THE BOY WITH STAR SPATTERED SKIN

independent | selective | bellamy blake rp penned by kate

[hedatombom-blog]

@mademurderer​

“Beja, breik osir au!” She doubts he understands her language, but it’s been long since she’s spoken gonasleng, and with her heart racing in fear, she can’t even remember any words. She tries to shake the hands off her, her hands in tight fists although she’s probably never punched anyone for real. There are TEARS in her eyes, she’s just be reunited wth her dear friends, believing this might be a safe place until she figures out a way to be reunited with her NIRON as well. Seems like she’s been wrong after all. 

She turns to look at the man, hoping her voice won’t break down. Even if breathing HURTS as if her lungs are in FIRE. “Yu nou laik fotowon, ai na ai daun op. Beja… Oso nou na bash yo op, ai SWEGA KLIN!” 

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there isn’t any part of him that wanted this. he understands the intent that his people have; afraid and new to the ground. feeling powerful with grounders tied to dropship parts; begging for their lives. they can’t understand a word of their tongue - but he sees it on their features. in the tone of their voices. dark eyes struggling to look at what they’ve done. at what HE’S done. the leader. his decision final. everybody looking up to him - waiting for him to do the right thing. but he struggled to believe that this was right. that any of this was right.

head cants as he looks down upon her; the desperation in her voice breaking away at the cold exterior he pretends to front; the toughness he wears like a mask. ❝ please --- stop talking. you’ll make this worse ❞

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notreallyablackwell:

Must he be ANNOYINGLY cute? He was attractive albeit annoyingly full of himself and she was used to shooting down these kind of guys. As NICE as the gesture was sending the drinks over, she was certain her little group of friends couldn’t be bought by a round of cheap drinks, even when they were halfway through consuming them already. Diana resisted the urge to THROW the drink at his face at his words, rolling her eyes at him.

“If that’s what keeps you from going crazy with your hand down your pants all night, then be my GUEST– keep thinking that way,” she sighed, taking another sip of her drink, sparing him a once over as she shook her head, slathering the PATRONIZING tone all over her words. “But don’t call me SWEETHEART,” she met his gaze, sparing a look towards his snickering friends before she turned away, heels clicking against the floor.

She settled herself back in her small group of friends who hadn’t quite moved on from their little topic of how to keep their heels from sticking in the soft earth while they walked, her back turned from the small group of guys out of the corner. She SHUDDERED in disgust at what he might be thinking, even though the way his eyes looked over her made her blush a little.

One of their friends had suggested a round at the POOL table, something Diana was quite adept with, considering she’d played with her father quite a few times when she was younger. She breathed out softly, trying to CALM herself a little as they left their table as they made their way towards the pool table.

part of him was ready to drop it; feeling as though none of them were worth causing trouble for. and he didn’t really want a sugary, pink martini thrown on his new jeans. or his pride-and-joy cowboy hat either. so with some defeat, he turns back to the bar and finishes another two beers. resisting the itching urge to crane his neck and just see what those girls were up to. they had gone awfully quiet. no screams. no squeals.

until somebody yells POOL. and it’s a loud clattering of heels upon the bar floor; girls reaching notes so high that bellamy can swear his ears begin to ring. his friend nudging him to force him to pull his eyes away from new york; to force him back to ignoring the flock of girls who smell of fake tan and hairspray, all rolled into one.

❝ always the crazy, high-maintenance ones, hey bell ❞ he breathes. and by god, bellamy can cheers to that. glasses clinking, the rest of his beer thrown back. another ordered. another round done. they’re still yelling through the game; he’s trying his best to ignore her. but with every drink, every inch towards tipsy; he’s finding it harder and harder to do.

so eventually, he’s turned to sneak one look. what harm could that do? but eyes catch and he presses on that SMUG grin again; sending her another wink. because he has to see her go weak at the knees; has to win this one over. bellamy blake doesn’t lose.

[tylerblackburn]

Bellamy, if you can hear me, you’re alive. It’s been 2,199 days since Praimfaya. I don’t know why I still do this every day. Maybe it’s my way of staying sane, not forgetting who I am who I was. It’s been safe for you to come down for over a year now. Why haven’t you? The bunker’s gone silent, too. We tried digging them out for a while, but there was too much rubble. I haven’t made contact with them, either. Anyway, I still have hope.

