fear less do more

anonymous asked:

I do think that some of the push back against solo Harry is less not wanting Harry to do well, but more FEAR of him doing well. That's how I felt about the Dunkirk reaction. Larries know what a successful film and album means for the immediate band future. I think for as obtuse as they come across a lot more larries see the writing on the wall with Louis and his situation than are letting on, and adding Harry actively rebutting them as well? I think a lot of larries won't be able to handle that.

The Other Side - Bellarke.


Her breathing is heavy, erratic. Bellamy knows she doesn’t want to do this. If he couldn’t tell by her chest heaving for air, he’d know by the way her hand shakes as she points the gun at him.

‘What are you doing?’ His own words are shaky and he can tell it unnerves Clarke a little more. It’s less to do with the fear of being shot and more to do with the blonde girl in front of him, defying every belief he had that this situation would ever happen. Sweat is forming at his temples and his muscles are already aching from fighting his way this far, to the staircase just below the door of the bunker. They’re alone in the echoed hallway, days away from the death wave of radiation that will destroy humanity and mere feet away from Bellamy’s sister, Kane and the others who have become friends and allies since they landed on this planet. The other side of the door - that has been the only thing on Bellamy’s mind since waking up down here, taken by surprise during the Conclave and rushed to safety because Clarke had no faith that her people would survive.

'What I have to’ Clarke finally speaks, her voice in waves. 'Like always.’

It’s the shake at the end that gets Bellamy the most, that tiny dip of octaves that shows him she really can’t mean this. Clarke, the girl who has always been on his side, who has always gone above and beyond to protect him, who could talk him out of almost anything - just not this.

'Clarke’ Bellamy tries again. 'Put the gun down.’

He’s at a loss. His mind has never prepared him for a situation like this. What does he even say to her?

'Don’t do this’ she stresses, her blonde hair flicked back over her shoulders and a hard look in her eye. The one that is always present when she’s determined. 'If you open that door, we don’t stand a chance.’

'If I don’t, my sister and the others die’ Bellamy replies. One foot is on the next step, the other barely supporting his body weight because his knees are shaking.

'I have to protect our people’ she says, barely a whisper. She’s a few feet away from Bellamy, gun raised and pointed directly at his chest. Bellamy puts his hands up, showing surrender.

'This is looking an awful lot like Mount Weather, Princess’ he keeps his tone soft, hoping to reach her better - hoping to pull her from whatever depth of desperation she has fallen into to put her in this position.

'We didn’t have a choice in Mount Weather!’ Clarke retorts, anger now raising its ugly head because that hit a nerve, like Bellamy knew it would.

'You’re right. But we have a choice now’ he nods at her, encouraging and hopeful. 'We can choose to open that door and help our friends, save them. We can work the rest out.’ Clarke is trying to look confident - Bellamy can see it, but it doesn’t work on him. This is tearing her apart.

'You thought you couldn’t live with yourself after Mount Weather? You’ll have to live with this decision, down here in an underground bunker for at least five years. Wake up and look at these faces - the faces of the people you chose to exist here and miss the faces of the people you chose to live without’ Bellamy says, taking a step down. At this movement, Clarke straightens her gun and steadies her legs, locking her knees. She’s too clever to let him get too close, close enough to disarm her.

'Bellamy, just surrender. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.’ It’s a poor response, and Bellamy knows it’s a cop out. One to avoid the truth and sense he’s speaking.

'The only way you’re stopping me opening that door is if you shoot me, Princess’ is his next sentence and Bellamy knows, even from this distance, that the look in her eyes has changed. She’s too nervous now because she might actually have to do this and being frank, Bellamy is losing his confidence in the previously solid fact that she wouldn’t. Would she? He takes another step down, his eyes never leaving hers.

'Clarke, come on’ he tries once more. He descends the metal staircase sideways, his hands raised and a small tremor in his fingers. 'Are you really willing to sacrifice your allies up there? Your friends?’ He waits, giving her a second. 'Me?’

And there it is. That wash of emotion that comes over her face when Bellamy’s life is in danger. He’s come to recognise it over their time together. It appears when he’s feeling self-sacrificial, or on days when he’s being too careless performing jobs in Arkadia, or when she’s bandaging him up after some injury or another. Being honest, it’s probably the same one that comes over him when she’s in trouble too.

Even if she took the shot now, Bellamy is sure it would miss. The gun is like jelly in her hand and her arm is slowly lowering, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor in front of her. He steps onto the concrete floor below him, takes a breath and steps towards the beautiful mess that she is right now. He extends his arm and his fingers gently touch hers before prying the gun away from her grasp. He fits it into the back of his pants and gets his arms ready for what he’s sure will come. Once the weapon is gone, a breath releases from Clarke’s lungs as if she’s been holding it. Relief breaks like a wave across her body because her decision here is over, one she didn’t want to make. She has always been the one to ground Bellamy, reassure him. Now the tables have turned.

'You don’t have to do this alone’ he whispers as she falls against his chest and a familiar pair of tiny arms wrap around his waist. He’s spoken those words to her once before and they seem just as appropriate now.

'What do we do, Bellamy?’ Her voice is fragile and muffled against his Ark issued guard jacket.

'We’ll work it out. We always do’ he replies, his chin resting on top of her head as he holds her tight. 'Together.’


Rising from the dust of stagnation, HE returns. 

Please do give a warm welcome (back) to 


I realized a lot about changing your life is in changing how you see yourself.

Like it’s really easy to see the worst in yourself, see the worst in your circumstance, and see things not going your way in the future. But doing that is setting yourself up for failure.

Recently I started using the phrase “Everything will work out for me, because I am me” whenever a challenge presents itself. No matter what presents itself, I believe I’ll get through it and I’ll get through it better off than I am the moment before. And that’s been really working for me.

Less worrying and more doing. Less fear and more I got this.
Because I got this.


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