Apr 18, 2019
Why did 1x8 go so hard for Bellarke ?????
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Why did 1x8 go so hard for Bellarke ?????
Their mom always knew when the inspections were because she was sleeping with the security chief. That's why he grabbed her ass and told her to come by his quarters later. It wasn't just for Bellamy's letter of recommendation.
oooOOOOH that makes a lot of sense, i totally looked over that
You should have seen the way he was looking at you while you were out
How?
Love's a game.... wanna p l a y ?
About Me - Male Characters I Love [1/?] Bellamy Blake (The 100)
Who we are and what we need to be to survive are very different things.
This can't be happening to me. This is just a dream...
The 100 AU:
After escaping from Mt. Weather, Clarke is reunited with the Ark survivors. Upon her return, Clarke finds out that Bellamy died waiting for her.
[x]
“Mom?” Clarke yelled, running through what was left of the Ark. “Mom?”
A thin figure emerged from a doorway ahead of her and Clarke stopped. “Jackson?”
He paused in his tracks to stare at her in astonishment. “Clarke? You’re here?”
Clarke smiled, despite herself. “I’m glad to see you, Jackson.”
As she spoke, tears began welling in Jackson’s eyes. She hadn’t seen him in months, but she wasn’t ready for tears just yet. Clarke changed the subject. “Do you know where my mom is?”
“She’s – uh – she’s with a patient,” Jackson answered, sniffling.
“Okay, I’ll go get her.” Clarke charged past Jackson and down the hallway.
“Clarke, wait!” Jackson’s panicked voice echoed off the metal corridor, the sharpness of it making Clarke hesitate.
“What?” She really didn’t have the time or patience for this. She had so much she needed to talk to her mom about, especially about the battle with the grounders and Mt. Weather. And Clarke wanted to know who else was here.
She had held out hope for the entire month at Mt. Weather that her people would be here. That the rest of the 100 would be alive and well, reunited with the Ark survivors. For the past five minutes, Clarke had been running in circles around this fragment of the Ark and she had yet to see any of them.
“Clarke, it’s – you can’t go in there. Abby is in surgery.”
“What do you mean?” Clarke’s eyes narrowed.On Earth, there was nothing, no supplies. How could she be in surgery? There was nothing to operate with! ”Does she even have equipment? Medicine?”
Jackson showed no sign of answering, just stood there with red-rimmed eyes, his lips closed.
The lack of answer had Clarke agitated. Jackson always answered her prying questions when he could. Then Clarke realized why. “Who is she operating on?”
Jackson's silence struck Clarke like ice.
“Jackson, who is in surgery?”
“Clarke –” Jackson stopped, taking in a deep breath. “Clarke, I’m not sure if I’m the one who should tell you –”
“Tell me what?” She didn't have time for this. “Spit it out, Jackson.”
Just as he opened his mouth to answer, a door opened with a hiss and Abby walked in.
“Mom!” Relief flooded over Clarke. She rushed to her mother, leaning in for a hug when she saw the blood staining Abby’s gloves.
“Mom?” The reprieve that had just filled Clarke now hardened. “Who’s blood is that?”
Abby’s face froze and Clarke took a step away from her. It was the same look her mother had when she told Clarke her father was being executed.
"Clarke, honey…”
The sagging of Abby’s shoulders did nothing to dissuade Clarke’s predictions.
“Who is it, Mom?” Clarke whispered, barely hearing herself. “Who's in there?”
“I’m so sorry, Clarke. There wasn't anything more I could do. He came here in such bad shape, I was amazed he lasted as long as he did.” Abby’s arms reached out to her daughter, the blood still glistening on her gloves. “I just wish he could have lasted long enough to see you. He asked for you, you know.”
“Mom. Just tell me who it is. Is it Finn? Sterling? Bellamy?”
Abby’s face contorted.
It couldn't be Bellamy. Bellamy always survived. Whether he had to maim, scrap, kill, Bellamy would always survive. Clarke knew that. She had to. Bellamy was the reason any of them had survived the grounder attack. He was the one who knew how to fight. He was the one who would live.
Clarke had known, even while trapped in Mt. Weather, that Bellamy would be okay. She thought that Bellamy would be here waiting for her.
She knew exactly what he would say. “Princess,” he would greet her, that stupid smirk spreading across his face the moment he saw her, “What took you so long?”
But Abby was nodding instead of shaking her head and then her arms were around Clarke and she was repeating, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Suddenly Clarke was yelling “Who is it? Who is it?” over and over again until the words were unintelligible and she was just screaming.
“Clarke! Clarke, honey! Stop!”
Then Clarke ran out of air and the room echoed as silently as a morgue.
“Mom?” Clarke asked after a moment. She stared at her mother, blue eyes meeting brown, begging for a different answer than she knew was coming. “Is it Bellamy?”
Abby nodded, tears making lines like scars down her face. “Yes, baby. I’m so sorry.”
The words hit Clarke like a grounder’s axe and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
“I have to see him,” Clarke stated, her voice trembling. “I need to see him.”
Clarke pushed off from her mother, stumbling to the surgery room.
“Clarke, that’s not a good idea,” Abby warned but Clarke kept going anyway. She knew it wasn’t a good idea, but she had to be sure.
It was a small rectangular room, maybe half the size of Abby’s medical room on the Ark. In the middle of the room was a long table, the figure laying on it was covered by a blue sheet.As Clarke approached it, her hands clenched involuntarily. She paused as her fingers reached the fabric and she wasn't so sure she actually wanted to know who was under it.
Clarke took a deep breath, steeling herself. If it really was Bellamy, she had to know. If she didn't look, some part of her would always believe he was alive and that he would find a way back to her.
Clarke grasped the abrasive fabric between her thumb and forefinger and threw it back. The sight of the body stabbed Clarke like a dagger to the heart.
Bellamy was lying on the table, his brown eyes closed and his tan skin pale. Blood had dried around his lips, contrasting his now-pasty skin. The freckles across his cheeks had blurred into violet blotches.
Clarke pulled back the sheet even further, exposing his bare chest and a slice stretching from his ribs down to his hip. Black stitches peppered the wound but white puss crusted the edges and it had taken on a yellow twinge. Even Clarke knew that it had been infected. More likely than not, that was the wound that had killed him.
“Bellamy,” Clarke murmured, pulling the sheet up so that only his arm and face was exposed. “Why did this have to happen to you?” If only she had gotten there earlier, maybe she could have done something. Maybe he would have fought harder. She never even got a chance to tell him.
But now, there was nothing left to tell. It was impossible to look at his face without being reminded that he was dead. There was nothing left here of the Bellamy she loved.
“You were so strong, for so long.” Clarke took his cold hand between hers, memorizing the bumps of his knuckles and the smoothness of his palm. This was the last memory she would have of him. “You deserved so much more than this, Bell. You deserved to be happy.”
Clarke’s voice hitched. She wanted to be the one to make Bellamy happy. That month at Mt. Weather gave her a lot of time to think and to actually appreciate what she had. She missed him. She missed his passion, his smile, and even his stubbornness. She missed the way he looked out for everyone at camp and the fact that, even if he didn't agree with her, he would follow her anyway. He would have followed her into Hell if she told him that was where she was going.
Clarke looked at his face for one last time. She missed Bellamy. Now, she knew she always would. She never got the chance to fall for this boy, really fall, but somehow on this horrible planet, this brown-eyed boy had stolen a part of her. And when he died, he took that part of her with him, never to be recovered, never to be seen again.
Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you're magic