#even if every season of this show would be better with lexa

[butmakeitgayblog]

Any new headcanons brewing in your head after seeing Alycia at the AACTA

Not... entirely

But I've had thoughts. Bear with me.

I'm not even remotely the person to write something like this at all, but it definitely did have me thinking of a SORT OF SHOEH-esque type fic. Something involving them being closeted and in Hollywood. Getting their flowers for their talent and being in love, but having to keep it quiet their entire careers. I've seen some fics along this line here and there, but inevitably in the fic, one or both eventually come out on stage or something.

Which is great! That's a lovely and hopeful ending.

But also....

Not entirely realistic.

Or even half as heartwrenching.

"Well yeah jesus fuck, why do you want sad shit Andi, why are you always such a glutton for punishment and literary pain?"

Well I'll tell you why: cuz... shut up

Idk it just got me thinking of Clexa as two Hollywood starlets on kind of differing ends of the spectrum of Hollywood that in the public eye are generally never really thought about together.

Lexa tends to do more gritty work, a lot more indie films. Dark threaded moody pieces and emotional roles, not generally thought of as box office fodder, but pretty much always a contender at awards season. Sleeper hits, you get me. Things like that. She definitely has a well known name, but she's selective in her work and that gains her a lot of respect with fans, even if they have to sometimes wait 2-3 years between projects. Because whatever she signs on for, it's pretty much always really fucking good. Whereas Clarke is more of a mainstream girly. She does a decently broad spectrum of films, but they're by and large always ones with bigger budgets, bigger release dates, more screens. It's not that they're not quality pictures, it's just that Clarke likes to work a broad range of things. One year she's in a comedy, the next a period piece, the next action. There's no real labeling her career.

And most importantly, they're both very, very straight.

At least, their personas are.

Alexandria is a smoky eyed femme fatale who leaves all the men eating out of the palm of her hand. Very "Look but don't touch" attitude that adds to her allure, to her mystery, despite her always being attached to leading man's arm. Miss Griffin is the picture of buxom Hollywood glam that every guy has on the List. Known for leaving a string of broken hearted men in her wake with little more than a cheek kiss-stained in signature red lipstick

Lexa and Clarke though?

Lexa and Clarke are two friends who have been deeply in love and committed to each other for the better part of 5 years.

They love each other in secret because that's what they feel like they have to do. They have two seperate houses with two separate addresses, and only one bed they actually sleep in.

It only really burns on the big nights, which I think would be an interesting oneshot. Just a glimpse into their life and what it feels like in that moment. The night when all their work and their sacrifices are being honored. Because even though, yes, they do play the part of friends and manage to sit near each other, it's not the same. It's not the same when they can't get ready together or even show up in the same car. When they have to remind themselves not to lean into each other too often, or even reach for the others hand to calm their nerves.

When one wins, they walk up alone without a hug or kiss from the only person who actually matters. They thank their families and their friends and their management that they can barely stand half the time, and remind themselves to smile like it's the happiest moment of their life even though at least half it all feels like a lie. Because yeah, they get lonely in the months when projects and shooting schedules pull them to opposite sides of the globe... but somehow those months never feel quite as lonely as being in a room filled with people who act like they adore you, while the love of your life sits quietly with her own "date" half an aisle away

[rosapexa]

OC Interview

Thank you so much for the tag @alphanight-vp 🖤

Name: Lexa (Silverhand). My birth name is Alexandra Miranda Shaw but no one is allowed to use that, so you better quickly forget you know *stares uncomfortably long at you*

Nickname: Not really a nickname, more a threat, but people know me as Maelstrom's Ghost. Johnny calls me "Darling" or simply "Maelstrom" (affectionally). Also i love when he calls me his "Mrs" or just "my wife".

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Maelstrom *smirks*

Height: 169 cm

Orientation: Bisexuell

Nationality/Ethnicity: American. But my parents immigrated from the UK a long time before i was born.

Fave Fruit: Bananas and Strawberries

Fave Season: Autumn. It's not too hot and it's the Halloween season.

Fave Flower: I don't really care about flowers, but roses are kinda nice to look at.

Fave Scent: Lavender and Johnny. Oh and fresh blood... *mumbles to herself* put fresh blood on Johnny and i jump on that man instantly

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Coffee! Always!

Average hours of sleep: Around 6 hours. I could deal with less sleep easily, but i like lying and sleeping next to my husband and cat.

Dog or Cat person: Cat of course. I love their independence and that they have a strong will. If you annoy or even threaten them, they'll fight. ... Just like me btw *there it is again: that stare* ... Also they can be on their own perfectly fine and yet when they found their person, they love nothing more than to be near them. And i simply adore how fluffly and cute they are and how they can cause total havoc in your apartment and pretend to be the most innocent creature ever after it *laughs* And you just love them for that! Especially my fur baby Salem is a master at this.

Dream trip: Not really a dream cause i like where i am, but one day i would like to see snow again.

Favorite fictional character: Jack Skellington. Johnny showed me the movie "The Nightmare before Christmas" on our first Christmas and i loved it and Jack especially right away. We watch this movie now every Christmas.

Number of blankets they sleep with: One. More than one is annoying and gets messy.

Random fact: I am a very private person. I don't like if anyone, except very few people, knows too much about me. Especially personal things...

With that said, this interview is over.

Run!

I don't know who exactly has done this and sorry if you have already been tagged:

@miss--river , @thelonestrider , @theviridianbunny , @valsilverhand , @wraithsoutlaws , @dreamskug , @gloryride , @wanderingaldecaldo , @imaginarycyberpunk2023 , @chevvy-yates

And everyone else who would like to do this, please feel tagged 🤍

No pressure of course 🖤

[booasaur]

Yo Booasaur, do you think Cruz&Aaliyah fics might have the staying power to rival Clexa fics? I don't feel like there's been a tv show that's sparked like them for some time (at least in the english speaking world). There have been cute couples like Izzie&Cassey, Josie&Penelope but this just hit's different. There's a part of my head that's laughing at how predictable *that* scene is but executed so well... you could probably hear panties dropping...

No, I don't think so. So many things went into creating the Clexa phenomenon, and I don't think that can be repeated. The one thing that I could see really boosting Aaliyah/Cruz is if a season 2 is announced and both actors returning, in the same way Lexa's return in s3 really propelled Clexa to heights that I don't think any f/f ship has come close to reaching, including Aaliyah/Cruz.