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MADEPOST. would anyone like to plot? up for anything!! but kind of want something that’s a little more planned out than just random starters!

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notreallyablackwell:

He WASN’T her type, not because he was the stereotypical country boy. No, not that. She’d met guys like him in the city, too– POMPOUS, arrogant and egotistical. Like every girl could fall at his feet at the sight of him… and while he wasn’t at all bad looking, he was BAD NEWS and she knew it. She couldn’t help but ROLL her eyes at him at the wink that he sent his way.

She turned from the bar with her drinks, a small flick of her dark, perfectly curled hair as she walked away from him. They weren’t supposed to be FRATERNIZING with the locals, not that it stopped Miss Georgia from hooking up with one of the guys in the last city. The shots were downed quickly, and the bartender came with a round of PINK girly drinks Diana never ordered.

She looked over to where he was, glass filled with a fresh round of beer as she pursed her lips together. It was exhausting to listen to the girls complain, and while she wasn’t really fond of the HOT, sticky weather, either? She wasn’t about to be lumped in with the rest of them, nor was she going to let him think that ALL pageant girls fit in the little notion in her head.

She moved to take one of the drinks from the table, letting the girls go a little CRAZY with them as she moved to walk towards him, setting the drink down as she pursed her lips at him. “I think this BELONGS to you,” she slid the girly drink down towards his direction, turning to the bartender to order herself a gin martini. “– if you THINK you’re going home with a pageant girl tonight, you’re sadly mistaken. I wouldn’t keep my HOPES up.”

at first, he doesn’t look at her. just looks ahead with that shit-eating grin that he wears so well. tongue in cheek; listening to her. listening to her bratty attitude sing through the words that fall from parted lips. i’m too good for you. we’re all too good for you. country scum. it’s all he hears. all he ever hears from these girls. from any girl that isn’t ready to get her hands dirty and help out on the farm.

a girl too focused on her makeup and perfectly curled hair to see past anything but fake eye-lashes. nah. not his type. and yet he quirks a brow and looks up towards her; still wearing a smirk so smug that he can already see she wants to slap it off his face. why were these pretty girls so damn palm happy when it came to slapping?

❝ oh sweetheart --- ❞ he starts, taking a mouthful of his beer and swiveling in his seat slightly; moving to face her properly. head, body, all of it. eyes lifting to meet with hers. he catches himself. just for a moment. staring. picturing himself taking her home and putting a little country in her. but a slight shake of his head snaps him out of it. straightening up as he clears his throat again. where was he?

oh that’s right. ❝ --- if i wanted to take any of your pretty - albeit covered in makeup  friends home, i’d be just fine in doing so ❞ he tells her; bringing beer to his lips once more. ❝ pick one. point one out to me and i can assure you that she’s got her lips on me somewhere by the end of the night ❞ bellamy really didn’t miss that cocky gene, did he? 

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bornbutterfly:

Octavia has no idea how she’s going get through this damn day. But even though she really badly just wants to cling onto him and tell him to drive her back home, she knows she can’t do that. She would be that scared chick who hadn’t dared come to school. And she really wasn’t a CHICKEN. 

She smiles, still trying to convince him –– both of them maybe –– that she’s just fine. “Okay. I’ll text you after the class,” Octavia promises. In some other situation she would’ve probably teased shit out of him for being overprotective, but now she just decides to agree onto it with no fight. “Will you come pick me up after school?” she asks, knowing that he’d come even without asking. He’s probably memorized her whole class schedule. 

And she leans closer, pecks a kiss on top of Bellamy’s cheek as she grabs her bag, ready to go. “See you later!”

eyes don’t leave her until she’s around a corner and a brick building blocks the view of his little sister. and even then, he has to stop himself from trying to lay across the seat to make sure that he can see her make it inside safely. over-protective is his middle name, especially when it comes to her. so he can’t help but let out a loud GROAN as his head is thrown back and palms slam against the steering wheel. this can’t be happening.

dark eyes fall upon the car that pulls out of the lot and then fall upon her; small frame ascending towards him; backpack slung over one shoulder and his fingers beneath the strap; lips pulling into a smile as he watches her. how can he not? even with the horrific news of the morning, she’s still the light of his life. all bundled into the tiny package that was octavia blake.

