#Does Lexa really have a preference which opening Clarke fills

[heda-in-the-clouds]

Working under you

Lexa interviews Clarke for a new opening in her company

Inspired by a recent picture of Alycia wearing her tank top suit. Special thanks to @butmakeitgayblog for her response to my original ask and to @lexa-griffins for making this moodboard

Lexa:

It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Griffin. Now, please tell me why you want to work under me? It’s a tough opening to fill. You’ll have to be flexible in every position. Really be willing to put in the work, sometimes all night depending on the needs. And I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Griffin, I can be a very hard woman to satisfy.

Clarke:

I can assure you Ms. Woods that I’m the ideal candidate to fill your opening. I’ve always admired you so it’s an opening that I’ve been eager to fill for a while now. I’m excited to prove to you that I’m the perfect fit. Your opening can’t be filled by anyone else except me.

Lexa:

Ms. Griffin, you are very confident and I admire that. First, I want to lay myself out on the table for you about my opening. It’s been a long time since anyone has given me satisfaction. Previous employees performed poorly in this opening. I even suggested that they try different positions, but they all cracked under the pressure and intensity. They couldn’t keep up with me. It’s frustrating since I’ve had to finish where they’ve left off. I'm tired of doing things on my own.

Clarke:

Rest assured Ms. Woods that I have never left any of my previous clients unsatisfied before. In fact, you might not be used to working with someone as flexible as me. I can always adjust my position, so it aligns better with your opening. Satisfying your needs in this opening is very important to me. I promise that I’ll help you finish even if it takes me all night and into the early morning.

Lexa:

Ms. Griffin, I truly appreciate your honesty and commitment. I can’t wait to jump into the daily grind when you start working under me. Obviously, we'll both have to adjust our positions from time to time to get the most benefits from each other. I want us to establish a good rhythm, so we can pace ourselves and not tire each other out. Your needs in this opening are just as important as mine.

Clarke:

I wholeheartedly agree with you Ms. Woods. I’m just very excited about this opportunity to fill your opening since this position requires both front and back-end support. I’m quite well versed in both, and I don’t mind switching depending on your preference Ms. Woods.

Lexa:

I already like you Ms. Griffin so I’m eager to see you working hard in any position. I first want to slowly ease you into this new position under me. I want to make sure you can hit all the spots once you fill my opening. You will need some time to adjust to the tight schedule for my contracts. I don’t want you to hurt my bottom line. Once I’m comfortable with your progress, you will be free to push yourself deeper into this opening.

Clarke:

I'm very confident Ms. Woods that I'll be able to expand this opening to fit my needs. I’m very ambitious with my stretch goals, so I hope you can accommodate me. You can tell me to slow down or stop if I’m going too fast. Like you said, I don’t want to hurt your bottom line with my enthusiasm.

Lexa:

Yes. I appreciate your candidness since I’ve had a hard time improving my bottom line. I wish I could fill it out more, so it resembles our Brazilian team. I’m very envious of them.

Clarke:

Ms. Woods, I actually have a suggestion right now that may squeeze more money into your bottom line. I heard that you preferred taking a top-down approach. Instead, I suggest you switch and take a bottom-up approach. Hitting this at a different angle will show you a new perspective of what positions impact your bottom line.

Lexa:

That is a bold recommendation Ms. Griffin. It’s intimidating for me since I’ll be giving up some control. I’m anxious to try it, but I trust your expertise in this sensitive area.

Clarke:

Ms. Woods, thank you for the trust you’ve already given me dealing with your bottom line. I will do my best to massage it so I can firm up your numbers. I won't let you down. Your bottom line will be in good hands.

Lexa:

Ms. Griffin, you’ve left a lasting impression on me during our interview! I greatly admire your tenacity and vision. I’m already confident that you will have a smooth entry into this opening. As a result, I’m giving you full freedom to experiment once you fill my opening. I can’t wait to see what new things you'll teach me.

Clarke:

Thank you for your confidence in me, Ms. Woods! I can definitely see myself growing in this opening.

Lexa:

Speaking of growth, performance evaluations are critical to rising further up in this position. I’ll need to frequently assess your performance and skill at every position you take with my opening. If you satisfy me and beat all my expectations, I’ll accelerate your promotion to the top.

Clarke:

I’m definitely looking forward to our one-on-ones Ms. Woods. Are there any additional opportunities for me to grow once I’ve filled your opening?

Lexa:

I-M-W-E-T

Clarke:

Pardon?

Lexa:

Improve Management for the Wellness of Employees and Teammates. It's a mouthful so I just say I-M-W-E-T. It's a program I designed to promote empathy and accountability among our leadership team. I highly recommend you sign up and join. You can even come with me.

Clarke:

I-M-W-E-T sounds like an amazing opportunity Ms. Woods. I won’t regret coming with you. Finally, are there any other perks or benefits you can offer me once I fill your opening?

Lexa:

Well Ms. Griffin, why don’t you lock my door so I can show your other benefits in private. I’d like to see if you really are the perfect fit for my opening.

[mopeytropey]

skip the beer, pour the whiskey 

a beer buds series: chapter 7 (or as @orangeyouglad8 and I have coined it: The Separation)

Available on AO3 at the link above or below the cut: 

Timeline: The Separation -- this falls within the span of time during which Clarke and Lexa were not speaking as they dealt with the fallout of having crossed a major boundary in their friendship (chapter 5 of 'apu'). Lexa has the sads and Lincoln, as always, is lovely.

Beer: glass of bourbon on the rocks  ::: Lexa is awash in contradictions.

She tends to find indecisiveness in others frustrating; recognizing the trait in herself is intolerable.

She has suffered this recent truth about herself for months—feeling inept at choosing a path and toeing a line between a dual existence.

Loyalty. Truth. Stay. Leave. Costia. Clarke.

In the absence of Clarke, she is further paralyzed. Lexa has spent the better part of November wallowing in the consequences of her inaction. Obstinate loyalty has caused her to lose Clarke, leaving her tethered to Costia by her own hand.

In a cruel twist, Costia spends more time at home, worrying over Lexa’s wellbeing while her students prepare for their finals during the early weeks of December. The extra care and concern, brief hugs and soft looks, only makes Lexa feel worse.

She’s agreed to Lincoln cooking her another meal, in a moment of weakness, and each step she takes towards his apartment is heavy with regret. She doesn’t wish to see friendly, familiar faces. She doesn’t deserve their kindness. Not even the prospect of time spent in Lincoln’s company has sounded appealing in the last month. Lexa has been hermitting away for weeks—mourning the loss of Clarke’s friendship and throwing herself a spectacular pity party.

At first, it was merely Clarke’s shift in tone. She had turned stringent, detached, employing the professional air of a work colleague. Her responses to Lexa’s texts lost all their effusive flair, cooling by degrees until they ended entirely. The message was clear: Lexa had said too much, showed her hand, and scared Clarke away.

“Hey.” Lincoln answers the door with a meager smile. Not the bright beam of light that he so often wears in Lexa’s presence but something kind and cautious.

“Hi.”

They engage in a brief, one-arm hug as Lexa crosses the threshold into Lincoln’s warm and fragrant apartment. She holds a peppermint tea in one hand, having stopped for something to keep her warm on her walk. She’s started frequenting a coffee shop closer to her apartment, not purely for convenience but by intention. Avoiding the more familiar shop by the water feels like adhering to some silent set of boundaries that Clarke has put in place.

“It smells good in here,” she tells Lincoln while slipping out of her shoes by the door and setting down her tea to remove her coat and hat.

“Pot roast and potatoes.”

Comfort food.

Lexa finds her smile for the first time in weeks, and Lincoln squeezes a hand to her shoulder before returning to his kitchen. She follows behind with her tea, running her fingers through the curls that have been flattened beneath her winter hat.

When Lexa was newly fostered by Gustus, he’d attempted a welcoming, home-cooked meal. The pot roast was tough and sinewy, the potatoes undercooked and flavorless. Lexa had never felt so utterly cared for, filling her plate no less than three times. Over the years, she, Anya, and Gus—Lincoln too, for how often he would find himself at their kitchen table—worked to improve the recipe together. They studied spice blends, cuts of meat, and countless cooking videos. Even their perpetual culinary failures were communal, familial. Eventually, it evolved into a cherished family favorite that Lexa directly associates with the comfort and safety of home. It remains the one meal her father is capable of preparing with relative success to this day.  

“Thanks for cooking.”

“I’m glad you came over,” Lincoln smiles at her from the stove. He doesn’t say finally, though she feels the implication.

Lincoln has continuously attempted to see her, despite Lexa’s refusal to socialize. Passing conversations at work and random text messages have been their only contact for almost a month, but Lincoln never stopped reaching out to her. She wonders if anything might have gone differently had she not eventually given up on repairing things with Clarke.

When days without contact turned into weeks, Lexa panicked. As the weeks stacked into a month, she lost all hope for restoring her friendship with Clarke.

It’s the space she wants, Lexa keeps telling herself. Further engagement would only push Clarke farther away.

“Can I get you a drink?” Lincoln is already drinking something from a beer glass but opens the fridge as he sips. “Octavia just restocked me with a bunch of shit I haven’t tried yet.”

“Uh, sure. Just … surprise me,” Lexa shrugs.

Incapable of making decisions. Even for the sake of alcohol. Lexa grinds her jaw at her own vacillating shortcomings: infuriating.

“You got it.” Lincoln works on making his selection while Lexa finishes sipping her tea, hoping it will calm her, and deposits her paper cup into the trash bin when she’s through.

“Actually, do you have any whiskey?”