The biggest thing is longevity, you need multiple seasons. The top f/f fandoms on AO3 are Swan Queen and Supercorp, each of which had years and years of full seasons to keep people invested and writing. Clexa didn't get even two shorter ones, but it was canon and involved the lead and had the hiatus to really build momentum and incredible popularity, based in part on the promise of better-than-average f/f treatment, and then the anger at that broken promise along with every other f/f ship that year being killed off one by one made people stay with it in a way I'm not sure they would now.

The memory of Clexa itself now makes sure people won't get that invested in anything. I myself was literally telling people to wait till the finale aired to watch SOL. And we have enough other media now that we can just move to instead. Warrior Nun, I think, is probably a good current example of how popular ongoing central f/f rep can be, and I think theirs would be good numbers for Aaliyah/Cruz (we need a ship name that isn't just repeating the two names!) to aspire to.

[komtrkru]

when we can’t sleep we fix season 6 it is our way

[raccoonhearteyes]

Part I  | Part II  | Part III | Part IV  | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI

December 18th, 2018 

It has been over a month since Lexa saw Clarke. Or accidentally fucked her after falling asleep on her roof. She was just so warm. And kind. And being pulled into Clarke’s orbit is just too easy. Lexa knows that if she sees her, she won’t be strong enough to walk away. Even though it’ll be better for her. So instead of risking the temptation, Lexa has avoided any place she may run into Clarke. She refuses to go near the gallery. She avoids the whole borough where Clarke lives. She won’t even let herself get coffee somewhere if there’s a chance a flash of golden hair and baby blue eyes will send her spiraling again. 

Lexa usually loves the holiday season in the city. She loves the lights and the display windows. This year, seeing happy couples kiss at the Rockefeller tree, families cozied together in the winter chill just makes her feel hollow and empty. 

The Darkness preys on weakness, and skates by Lexa. Lexa’s too depressed to walk away and make him chase her. When he takes a lap the second time, he slows to a stop in front of her.

“What’s the matter Lexa, no holiday spirit this year?” 

“Hard to be cheery when you spend it alone.”

“What are you talking about, I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“You’re not exactly the company I’d ever hope for.” 

“Hm, still hung up on your artist, then?”

In the past twenty years, he has been cruel and relentless in trying to get her to give up her soul. He taunts and times his appearances on the days when she feels the worst. But he is still the most consistent aspect of her life, the only person or devil that remembers her. That she can carry a conversation with without worrying about being forgotten. While he’s shown up at bad times, he sometimes shows up just to check. They talk about things other than stealing her soul every so often. Sometimes he’s the outlet she needs for a more serious conversation that a stranger won’t have. 

And tonight, for whatever reason, he seems less likely to convince her to give up. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit. Maybe she’s projecting. Maybe she really is just that desperate for some semblance of human connection. 

“I feel like I lived an entire life with her in these past six months. I know her better than most of her friends do, but I’m not even a blip on her radar. So now I'm just killing time.”

“Until what?” 

“Until I die. Until I give up and let you take my soul.”

He seems genuinely surprised at her confession, then she continues, “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” 

“Known what?”

“That offering a life in which you don’t age seems like something that would last longer. But no one lasts longer than a standard lifetime, do they? People barely last a full lifetime.”

“The best kind of deals are the ones where you think you’ve won,” he shrugs arrogantly.

Lexa is fuming with anger at this point. Who preys on foster kids with lofty promises and rigged deals? This is so wrong, and yet she’s still so trapped, so lonely, that he still might win. 

“So, is this you waving the white flag?”

Lexa is about to say yes, to end it, and let him take her soul if it means the heartbreak stops. But suddenly, there she is. Wrapped in a knit scarf and a beanie, art supplies sprawled over a park bench as she draws the scene. Clarke. She looks beautiful, and seeing her there at this exact moment feels like a sign, and it gives Lexa the courage to tell the Darkness, “Not today.” 

-----------

Like a moth to a flame, she’s drawn closer to Clarke. But she’s wary of getting too close. Close enough to bask in her warmth, but not so close that she burns her wings. It’s a delicate line to tightrope her way across. Especially in the aching loneliness of the holidays. 

Clarke is drawing people, as she always does. So Lexa decides to stand near enough that she’ll inspire another piece, but not so close that she risks falling into conversation with her. That’s too risky. Too easy to fall back into her orbit. Too easy to get sucked into another devastating heartbreak. 

So Lexa is content to watch from afar. To watch Clarke's eyes light up when she captures a moment on the page. To watch her smile at the little kids learning to ice skate below the massive tree. To watch the colors of the tree reflect off her blonde hair and the snow get caught in her lashes. It makes her chest swell with longing, so full it begins to ache. 

It’s not her fault a family asks her to take a photo of them. To get the full tree in the frame she had to take a few steps back. It’s not her fault that happened to be in Clarke’s direction. It’s out of her control that Clarke watched the whole interaction, watched the silly faces she made to get the baby to look in the right direction. 

She was trying to avoid her. To be close, but not too close, but Clarke noticed her this time. It’s not her fault. 

“That was adorable,” Clarke says, gesturing at the small family happily peering at the photos Lexa had just taken. 

“I couldn’t let the baby ruin the photo by looking over there,” Lexa blushes. 

Clarke just smiles at her, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Lexa doesn't try to continue the conversation. She very intentionally turns her attention back to the tree and the ice skaters below, but she should have accounted for Clarke. Clarke, who has no hesitations in starting a conversation with a pretty stranger, who always talks to new people like they’re old friends. 

“Can I draw you?” she asks. 

“Sure.”Always. She knows she’s breaking a promise to herself, but instead of being rude or dismissive, she caves to blue eyes and a soft smile. 

Clarke has her turn around to face her, lean back on the railing and prop her elbows on it. She wants to get the whole tree in the background, and Lexa tries to steady her breathing to prepare for the intimacy of sustained eye contact while Clarke draws her. Again.   

They make idle chit chat while she works. Lexa keeps her answers short, just shy of curt. She doesn’t return the questions because she already knows Clarke’s answers. Instead, she focuses on the pink tongue poking out between Clarke’s teeth. The little freckle above her lip. Those eyes. Lexa blinks and Clarke is teasing her about something she said over fries. Those eyes are full of mirth and still feel like home. She blinks again and sees the same cocky twinkle looking up from between her legs. 

