hours ago, they had been preparing to come back to Earth and have to start from scratch. As far as any of them knew, Clarke had been dead for six years. 24 hours ago, she had found them in a flurry of blonde, complete with an adopted child (which nearly makes him laugh, because of course she would find someone to take care of in their absence). Now, she’s in front of him helping him shave. It’s all so fucking surreal.

“Turn your head,” she murmurs and he does as she says, closing his eyes while her fingers massage into his cheek. Her hands are steady as they sweep the hair from his cheek, his chin. He can feel her breath brushing each newly bare area and it sends goosebumps up his arms. She’s here. She’s so close. He has to close his eyes for a moment to keep himself grounded. It can’t be happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But it is.

“Clarke,” it’s the first time he says her name and her movements still. When he opens his eyes, she is staring right back at him, her blue irises piercing into his soul. He swallows the small lump beginning to form in his throat.

“Tilt your head back,” she directs quietly and threads her empty hand through his curls, gently tugging him back. He has to close his eyes again because, fuck, the close proximity, the way she’s touching and caressing his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

She makes quick work of his cheeks and chin, but getting the patches on his neck seem to providing a lot more trouble for her. She pauses for a moment before setting the the scalpel on the bed.

She clears her throat, “I’m having trouble with this part…do you…can I?”

Her nervousness is full frontal now, wringing her hands in front of him and looking anywhere but into his eyes. He isn’t sure what she’s trying to ask, but he knows he doesn’t want her to stop.

“Go ahead,” he tells her. She lets out a small breath before she pushes his shoulder to help him lean back. He does, leaning back onto his forearms so she has full access to his neck. He’s fine. He’s under control. Until she climbs onto his lap, with her legs on either side of him. In all the time they’ve known each other, even in their most intimate moments, it’s the closest contact they’ve ever had. His breath hitches in his throat and she looks like she may change her mind, so he grabs her wrist and nods for her to continue. He wants her to keep going.

He tilts his head back and she leans in, her breath hot on his neck as she concentrates on the more sensitive parts of his throat. She works the blade slowly and gently, rubbing her thumb over the newly smooth skin. Before he’s ready, she scrapes the last of the hair and wipes at him gently with the cloth she had slung over her shoulder. She brushes it along his neck, his cheeks, his lips. His hands of begun to idly slide up her thighs, gripping her through her pants and rubbing circles into the flesh.

It’s funny how he could only know her for such a short amount of time, most of which they spent at odds, and yet still feel an unmistakable pull to her. Everything about her intrigues him, challenges him, moves him. His hands are on her waist now, digging into her hip bones and her eyes close at the touch. It’s too much, he thinks, it’s too soon to feel this way again. But she’s consuming him just like she always had and now that he has her back, now that she’s really here, he can’t find it in himself to pull away.

He leans up, bringing them closer together and leans his forehead against hers and they’re breathing each other in. They should talk, but talking almost seems inadequate. Her hands fall to his shoulders, they trace each plane of his arm like she’s trying to retrace every piece of him she could have forgotten in their time apart. As her hands fall, his rise, moving across her waist, her back, tangle in her hair. IT’s then he realizes he’s smiling, truly and genuinely smiling, and she’s smiling too. When her eyes open they’re full and he brushes a thumb along her cheek to wipe away the stray tear having fallen.

“You’re alive,” he whispers and it feels like the reunion they deserve. Uninterrupted. Personal. Intense.

“So are you,” she responds and suddenly the tension is too much. They aren’t close enough. She has to understand what it all means. What she means to him.

He brushes his lips against hers and it’s quick and soft. She stills and suddenly he thinks he may have misread her, may have gotten it all wrong. But then she chokes out a sob, one full of overwhelming joy and before he can react, she crushes her lips against his and her hands immediately tangle into his hair again holding him to her.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t ever dreamt about this moment. He had a million times, a million lifetimes ago. And he thought it would always remain a dream, that it would always be something he’d regret not doing before their time was up. But time has been forgiving. IT’s been a blessing. It’s been given back to them and he decides, right then as they pour everything into each other’s lips, that he won’t ever take it for granted.

[sometimesrosy]

I can't with this show. They make a new score for every bellarke scene we get this season. Like, they're passing each other in the hallway just to lock eyes and some etheral shit starts playing. wtf jroth, ever heard of being subtle?

THE MUSIC. I know. Sometimes just a second or two, but it’s still there.

JR must be subtle in SOME way, because damn the fandom has missed SO MUCH. I think season 3 was the most subtle and complex and it totally went over almost everybody’s head, so they got more heavy handed. Season 4 was a bit clunky because of it. 

Whenever I doubted, I just paid attention to the music. So tender and intimate. That ain’t platonic music. And it NEVER has been. 

[bellarkewrites]

how i missed your heart (beating next to mine)

by theoneinquisitor

the ethereal bellarke beard shaving scene we all deserve. tumblr prompt.

Words: 1947, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of tumblr prompts

Fandoms: The 100 (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin

Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin

Additional Tags: Bellarke, modernverse, Canon, S5 spec, the beard shaving experience we all want, bellarke as we deserve

Read it on AO3 at http://ift.tt/2i5pePK