In light of the events of the latest episode, which I’m choosing to ignore, I thought I’d make a list of a few random Clexa facts about their life after Lexa survives the bullet, which is canon of course. So…
Clarke loves watching Lexa interact with the Nightbloods. Whether she is training them or teaching them or just listening to them, Clarke loves this side of Lexa, supportive and encouraging and never patronizing or aggressive, not even during the toughest training sessions. She often finds herself wondering if Lexa acts like this with them because she never experienced this type of support and kindness during her upbringing.
Lexa could spend hours watching Clarke draw. Eyebrows creased in concentration, tip of her tongue between her teeth, blue eyes shining with a particularly bright spark, she is both the cutest and most fascinating creature Lexa has ever laid eyes on.
Lexa is a lightweight. As Heda, even during special occasions or celebrations, she’s been taught that she must always keep her head clear. She almost never indulges in drinking and has never developed a tolerance for it. So when on a freezing winter day Clarke steals a bottle of wine and decides she and Lexa are spending the day in their room, eating and drinking and just relaxing, she finds out that it doesn’t take long for the Commander to get drunk. All flushed cheeks and bubbly laughs and surprisingly inclined to cuddle, she’s never been more adorable. Okay, maybe only when she’s hungover and she’s trying to look like she isn’t.
Clarke can’t use a sword for the life of her. She’s just terrible with it. But her aim is good, and she finds she is pretty good with a bow and arrow. After some time spent perfecting her skills, Lexa tells her even Anya would be impressed.
Lexa trains hard and often to keep her body strong and her reflexes sharp. First time Clarke stops by to watch her train, she finds herself completely enthralled by it. The elegance and fluidity of Lexa’s movements, the toned muscles rippling under the skin… it’s safe to say Clarke discovers a new turn-on. From that day on, whenever Lexa comes back from training, Clarke jumps on her and ravages her.
Clarke loves tracing Lexa’s tattoos and scars (yes she has scars) and asks the story behind each of them. Some reveal funny stories of a stubborn young Lexa climbing on a far-too-high tree just to impress Costia, and miserably falling from it. “Her laugh was worth the pain, though.” Others reveal sorrow of a young girl forced to fight and kill the kids she’d grown up with and considered brothers and sisters. Lexa doesn’t cry when she talks about her Conclave. Clarke wonders if it’s because she already spilled all the tears she had for them years ago.
Costia is a different story. Even if not an open wound anymore, even if Clarke knows Lexa loves her, she also knows the pain over Costia’s death will always be a part of Lexa. But she doesn’t want that to obscure any other memory of someone that was so important to Lexa. So, Clarke asks her stories about Costia. She makes Lexa talk about her, what she was like, how they met, the way her laughter sounded. She does her best to cleanse Costia’s memory for Lexa, so she can think about her and remember something other than pain and sadness.
Lexa doesn’t remember her parents. When she describes her family, she talks about Anya and Gustus.
Clarke cries when she talks about her father. Lexa holds her.
They both have an obsession for each other’s hands. Clarke loves how lithe and elegant Lexa’s look: how strong they are when she is gripping a sword or handling a weapon, and how delicate and gentle when she is caressing Clarke’s body. Lexa is in awe of how skilled Clarke’s are: how they turn simple lines of charcoal on paper into masterpieces and how they’re capable of healing people and literally bring life. Oh, Lexa loves kissing them a lot.
Sometimes they have to separate. Clarke goes back to Arkadia for a while or Lexa has to visit other Clans. They crave each other the whole time. When they’re back together, sex is always a little more desperate and passionate than usual.
One time a group of rebel dissidents kidnaps Clarke on her way back to Polis to use her as leverage against Lexa. It takes less than three days for Lexa to find her and rescue her. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. Lexa rushes her back to Arkadia so that Abby can heal her. Clarke has never seen Lexa cry like the moment she wakes up, but she is not surprised. She knows this is Lexa’s worst nightmare, she knows she can’t bear to lose her like she lost Costia. She knows, because she felt the same when a bullet meant for her almost killed Lexa.
They sleep wrapped around each other. Clarke rests her head on Lexa’s chest, finding comfort in the steady sound of her heartbeat, and Lexa holds her close with an arm.
Some doodles I did on the side yesterday night ( @blesstale drew Zunde that there ) including Dreby taking his first steps. I saw this kid screaming “NOOOO!” at some meat in a grocery store before running to his mom, so there we go ✌️
can y'all imagine magnus trying to give kravitz The Talk after taako tells him and merle they’re together as if krav isn’t The Grim Reaper and instead is just some schmuck off the street magnus could kick the beans off
like what’s he gonna do??? “if you hurt taako i’ll kill you???” he’s already dead???? so magnus just pulls him aside and he’s like “look, i could flex my shit and attempt to intimidate you all day, but the real of it is i know you care about him and i want to make sure it stays that way.” and krav is like “absolutely i think taako’s great and i’d never hurt him” and yadda yaada but as magnus is leaving he’s like “but don’t fuck it up or i /will/ literally kill you”
like i love him. he’s so genuine and kind and he literally would fistfight Death himself for his friend and we all know it
Being autistic isn’t always ‘cute, quirky things’, like knowing a hundred random facts about forensic pathology because it was my special interest in the sixth grade; or not knowing pop culture references because I didn’t watch that tv show, I was too busy reading books on forensic pathology.
But it’s always, constantly, that near panic fear of -
Oh no, they’re looking at me, why are they looking at me?
It’s my turn to talk!
What do I say?
Is this the right speaking volume?
Am I talking too fast?
Are these the right words?
Do I sound intelligent enough for the people I’m talking to?
Am I using too many big words?
Am I over explaining?
Wait, how’s my volume?
Oh shoot, I was distracted by my volume and I used a big word and now everyone’s laughing at me.
Why is their forehead creased? Are they mad? Is that a happy crease?
Why am I waving my hands so much?
I need to stop waving my hands.
Great, now everyone is staring at my hands.
Okay, great, I think this conversation is over!
Oh, no, wait, they’re talking again.
Look them in the eye.
No, wait, that’s too much eye contact.
We’re done, whew. Another social interaction over.