She has to get out of here. 

But Clarke’s not quite finished, and Lexa is a glutton for punishment. So she stays to model, letting Clarke's eyes trace the curve of her ass. The jut of a jawline. It’s a divine sort of torture. 

But she can’t let it go any further. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t. She’s not strong enough. She’s too afraid to get caught up in a conversation. To end up tangled in bed with Clarke yet again. Her heart can’t take it. 

The second she sees Clarke finish, she literally runs away. It’s not her proudest moment. Or her most well-thought-out, but she’s on survival mode now, and it is what needed to be done. 

Safely on the other side of the rink, she takes one last look at Clarke, who just finished signing her name to the bottom of the piece. Lexa watches her look around in confusion. Glancing down at the piece then up, looking for the model and seeing nothing. Not recognizing the face. Not remembering the brief conversation they had while she worked. Drawing a blank. And Lexa’s heart shatters once again.

[lexa-griffins]

I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one that doesn't like most of what the fandom writes. I mean, most of the writers are in love with Lexa, making her overly masculine and dominant, and tend to reflect their own personalities on Clarke, making her a damsel in distress, all feminine and sophisticated, waiting to be saved by big brave Lexa, and unfortunately, Clarke's personality is almost totally erased in most cases. I respect their views and their writing, but that's not how I see them

Before i answer I feel like I need a disclaimer because I'm aware some mutuals/followers write Lexa and Clarke the way me and anon state we are not the biggest fans of and if you do, you're doing great sweetie, keep on writing what you love!

That being said, yeah you're definitely not alone in not being a big fan of the majorities interpretation of Lexa and Clarke in fics (be it AU type or canon).

Now I do gotta say that while if I had to pick a favorite it would most definitely be Lexa, when it comes to 'attraction' I am a Clarke's girl so I might also be guilty of that in the inverse way. And while I see Lexa as more femme and will write her/draw her as such I know a lot of butch folks see themselves in her and I would be perfectly fine with reading more masculine Lexa fics (although I really dislike her being all dominant, I kinda draw the line there 😂) if they weren't almost always (I'm saying almost because I haven't tried to read every single fic of course but from my experience) accompanied with an overly feminine Clarke and I just really dislike the whole damsel in distress sophisticated Clarke as you put it and yeah, sometimes I start reading it and I can't find the Clarke I love in there.

The fandom kinda say peace to the show after Lexa's death which I kinda did too during season 4 and while I didn't watch the full episodes I do like jumping around to Clarke's and Raven's scenes (and Madi's because I love that little girl) and I feel like whatever 'princess' there was in Clarke left her as she grew into an actual adult so the more I watched the more I doubled down on the disliking feminine/submissive Clarke because it felt even less like her to me and fics where she is written like that lost nearly all the appeal to me. (not to mention I was never a fan of the generalized 'Clarke has the baby no questions asked' specially when Lexa's personality to me always felt like it fit with maternity and motherhood so much more than Clarke's and has a fan of family/pregnancy fics those also got put aside).

I would like to think the way I write Lexa and Clarke in my fics reflects the way I think about them when it comes to this topic and while not many I do have readers so I know some people do like the dynamic the way I portrait it but I think I can count on my two hands the number of fics I have read that go "against the current" of the fandom I guess you could say.

Maybe if I was good at writing meta or at expressing better what I mean this would be more well structured but I guess this is my way to say that yeah I mostly agree with you anon! 😅

And of course, people are allowed to write whatever they want and have their own interpretations of the characters and if you read this and disagree it's perfectly fine, I'm glad so many people get to have so many different fics that align with how they see the characters and that they get to enjoy them. I'm always a bit sad that I can barely find any fics that meet my views of them but such is the nature of fandom and I try to self-indulge with the fics I write and that follow the way I see them and if people agree them wonderful and if they don't then I hope they have a wonderful time reading and writing with the view they agree with! :D

[optimisticcoffeedelusion]

It Is Done, You All

Wasn’t it amazing how Pam jumped in to save the day with proper equipment, sedated Eve so she would shut up, helped everyone to the surface and now they’re on the road? Amazing, you all. Amazing! Now that’s a finale!!

Now talking about what they wanted to trick us into believing is the ending, Who does that? Who takes an awul idea and decides to execute it...awfully, creating a bunch of minutes of absolute cringy and legit RIDICULOUS disaster? But I do thank them for that in a way, because the fact that the final moments are ridiculous makes them look so unreal that it’s easy to block it all away and take just the decent stuff that was in the episode, such as the pissing scene (no, really, there were BEAUTIFUL moments, pissing scene included).

Not mentioning this as an actual comparison (so please don’t start with that), but I swear they did it better - execution wise - on the CW with Lexa. They hurt me better. It was horrible, but at least it wasn’t cringy and unworthy of the show and the characters. I could never block that out. But I can very easily pretend that those final moments of episode 8 of Killing Eve season 4 don’t exist because...because yeah, they were THAT BAD. And again, I don’t only mean bad in terms of the contents. Even more...they were badly done!! So, so badly! Like, did you really air that shit-kind of badly!

Who decided to give absolutely amazing deaths to side characters, then not only go for killing one of the mains (which again obviously was saved by our pal Pam), but then doing in the most ridiculous way possible? Who? What did you have in mind, if anything at all?

So yeah, I do give thanks and praise for all the good scenes in the season (because I genuinely think there were multiple), for the incredible acting of the cast, especially Jodie and Sandra, but I also want to give sarcastical thanks to Laura and the writers for having DEPRIVED the amazing show that Killing Eve overall still is of an ending that is not only worthy of the show, but even just decent. I will forget that ending (thanks, Pam!!!), but I will not forget you all made it.

Now, let me go back to my very much alive Villanelle and Eve Polastri, while you pat yourselves in the back for your very very very weird idea of “glorious”.

Sending hugs and blessings to every single person in the fandom and every member of the cast.