Lincoln is chuckling as he abandons the fridge, leading them out of the kitchen. “Say no more.”

He stops beside a fully stocked drinks cart—mid century design of stained walnut with dull, brassy rails and casters. Lexa recognizes it immediately. “Is this the same cart from your moms’ house?” She runs a finger along one of the slender rails while examining its well-preserved design.

“Yep. The one thing I was allowed to take with me when I moved up here,” Lincoln grins proudly.

Lexa can feel the ghost of another smile. “I’m surprised Alice allowed it.”

“She practically wept when we loaded it onto the moving truck, but you know Rosa has a hard time saying no to her mijo.” His beaming smile returns, dimples and all, and Lexa rolls her eyes.

“It is an exceptional piece of furniture.”

“I swore to care for it like a firstborn child.”

Lexa smiles again, examining the bottles of liquor. “They’re still in New York?”

“Oh, moms are never leaving Carol Gardens, you know that. I think that house belonged to Alice’s great grandmother or something.”

Lexa lapses into fond memories of Lincoln’s childhood home—a stark difference from the foster families and group homes he’d previously survived in his younger years. Rosa and Alice were generous, kind, and gracious caretakers from the start. Eager to become parents and intent on making Lincoln feel safe and supported, they never gave up in spite of his ingrained mistrust. Their unconditional love and acceptance had been so unexpected and surreal, Lincoln spent the first six months of his stay with them waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That party you threw over winter break freshman year.” Lexa smiles fondly at the recollection.

“Oh my god, I was grounded for an eternity.”

“Anya and I were afraid to show our faces for weeks after that.”

Lincoln tsks her recollection and rolls his eyes. “As if you two could ever do wrong in their eyes.”

“Did you go back for Thanksgiving?”

Lincoln uncharacteristically balks, his gaze falling to the collection of liquor bottles that sit on the drinks cart. “Uh, no. I’m taking O to New York for a few days after Christmas so she can meet Alice and Rosa, but we, uh, we went to—Octavia never really spends holidays with her family because she prefers the Griffins, you know, and we usually all just go to, uh—”    

He can’t even bring himself to utter her name, and it still feels like a punch to Lexa’s sternum.

“You can say her name,” Lexa tries for nonchalance, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets and smiling unsurely as she furthers the lie: “I’m not going to break apart or anything.”

“Right.” Lincoln clears his throat. “Anyway, Clarke hosts this little friends’ gathering every year at her place. You know how she likes to cook.”

“Right.” Lexa nods swiftly, trying desperately not to think about all of the other wonderful things about Clarke that make her disproportionately likable, not least of all her passion for food.

“How was your holiday? You were with Costia’s aunt?”

“Yes.” Her entire body feels rigid; a forced exhale does little to ease the tension. “It was … nice. Her aunt and uncle are great people.”

“Well, we missed you.” He offers hopefulness that Lexa doesn’t dare cling to. “Next year.”

She swallows roughly, unable to conjure a valid response, and hoists a bottle from the top tray of Lincoln’s cart. “I’ll try this one.”

Lincoln’s guarded smile is back, and Lexa wishes she weren’t the cause of it. “Let me get you some ice.” He reaches to a lower shelf for a glass. “Unless you want it neat?”

“No, I’ll take some ice. Thank you.”

Lincoln leaves her for the kitchen just as Gus emerges from the bedroom with a yawning stroll towards the couch. She is a giant ball of elegant, grey fur. Lexa follows her movements and plops onto a sofa cushion just as Gus leaps gracefully atop the armrest opposite.

“Are you keeping your distance now too?”

Gus watches her for a moment, calculating. It takes only the extension of her hand across the cushion for the cat to approach, nudging her nose into Lexa’s palm a moment later. She feels settled by Gus’s presence instantly. By the time Lincoln returns with her drink, she’s been lulled by loud purring and the downy fur between her fingers.

:::

Dinner is exceptionally prepared, and Lexa feels infinitely better with a full stomach. She and Lincoln talk of New York, and family, and the changing seasons. He’s being careful with her still, avoidant out of kindness and caution, but she knows there are things he wants to say.

On the couch after dinner, with Gus in her lap and a second whiskey sitting on the table beside her, Lexa finally makes a decision. She tells Lincoln the truth.

“I think I scared her off.”

Lincoln practically jolts at his end of the sofa when he realizes what subject Lexa is broaching. He has switched to whiskey as well—in solidarity, he’d said—and the two of them sip quietly for a few moments while Lincoln processes the new information. Lexa tries not to feel like a specimen under a microscope.

“Clarke?” His face creases in thought a moment later when Lexa nods. “That girl does not frighten easily—what makes you think you scared her off?”

“I talked to her about Costia.”

Lincoln’s dark eyes widen by a fraction. “What did you tell her?”

“How we almost broke up in New York. The disconnect I’ve been experiencing since moving up here.” Lexa exhales, feeling a rush at finally airing her admissions. “We were a little drunk.”

“Okay,” Lincoln smiles. “Still, I don’t think that would—”

“And then I sort of fell asleep on her couch … with her.”

She looks up from her lap to see the blatant shock in Lincoln’s gaping jaw and wide eyes. His expression would be priceless and more than a little humorous if she weren’t so anxious and full of regret over her actions.  

“Okay, that might sufficiently freak her out.”

“I know.” Lexa covers her face with both hands, and Lincoln instantly backpedals his reaction.

“No, no wait. Lex, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you did anything wrong.”

“I did. I messed up everything. I haven’t dealt with anything that’s going on with Costia, and Clarke is dating now—”  

“Hey.” Lincoln wraps a hand around one of her ankles where her legs are stretched along the length of the couch, and only then does she pull her hands from her face to look at him. “Listen to me: you did not do anything wrong. I’ve crashed at friends’ houses hundreds of times, so unless you’re telling me that you fell asleep naked …”

Just the sound of that image has Lexa’s stomach bottoming out as she buries her face into the crook of an elbow. “Linc, oh my god. No.”  

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, too proud of himself for having embarrassed her. “In that case, you really haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just—this is Clarke.”

Her eyes drift back to the cat asleep in her lap, and Lexa’s voice softens. “I know.”

“Do you?” Lincoln urges.

Lexa looks up. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

He smiles at her like an older brother might tease his distraught, younger sibling in the middle of an existential crisis. “Just checking.”

“The sleeping part was completely accidental,” Lexa grumbles, her face still cooling from the heated shame of imagining Lincoln’s inquiry while reaching for her drink.

Lincoln shrugs. “Hey, it happens.”

“Not with Clarke it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Lincoln considers her for another moment, sipping at his drink while Lexa fidgets with a seam on her shirt. “What did Costia say when you told her about staying over at Clarke’s?”

“She was glad I was safe—that I didn’t try to walk home or anything.” Lexa exhales and watches for Lincoln’s reaction. “Why?”

“I just think her response is indicative of your relationship. On the one hand, there’s obviously trust there. She’s worried more about your safety than the threat of you sleeping on another woman’s couch.” Lexa can feel her cheeks warm again and takes a sip of her whiskey. “On the other hand,” Lincoln pauses, waiting to catch Lexa’s eye. “Costia’s not an idiot either.”

There it is.  

The truth (or at least an insinuation of it) that they have been dancing around for months. Lincoln’s gaze is not unkind but unrelenting in forcing her to confront her own culpability.

“I know.” Lexa thinks her voice has never sounded so small.

“You guys ever have that talk after DC?”

“No.”

Their intentions had been good. But in the end, they had been hindered by Costia’s schedule going into finals and Lexa taking on new responsibilities through Trikru. By the time they caught up with each other again, Clarke was gone and Lexa couldn’t see anything beyond the shape of her absence.

“I don’t even know if it’s worth it at this point,” she continues. “Who’s to say the same results wouldn’t keep happening again in relationships with other people?” Lexa bites at her lip, deepening the furrow in her brow. “What if the real problem is just me?”

“Hey, don’t say that shit about one of my best friends.”

Lexa finally makes eye contact to see Lincoln’s warm gaze looking back at her. Reassurance floods in even amidst all her surging self doubt.

“Deciding to be with someone shouldn’t be about calculated risk.” He rubs a hand across his abdomen, smiling fondly in contemplation. “You either feel it, or you don’t.”

“Feelings continuously shift and change—they’re an unreliable barometer.”

“Not always,” Lincoln challenges. “Sometimes you get that kick behind your ribs while in someone’s presence. Or, you feel that persistent pressure against your back, pushing you towards someone—you have to give those feelings some weight if it’s more than a fleeting impulse.”

She’s had similar debates with herself a million times, always ending up at the same conclusion. “I had all of those same feelings with Costia. And, look what’s happened to us.”

He tips his glass in Lexa’s direction. “Okay, sure. And, if those feelings have faded, doesn’t that warrant some consideration too?”  

“I don’t … I don’t trust myself to make the right decision.”

It might be the most honest admission she’s had in months. She’s relieved that Lincoln is her confidante when the truth slips out and the reassurance of his soft smile returns.

“You’re always too hard on yourself, Lex. It doesn’t have to be so complicated.”

Lexa responds only by glaring at him spectacularly over the rim of her glass. Teaching herself molecular physics might be less daunting than solving her current relationship dilemma.

“I’m serious!” He defends himself through a laugh. “Okay. For me, it’s just about wanting to spend time with that one person more than anyone else. It’s not always fireworks or these massive heart palpitations, sometimes it’s just preference. Like, I prefer this one person’s company over everyone else, regardless of how long the relationship lasts.”  

Lexa arches an eyebrow. “So it doesn’t matter if you and Octavia don’t last?”

“Oh no, she’s stuck with my ass forever.”

