#the100appreciationweek

[sithkylor]

All these platonic reunions are killing me

[morleybell]

The 100 Appreciation Week - Day “8″ of 7 - Ricky Whittle appreciation

[bobnorley]

the 100 appreciation week - day 7: the 100 appreciation day

smiles appreciation (✿◠‿◠)

[bobmorleyisking]

THE 100 APPRECIATION WEEK → Day seven - The 100 appreciation - The 100 ladies

[bobmorleyisking]

THE 100 APPRECIATION WEEK → Day seven - The 100 appreciation - The 100 men

Bonus:

[bellamythology]

bellarke meme - 7 fanfictions 

+  the 100 positivity week day 7 - the 100 appreciation

1. laundromat by @nathenmiller (troubledpancakes on ao3)

Clarke and Bellamy meet in a laundromat.

+ aka the four times Bellamy Blake was an actual walking disaster, and one time he wasn’t + bonus

2. the feel-good hit of summer by disco_vendetta

Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake are sleeping together.

(aka ROCK BAND AU)

3. there’s something in the water by @kindclaws

“Let me get this straight,” Wells says over the phone. “You think there’s a colony of weird feral nudists that lives down the beach? And one of them is the long lost brother of your boss and you have a crush on him? And your other boss supplies them with clothing when they feel like interacting with regular society?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Clarke asks, and he doesn’t, so weird feral nudists is what they’re going with for now.

4. No Space Lies In Between by @prosciuttoe

Bellamy smirks at that, distinctively rumpled and boyish, “If only there was a guidebook on living with your ex, huh?”  

She makes a face, “Well, I suppose you could write it. I wouldn’t count on it making the best-seller’s list though.”

(She has to remind herself that smirking is not a good look on Bellamy Blake. It’s not.)

Or: Clarke Griffin moves into her ex-boyfriend’s apartment- mostly out of convenience, but also mostly to spite her friends. In retrospect, she really should have thought this through.

5. Ice by rabiscar

“The boys continued to shoot pucks at her but she only skated faster, whirling around the ice in intricate serpentine step patterns. Bellamy watched with his eyes narrowed. He was annoyed but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. The girl could skate.”

Clarke is a figure skater & Bellamy is captain of the hockey team- they both need more ice time.

6. I wanna raise you to be like her by @tempestaurora (bowlingfornerds on ao3)

“They are my kids, Clarke,” he tells her. “They may get adopted and leave, but they’re mine, and I love them all.” Clarke watches him for a moment longer, and meets his eyes. Maybe she sees that he’s telling the truth, maybe she’s surprised, but she looks to her mug.

“Not a lot of people say that,” she responds.

*

Bellamy was just trying to take care of his sister - but somewhere along the way he bought a building and started his own orphanage. Now he has a house full of kids, running around, getting into trouble, and wanting good homes. Obviously, Bellamy finds himself loving each one of them like his own life.

+1 my latest fluffy piece: good morning is an oxymoron

prompt: “Person B trying to wake an obstinate Person A. After multiple fruitless efforts, they end up grabbing Person A’s face, getting up really close, and loudly singing “YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE. MY ONLY SUNSHINE…”

[winteroroctober]

the 100 positivity week: day 5 - favorite character ↳ she’s knows as wanheda, the commander of death.

[bellamythology]

good morning is an oxymoron

the 100 positivity week day 6 - favorite pairing (Bellarke)

prompt: “Person B trying to wake an obstinate Person A. After multiple fruitless efforts, they end up grabbing Person A’s face, getting up really close, and loudly singing “YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE. MY ONLY SUNSHINE…”

Rated: General Audiences Read it on (AO3)

It was a morning like any other. The sun was pushing through the blinds, the birds were gossiping away, and Bellamy Blake was curled up under four layers of blankets with his head buried under a pillow. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 10:04 am. It was a lazy Saturday morning, just Bellamy’s favorite type.

Or so he thought. (Or would’ve, if he were conscious enough to actually think.)

The shower turned off and quiet humming became audible in the sudden silence. A few minutes later, Clarke emerged from the bathroom, toweling off her hair. Still asleep, Bellamy rolled in her direction, dislodging the pillow from its perch atop his head. She smiled fondly.

As was her habit, Clarke opened the blinds and let the sunshine flood into the room, where the rays cascaded across the floor and painted a golden stripe down the bed. (Bellamy made what could have been construed as a sound of protest, but he didn’t wake.) Clarke clicked on the blow-drier and glanced over at her boyfriend again. The low din made him stir, but his eyes remained closed.

Clarke made no effort to keep the noise down as she went about her morning routine — if anything, she purposely dropped things and slammed lids —  but the most reaction she managed to elicit from Bellamy was an incoherent mumble.

Half an hour later, Clarke was ready for the day — and Bellamy was still asleep.

Resigned, she walked over to the bed. “Bell.”

No answer. No movement. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, she would’ve been concerned.

She drew back the blankets to shake his shoulder, gently at first, then rougher.

“Mm.” He rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his face.

She yanked at the blankets, but even in his sleep Bellamy had a tighter grip. They didn’t budge, and neither did he.

Clarke was undeterred. Swinging a leg over his to straddle what she guessed was his stomach — it was hard to tell under all those blankets — she reached out and took his face in her hands. He nuzzled into her touch, eyes still closed. Grinning mischievously as an idea struck her, Clarke leaned in as she lifted his head slightly off the bed so their faces were just inches apart. “YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE, MY ONLY SUNSHINE…”

He blinked a few times, nose scrunching up in that classic morning-groggy Bellamy expression. “Clarke,” he protested in a sleepy mumble.

“No, c’mon Bell, time to get up. YOU MAKE ME HAPPY, WHEN SKIES ARE GRAY…”

He twisted out of her grasp to huddle back into his burrow, grabbing at his pillow.

“Bell.” She was too far gone to stop now, really. “YOU’LL NEVER KNOW, DEAR, HOW MUCH I — mph.”

Eyes finally opened, Bellamy let the pillow fall as he squinted up at his girlfriend, framed by blinding sunlight that brightened her blue eyes and made a halo of her blonde hair. One side of his mouth quirked up in a playful smirk, offset by the clear affection in his eyes. “Good morning to you too, princess.”

Clarke’s mouth fell open in mock outrage. “Bellamy Blake, did you just —” She snatched at the abandoned pillow and whacked at him with it. “You’re actually twelve years old!”

“You say as you start a pillow fight!” he countered, groping blindly for her pillow to retaliate.

They’d each gotten a few good smacks in when Bellamy tossed his aside to grab onto hers, preventing her from continuing. “Clarke — babe —” he gasped through his laughter. (Usually it was a rich, deep sound, his voice, but Clarke liked it best like this — a little higher because he couldn’t quite catch his breath.)

“Bell,” she said, fond, and let go of the pillow in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck to she could lean forward and press a quick kiss to his nose. “You getting up yet?”

He sighed, rumpling his already sleep-mussed curls. “Fine, fine. Just for you.”

As they walked out the door an hour later, he leaned in to breathe in her ear, “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Clarke beamed.