[musingsofanunorgainizedmind]

Top 10 Mishandled Ships (Bellarke ; Bellamy and Clarke)

Given the way that JRoth ruins every single ship he touches, I really should have known better. I didn’t put Clexa on this list, but the way he handled that ship was also a disaster. But, somehow, I thought that Bellarke would be different. Bellamy and Clarke are endgame in the book series. The actors who play them are married in real life. The ship was built up beautifully over six seasons and then…season seven happened. Due to offscreen factors, Bellamy and Clarke couldn’t be in as much of the season. I still don’t know if JRoth sunk this ship out of spite to the actors, to the fans, or just for his own sick amusement. Having Clarke kill Bellamy over a book she doesn’t even bother to grab? After all they’d been through? The core theme of their relationship was forgiveness and this was where Clarke drew the line? Clarke also referred to Bellamy as her “best friend” multiple times in the final season, the characters barely mourned Bellamy’s death (including Bellamy’s sister and girlfriend), and Lexa was shown to be Clarke’s soulmate at the end. I spent the entire final few episodes sobbing out of anger at the injustice. They even added a stupid “everyone lives happily ever after except Bellamy” ending that just felt hollow. The entire final season was disappointing, confusing, and self-congratulatory. It honestly kind of ruined the entire show for me. What could have been one of the best slowburn romances of all time was carelessly destroyed due to a writer’s ego and I’ll never not be bitter about it.

[harringtondale]

Bellarke’s relationship has been developed for SIX ENTIRE SEASONS their relationship was the center of the show THE HEAD AND THE HEART they we were constantly shown how they always choose each other over everyone else how they care about each other the most how their bond only keeps growing stronger to the point where all the other characters notice it and call them out on how they care about each other the most what was the point???? 

Clarke choosing him over THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE and telling roan she will give up fighting as long as he doesn't kill Bellamy. She gave up HALF OF HER PEOPLE just so Bellamy can live!!!

She got called out by Lexa that she worries about Bellamy the most. Clarke didn’t send Bellamy on a risky mission that he needed to go to in order to save them but she couldn’t do it “i can’t lose you too” then Lexa told her “Love is weakness” so then Clarke sends Bellamy on that mission saying “I was being weak” HE WAS HER BIGGEST WEAKNESS “her fiends are her weakness start with Bellamy Blake”

Clarke knocked Bellamy out and kidnapped him just so he doesn't go and risk his life to save Octavia. Because she just couldn’t lose him. she radioed him every single day for six years!!! Even though she never heard from him not once!!

Bellamy is the one Madi ran to to tell about Clarke even though Clarke’s other friends were there (“Clarke knew you would come” madi told him) she only spoke to Bellamy only grabbed Bellamy’s hand taking him to Clarke because she knew Bellamy is the most important person to Clarke out of all the others. 

Clarke refused to close the dropship door because Bellamy was still standing outside he was waiting for Monty and Murphy but Clarke didn’t want to wait for them she was just waiting for Bellamy to come in she was begging him to come in so she can close the dropship door.

Clarke risked madi’s life to go save Bellamy!!! She told him leaving him in the fighting pits was her BIGGEST REGERT even though he was alive and unharmed!!!

and last season was all about how Bellamy couldn’t lose Clarke: 

Bellamy was the one who realized Clarke’s off when Josephine took over. 

Bellamy was the ONLY one that mourned her death (Madi shed few tears but the main focus was on Bellamy) 

Bellamy was the ONLY one that figured out she’s alive.

Bellamy was the ONLY one that risked everything to bring her back. 

Bellamy’s the ONLY one that refused to accept she’s dead and kept fighting for her life till he brought her back to life because of how much he loves her. 

you expect us to believe this Clarke would kill him WILLINGLY leaving him to die sad and alone?? SHE COULDNT EVEN KILL THE VILLAIN THAT KILLED HER MOTHER!!!!!! BUT SHE KILLS BELLMAY HER PERSON?? OVER A DAMN BOOK THAT SHE DIDNT EVEN TAKE????

Finn who was only around for a season and a half got a way better ending. A white man that shot countless of innocent people was mercy killed by Clarke she didn’t even want to do but she had no choice. He died in her arms he got an “i love you” and “may we meet again” HE GOT A WHOLE FUNERAL!!!

Echo a white character who betrayed and murdered so many people this season but it was all looked over bc she was “grieving” but bellamy came back after experiencing something so traumatic while being isolated on a planet by himself for months and getting brainwashed in the process suddenly everyone just turned against him and HE GOT MURDERED by the hands of his own BEST FRIEND without a chance to explain himself or them even trying to hear him out???

Bellamy A POC!! WHO DIDNT KILL ANYONE!! Who’s been around for seven seasons!! The male lead the heart of the show the one who has ALWAYS been there for Clarke for SEVEN SEASONS!!! He got shot as if he meant nothing???

they gave Bellamy the WORST death on the show or any show/movie I’ve ever seen!they could’ve made her accidentally shoot him or made him die any other way but not by making Clarke WILLINGLY shoot him WHEN SHE DIDNT EVEN KILL THE VILLAIN THAT KILLED HER MOTHER!!!! But she shot BELLAMY OUT OF ALL PEOPLE??? Just because she didn’t approve of the way he was going about SAVING everyone???? she shot him left him to die sad and all alone he didn’t even get “may we meet again”!!!!

he was left behind to rot on the floor on A DIFFERENT PLANET no one buried him no one held him in their arms telling him he did good telling him his fight is over telling him may we meet again HE GOT NOTHING BUT A SHOT TO HIS HEART FROM THE PERSON THAT MEANT SO MUCH TO HIM THE PERSON HE RISKED EVERYTHING FOR TO BRING BACK TO LIFE!!

I am beyond sickened ..Bellamy deserved better, Clarke deserved better, Bellarke deserved better. WE deserved better. We wasted 6+ years on this pointless show. Invested so much of our time and energy in it for nothing.

[unchartedcloud]

Also can we talk about how pissed I am that at the end of the show everyone “ascended” or whatever, into a better life. Except those that chose to stay on earth. But in s3 when the option to go into a paradise world was given Clarke had to destroy it because it was taking away their free will. Like I get that, but she could have reasoned with Alie or tried to isolate her specific code and delete her but keep the city of light and let everyone choose whether they wanted to stay in the city of light. She could have stayed with Lexa. Or reunited with her at some point even if she couldn’t stay then. Jasper wouldn’t have had to die. Bloodreina never would have happened. Like it would have been a much happier ending. Like I feel like as smart as Raven is she could have isolated Alie’s code and deleted her and they could have put the city of light on hold so by the time the judge thing happened they had more options. Like even if she was denied the choice of ascension with Madi she could still have gone into the city of light with Lexa. It would have been a better ending. I mean ADC was already there at the end. They could have just filmed a scene of Clarke going into the city of light and finding Lexa, who had waited for her all these years. Can you imagine!?!?!?!?!