Lexa’s laughter dislodges some of the unease tightening in her chest.

“Honestly though,” Lincoln continues, “if O eventually met someone and felt that same draw that I feel towards her, or struck some connection that she believed would make her happier than I could … I would want her to explore that.”

Lexa watches her friend and resumes stroking her hand atop Gus’s head. “You’re an unbelievably good person, do you know that?”

“You are too, buddy. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Thanks,” Lexa responds softly.

“And, maybe Clarke is sorting through some stuff or taking space to figure out her own shit, but she’s not gone forever, okay? She’ll be back.”

Lexa releases a heavy sigh, wishing she shared Lincoln’s optimism.

In a week, she’ll leave for her holiday in New York. She’ll have the comfort of her father—his monstrous hugs, booming laughter, and mediocre cooking. And, she’ll face Anya, a far more imposing audience than Lincoln or Gus, in the midst of this internalized, romantic crisis. She’s exhausted by her own ambivalence and wishes someone in her life could just give her the right answers.

She wants shared laughter on the warm sand of a deserted beach.

She wants to place a coffee order for someone else and know it by heart.

She wants petty arguments about meaningless things that dissolve into long hugs and gentle apologies.

She wants extravagant brunches and lazy Sunday mornings, shared smiles in crowded rooms and soft touches that speak volumes.    

Her desires are not uncommon. She could likely have these experiences with any number of women. Lexa reconsiders the simplicity of Lincoln’s perspective and dares to hope that a solution to her indecision could be so cut and dry. Because if the answer is preference, her solution is simple.

She doesn’t want these experiences with just anyone. More than anything, she wants them with Clarke.

[astroninaaa]

clarke griffin sucks here’s why

Hi! I’ve wanted to actually write some anti-Clarke discourse for a while now, specially because I’ve hated her since I first heard her talk to someone else in the show, but I was always hesitant because of blorkes and Clarke stans and all that. Well, I’m doing it anyway.

(DISCLAIMER: all this comes from her depiction in the show. I have no idea how book Clarke is, since I’ve never read the The 100 books. Now buckle up and enjoy my angry and not-that-thought-out rant.) (And I’m putting it under the cut because it is... a lot.)

I know many people started to dislike Clarke after season 3 or whatever, but I believe she has been problematic since the beginning. 

For starters, she put herself in a position of power during season 1, and that’s a fact. People say she “had no choice but to become a leader”, but that’s a lie. Just like Bellamy did, she made the decision to bear leadership: from the moment they arrived, she was already making orders and trying to boss people around. Was she wrong? No, she wasn’t! She wanted to keep herself and others alive, which is a good thing. But she didn’t have to. Btw, if she had never done anything things wouldn’t have change, to be honest, since they did not get to Mount Weather and built their little cute camp around the dropship. I mean, Jasper wouldn’t have been speared and they would have found out about the Grounders a bit later, but I think nothing much would’ve happened. Actually, maybe things with the Grounders would have been easier, considering I firmly believe the theory that the only reason they attacked Jasper in the first place was because he was all happy about finding Mount Weather, the place that had been kidnapping and killing Grounders for a long ass time. 

My point is: I believe Clarke wasn’t actually needed as a leader when they first came down to Earth. I think she was just a spoiled priviledged girl, just like Bellamy said she was, who could not get around to letting go of the power she held. There was no more priviledged and non-priviledged, so she secured her influence by becoming a leader. 

An important statement that people tend to forget: she was just as guilty as Bellamy was for Murphy’s hanging, if not more. She was always talking about justice and whatnot, but when she had the chance to be just, she wasn’t. A knife is not enough evidence to fucking accuse someone of murder — during 1918 and 1919, there was a serial murder going around called “The Axeman of New Orleans”, who used axes he found in people’s houses to kill them (I’m a fan of true crime sorry not sorry). If police went by Clarke’s logic, the dead would’ve been the murderers, which certainly does not make much sense. The least she could’ve done was talking to him separately, conducted a trial or whatever, anything but accusing Murphy of murder before the whole camp. She knew they hated him, and so did Bellamy, and that’s why Bellamy didn’t want her to tell everyone about Wells’ yet. And yes, sure, she was grieving, but grief is still not an excuse for what she did to Murphy, it isn’t. She might have tried to stop the hanging later or whatever, but it was still a direct consequence of her actions and would not have happened at all if she had stopped to think for even a moment. The truth is that Clarke does not comprehend that she can actually be wrong, a fact that repeats itself multiple times throughout the series.

(There are other times she fucks up during season 1, but Murphy’s hanging is what stands out the most to me, so I decided to leave it on that. But don’t worry, I have many other examples!)

I can’t even express how much she pissed me off during season 2. Yes, Mount Weather was a very suspicious place and she was right to be wary, but how could she leave her people and escape? She wanted to get help and all that, but she fucking knew they were bleeding out the Grounders and was definetely aware they would soon try something alike to the 48, and she still left them. She left them alone and clueless to the danger they were in, and she didn’t even know if the Ark had come down alright or if there were other survivors. Mount Weather was lying to them about not finding anyone but she couldn’t be sure of that — everyone could have been fucking dead and she would have left her “people” to die too.

I’m not even gonna talk about Lexa’s betrayal because that wasn’t actually her fault, I admit that. Was she stupid to trust a Grounder? Yes. Should she have considered the fact they tried to kill Raven the first opportunity they got (when Lexa’s cup was poisoned) and the fact that the Grounders did not trust them because of Finn and wrongly Raven? Obviously. Does that make Lexa’s betrayal her fault? No, but she should have seen it coming, tbh.

And, again, she put herself in a position of power where she wasn’t needed. There were actual adults ready to look for a better solution, but she didn’t let them. Of course she didn’t  — how could Princess Griffin let go of her power?

Letting Mount Weather drop the bomb on TonDC was... horrible. It was not the act of a leader and it was not the act of a good person. It was selfish, it was the act of someone who leaves their people to die with the excuse of “looking for help” without even knowing if there is help waiting for them at all. It would have revealed Bellamy’s position, yes, but Bellamy would have preferred that than letting people die like Clarke and Lexa did. THEY LET PEOPLE DIE. Hundreds of people! God, they didn’t save the Grounders and the Skaikru that had come for a DIPLOMATIC AND PACIFIC reunion, but Clarke really thought her deal with Lexa would mean something if a better deal appeared, right? Damn, that was naive.

And then she left her people again by the end of the season, of course. “I bear it so others don’t have to” my ass — Bellamy still went apeshit and Jasper still got depressed and no one actually saw her bearing it, so they bear it too. The only thing girlie did was leave behind responsibility and betray her friends so she didn’t have to face regret for her actions. Meanwhile, people needed her, since she had put herself in a position of power for so long that everyone actually looked up at her, for some unknown reason, since she mainly fucked things up.

I don’t remember season 3 that well, but I know that Bellamy’s rant to her when she came back and was trying to be his friend was absolutely reasonable and true. She fucked off into the woods, represented Skaikru in Polis without them knowing for a while, came back to Arkadia and tried to get some power again, but then no one cared about her. Bellamy was too busy making the wrong decisions because of his emotional pain and sorrow to actually give a shit and they had greater things to solve than filling Clarke’s need to be worshipped.

Also, the whole “blood must not have blood” shit? Funny, real funny. It’s just like Lexa pointed out: “blood must not have blood until it applies to your people”. She is SUCH a hypocrite it pains me. And she did not spare Emerson for “blood must not have blood”, she did it because she knew it would make him suffer more and that came back to bite her in the ass. Karma’s a bitch, I guess. And she tried to make Luna become Commander against her will, which I’m not gonna talk about, but was just really fucked up.

I think my hatred for Clarke peaked during season 4. First, she didn’t want to tell the Grounders the world was about to end again and was apparently okay with letting them burn, until Roan found out and got mad about it. She tried to become Commander, blatantly disrespecting Grounder culture just so she could boss all the people in the world around. “She wanted to help!” “She had no choice!” Yes, sure, she had no choice but lying to everyone and disrespecting a whole nation. She couldn’t, you know, talk about it. Okay. I mean, that’s how Clarke does things, right? Kill and deceive first, give a half-assed apology later. It has been working so far, there’s no reason for her to stop.

Forcing Luna to give them her bone marrow? Very problematic, but “Welcome to Mount Weather” was one of my favorite Raven quotes. Abby was also a fucking bitch for being alright with killing Emori but throwing a tantrum when Clarke finally came to her senses and decided to test Nightblood on herself instead of murdering people who went all the way there to help her, but that’s not what I’m focusing on.

Locking Murphy up while she attempted to kill Emori? Not good. Emori knew from the beginning she would be chosen for testing Nightblood — she is a Grounder, and Clarke’s disregard for Grounders has been made very clear before. (And no, having a Grounder girlfriend in a very unprofessional and non-diplomatic way does not excuse her from discriminating against Grounders.)

And then she took over the bunker, disrespecting Grounder culture once again by betraying the conclave and, well, many people. (I know Echo did it too, but I’m not talking about Echo right now so if someone brings this up I’m gonna riot.) I also think it’s funny how she was always talking about saving everyone and all that shit but was so fucking fast to leave Raven, Octavia, Monty, Harper and Kane to die. You know, the people who were supposed to be her friends and all that. Oh, well.

Then Octavia won. And she still did not open the bunker. Man, opening the bunker would save so many lives, including the life of her oh-so-called best friend’s sister, but she still didn’t do it. Classic Clarke God-complex: she decides who is worth saving, and the Grounders aren’t. Then there’s the whole thing with holding Bellamy at gunpoint and then using “but I didn’t shoot!” as an apology. Bitch, it isn’t about shooting, it is about the fact you looked your supposed best friend straight in the eyes and pointed a gun at him, threatening to kill him if he dared to try and save his sister and many others of certain death.

