I have this tradition. It’s something I do now when a friend dies. I save his Rolodex card. What am I supposed to do? Throw it away in the trash can? I won’t do that. No, I won’t. That’s too final. Last year I had five cards. No I have fifty. A collection of cardboard tombstones, bound together with a rubber band. I hate these fucking funerals. I really do. And you know what else I hate? I hate the memorials. That’s our social life now. Going to these things.

karly605-deactivated20151001  asked:

The 100 *SMALL SPOILER FOR THOSE WHO HAVENT SEEN THE LATEST EPISODE* CAN YOU WRITE A BELLARKE fanfiction where the roles are reversed and Clarke is the one who Murphy “hangs” and Bellamy and Octavia are the ones who come to save her once Raven opens the door and etc.?

alright first off, let’s get this straight here: the title of my askbox as of right now is ‘currently: not taking prompts’. which is pretty clear, I think. This is not the first prompt I have received since I changed it to that.
I would appreciate if everyone respected that, and me, by not sending me prompts. I’m fairly busy right now, both with other fics and school, and I simply don’t have the time, nor do I need the pressure, of filling prompts (as much as I love doing them).

That being said, this intrigued me, so I wrote it. DO NOT EXPECT THIS TO HAPPEN AGAIN. If anyone sends me prompts when it says not to, I WILL delete it.

Thank you, though, for the prompt. Here you go.

Clarke and Finn make it back to camp just in time to see the drop ship’s door rising quickly to a close, Bellamy in front of it shouting various things. She hears ‘Murphy’ mixed in with the rest of the words, and runs forwards towards him.

“Who’s in there with him?” she asks, and Bellamy snaps his head to look at her so quickly she half-thinks he got whiplash from the action. She watches him take in the cuts across her face—Anya really doesn’t like her, that much is clear—the blood all over both her and Finn, who she knows is behind her now.

“Jasper,” he says finally. “You two okay?”

Clarke and Finn both nod, and Clarke turns back to the drop ship. “Why now?” she wonders aloud.

“I think Jasper said Murphy killed Miles,” Bellamy answers, and then yells, “Murphy! Open the damn door!”

Clarke puts a hand on his arm to stop him, which he normally wouldn’t think anything of, except now he can feel that she’s shaking slightly. “That’s not going to do any good,” she says. She bites her lip, looking at the drop ship in thought. “Is there any other way in?”

Bellamy sighs, thinking. “There might be some way in through the back.”

“Like a loose panel,” Clarke says, nodding along.

“Hey, what’s—” Raven’s voice makes them turn, and the other girl stops dead when she sees Finn and Clarke. “Oh my God,” she says, and breaks into a sprint towards Finn. He catches her easily, and Clarke has to remind herself for a moment that even before the two of them dated, they were still best friends.

“What the hell happened?” Raven asks when she pulls away, reaching to Clarke and grasping her arm tightly.

“Not important now,” Clarke says firmly, even as her mind’s eye flashes through images of the Grounder she killed, the ground upside down, the Reapers. Oh God, the Reapers. When the hell is she going to tell Bellamy? She shakes her head, tilts it toward the drop ship. “Murphy has Jasper.”

“Shit,” Raven says. Finn must have filled her in on what had happened with Murphy then.

“We were trying to figure out if there was way in through a loose panel or something like that,” Bellamy cuts in.

Raven nods. “I’m on it.” And then she’s gone, running around the back.

Clarke turns to Finn. “You should rest.”

“What, and you shouldn’t?” he counters immediately, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Clarke sighs; she’s obviously exhausted. “I’m fine,” she says, despite that. “I’ll sleep when Jasper’s safe.”


“Go!” she says, her voice raising slightly out of frustration. Bellamy’s eyes widen a little, as do Finn’s, and he raises his hands in surrender before turning towards his tent.

“You alright there, Princess?” Bellamy asks carefully once he’s gone.

Clarke sighs, pushes the heels of her hands into her eyes in an effort to stop the replay of the events of that last couple of days. She nods, letting them drop when she realizes it’s pointless. “Fine,” she says, tone clipped.

She knows Bellamy doesn’t believe her—she doesn’t believe herself—but he lets it drop, and she can’t thank him enough.

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