I'm gonna spin off in a bit of a direction from this.

Which is to say, I've been doing a lot too much of digging back through the creative team's social media posts during and after 307. (It's a school thing, I swear.)

And from a lot of those posts, you get a sense of the things the writers were going for with Lexa's death. The tragedy of it, yes, but also the way it weaves into the major themes of the show: a world of violence will try, inevitably, to crush every ounce of hope and happiness that it finds. But the people who live in it will go on hoping anyway, and they'll build happiness where they can.

Lexa died because she was trying to build that happiness - for herself, yes, with Clarke ("Love isn’t weakness."), but for her people as well ("Blood must not have blood."). She was trying to fundamentally change this violent world, and a violent world can't have that. So it destroyed her.

In a world in which characters like Lexa aren't one in a million, that's not a bad story! I'd read/watch/play the hell out of that story - and a lot of us did, because it's what the 1oo was, in fact, about. All of S1, S2, and S3 played with those themes. Of course, it would've been FUCKING NICE if they found some way to hit those dramatic highs that didn't include killing Lexa, but I've long since left the game of criticizing stories for not telling the exact story I want them to tell.

So the thing that bugs me about the later seasons of the 1oo - what I know of them, anyway, because again, haven't seen them - isn't so much that I would've told the story differently. It's that they...apparently...started telling? An entirely different story? On their own? Like. The second the survivors left Earth, the point of the story just. Shifts. It looks like it's not so much about hope and happiness persisting in a violent world, but about...I dunno. Seeing how far a good person can be pushed before they become evil? Which is, again, not itself a bad subject for a story. But it wasn't the subject of the first few seasons of the 1oo.

not to mention jroth apparently decided he wanted to make battlestar galactica and not the 1oo. Like. Space travel?? Human colonies?? Regeneration?? Higher life forms?? What are you TALKING ABOUT?? None of that stuff was so much as HINTED AT in the first few seasons this is a different show!

Anyway. That's my two cents on this. I can't imagine this is what you were expecting as a response, Anon, but thanks for giving me a space to vent :P

[butmakeitgayblog]

Did you ever think about Bellamy telling Clarke that they need a plan in Mount Weather that doesn’t kill everyone after he sees a kid with the last name Lovejoy? After killing the kid’s dad no less. Was that foreshadowing that by killing everyone in Mount Weather, Clarke would be killing all the love and joy she had felt/might feel in the future?

I mean this as nicely as possible, but fr do not give this show one ounce of credit beyond what you see on screen. 90% of the fantastic meta and in-depth analysis/backstory/continuity that's been attributed to this show has been entirely fan made. We took crumbs and made bread. These mfs did nOt think that deeply about it.

Like for example, I remember when Lexa's tattoo changed and we all noticed and questioned like omg that must have meaning right? There's meaning there, was it for the mountain, was it for Clarke??? And the showrunners were like 'ahahah 😅😅 well you'll uhhh have to figure that on your own I guess ahaha it's a secret 😅😅😅.' Turned out, they'd just changed it because it fit better on Alycia's noodle arm with the added piece 😐

I just, I cannot stress enough how fucking shallow and badly written a lot of this stuff was. There was very little forethought to anything, you can tell a lot of seasons were just slapped together from one to the next, grappling at past things and pasting then together rather than actually having this broadly complex, thoughtfully crafted storyline. And I don't necessarily entirely blame the actual writing room, I think they were probably hostages to jrot's ~groundbreaking vision~. Another perfect example, the flame. That,,, Did. Not. Exist. In season 2. It didn't. Neither did Titus. Lexa very clearly talks about reincarnation and she never mentions the chip or Titus or anything. It's never even addressed wtf would've happened if she'd been eATEN BY A GD GORILLA! Like am I supposed to believe that Titus would've then gone to TonDC and,,, been on Pauna poo checks??? Would baldy have been sifting through every pile in the woods that he could find trying to get back the chip????

Ya see what I'm saying? It's nonsense.

As potentially poetic as something like the name having meaning could've been, fr don't give this show that much credit. More than likely one of the writers had just watched Titanic recently and remembered the name Lovejoy in it and thought 'heyyy that sounds pretty' 🤷‍♀️

[doortotomorrow]

My Closing Thoughts on The 100

For people who’re genuinely interested and intrigued with The 100, I feel, as a long time watcher of the series, the need to issue a strongly worded warning about getting invested in it. After watching The 100 for years, these are my final thoughts. Yes, the series isn’t over yet but what this series represents is already set in stone, so I figured I’d write it up anyway. 

As much as I appreciate the fantastic performances by the actors(Luisa D’Oliveira, Richard Harmon, Adina Porter, and Paige Turco are the first names coming to me at the moment), and as much I appreciate the aesthetic of the series...I cannot in good conscious recommend The 100 to anyone who’s looking to be genuinely entertained. 

The 100 has but one god and that’s Violence. It places it on the most polished, pristine, unsoiled pedestal it can find and worships it on the daily. Oh, they try to say otherwise by paying lip service in promising to do better, but they keep sending more and more offers to the hell begotten idol they deify. Peaceful solutions to conflicts are constantly dismissed and any semblance of peace never, ever lasts long and the characters who advocate the most for peace are routinely punished and are brutally killed for even daring to try to suggest it. 

It always reaches the same conclusion every. damn. time. The only solution this series offers to end any conflict is to kill/torture. Kill/torture those who believe in something different than you, kill/torture those who come from a different place than you, kill/torture those who get in the way of something you want...lather, rinse, repeat. 