She sacrificed herself by the end of this season, great. I mean, yeah, that was nice of her. Congrats for doing a good thing for once, I guess, even though she knew she probably wouldn’t be able to get back in time anyway so the least she could do was making sure the others lived. I wish she had actually died then, it would’ve been a great end to her arc (finally saving her friends at the cost of her life after betraying them and leaving them to die repeatedly — damn, I might had even started to like her a bit after that) and I would be able to stand the worshipping of her done at the start of season 5, since she would be, yk, dead. Sadly, that did not happen.

She was a villain during season 5 just like Octavia and I wish she had been depicted that way. She wanted to kill Blodreina (because just overthrowing her wouldn’t do) but she wasn’t okay with letting Madi take the chip. I know these are different things, but see it like that: killing Octavia was a way of taking control of Wonkru at the expense of a life. Madi becoming Commander was a way to take control of Wonkru at the expense of Madi’s childhood. Are any of them good? Not really, but Commander Madi does not envolve killing someone and even has a nice ring to it. Besides, Madi had given consent to taking the chip.

(Another point: Octavia was actually thrown into a position of power, just like everyone claims Clarke was. Octavia was the conclave’s champion and was expected and even obligated to lead, while Clarke simply decided she was more competent than the others and became a self-proclaimed leader. After that, she whined for all seasons about how she didn’t want leadership. Octavia never did that, despite being the one who became a leader unwillingly. Just like Raven put, Octavia and Clarke are the same, but Octavia doesn’t pretend to feel bad for empathy points. Damn, I love Raven.)

She left Bellamy to die in the fighting pit, because now Madi is the one she cares about so fuck everyone else. She gave over Raven and Shaw and let them be tortured for nothing. She betrayed literally everyone and was the one to put McCreary in a position strong enough he had the power to literally destroy Earth. Clarke Griffin was directly responsible for Earth’s end.

And then she said “sorry, I had no choice” and most characters fucking forgave her. I hate the way this series throws Clarke’s half-assed apologies onto us and expect us to accept them. I think it is very annoying, since Clarke would be an awesome villain, but they insist in making her one of the good guys, even with the whole “there’s no good guys” theme, which I wholeheartedly believe to be just a way to justify why Clarke needs to be forgiven again and again and again. It is not much more than bad writing, to be honest.

During season 6 she again becomes a leader without being prompted to. I loved Josephine and I think that the fact Clarke wasn’t actually Clarke was the only reason I didn’t absolutely despised her like I have done for the previous seasons. Again, I would have loved it if she had actually died then. Imagine Josephine becoming a main character for season 7 too? Amazing, brilliant, showstopping, incredible.

And she is not even there for season 7, at least until “The Queen’s Gambit” lol. Guess they finally saw how much of an annoying character she is. The only thing I remember of her is the “I don’t believe in Karma” thing, which was... expected. I mean, someone who has done as much harm as she has can’t believe in Karma anyway or she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, and Clarke’s whole thing is about pretending to be sorry but not actually trying to change, so we can’t have that.

In conclusion, Clarke Griffin fucking sucks. She is a bad person and the way everyone always forgives every bad thing she does is bad writing. The series tries to sell her as one of the characters on the “good” side, but she actively works against it. She is not even a GOOD villain to watch, like Murphy was for many seasons. She is just an annoying character with a God complex who fucks things up, betrays her friends and lets people die again and again and then is forgiven because she is supposed to be an admirable main character. She is selfish and abusive and manipulative and power-hungry and fucking sucks, so please don’t stan her.

And that’s on that! Nice.

(DISCLAIMER PART 2: this blog DOES NOT support Eliza Taylor and Bob Morley, specially after Arryn Zech’s accusations. I know we cannot be sure of anything, but I prefer to side with a potential liar than with a potential abuser.)

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

the 100 ask game

tagged by the lovely @pendragaryen

1. What station on the Ark would you be from?

Whichever used to be the Australian station I guess.

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark?

I’d like to say I’d go down for something brave and heroic but it would probably something stupid and trivial, like the space equivalent of jay-walking.

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground?

Not at first, but I’d definitely take it off for that sweet, sweet panther meat after a day or two.

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..)

Well, first of all, I’d punt him halfway across the dropship camp before he even had a chance, so jot that down.

But an elephant, I guess, ugh.

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be?

Fox, poor baby, I miss her.

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they?

Bellamy, Murphy, Roan, Clarke, Diyoza

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to?

Floukru babey, take me to the sea!

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!)

Lucia ... but emphasis on the second syllable... so like ... Lu-SHA. It would probably just get shortened down to Sha.

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious

Finn Collins is the boy who you think is cute at first, but then he turns out to be that middle class white boy who thinks he knows more than the professor in Philosophy & Ethics 101 and interrupts then at every chance he gets. He has a BLM tshirt but also insists on knowing where any POC he meets is “from”. Goes to the Gender Studies class, but you heard through the grapevine that he’s cheating on his girlfriend. Shallow, third-rate garbagé who thinks he knows better than you because he’s ~sensitive~

Finn Collins could die in a fire and I would not care.

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does?

A chip that cures my mental illness and helps me live the day to day nightmare that is Earth? Hell yeah I’m taking it.

11. What character do you relate to most?

Probably Harper actually. I too am a Mum friend who is sweet and caring and who will absolutely rip you a new one if you attack any of my adopted kids.

12. What character do you like the least?

See Question 9.

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical)

black skinny jeans, combat boots, blue long sleeve shirt white singlet layered combo, and big green army surplus jacket.

14. Favorite type of mutant animal?

Pauna. Rest in peace you chaotic 2-tonne plot hole.

15. What would your job be on the Ark?

I probably would have been in the childcare system, or some kind of human relations work.

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked?

Of course! I gotta keep our girl Clarke alive in there! Imma be real with you though chief, I would probably be looking at the wall the whole time. I don’t have a great stomach for body gore.

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive then who would have made the best commander?

Out of all the Nightbloods? No one jumps out at me as particularly competent tbh. I’ve got high hopes for Madi though.

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty?

Probably sobbing, stuck within the dark inner workings of Depression Brain. I have absolutely no faith that I would have a good trip.

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach?

Charlotte needed help desperately. I would have pardoned her.

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone?

Bellamy and Clarke as co leaders.

Kane and Indra as consultants. Raven is head of Tech. Let’s go people!

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis?

I would’ve been on Kane’s side

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there?

New books probably.

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint?

I’d probably have the tatts and war paint of my kru. I loved Octavia’s hair during season 2, so something along those lines, or wild and free with beads and braids like Luna.

24. Favorite quote?

“The dead are gone, Clarke, the living are hungry,” is a fucking raw line.

“It won’t survive me,” is another banger.

“You may be the Chancellor, but I am in charge,” cemented my love for Clarke Griffin.

I could go on...

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning?

Team Cockroach. Murphy.

Clarke and Bellamy have that Plot Armour though so I like their chances.

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

Least fave: I have been prohibited.

Fave canon: Memori.

Fave non-canon: I have been prohibited.

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo?

I am waiting for them to use Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie. Or something by either Delta Rae or Sara Barielles, simply because I love them.

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time?

Probably be a couch potato. My latent doomsday brain would kick in and I’d just give up, so the bunker finally opening would be a nice surprise.

29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die?

I was chipped and never seen again bro.

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of?

I want more Aurora flashbacks so bad it hurts but I know we’ll never get them. I just want people to stop treating her like she was a deadbeat or even an abusive parent. She wasn’t. She was doing the best with what she had, which was fuck all.

31. A character you’d bang?

They’re all my children ... I couldn’t.

On the other hand, if Lindsey Morgan was interested...

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?

EDEN. Are you kidding? I’ll take berries over algae or bunker meat any day.

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?

I would follow her cause if I didn’t I Would Die. I would spend my time trying to be as quiet and small as possible, and stay out of her way!

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits?

Someone reported me muttering dissent when I didn’t think anyone was around.

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with?

This may come as a surprise but I don’t bond with people very easily (lol). Harper probably sought me out and made sure I was okay. Echo and I have the same sense of humour so we’d probably be close. Monty too. Murphy would drive me up the wall.

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself?

2 weeks, tops.

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do?

Hide and observe from a far. Don’t attack or provoke in any way.

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite?

DIYOZA.

McCreary.

39. Would you Spacewalk?

If I’d passed all the tests and training and it was all above board? Sure. If not? Absolutely not are you crazy?!

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat?

The right answer is algae, but my tastebuds say steak over bugs or glorified pond scum. Sorry.

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it?

I won’t win a fight to the death, so you best believe I’m going to use diplomacy to it’s absolute limits and then some.

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes?

USB to the arm 100% percent. In and out, quick extraction, no pain caused since they’re already dead, and thumb drives aren’t vicious, carnivorous murder worms which is a huge plus.

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia?

If my sister had gone that far off the deep end? Probably. I can’t really imagine it though, my sister is so level headed.

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper?

I’d volunteer to be a custodian. It suits me. Getting to live in peace, taking care of the people I love for the rest of my life after the chaos and trauma of the ground seems near heavenly.

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet?

Bellamy and Clarke.

I tag: @clarkgriffon @honeybellarke @nvermindiseeyou @ffaraday @galaxydanvers @marvelscaptainss @raven-reyes-of-sunshine @perpetual-fantasy @prosciuttoe @fen-ha-fuck-you

The above is in no particular order, and you should feel no obligation to fill out the questions if you don’t want to. This is all fun and games. Take care 💖

[raavenreyes]

stars moon sun.

