Shipping-my-otps - Jiewei

They were infinite. They were the beginning and the ending; they were eternity. The king standing before them gaped as the shield of flame died out to reveal Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand. glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UUUUUP WE AIN’T READY FOR S5

A collection of some of the basic things you’ll need to start your bellarke journey! 

Since this got a bit of traction i’m reposting it with a better format and hopefully more people will get involved giving me suggestions. 

Fanfiction

Caught in the fire 

Love will come through(Arranged marriage AU) 

The feel good hit of the summer( Rock band AU)

We Could be

I loved him first

Matched (Ark AU)

Time enough for rocking when we’re old(Fake Relationship AU)

Pistols at Dawn(Modern AU)

When the stars are the only thing we share

Live my life without(Modern AU)

We are Undone by Each other (Archaeology AU)

In my House on the Hill(Ark AU)

Fuck the word fond

Survivors Guilt

I tried to include a variety of tropes and settings form a large range of writers. If you want more check A03 or the bellarke fanfiction tag.

Fanmixes

Talk some sense to me

The rebel & the princess

I need you|| The 100

This is on you princess

The princess and the rebel

Videos

Bellarke | Come Home

Bellamy & Clarke || All of the stars

Bellamy&Clarke | Turning Page

Clarke & Bellamy | You’re not making it easy

Bellamy & Clarke | Looking to Closely

Bellamy & Clarke | May we Meet Again

Bellamy & Clarke | All I Want

Bellamy & Clarke | See You Again

Bellarke [4x03] | Anchor

Bellamy & Clarke| Knocking on Heaven’s Door

The brain and the heart | Bellamy and Clarke 

Blogs

There’s lots of blogs in the 100 fandom and joining networks is a great way to find the good ones. Keep an eye on #the 100 tag for them. 

@bellarkefanfiction - your church for all bellarke fics. They’re tagging system is brilliant and they can usually find anything you’re looking for

@infobellarke - everything Bellarke. Also on Twitter. 

@the100-news - more general the 100 news and info

@the100writers - the writers have a tumblr! Worth following for their script to screen releases

@the100daily - just the get some the 100 on your dash

@daily-bellarke - what it says on the tin!

@fuckyeahbellarke

@bellarkefanfictionawards 

@fyeahbellarke 

@bellarke​

@the-100-meta-library​

The 100 fandom is an active and busy place so keep an eye on the tags and for people who have a good reputation in the fandom. Remember to enjoy yourself and have fun! That’s what tumblrs all about! 

I’ve done my best to include a large collection of things but obviously it is focused on bellarke rather so it’s a bit biased! Please recommend things to include or add your own fic recs as you reblog! 

ToG Men

From script to screen.

😵

in two days percy jackson will be over

in two days my life will be over

To All the Delinquents I’ve Loved Before. [insp.]

peter k and lara jean after book 3

peter kept his promise of writing a letter to lara jean every once a week

they call every night before going to sleep

sometimes, without telling lara jean, he drives to UNC and surprise her

then they both drive back to surprise their adopted child (a.k.a. kitty)

lara jean forces peter to help her bake but somehow it always ends up with them throwing flour at each other

lara jean pretends to get mad at peter but is secretly enjoying it as much as he does

they spend their weekends going around the city trying all the famous bakeries to find the best macarons (something lara jean is into right now after she made the perfect chocolate chip cookies)

when peter has a big game lara jean would leave school early and surprise him and wears his jersey that she DIYed

for peter's birthday lara jean hosted a party (yes a party) because she knows peter enjoys parties

of course she had help from chris

peter is genuinely surprised when all his friends from highscool showed up

when he found out lara jean was behind all this he went up to hug her and kiss her in front of everyone

lara jean can't stop blushing

"Standards: A Slam Poem"