This show’s treatment of mental illness and trauma is a fucking joke. Any character who show signs of having a mental illness or explicitly has one are only ever used for horribly crass “shock value” deaths(Jasper Jordan, anyone?). This series uses suicidal imagery like it was going out of style, this series never lets any of their characters properly recover from their trauma because time and time again, they keep piling more on them. Yeah, it’s nice we’re seeing Madi Griffin having therapy sessions with Jackson but it feels fruitless because they’re just gonna keep putting the poor child through more hell. It’s endless. None of these characters will ever properly recover because Jroth and his writers are simply not interested in telling stories of recovery.

This show’s mismanagement of character arcs is insulting to the actors portraying these characters. How can you expect them to perform consistently when the writing for their characters constantly pivots to serve the plot? How can you expect the audience to get invested in the people on screen when they don’t know where they stand with them season to season(hell, sometimes even episode to episode)?! These characters are so uneven, we have to put seasonal labels next to their name to properly discuss them.

Interested in romance and shipping dynamics? Well, you’re in luck, because The 100 is chock full of ‘em...just don’t get yourself attached to any of them that might make it to the screen. Virtually every romantic relationship on this show has ended tragically because this show believes in the toxic, putrid mentality that: “love is weakness”. Don’t fall for it when they try to go against that way of thinking because the list of sunken ships will tell you otherwise. In their eyes, love isn’t worth pursuing, so why even bother trying to form a meaningful connection to someone? These characters are only allowed the briefest moments of happiness before it’s violently ripped away from them.

Then we get to the blatant racism and homophobia. Almost all of the black men on this show have been killed off, the most brutal of torture scenes are usually reserved for characters of colour, and I don’t think I need to bring up Lexa’s death because you’re all thinking that anyway. Also, speaking of LGBT characters, the only ones left are minor characters who don’t have any agency or storylines of their own. That goes the same for any character of colour. Characters of colour are only ever given screentime on this show to help prop up white characters and serve their storylines instead. 

Also, as time has gone on, it’s getting harder and harder to recommend this show to people considering just how genuinely awful a lot of the people who’ve worked on it are. Just doing a google search on some of the actors will give you an unpleasant, gross feeling that will most definitely tarnish your ability to sit down and watch the series to begin with. That’s not even getting into the fandom community surrounding this series. The fandom has left me speechless over how fucking bad it is. Sending actors death threats, doxxing them, doing the same to their fellow fans, the hideous ship wars. It’s not fucking worth it.

So, with everything I’ve laid out on the table, I am in no way going to watch the potential prequel series because it’ll be more of the same. Sure, the fresh start feeling will probably revive some goodwill, but how long would that realistically last? How long until the ship wars would start up again? How long would it take to see more LGBT/characters of color sidelined or killed off? How long would it take for characters to become inconsistent? 

I’m never watching another JRoth run series again because he’s proven he’s not at all capable of running a show and neither should you.

Don’t waste your time. 

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (11/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10]

Like every autumn in Costial, rain showers overstayed their welcome. Street gutters overflowed and children laughed as they jumped in the growing puddles. With the rain came the storms and lightning; loud cracks of thunder that streaked the moody sky.

Born and raised in California, Lexa couldn’t remember a time her bones had felt this cold. Couldn’t remember it because it had never happened. And she loved Costial - loved every nook and cranny - but she did not love the cold. The umbrella Clarke had lent her had bent in the mocking wind, her scarves were perpetually waterlogged, and her collars drooped sadly. If not currently living through it, Lexa would not believe this capricious weather if she heard about it on the news. It was ridiculous. Borderline maddening.

And yet.

Lexa had never loved a season more.

“Do you know that Wells could walk in any second?”

Lexa nodded against neck and shoulder, her mouth too busy charting a path toward Clarke’s jaw. She had somehow convinced Clarke to show her the cramped room at the back of the café; a perfectly innocent request that, once the door had shut, had ended up with Clarke perched on the desk with Lexa standing between her thighs. And what a fine place to be. Even if Clarke was oddly stiff against her.

“I can go…” Lexa offered, but Clarke dug her fingers in her back and shook her head.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Lexa smiled, her fingers wandering beneath the hem of Clarke’s sweater.

“Ah! Cold.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa said as she pulled away.

Clarke grabbed her hands. “No, no, it was good.”

Lexa couldn’t help but sigh in frustration. “This is ridiculous.”

“Feeling me up is ridiculous?”

“No!” Lexa replied, eyes widening. “But my feet are still squeaking in my shoes, my fingers are icicles, and I know you think my lips are freezing because you flinch when I kiss you.”

“I do not flinch,” Clarke denied as she hooked her arms around Lexa’s neck. “I like your kisses. I like them so much I dragged you in here. I just didn’t realize I was dating a refrigerator.”

Lexa did not look amused. “Is it my fault this city turned into the North Pole overnight?”

Clarke grinned. “Oh baby, wait until we get to winter.”

Lexa softened at both the pet name and the implication there would still be a ‘we’ in winter. She’d hoped for it, of course, but they were still taking each day as it came and had yet to define what 'we’ even meant. There was no rush, however. They both knew where the other stood.

“You never called me that before.”

“Well, there was a counter and a tip jar between us before.”

Of course there had been much more than that between them. It was hard to believe Lexa now stood flush against Clarke with their mouths kiss-stained and their hands so eager to touch - even if the cold didn’t help matters. Lexa was still working on her in-depth report on the visions, but in recent nights Clarke had lied awake wondering about the meaning behind them too.

Clearly she had been nudged toward Lexa, and it had certainly precipitated things between them, but would she never have entertained the thought without it? Would she really still be wrapped up in her tepid routine if she hadn’t heard Lexa whispering her name while kissing a path down her body? A part of her wanted to believe she would have had the impulse to speak to Lexa regardless of the vision. Maybe it would’ve made things easier between them; and maybe it would’ve made them harder.

“I should probably go thaw somewhere,” Lexa said with a sigh.

Clarke shook her head. “You need a source of warmth. Why don’t you just have at it?”

Lexa laughed, her eyes crinkling with joy.

“I’m very serious,“ Clarke said.

“I know. It’s why I’m so happy.”

Clarke sat back, casually leaning against the wall the desk was pushed against. “Good. I intend to keep it that way.”

Lexa bit her lip. “Can I pick you up at closing time tomorrow?”

“I wasn’t aware we had plans.”

“I thought it could be a surprise. And I know I promised something upscale on our third date, but I think you’ll really like this place.”

“Third date, huh? I was supposed to assess if you have game by now.”