Bravenlypso.

Description: AU where Bellamy is in love with Raven Reyes, and then they both fall for a beautiful grounder girl who really likes plants and has a heart of gold. Takes place between season two and season three. ++ FLUFF. FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF.

Word count: 3,340 WORDS.

The morning sun shone brightly over the blossoming garden of Arkadia, and Calypso was making her way through tall stalks of corn, harvesting them into a hand-woven basket she had borrowed from her mother. Calypso adored this time in the morning, purposefully getting up a little earlier than all her other workers so she could spend some alone time in the sun with the vegetation.

“Calypso, isn’t it?” A deep voice shook her from her own internal monologue, and she turned to look upon a familiar face, Marcus Kane. She knew him as a father figure to Bellamy, and a leader of the sky people. “Or do you prefer Callie?”

“Callie is fine, sir.”

“Oh please, call me Marcus.” He waved off the formal title. “You seem to have gotten much more comfortable with us. I remember when I first met you, you hid behind Bellamy.”

“I didn’t know much about skaikru outside of Bellamy and Raven,” She explained. “I’m sorry if my actions offended you—”

He shook his head, “No, no, not at all. I understood.” He let out a long sigh, running his fingers through the salt and pepper beard on his chin. “I wanted to speak to you about your relationship with the Commander, with Lexa.” Calypso turned away from him, fingers working at the corn stalk to retrieve some of its fruit. “Raven told me it was a sensitive subject,”

She paused her actions, turning her attention back to him. “Lexa made me a warrior. I have respect for her, faith in her.”

“You’d die for her.” Calypso nodded. “Callie, you have to understand…after what happened at Mount Weather, with Lexa abandoning our people—”

“She didn’t abandon your people, she saved her own.” She corrected him. “There’s a difference.” The woman sent down the basket, crossing her arms over her chest. “Marcus, do you intend to ask me if I’m going to be a threat to the safety of your people?” He bowed his head, fingers pressing against his temples. “I love Bellamy, and I love Raven. They love their people. I would never do anything to hurt them.”

“Some people think that because you’re here, and you still have allegiance to trikru and Lexa, that you might be selling secrets. You have access codes, Callie—”

“Access codes you gave me.” She reminded the man, sticking a finger in his chest. “My allegiance lies to Bellamy and Raven. As long as it does, you have nothing to worry about, Marcus.” She lifted her basket again, settling it on her hip. “And not that it’s any of your business, but Bellamy and Raven asked me to move here and I said yes.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Calypso. I am thrilled that you’re making two people who deserve happiness, extremely happy, but I have to think practically.”

Calypso stroked the leaf of the corn stalk, closing her eyes for a moment. “Your people are safe, Marcus.”

“Thank you.” He nodded. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Calypso.” His eyes lifted, glancing behind her with a nod and Calypso turned, suddenly beaming at the sight of Bellamy making his way through the thick rows of corn towards her.

“You and Kane having a chat?” He asked once the older man was far enough away. Calypso nodded. “Everything okay?”

She thought about telling him, but her tongue refused to move to form the words. Bellamy would get angry, he would amount it to Kane questioning the love Calypso had for him. There would be a confrontation. “Everything is fine, mi hodnes.” She pressed her palm to the side of his face, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “You look well rested.”

“I am, though it was a bit tough sleeping without you. Raven’s so used to it she left a space in the middle for you.” Her hand travelled lower, pushing into his form with her fingers.

“Bellamy, you’re thinning.” She whispered, setting down her basket and lifting up her shirt. Usually, there was a thick pocket of muscle where she now found bone. It didn’t show much in his face, but she had noticed he had gotten a bit leaner.

“We had a bad month, Abby mentioned we were low on rations. I’m not important—it’s better a kid eats than me.”

Calypso pulled him down towards her, her forehead against his. “Mi hodnes, why do you think yourself expendable?” He didn’t answer her. “You still feel guilty for crimes you were forced to commit.”

“No one forced me to kill—”

“The boy that attacked you and Clarke? Yes, you were forced to defend yourself. It was a good kill. An honest kill, Bellamy.” He kept his head down and she kissed the side of it. “Wait for me by the gates, we’re going to my village.”

“I’ll grab a rover.” He offered and Calypso nodded, and then made her way out of the garden, basket in tow.

[ ~ ]

“Blake, where ya headed?”

“Callie’s village,” Bellamy answered Miller, who leaned casually up against the roll cage. “She’s got supplies she wants to hand over to Arkadia.”

“Everything okay between you three? I’ve been seein’ a lot less of her lately.”

“Yeah…she…yeah, we’re workin’ on it.” He sighed. “Things aren’t bad…we’re just stuck.”

“Come home safe, Blake.”

“Yeah, I will. Hey, Nate, I uh…I’m happy you and Bryan are back together.”

Nate paused, but nodded. “Me too.” He took a couple steps towards Bellamy. “You know I’m um, You know I’m always gonna have love for you, Bell. Always. Infinitely. But…I think we’re both…happy—happier, apart.” Bellamy fell silent, running his tongue over his lips. “Those first couple days on the ground…it was fast, and under covers and we fell in love because we were sure we were gonna die.”

“We lived, though, Nate. We lived.”

“Yeah we did. Now we to continue living—and not in that twisted state of panic where I think I’m gonna lose you at any moment.” He gripped Bellamy’s arm, forcing his gaze to his. “I love you, Bellamy. I’ll always know that, that’ll always be my truth, but I don’t deserve the devotion you give me.” He stepped forward, winding his hands into Bellamy’s hair and releasing a tender kiss upon his lips. “Go get your girl, kid, and take care of that spit fire in the metal shop. Be happy.”

“Yeah,” He nodded. Miller left his side and Bellamy climbed into the driver’s seat, heading out to pick up Calypso who was waiting patiently by the door. “Hey,” He greeted her, offering his hand to help pull her into the cab. Once she was secure, he gave her a smile. But, before they could take off again, there was a knock on the door.

“What, you gonna take off without saying goodbye, Blake?” Raven smirked, hoisting herself up on the bar to reach Bellamy’s height. “Hi, baby.” She told Calypso, which brought a deep, peachy blush to the grounder girl’s cheeks. “You headin’ off to Callie’s village?”

“I figured you were busy, but do you wanna come?”

“Well, you know I love to come.” She teased and he shook his head. “But you’re right, I am busy. I’ll see you at home tonight. Both of you, right?”

“Yes, both of us. Though it might be a bit late.” Calypso nodded, which brought a wide smile to Raven’s face. “Ai hod yu in, Raven.”

“Love you too, babe.” She hopped off the rover and offered a wave as they drove through the gates. Calypso reached over and grabbed Bellamy’s hand, holding it in her lap.

They had driven for a few more moments before Calypso squeezed his hand. “Your mind seems elsewhere,”

Bellamy nodded, eyes constantly searching the tree line for activity that could be either helpful or harmful. “I just got a lot on my mind, baby. That’s all.”

“Talk to me about it.” She requested.

He sighed, “When I came down, I came down to protect Octavia and then…she became part of the hundred. I wanted to protect them all, they were my people, y’know?” Callie nodded, “With Clarke being gone I feel like I failed them, failed her. I couldn’t make her stay.”

Her face fell and she turned her head to stare out of the window. “Did you…did you have feelings for her?”

“No, no,” he whispered. “Never, not—we weren’t like that. We’re friends. Terrible friends sometimes, but friends.” He gave a light, sad chuckle. The rover came to a slow stop outside of Callie’s small cabin and she hopped out first.

Staying at Calypso’s was something Bellamy always enjoyed, it brought him peace, brought him joy. Her home was always warm and glowing from the hearth in the center and the minute he crossed the threshold, he belonged to the silence.

“Are you hungry, my love?” Calypso asked, and he gave a shrug, “I’ll make you something.” Piles of some kind of grain and water were dumped into a pot with various vegetables before she went into her smokehouse and pulled some venison from the racks. As the smell began to fill the house, she settled herself in his lap and kissed his forehead. “You are so troubled for such a young head, Bellamy.” She whispered against his hairline, plush lips against his skin. “Eat, sleep, be calm. You deserve moments of peace in the chaos of life.”

“Peace,”

“We all deserve peace. Killers, believers, and warriors. Whether it’s time we take out in our day in life, or waiting until our death, peace finds us all eventually. Either welcome it with open arms or drown in it. Peace is as inevitable as death, Bellamy.”

He stared up at her, and she gazed into twin pools of gold, kissing the space between his dark brows.  “What would I do without you?”

“I think you’d be alright, you’d have Raven.” She chuckled. “The question is, what would I do without you, Bellamy?” She brushed the tip of his nose on his. “I’d be lost.” Calypso lifted off his lap and went back to the kitchen to tend to the food.

Bellamy let silence settle between them for a long while, listening to the sound of the birds outside of the home and Callie humming to herself.

He watched her for a bit, and then spoke up: “Hey, Callie?”

“Hm?” She hummed.

“Arkadia is on its way to being settled. The grounders, they’re…cooperating to a point,” She shot him a look and he held out a hand in defense. “I mean, with Lexa and everything…Clarke being gone, we’ve got some tension.” The man explained as he removed some pieces of his guard uniform for more comfort. “But eventually, we’re gonna be okay. Things will be normal.”

“Eventually,” Calypso nodded.

“When things get normal…I was thinking, me, you and Raven, we could…be normal together.”

“What do you mean?”