❝ hey baby ❞ he breathes easily; an arm coming around her as he allows his nose to bury in her dark hair; unable to shake the thought that it could’ve been her. that he could be mourning the loss of octavia blake; the best part of lincoln was her. he knew that. and so, he holds her a little tighter. ❝ how are you holding up? ❞

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madefighter:

there’s no reply, mahogany eyes scanning her surroundings as hard as they could for any sign of him. for any clue he would’ve left her to let her know exactly where to find him, but there’s nothing. but that’s when she hears the movement before she’s able to see anyone, hand tightening on her blade as she prepared herself from whoever is coming at her. 

her blade’s aimed where the nose is coming from, prepared to chuck it at the person who came out of the bushes but then he breaks through the tree line & her body instantly relaxes. a relieved sigh leaving her lips as soon as his arms wrap around her, dropping her blade to the floor as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, taking in the safeness of his arms.

❝ bellamy. oh thank god. i was so scared i wasn’t going to be able to find you. ❞ she speaks, her voice still a bit shaky before she finally pulls away from him even though she doesn’t want to. but they need to get moving, especially now that her voice was to echo the forest. ❝ we’ve gotta get moving, i’m sure roan & echo aren’t too far. ❞

there’s this sense of magnetic between them. the way she moves into his arms, and he opens them for her. their bodies so in sync with one and other; his large hands settling upon her back. perhaps squeezing her a little too tight. but he can’t help himself. not as he buries his nose in her hair and inhales; tension melting away just at the familiarity that fills his lungs. the feeling of being home, even if they’re miles away from it here.

he pulls back slightly; hands coming to either side of her face. cupping it there for a moment; thumbs swiping over the spatters of blood upon her olive skin; brow furrowing slightly. and suddenly he’s checking her for injuries. eyes scanning over her almost frantically. heart in his throat. he knows she’d be the first to hide something from him; and end up DYING from her pride.

but he comes up empty. thankfully; instead, allowing a breath to escape him before a nod of his head follows. echo and roan are good. too good for them at this point; too easily able to adapt. able to work with unforgiving climates and terrains; with any weapons they please. BORN for this. bellamy and raven? not quite. ❝ i passed a few caves. but they might be too obvious ❞

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Tell me about Diana. ( totally anon )

&&. ASK BELL THINGS // @notreallyablackwell 

he smiles. head dips if not for a moment too long. but when he lifts his eyes again; there’s this glint in dark orbs; dimples pressing lightly into cheeks. barely there -- octavia got most of that gene. and in turn, bellamy got the spattered skin - freckles across his skin.

at first, he glances off to the side. as though his mind is going over diana. everything he remembers of her. wanting to do her justice when he speaks about her. wanting to convey her beauty but not wanting to sound soppy all at the same time.

❝ she’s --- she’s diana. you won’t understand just how incredible is unless you know her ❞ bellamy starts; hands wringing together. even the mention of her name gets his heart racing. ❝ she’s a constellation. the sun on a rainy day. a rainbow after the storm. the best part of a worst day --- she’s --- she’s diana ❞

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look at my bae @notreallyablackwell

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" Everyone loves you, not me."

&&. COME ASK BELL THINGS // @crownddeath 

it’s quiet. a different quiet than they’ve ever known. upon the ark, silence involved the humming of the ark; the machinery still buzzing. out here, on the ground, it’s the soft noise of insects; wind through the trees. a never-ending forest around them. at least that’s what it feels like.

but his hand rests on the hilt of his gun and he looks towards clarke. the conversation had revolved around everything that had happened in the three days that they’d been down here. mostly at each other’s throats; but needing to make this trip together. to find water. no point surviving everything so far and dying from dehydration.

brow quirks at her words and he finds himself stopping. eyes following her as she continues. though as she realises he’s stopped moving, she comes to a halt too.