“And?” Lexa asked.

Clarke was quiet, enjoying watching Lexa stew for just a beat. They were both getting to be experts at this slow, simmering pace.

“You really like me, hm?”

Lexa arched a brow, her hands still dangerously high on Clarke’s thighs. “I’ve never stood in wet socks for anyone else before.”

Clarke laughed. “A yes would suffice, but-“ she sat closer again “-now I’m intrigued. Does this date involve not walking? Because my feet generally do kill me after work.”

Lexa brushed back the strand of hair that had fallen from Clarke’s messy top bun. “That’s fine, I’ll find a pumpkin to turn into a carriage for you.”

“Oh good, there’s still plenty of those at the patch.”

“So it’s a yes?”

Clarke draped her arms over Lexa’s shoulders. “It’s a maybe you can persuade me,” she said, tempting Lexa to make a move with a quick swipe of her tongue against her plump, bottom lip.

Lexa did not disappoint, her hand coming up to cup her cheek before she kissed her. Clarke was keenly aware that each one of Lexa’s kisses lasted longer than the last. Her journalist was hungry for affection, but she was eager to give it too, especially when she was encouraged. Clarke had come to the conclusion after Lexa had spent her time on her neck, adorning it with languid kisses while Clarke had lost herself to the sensation of her mouth against her skin. Yes, Clarke was particularly weak when it came to her neck - not that Lexa had needed the verbal confirmation - and there was more than one tender spot that made her whole body jolt with pleasure. Something about baring herself and being vulnerable. The point being: Lexa was a generous partner.

When she kissed, Lexa was so purposeful that Clarke felt like she was an instrument Lexa had practiced for a decade. She dipped her tongue inside Clarke’s mouth and changed the angle smoothly, leading their little dance with a smile Clarke felt against her own. Hands moved amorously up and down Clarke’s thighs; up and down Lexa’s waist and ass.

Clarke hadn’t been kidding when she’d said Lexa made her feel like a teenager. She hadn’t felt this bubbling giddiness in years, not since first everythings in high school at least, but she was glad for her years of experience when it came to keeping up with Lexa. She would’ve never understood the girl in her arms years ago. She did now - vision or no vision - and it gave her a thrill.

Sometimes Clarke wondered if Lexa was determined to compete with herself. To be better than what Clarke had seen - almost like she was jealous of the woman she’d become. And if she was like this when merely kissing, Clarke had already fantasized that she would be like this in bed, too. Clarke so far had kept the details of her vision to herself, but not out of coyness. How could she explain that she would choose kissing Lexa fully clothed in a cramped space over a thousand more visions? That it was actually feeling Lexa against her; their honesty and vulnerability that had fulfilled the ache she’d felt for years? It was too soon for words like that.

But she could show her. With her entire body tingling, Clarke could do nothing but chase that high. She deepened the kiss, this time the one pushing rather than pulling, the one brushing her nose over Lexa’s. Suddenly it felt like heat had risen in the room and her clothes felt too heavy. She couldn’t remember ever kissing like this before - like she could do it for hours and not tire. But something quickly changed when - unconsciously, she’d swear it later - she spread her thighs wider to wrap herself around Lexa. With her hands on her ass, she pulled Lexa closer, tighter, and when her breasts pressed firmly against Lexa’s, it was the start of something else entirely.

They stayed entwined like this for far longer than was safe in the back of the café. The door didn’t even lock, yet all Clarke could think was pulling Lexa until she was flush atop her on the damn desk. It was Lexa who moaned in her mouth, a sound so deep and sensual it had Clarke’s heart pound in her ears. But Clarke wasn’t prepared for Lexa suddenly grinding against her in a moment of desperation, and if they’d been naked she knew very well Lexa would be inside her by now.

At the mere thought, the jolt of lust through Clarke’s body was so strong she pushed Lexa away. Lexa, slightly dizzy from their kiss, staggered back.

“Um…”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” Clarke exclaimed with wide eyes as she sat up. “I - I don’t know why I did that.”

Lexa licked her bottom lip and looked at Clarke, taking in the way she breathed and how she tried to very unsubtly rub her thighs together. She swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure you don’t know?”

Clarke jumped off the desk. "That was- I should uh- get back to work,“ she said, avoiding her eyes.

Lexa stepped aside, waiting for Clarke to follow through. When Clarke finally looked at her, she closed the space between them with a smirk and guided her against the wall. Clarke drew in a sharp breath, her legs so weak she would have slid down if it weren’t for Lexa’s hand on her waist.

"You still didn’t say yes to our date…” Lexa pointed out.

Clarke cleared her throat. “Maybe you didn’t make a compelling enough argument.”

Lexa looked between them and smiled. “This is familiar.”

“The rooftop?” Clarke asked, glancing between Lexa’s eyes and her lips. She could barely think, let alone follow Lexa’s train of thought. God, how was she supposed to go back to work like this?

“The hotel,” Lexa replied before kissing her jaw and then her neck again. “Only, I couldn’t do this back then. Couldn’t have you like this.”

Clarke closed her eyes, each word pushing her dangerously close to begging for release. She knew she was wet; knew today would be more difficult than the other days. It was almost unfair, but a part of her liked the challenge. There was a thrill to it; to testing their willpower.

“I wanted to kiss you,” Lexa admitted, just as affected by their previous kiss. She was breathing hard too; her kisses more like nuzzling now. “I always want to kiss you.”

“We were both drunk. It would’ve been a mess.”

“What if you’d said yes?” Lexa whispered. “What if you’d come with me to the theater that night?”

Here in their little bubble, it was so easy to imagine a different world. A world where Clarke hadn’t said yes to Niylah and a world where Lexa had never been hurt in the past.

“We would have laughed like we did.”

Lexa smiled. “Yes. Then I would’ve asked you to dance.”

“I would’ve watched you play poker and been wildly impressed.”

“Oh?”

Clarke tugged at Lexa’s belt loops to bring her closer. “What can I say? Cards in the right hands get me going. I would’ve asked if we could comp a room in this ridiculously overpriced hotel.”

“We’d get the view on the mountains.” Lexa sighed, as if this fantasy seemed so much further now. “I’d try to give you the best night of your life.”