“New laws are being written, but—Raven and I have talked about it. We were thinking that we’d…we’d wanna be a family,”

Calypso stopped stirring her pot, warm-toned chocolate hues moving to the man seated in the middle of her living space. “What are you saying?”

“Raven and I decided that when things get settled, we’d…we’d wanna get married.”

“Oh.” Disappointment rolled through her, and she hated that it did. “Well, um, Don carrow flaim lanai.” MAY THE FLAME BLESS YOUR UNION.

 He noticed the disappointment, and backtracked, standing up and crossing the room towards her. “But that was before…before you, Cal.” He explained. “But if…if I married you, you could legally be protected by our government. You��d be a part of our people.” Her eyes met his, and a smile spread across his cranberry lips.

“Bellamy, are you asking me to marry you?” She said softly. “What about Raven?”

“We’ve discussed this, Callie. Raven knows. She doesn’t know I’m asking you now and she’ll probably be really upset with me that I did it without her—and in the middle of your kitchen—she wanted a big ol’ event.” He chuckled. “But she knows. We came to an agreement.”

“You’re asking me to marry you.” She repeated, and light sparkled in her eyes, tucking a lock of her little braids behind her ear. Then, the light faded. “Did you ask Lincoln?”

“Why would I ask Lincoln?”

“He’d ask the same question but in our culture, since he’s the last living male in my family, you have to get his blessing. The General will never allow the marriage if Lincoln hasn’t given his blessing.”

“Well, shit.” Bellamy sighed.

“Why are you upset, mi hodnes? You know he’ll say yes.”

“No, this is different, Calypso. Lincoln and I are friends, the things he’s done for Octavia I could never repay him for but…I’m marrying his—basically his baby sister. If Lincoln asked to marry Octavia I’d knock his teeth out.”

She grew confused. “But…you’re friends.”

“I’m also her older brother.” He sighed. “Marriage is different.”

Calypso placed a top onto the pot. “I have an idea.”

“And what’s that?”

“We’re taking dinner to Lincoln.”

“What makes you think he’s home?”

“He’s home.” She assured him, “Let’s go. It’ll cook in the leftover heat on the way over.” Bellamy lifted the pot off the stove and loaded it into the back of the rover, tying it down before crossing to the passenger side of the rover where Calypso was patiently waiting to be helped into the vehicle. He smiled and placed his hands on her hips, lifting her up into the cab.

It was a short ride to Lincoln’s home, but still too far to walk. The minute the rover pulled up, he came out of his home with a concerned look on his face. “Heya, brod.” Calypso greeted him. HELLO BROTHER.

“Strik won,” He nodded. “Bellamy, what brings you to my home?”

“Bellamy would like to speak to you about something.” Calypso clarified. “I brought dinner. We’ll eat. Is Octavia nearby?”

“No,” He shook his head. “She’s out hunting for Arkadia, she’ll sleep there tonight.” He smiled, “Please, come in.”

Bellamy went to the back of the cab, taking the pot out and bringing it inside. Calypso and Lincoln’s home were similar, but reflected their various interests. Lincoln’s home was a little more structured, more based on use than aesthetics. Calypso loved decorations, but her tools were simple. Lincoln directed Bellamy to set the pot over the hearth, and he let out a grunt once the heavy item was released from his grip. The guard settled in, watching Lincoln and Callie interact for a moment. They pushed each other, teased and when Lincoln pulled Callie’s hair, she cried out in frustration and smacked his arm. Bellamy chuckled.

“So,” Lincoln announced, turning and leaning against his counter top to face Bellamy. “What’s going on?” He asked, and Calypso shifted on her feet. The action caused him to change his posture. “Callie,” He began, “Laik yu kom goufa?” ARE YOU WITH CHILD?

Immediately, the girl shook her head. “No, no, it’s not—it’s not that.” The question brought up the idea once more, that Callie hadn’t given herself to Bellamy yet. Something tugged at her, and she feared that soon Bellamy would grow tired of her seemingly prudish ways.

“I’d like to uh,” Bellamy cut in. “I’d like to ask you for Calypso’s hand in marriage.”

Lincoln pushed his body off the wall and paced around the room for a moment. “Ste disha chit yu des?” IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT? He asked the petite woman before him. “Kalepso?” Her name in Tridasleng always made her focus. It rang with the accent that her mother, her father and all her family before her possessed. Now, Lincoln’s tone had changed to that of an authoritative father rather than the gentle voice of her older brother. Bellamy looked between them in confusion, the switch in language concerning him.

“Sha,” YES. She answered quietly.

“Will she still be able to come into the village?” Lincoln asked Bellamy. “If she marries you, will she still able to come home?” He demanded.

“Of course. I’ll make sure of it.” Bellamy answered. “I’d never want Callie to lose this place, it’s her home.”

“Have you met Calypso’s mother, Bellamy?”

“I um, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“I will give you my blessing, but only after she gives you hers. Calypso marrying outside of her people will not go over well, especially considering her mother has had her eye on another boy from our village since the two were young.” He sighed. “If she says no, it’s over.”

Bellamy nodded. “Well, we’ll set up a meeting. Maybe she can come to Arkadia and we can show her how we live.”

Calypso shook her head. “No, she’ll never go to that place.” She cut in, “I’ll bring you to my village, but you need to dress in Trikru clothes.”

“Uh, okay.” Nervousness radiated off Bellamy like heat, and it made her sad to think of how much stress she was putting him under for a happy union.

“Yu laik smil?” ARE YOU ARE HAPPY? Calypso asked the older man before her. Lincoln sighed, then a smile spread across his face.

“Octavia will be angry that I knew before her.” He answered. “But yes, I am happy.” Calypso broke out into a grin and jumped into his arms, pulling him close. “I trust you are in capable hands. Bellamy will give you a good life, and later, happy, strong children.”

“They will be lucky to have an ontu like you, Lincoln.”

“Ontu?” Bellamy asked as Callie made her way towards him, wrapping an arm around his back.

“Uncle,” She translated. “Ontu Linkon.” The girl pressed a kiss to Bellamy’s jawline. “Let us eat. We’ll tell Octavia the good news after my mother gives us her blessing.”

Later, the sun had set. The smell of their dinner had faded and the leftovers placed outside for the wild dogs that lingered around Lincoln’s property. They were calm, having been around Lincoln since they were puppies. Abandoned by their mother. Calypso was in Lincoln’s arms in a hammock, sleeping after her large meal while Bellamy sipped on the grounder version of moonshine with Lincoln in silence.

Then, he broke the quiet. “How much older are you than Callie?” Bellamy asked.

“There were forty moon changes in my life before Calypso was born,” He explained. “Three years, about. I remember when she was born. She was a tough seed in her mother’s belly. Constantly kicking, like she wanted to be born running.” He chuckled, smoothing back Calypso’s hair. “A day after she was born, my mother placed her in my arms and said, you will have no brothers or sisters of your own, so the flame gave you a cousin to treat like your sister. She is very small, but a wise soul.” He sighed. “True words, I’d come to find out. She didn’t grow as fast as the other children, but she always found the best hiding places. She knew where the animals we used for meat slept. She was an excellent hunter by the time she was a youngling.”

Bellamy smiled, sipping on his drink. “The first time I saw her I felt like she was looking right into me, like I had to be careful of what I was thinking because she could see my thoughts.”

“That knowing gaze she inherited from her father,” Lincoln explained. “Some say he could find a thief just by looking at him, that his eyes could draw out a confession from a mute.” He sighed, “I am happy she has found peace with you and Raven.”

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the sleeping girl. “I think it’s the other way around. Raven and I found peace when we found her.”

[mopeytropey]

What if I told you that I received so many lovely messages about fond apu memories and autumnal weather ... that I felt inspired to write some bonus content about our two, favorite beer nerds?

Well, you’re in luck. Because I did.

“Hey, babe!”

Clarke’s voice greets her from out of sight as Lexa toes off her running shoes without bothering to untie them. She deposits them neatly, beside a pair of Clarke’s shoes, against the wall of the entryway as the front door clicks shut. Frank, their recently adopted rescue, comes skittering across the tiled flooring in a bundle of excitement, panting and pushing his cold, black nose into Lexa’s calf muscle. Squatting to her haunches with a grin, she scratches the ringlets of white fur behind his lopsided ears.

When she rounds the open doorway into the kitchen, Clarke is stood at the island chopping fresh herbs. The air is fragrant and the kitchen is warm, awash in bright, morning sunlight that reflects off the harbor. Music plays softly and Clarke is radiant. Lexa smiles.

“Hey.”

“How was the run?” Clarke asks without looking up from the cutting board.

Lexa heads for the fridge to remove a canteen of water. “It was good. The temperature along the water is perfect today.”

“I miss summer,” Clarke sighs and nearly pouts.

“You love the fall.” Lexa takes small, measured sips then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s your most preferred season. You haven’t stopped talking about the foliage along High Street for weeks.”

“Still, I miss summer. The boat. The beach.”

“Clarke, it was practically summer weather last weekend. We were on the boat for hours on Saturday.”

Clarke’s pout intensifies. “Bikinis.”

This produces an actual laugh, and Lexa shakes her head. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll parade around in swimsuits in the dead of winter. You keep it warm enough in here.”

Clarke’s face breaks into a bright smile as she looks up from her chopping. “Promise?”

Lexa smiles as she takes a longer sip of ice-cold water from her canteen. Clarke is dressed for the brunch they’ll be hosting shortly. Casual in her striped sleeveless top and fitted jeans, but nicer than her typical Sunday morning wardrobe of pajama shorts and baggy tee shirts. Nice enough for Lexa to take notice.