“Standards: A Slam Poem” In third grade I sat wondering, “Aren’t your parents supposed to love you?” After yelling at me for receiving a 99%, I sat heartbrokenly crying at the piano, incoherently sobbing while you just sat right next me engrossed in your own little world staring at a computer screen, not noticing your sobbing daughter. Your daughter. The one you call stupid selfish greedy idiotic senseless worthless and every other insult you can possibly muster from that pea sized brain of yours. You have a PhD, not an understanding of human emotion or limitation. You set standards so high that they are more than impossible to reach. Every time I get even remotely close those expectations are heightened beyond belief. It feels like I’m in a desert and finally achieving your expectations is just a mirage. I climb life like a rope hoping to see that bell but it just keeps fading, climbing twice as fast. I’m overwhelmed, stressed, and unhappy. I can’t recall the last time I have been happy, if I’ve ever known what that feels like to begin with. I do not know the feeling of feeling appreciation. I do not recall that last time you expressed pride in me because it has never happened. A few words can send me flying teetering free-falling off of the edge holding in tears while you sit by completely unaware. After spending hours pouring over a thirteen page essay I’ve asked you to read multiple times, you finally did so when I got the grade back… three months later. Shocked, you said, “This is actually good.” “Actually?” Hours upon hours poured into an assignment that some people failed, returning home with a 98%. But even so you looked at the rubric and told me, “2.5 out of 3 for this section? This is unacceptable” There were 150 points possible by the way. Are you asking me to achieve perfection? The impossibility of flawlessness? I don’t know what to say I don’t know what to do I don’t know what to give I don’t know how to try. Even as I tell myself not to, I succumb to what you want. I stretch myself thin worry myself to an early grave and I am weak. I am weak in the fact that I give in. I am weak in the fact that despite my straining vocal cords and my pulled taut muscles I am your slave, your doll. I look at my reflection in the mirror and tell myself that I am strong, but I still bend to your will. You’re living vicariously through me, forcing me to do and accomplish all that you had failed to do in your youth. You feel revived in me making a carbon copy of yourself and thinking that you are making a great contribution to the world. What you have yet to realize is that I will never be like you. When I see traces of you in me, I think of myself as nothing but a monster. You have allowed me, forced me to let letters and numbers define me. You say that you do absolutely everything for me but you only truly care for yourself. I’m barely clinging onto life here on my side of things and yet you still push. You push and push and force. Every time I attempt to bring up your faults, you turn them back onto me. Yet when you complain about my faults, you fail to realize that they are yours too. For a one that claims to know science, you don’t seem to understand simple genetics. Maybe you gave me my skills for acting. I fake like no other, constantly living a play. With a mask of content on my face and a smile plastered to my lips, I wipe away my sadness and I diminish the darkness in my eyes. I act around you and I fool you all… I’m almost good enough to fool myself into believing that I am happy, that I am satisfied with my life. The one person the one friend that understood what I’m going through has found her happiness leaving me lonelier than before which I never thought possible. Surrounded by people everywhere we go and yet I am so isolated and so closed off from the world. Am I shutting myself in, or are you shutting me out? I for one do know that you would love it if I stayed home every day holed up in my room, studying. After all, Harvard is for those who strive hard enough. Harvard! Harvard is a dream you built for me forced onto me, and yet if I bring it up, you say, “As if someone like you can get into Harvard.” Ever since I was two, you have pummeled drummed into my head that I am to go to Harvard and make the family proud. Yet here you are crushing under your foot a dream that I am not even sure that I want. This is because I don’t know what I want! How can I know what I want when I don’t even know who I am? I have no clue who I am. You have made me play pretend for so long that I no longer remember the girl I used to be, if I were any different before to begin with. I aimlessly wander about, unsure of every decision I make unsure of every action I execute. Congratulations on making me second guess myself and regret my life. Good job making your daughter a numb brainless drone. Your standards your expectations are like shackles, weighing me down and chaining me to a life I no longer wish to live. Every fiber of my being is shrieking at myself, scolding myself, telling myself to not give in to your standards. Tonight, as well as all of the others, I shall cry myself to sleep. I will mourn for the girl that grew up too fast, that lost herself before she found herself. Yet tomorrow morning and with every other passing day, I will be back to the automaton, living for you, but not for me.