It was nice to imagine it all, but Clarke realized she didn’t regret it. They’d gone on their own little path. She kissed Lexa sweetly, but not without intent. It was much softer than their last, both of them aware the real world awaited.

"I like this better. I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Lexa looked at her like she hung the moon in the sky. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And then, because Lexa was still waiting, Clarke smiled again: “Take me on a date, baby.”

-

[part twelve]

[the-fallen-blue]

thinkin about back in 2016 when Lexa was killed off, and people in POI fandom made posts like this and this about how it could never happen to Root and their show was so much more cool and woke and superior, and then like a month later POI killed off Root, and all the Clexa fans came over all older sister mentor-style to be like "hey that sucks that you got blindsided by this too when you were so happy about your lesbians, come join us, we have this movement and everything, we'll help you make sense of this attack on you," and the Shoot fans got BIG FUCKING MAD and like "how DARE you act like WE'RE new to this, WE don't need YOUR help it's TOTALLY COOL that Root died it is DIFFERENT from Lexa this is just THAT KIND OF SHOW and this is SUPER UNLIKE every other dead lesbian we don't need YOUR dumb childish noses in our business stop acting like WE don't understand the trope why are you EVEN IN our FANDOM SPACE right now" as though they had literally anyone but themselves to blame

like there were several weeks of discourse from the POI quarter, in direct response to Lexa's death, about how Shoot was so amazingly special and mature and revolutionary and better than any other broadcast TV wlw ever, because they're interracial (Callie Torres says hi) or because they started out with torture and attempted murder instead of heteronormative courtship (lol) or just simply because they were both still alive and the fandom convinced itself that that would remain true. there were several weeks of POI fandom talking up the show like it could do no wrong, like it was magically immune to destructive tropes, like it was so much more sophisticated than any of those crude Dead Lesbian shows. as though this weren't the show that killed Joss Carter for "shock" value. as though there isn't a glaring disparity between Nathan the fully realized character with a vital role in the plot and Grace the pure and hapless vehicle for manpain. as though they didn't do an episode about domestic violence that was entirely devoted to John's angst over his fridged ex. as if the whole of the penultimate season wasn't the story of the civilized white criminal heroically defending his rightful, protagonist-supported place from the incursion of a savage, catastrophically dangerous black thug. as if good writing somehow excuses a show from participation in harmful cultural trends, as if no other show that killed its minority characters ever had a "good reason" or a moving sendoff or a coherent plot. as if Root the Immortal Lesbian was a promise they had the ability to make to the rest of fandom.

and then after rolling all around tumblr and twitter acting like their show was so much better and somehow exempt from all failing, particularly with respect to dead lesbians, they had the nerve to get pissed off when people treated them like they didn't realize it wasn't

thinkin’ about that

[stopiwanttotalkaboutcheese]

Look. I know The 100 has been over for a while now. But I just finished it, and I desperately want to rant. Specifically, I wanted to rant about Clarke and how she was treated.

Here goes:

I didn’t recognize Clarke Griffin in season 7. Not even a little bit. She was like a totally different character, and if I’m being honest, I absolutely hated her. Which sucked, because her seasons 1-6 self is probably one of my favorite characters of all time.

But I do not understand why so many people chose to live with Clarke at the end. Actually, I don’t understand why any of them chose to live with Clarke. Not a single person. I just don’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the relationships Clarke has in fanon, but it just feels like the actual canon of the show went out of its way, over and over and over again, to isolate Clarke, and force the other characters to leave her that way. Which made the final scene seem cheap and completely unearned. I just couldn’t believe that all those characters would give up immortality for Clarke. I wanted to believe it. I just couldn’t.

If the show had done a better job of building those relationships with Clarke, and hadn’t completely assassinated her character in season 7, maybe I wouldn’t feel this way. But the Clarke Griffin of season 7 was selfish, short-sighted, and nothing at all like the Clarke Griffin that I was rooting for for the first six seasons. The Clarke I loved was smart, wily, and a bit manipulative, yes, but willing to put others before herself to the point where she nearly died several times over. I would follow seasons 1-6 Clarke to the ends of the earth. But I absolutely wouldn’t for the season seven version of Clarke, and I don’t blame Madi for not wanting to give up immortality for her pseudo-mother/abuser (especially after Clarke was so willing to murder her (!!)).

They emphasized all of Clarke’s worst traits, most notably those from season 5, when she resorted to literal child abuse to “save” Madi. I thought that had been addressed in season 6. I guess it wasn't, because Clarke is once again smashing helmets and making decisions for Madi without her consent in season 7. Worst of all, this character regression is more or less for no reason other than to point at Clarke and say “see! you’re an idiot for investing yourself in this character! she was the bad guy all along!! pLoT TwiSt!”

But, for me, it goes beyond badly-handled character arcs and unbelievable developments.

First off, after spending six seasons framing more or less every choice Clarke makes as “the right choice”, the “only choice”, or at least “justified”, suddenly... that’s all wrong? Hasn’t Clarke spent enough time torturing herself over Mt. Weather/Jasper/Lexa/Finn? Why does some judge that we never get any real information on get to say that everything Clarke did was for nothing? 

So, Clarke gets exiled from immortality? Fine. But they should have at least celebrated her, as well. She’s the main character of a long-running TV show, and this is the finale. People are invested in her. They don’t want to hear what a terrible person she is, and how she failed in each and every way (even if she sort of did). They want to hear that she was good, brave, strong, or at least that her actions mattered. But, apparently, they didn’t, because not only is humanity extinct (which... completely misses the point of the entire show, but that’s another rant), but so is everyone Clarke loves. Yippee.

Second: if The 100 wanted it’s happy, found family, everybody-is-forgiven-and-there-are-no-consequences, beach scene so badly, here’s what I think they should have done: brought back Abby, Kane, Finn, Wells, Lexa (for real this time), Lincoln, Jasper, Monty, Anya, Harper, Bellamy, and heck, even Jake for the final scene. I know I’m forgetting others, but this would have a) brought a new meaning to “may we meet again”, and b) would have let Clarke and everyone else live out the rest of her life with people she actually bonded with. But, if I’m being honest, I thought the entire plot and “ascension” was stupid in the first place, especially because they already did that in season three.

I’m just so mad about what they did to Clarke, and to the entire show. If I had known it would end this way, I wouldn’t have bothered. What a waste of time.

[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.