“It smells good in here,” she says, moving closer to where Clarke is stood chopping. A hand finds its way beneath the loose hem of Clarke shirt as Lexa’s mouth softly touches Clarke’s bare shoulder. “And, you look nice.”

“Oh my god—you’re so sweaty.” Clarke squirms from Lexa’s touch with a laugh, all the more incentive to move in closer, bodily pinning her against the edge of the island. “Lexa!”

Laughing, she finally steps away as Clarke turns from the counter with an expression that some might mistake for exasperation. Three years on, Lexa knows better. Still smiling, she takes another pull off the water bottle before using the hem of her shirt to wipe the perspiration from her face and neck.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Good, you stink,” Clarke laughs, poking a finger against Lexa’s bared abdomen just before her damp running shirt drops back into place. “And, your shirt is soaked. I love you, but I’m not changing my outfit just because all that adrenaline has made you handsy.”

Lexa heads for the stairs with a laugh. “Drenched in sweat from a long run used to do it for you, you know.”

She pulls her shirt over her head as she climbs, stopping at the landing to turn towards Clarke who has trailed behind her and paused at the base of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, I’m definitely still appreciating the view …  from afar.”

Lexa’s aim is impeccable. The damp shirt hits Clarke square in the face as she squeals in disgust, and Frank barks while dancing at her feet. Lexa laughs all the way to the shower.

:::

“Better?”

Clarke looks up from the big block cutting board with a smile as Lexa shuffles into the kitchen for a second time. She is now slicing strawberries and mangoes, and Lexa does a slow spin as if to show off her clean clothes and freshly blow-dried curls.

Clarke leans forward, wordlessly requesting a quick kiss, and then hums against Lexa’s mouth when she closes the distance. “Well, you definitely smell better,” she says as they separate.

“What can I do?” Lexa surveys Clarke’s array of prep stations along the island countertop—freshly diced fruit, ramekins of chopped herbs, and blocks of cheese, waiting to be grated. Aromas of ground coffee brewing and warm pastries baking have begun to fill the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

She is still mostly relegated to making fried eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches for them to eat, but over the years Lexa has found her place in the kitchen. Clarke is as efficient as she is talented as a home chef, but she always appreciates Lexa’s company as she cooks. She often works alongside Clarke as an adequate sous chef.

“Grate that cheese for me, and I’ll do dirty things to you later.”

Lexa responds to Clarke’s titillating grin with an arched brow and smirk of her own. “Go on.”

“Honestly, after we survive this brunch, I fully plan to do dirty things with you either way.” Clarke widens her grin and bats her eyelashes. “But, the grating would still be very much appreciated.”

Lexa returns her smile while reaching for a wedge of cheese. “Okay, how much of these do you need?”

“I would do half a block of the gruyere and fontina, go heavy on the sharp cheddar.”

Lexa begins her task, dropping a few shreds of cheese to the floor where Frank sits expectantly, tail wagging against the wood floors like a miniature dry mop.

“I saw that.”

Lexa smiles over at Clarke, whose eyes remain on her knife as it deftly slices a strawberry. “Saw what?”

Moments of comforting silence pass, and then Clarke releases a long-suffering sigh. “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“What’s got you feeling so anxious?”

“I’m not anxious just … anticipatory.”

“Well, you’re certainly acting anxious,” Lexa counters. And then, her voice softens to gentle concern. “We’ve hosted brunch a hundred times, Clarke.”

“Okay, but you know this brunch, in particular, is going to be different. You don’t feel at all anxious?”

Poised to respond, Lexa sets down the cheese grater and opens her mouth just as Clarke continues to ramble on with her train of thought.

“Of course you don’t feel anxious—you’re the most even-keeled person I’ve ever met. How many times in your life have you been nervous about anything? Twice?”

Smiling warmly, Lexa shrugs. “At least three times.” Her eyes slide to the bowl of fruit that she knows Clarke has been marinating in a light but sugary glaze of orange liqueur. “How much of that fruit do you think we’d have to eat to feel a little drunk? Or, I could slip some amaretto into your coffee.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Clarke laughs. “You know that if Abby shows up to a social event and can tell that I’ve been drinking before any guests have arrived, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lexa moves in closer, and this time, feels Clarke sink against her as arms coil around her waist. She kisses Clarke’s hairline, the skin of her shoulder. Tender endearments that she has expressed hundreds of times.  She inhales as Clarke exhales, a synthesis of their familiar proximity.

This feels different, Lexa thinks.

There is a subtle distinction that buzzes through her, warming her skin and causing her stomach to flutter. An embrace that could be almost perfunctory at this stage, is somehow much more. She wonders briefly if Clarke feels it too.

“I love you.”

“That helps,” Clarke mumbles, having nestled into the crook of Lexa’s neck and shoulder.

Lexa takes a quick breath, settling the nerves that she conceals too well. “And, Frank loves you too.”

She glances down to the floor, Clarke’s gaze quickly following, to see their fluffy companion bumping against their shins, not wanting to be left out of the affection.

“Oh, I love you too, Frank!” Clarke squats, cooing as she accepts sloppy kisses and scoops the small, eager pup into her arms, her anxieties momentarily forgotten.

:::

“Which one of you is pregnant?”

“Raven …”

Clarke is always scolding, exasperated, appalled, or any combination of all three, and Lexa doesn’t know why she still bothers. In all the years that she’s known her, Raven has never once been cowed to socially appropriate conversations no matter the reprimand.

“Don’t get mad at me—you’re the one who’s acting weird.” Raven sits across from them with a calculating stare, flanked by Lincoln and Anya and wielding her fork like a weapon. The tines point accusingly at she and Clarke as Raven says, “Something is up.”

Lexa’s gaze flicks to Anya for any hint of culpability. To no surprise, her face remains placid and untelling.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m not pregnant!”

“Esquire?”

“No one is pregnant,” Clarke reiterates.

The oblong dining table is overflowing with food and drinks. Clarke’s mother, who sits beside Lexa, makes an appreciative sound as she takes a bite of quiche.

“This is wonderful, Clarke.”

Clarke offers a grateful smile for Abby’s efforts to redirect the conversation, but the end result is predictably futile. Raven’s lines of questioning are often like a speeding, unmanned freight train. Virtually unstoppable.

“The food really is excellent,” Lincoln echoes with his soft smile.

“Quiet, you,” Raven snaps playfully. “Come on, Griffin. Spill.”

Beneath the table, Lexa finds Clarke’s fingers.

“We wanted you all here to tell you that—“ Clarke exhales, squeezing Lexa’s fingers. “Lexa and I got married.”

The house falls quiet for three, tense seconds, and then Octavia speaks, her voice taking on a sharp tone of mistrust.

“You mean you’re getting married.”

“We were married last week,” Lexa corrects with an easy smile.

Octavia blinks slowly, her gaze calculating between the two of them. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Clarke answers, the waver in her voice beginning to settle now that they’ve aired this secret to their closest friends. “In New York.”

Early autumn in her city. Lingering summer warmth but with a touch of color on all the trees in the parks. The promise of changing seasons ahead. Clarke stood in the courthouse in jeans and one of Lexa’s favorite tee shirts, wearing the brightest smile Lexa has ever seen. It was nothing she had ever planned for herself and somehow everything she had ever wanted in a ceremonial exchange of vows. That it was Clarke sat beside her, signing her name just below Lexa’s, no doubt made all the difference.

“You run away to New York,” Raven is saying, “exchange some secret nuptials, slink back into town as if nothing has changed—“

“Okay, you’re being a little dramatic. The plan wasn’t really that nefarious,” Clarke says.

“—and then wait an entire week to tell us?”

Lexa tries very hard not to be entertained by Raven’s exasperation, but she finds herself fighting a smile as Clarke’s best friend struggles to work out the new information.

“You were on that extended project at work,” Clarke reminds her.

“I was in Rhode Island, not orbiting in space.”

“To be fair,” Octavia chimes in, “you never check your phone when you’re locked into a project.”

“You could have texted me,” Raven argues.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I got married over text!”

Lexa watches the pure shock and mild affront ebb from Raven’s features. “Oh my god, you’re married.”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiles, squeezing again to Lexa’s fingers.

“Hang on, why are you not more shocked by this?” Raven has turned her attention to Abby, who sits at Lexa’s right-hand side.

“Oh,” Clarke clears her throat after finishing a sip of her mimosa. “My mom was there.”

“Clarke asked for my discretion,” Abby responds calmly. “Of course I deferred to hers and Lexa’s wishes.”

“I can’t believe,” Raven says to Abby in dismay, shaking her head like an unforgiving betrayal, “after all these years, you’re still playing favorites with Clarke by keeping secrets from your other children.”

At this, Abby laughs and the atmosphere around the table decompresses. Lincoln extends his glass across the table towards Lexa.

“Cheers, buddy. Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks.” Lexa smiles, clinking their glasses together. Clarke’s hand is still in hers, and Lexa’s palm suddenly perspires.

“Yeah, took you two long enough.” Octavia’s grin is smaller, more resigned, but she too extends her glass to join Lexa’s and Lincoln’s.

“Can you estimate just how long you plan to sulk about this?” Clarke is saying to Raven as everyone else tucks into their food.

Raven clicks her tongue, though she is smiling as she says, “Ten, fifteen years tops.”

Anya has had her arm draped carelessly along the back of Raven’s chair since they sat down, and now briefly runs her fingers across Raven’s shoulder cap. “Relax, I got some pretty nice photos of the courthouse I can show you.”

Raven nearly flinches in surprise. “You were—ugh, of course you were there.” She huffs in defeat, rolling her eyes and reaching for her half-empty glass of champagne and orange juice (heavy on the champagne). “Okay, somebody needs to get me a refill because I need all the details and this mimosa is going to go down quickly.”