❝ you parents. one of them would have let you do all the fun stuff. right? and the other would’ve been more strict ❞ bellamy sends her a slight smile. he doesn’t hate her. not as much as he lets show. ❝ i’m the fun parent. they all want to listen to what i’m saying because it’s fun. but you -- clarke, you’re keeping up alive. and at some point, they’ll all realise just how much they need you ❞

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notreallyablackwell:

The girls weren’t very EXCITED to be coming into this town, specifically– it was your typical country town: horses, cowboy hats and bull riding. Not exactly your GLAMOROUS pageant girl tour spot, but they were to visit every state this year, spending a week in every one until the final two weeks in Las Vegas where the coronation was being held.

Her sash was FIRMLY pinned across the tiny dress she wore, hair perfect down to the last curl as she let out a small chuckle at the joke Miss Alabama had cracked. She wasn’t always from New York, she had grown up in a small town much like this one and they moved when her mother had died and her father got a BIG SHOT job in Manhattan.

The hotel wasn’t a five star luxury one, but it was the best in the city, right across one of the most POPULAR bars where some of the America’s biggest country stars had started off their little careers. She gushed over them, always wanting to be a singer apart from the MISS AMERICA dream she’d been chasing since she was a child.

She looked over her shoulder as the LAUGHTER cracked from a small group of country boys and the smile on her face SOURED a little. She rolled her eyes at them, crossing the room in her high heels as she ordered a round of drinks for the girls she was with, sparing the COWBOY a little look as she waited for their drinks.

facing the bar once more, his large hands curl around the glass. skin damp from the condensation. tongue flickering over pink lips. he’s laid his eyes upon one of them. her obnoxious sash reading miss new york. and he’s very aware of her presence. the way she’s sticking out her bum ( and fair enough, with a slight peak, it looks like she’s worked for it ), and walking so effortlessly in heels so high.

but he doesn’t hesitate to send her a wink; feeling eyes upon him from across the room. likes to play a little and hey, maybe he’ll get a one-night stand with a pretty girl. something a little more exciting than the same few faces that he finds in their small town. all the girls here more like sisters than anything else. 

so he orders another beer; and leans across to the bartender to whisper a few words in his ear. it’s the weekend, after all. and maybe there’s no rest for the wicked; the farm doesn’t stop because it’s a saturday; but it doesn’t mean that he can’t take it a little easier. can’t enjoy himself when the pageant rolls into town.

which means he whispers an order to send over to the girls. a round of the girliest drinks on the menu. and maybe it’s a jab at the girls whinging about broken nails; or dirt that’s scuffed the bottom of their heels. or the heat, or the smell of sweat and dirt and hay in the bar. or the mechanic bull off on the corner. but part of it is to catch the attention of the pretty brunette from new york.

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bornbutterfly:

She doesn’t know what to say, these kind of news aren’t something you’re supposed to hear. She hasn’t known the girls too well, but they had been fun company, and thinking that someone had just killed them… There are cool chills running down her spine. This COULDN’T be happening. Octavia draws in a sharp breath, her fingers wrapping around her bag, squeezing a bit tighter. And now she’s supposed to go to school? Great… 

Octavia nods, since she isn’t sure she can talk without her voice trembling. She swallows and turns to flash a smile at him, even though her face is a little too pale and she knows that he can see right through her. 

“No, I’m fine. I’m not a little baby,” she huffs. She couldn’t just walk in with her brother, that’d just ruin her reputation in this damn place. “I’m FINE…” This time it’s more of convincing herself about it than anything else. 

bellamy blake knows his little sister. he’s raised her. taught her to walk, to speak. filled her mind with stories from the pages of the books that he loves the most; helped her begin to shape her own life and world. slowly learning to loosen his grip on her. let go of his need to be involved with every aspect of her life. but now? he doesn’t even want her to walk across school grounds alone.

bellamy knows that octavia won’t let this affect her. at least, won’t let it show. won’t walk beside her brother in fear of it damaging her reputation. in fear of losing her footing on the social ladder. but two people have just been MURDERED. and maybe it’s paranoia; but he doesn’t want anybody to come near her.

❝ octavia --- just ❞ he looks at her for a moment; arm extended, hand still upon her shoulder. eyes searching hers ( maybe for a little too long ), before he sighs. hand falls away, and for a moment he bows his head. ❝ --- just text me. let me know you’re okay ❞ he can’t protect her from everything. 

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&&. COUNTRY MEETS CITY // @notreallyablackwell

leaning against the bar; settled upon a stool, hands around a glass of beer. he’s still donning his cowboy hat; still in flannels and chaps upon his calves. still smelling of dirt and sweat; and the lingering fragrance that accompanies rising a horse in the summer heat. this is how he usually presents. and it’s all he’s ever known.

mid-way through conversation, laughing at a lame attempt at a joke. nudging a friend’s side as the bar doors open and suddenly, there’s an influx of pretty, made-up, big hair, tiny dresses; hairspray smelling GIRLS.

every DAMN year they make it to bellamy’s little home-town; parading around while WHINING about the dirty country. wishing they were home in the city instead. complaining of lack of phone signal. complaining of this home away from home.

and so he takes another mouthful of the dry alcohol; sending a look to his friend and raising his glass. to another year.

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&&. CLOSED STARTER // @bornbutterfly 

thumbs hammer against the steering wheel nervously; eyes ahead but he’s not looking at anything. lost in his mind; in his own thoughts. the car rumbles beneath him as the engine continues to run; radio playing softly; octavia in the passenger seat.

they haven’t moved yet. not since the news rang through the car radio. two girls dead in their own home; suspected murder. it was a small town. these things don’t happen here.

fingers drag over his lips as he lets out a gentle sigh; pulling keys from the ignition and silencing the engine. looking towards his little sister; and offering a hand as he reaches to her shoulder. 

❝ you okay, o? ❞ he manages softly; voice a little shakier than he’d like to admit. he knew one of them. so did octavia. fox and zoe. not that close. but it still shakes him. ❝ --- i can walk you to class? if you want ❞ 

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&&. CLOSED STARTER // @hoperisen 

                                                                            --- once you’re gone, you can never come back. 

fingers dance across the leather of his steering wheel, toeing the accelerator as the vintage car flies down the highway. rain falling from opened skies; thunder rumbling over the horizon. headlights flooding into the darkness; wipers almost melodic as they swing back and forth. back and forth. 

mind elsewhere. swimming in thoughts of his sister back in his little home-town; surviving aurora. he hopes. fingers come to lips and rub across the pink flesh as though that will aid his discomfort; ease the sickness in his stomach. he hates thinking about being so far away from his family.

                                                                                               --- out of the blue. and into the black. 

bright lights against the nothingness; he passes another car. nothing unusual. yet body turns in leather seats; foot pulling away from the accelerator for a brief moment. eyes upon the something; such a contrast against the fields of empty that he’s been passing for hours now. and something; SOMETHING within him presses on the brake. palm turning the wheel slightly; veering off into the dirt.

backlights illuminate as he reverses; eyes remaining on the lack of movement. a hint of smoke. and he’s out of the car as soon as he can put the handbrake on. he smells it now. smoke. gas. danger.

❝ hey!! --- ❞ a loud call past the noise of the rain; the growl of distant thunder. he can see someone. a figure in the front seat. and then he sees the damage to the car; the pieces of TREE that they’ve dragged along with them. ❝ --- are you --- are you okay?! ❞ another call as he nears the wreckage; hands coming to the bonnet, then the side-mirror, pulling himself towards the driver’s door. just to speed himself up a little.

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MADEMURDER. would anyone like to do an angsty thread with bellamy where he’s the first at the scene of a car accident and he saves the other and then sticks around through them healing??

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impcled replied to your post “@damnleader  yeah well if we’re gonna talk about how wrong blakecest...”

anytime bellamy touches a delinquent it's statutory if we're going full truths so by elitist rules no one should ever rp as bellamy

yeah what about those girls he fucked in the first season? threesomes with underage girls? nah. that’s not problematic enough to cause drama on the dash so we won’t mention it

also. amazing. all bellamy’s are cancelled. we should probably send bob morley hate too. cause. he acted it. so. he must support it irl.