“It was simple and more-or-less unplanned,” Clarke explains with an easy sigh. “We drove down last weekend to visit Gus. My mom was already there on business, and … it just felt right.”

Lexa picks up the thread where Clarke leaves off. “We chose the courthouse where Gus signed the papers to make my adoption official.” She looks at Clarke, heart flapping wildly. “It was nice.”

Something softens in Raven’s features at Lexa’s words, and she exhales as Anya is refilling her glass. “Okay, that is some cute shit.”

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” Clarke frets.

“Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. You surprised the ever-loving hell out of me, but—I mean, jesus, you two have been grossing us out as a married couple for years.”

Clarke blows a kiss at her from across the table. “Next time I get married on a whim, I’ll text you.”

The humor drops from Raven’s face as she places a hand flat against the table. “I swear on my love of science, Clarke, if you ever soil this marriage with Esquire, I will seriously consider blocking your number indefinitely.”

Lexa grins, oddly comforted by Raven’s threatening tone. “Thanks, Reyes.”

“I’m obviously kidding!” Clarke leans over to kiss the line of Lexa’s jaw as if to underscore her joke.

“Okay, so let’s hear it. Tell me more,” Raven demands.

Lexa smiles, remembering the day. “Gus took us out for ramen afterwards.”

“Then I took them out for shots,” Anya says.

“It really was quite lovely,” Abby chimes in, understandably eager to finally have the freedom to speak of their nuptials. “The courthouse, I mean. And dinner. I’d rather not know about all the drinking that followed.”

“Aw come on, Mama Griffin. You know you’ve got some good kids,” Octavia says.

Abby agrees without hesitation. “The very best.”

Lexa feels her chest bloom with warmth to be included in the sentiment, and luckier still to have acquired such a profoundly superior family.

:::

Clarke, her mother, and their other guests have moved into the sitting room while Lexa tidies the kitchen. Still within earshot, she listens for the bright notes of Clarke’s laughter and curbs her own smile at the sound. Anya hands her items off the dining table while Lexa wraps the leftovers and loads the dishwasher. The routine between them is practiced and familiar, running through motions they have done together since childhood.  

“Keeping this little secret of yours is going to have me in the dog house. No offense, Frank.” Anya looks to the dog that has fallen asleep near their feet where she and Lexa are leaned against the island.

The kitchen now more-or-less spotless, Lexa pushes off the countertop and reaches into the fridge for two beers, popping their lids before offering one to her sister.

“My condolences,” she answers with a grin. “When do you go back?”

“Few days.”

Lexa sips her beer. “Plenty of time to reconcile then. Anyway, she doesn’t seem upset anymore.”

“At you and Clarke, no. At me?” Anya runs a hand through her hair with a long-suffering exhale that brings a smile to Lexa’s face.

She is easily amused by seeing Anya—so stoic, so stable, so disaffected by almost everything else in her life—navigate the delicate nuances of a sustained relationship. Particularly with Raven Reyes.

“What?” Anya scowls as she notices Lexa’s amusement.

Lexa shrugs, finishing another sip of beer. “Nothing. You’re just very domesticated these days.”

“Says the married one.”

Lexa’s stomach jumps as she thinks of Clarke sitting in the next room. “It’s not so bad. You should try it.”

“It’s been seven days, kid. Talk to me in seven years.”

“I will.”

Anya’s narrowed gaze moves from Lexa’s smug confidence to the floor. “Your dog is sleeping beside a Yankees emblem.”

Without turning around, Lexa knows she will find Frank curled around the offensive dog toy—a plush baseball with navy stitching, emblazoned with the infamous logo—that arrived to their house the day after the cursed New York baseball team made the playoffs. Her shoulders tense even as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s a situation that is being handled.”

“It looks like he’s fairly attached to it,” Anya prods.

“The dog’s sight is impaired, Anya. He cannot be held accountable for poor judgement.”

Frank, having lost an eye to irreparable damage before he was rescued, had immediately stolen Lexa’s heart. One look at him at the adoption event earlier that summer, and she knew he belonged with her and Clarke. They have been fairly inseparable ever since.

Anya very nearly smiles. “If you say so.”

“You’re involved in a serious, long-distance relationship with a devout supporter of the Yankees—is this really the fight you want to be having right now?”

A barely audible laugh—just loud enough for Lexa to hear it—and Anya concedes with a bowed head. “Clarke won’t let you throw it away, huh?”

Lexa takes another sip of beer then exhales in frustration, her eyes finally dragging over to Frank and that damn baseball. “No.”

:::

Brunch turns into beers and board games and more coffee, Abby excusing herself after a few hours to rest before her flight the following morning. She leaves them all with lingering hugs, motherly reminders to stay safe, and reiterated congratulations to Clarke and Lexa. By late afternoon, after another round of coffee for their guests, the house is finally empty and quiet, and Clarke collapses onto the sofa with a soft grunt of exhaustion.

Lexa sits at the opposite end, near her feet, and pulls Clarke’s legs into her lap. She begins to mindlessly rub her thumbs into Clarke’s calves as her head tips back and her eyes fall closed. They are peaceful for several minutes before Clarke’s voice scratches out softly.

“That went well.”

Lexa hums. “Raven’s outburst notwithstanding?”

“She was being really dramatic.”

“Have you met Raven before today?”

Clarke laughs, poking her foot into Lexa’s stomach. “Hush.”

At the sound of her laughter, Lexa’s head rolls to the side. She opens her eyes to find Clarke already looking at her with drowsy eyes. “You’re about to fall asleep.”

Clarke hums as Lexa’s hands continue to work against the tense muscles of her legs and feet.

“Is this impending nap just a precursor to you ravaging me later?”

“Mmm. Yes.” As Clarke smiles, her eyes fall closed again. “Need to restore energy.”

“Okay, I’m going to go read for a bit.”

Clarke pouts as Lexa shifts from under her legs and stands beside the couch to stretch her limbs.

“No. Stay and cuddle.”

Lexa bends to kiss Clarke’s protruding lip. “I’ll cuddle you later when we have less clothes on.”

“I feel objectified.” Still with her eyes closed, Clarke finds the crook of Lexa’s elbow, keeping her close with a loose grip.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa smiles, and kisses her again.

:::

It’s just under an hour later, the sky streaking in hues of burnt orange and fading pink, when Lexa glances up from her book to see Clarke shuffling towards her. She is still wrapped in a blanket that she must have grabbed from the sofa during her nap. Lexa smiles at her sleepy frown and places her book on the wide arm of the deck chair just before Clarke crawls onto her lap.

“Hi.”

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

“Much warmer now,” Lexa says, hugging Clarke closer as they shift against the wooden chair to find an optimal snuggling position. “How was the nap?”

“Mmm,” Clarke hums. “Productive.”

Her voice is that fraction of an octave lower, that sensational rasp that sends a tingling chill across Lexa’s shoulders.

“Productive?”

“Yeah, I had a nice dream about my wife.”

Lexa can’t help the small giggle that erupts as the tips of her ears go red. It will take some getting used to—having a wife, being someone’s wife—referring to Clarke as such and hearing the same in return. Thinking of herself in this way still feels a bit like walking around in shoes that are too big for her feet. A week on, and being Clarke’s wife has not yet lost its clumsy weight.

A nervous energy, not unlike the jittery uncertainties that new relationships breed, has been Lexa’s stasis for a solid week. She likens this new adjustment to the flurry of unrestrained feelings she experienced during those early weeks with Clarke. When she first reached for Lexa’s hand in public without warning, or the effort it took to calm her anxious breathing when they undressed each other for the first time. Lexa’s nerves are similarly frayed now, replaying this new epithet in her mind over and over.

My wife. 

She focuses instead on Clarke’s potentially filthy dream and clears her throat. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

In response, Clarke laughs against her neck and kisses just below her ear. “I bet you would.”

The next kiss, pressed against Lexa’s mouth, is even more languid, growing a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. “So, about that dream.”

“Yeah—can we go inside now?” Clarke laughs against her lips, stealing another kiss as Lexa’s hands slip beneath the wooly throw blanket to find an excessive amount of bare skin. “I’m officially cold.”

“Clarke, you’re not wearing any pants.”

“You know I can’t fall asleep in jeans, babe.”

As she stands with a smile, nearly tipping Clarke out of her lap if not for a sure grip, Lexa thinks of all the other things she knows about the woman clinging to her shoulders.

Not just how she takes her coffee or her favorite movie, but the brand of dish soap she prefers and the way her voice shatters just before she cries. The slow rumble of her snores and the color of her eyes when they darken in a flash of anger.

That she is selfless to a fault, often putting her own wellness at risk for the sake of others. She knows the songs that Clarke refuses to listen to because they are such visceral reminders of Jake. Lexa knows when she needs space and the times she will want comfort, even if she is too scared to ask.

These and so many more—the myriad quirks that arise out of sustained intimacy.

Once indoors, Lexa deposits Clarke onto the bed before falling gracelessly beside her in a tangle of limbs.

“So, the big secret’s out. Everyone that matters knows that we’re married.” Lexa swallows. “How do you feel?”

Clarke rolls over with a sigh, her eyes scanning the ceiling above them. “Better. A lot better, actually.”

“Yeah? No turning back now. You’re officially stuck with me.”

Even as she jokes, her heart hammers a steady beat. The light teasing easily drags Clarke’s gaze back to her, and Lexa tempers her smile enough to accept a lingering press of Clarke’s mouth.

She answers as they slowly break apart, her hands latched at the back of Lexa’s neck. “I think we both know I was stuck with you a long time ago.”

:::