hi! I’m not sure if you’re even active anymore, but I’ve meant to say this for a long time, so here goes. Your fic ‘more women than warriors’ literally changed my life. I read it at a point in my life that was entirely unsure, as I was about to graduate high school and I had absolutely no plans for what would come next, if anything. Reading your work inspired me to finally begin applying to local colleges, and i got an amazing scholarship to a historically women’s school. I impulsively decided to go, hoping for the same sense of camaraderie that i felt in your fic. that was well over five years ago now, and i met my best friends, partner, and professors that changed my life at that school. so i guess this is a thank you, because without that fanfiction I’m not sure where i would be today.
I’m so happy for you, this was the BEST message to see on checking tumblr for the first time in a while! I’m thrilled you found your people and I’m absolutely floored and humbled that you attribute any tiny part of that to those rambling words I wrote in 2016 ❤️. Thank you so much for coming here to tell me, and I hope your life just continues to get better and better!
The additional story snippets that you shared for MWTW were really neat. Is there anything more that you can reveal?
WELL, I had this random storyline pop into my head last night and since I knew I’d never actually write it down into prose, please find below my stream-of-consciousness, extremely un-edited and probably very messy description of That Time mwtw!Lexa Got High.
(aka stoned!Lexa)
[[Takes place during their second year of university, so ~two years after more women than warriors ends.]]
So Clarke surprises Lexa one Monday evening because they didn’t get to see each other the weekend thanks to a visit from Raven and, sure, she saw her girlfriend the weekend before that and they’re definitely not co-dependent. Not at all. It’s just that Lexa sounded harried over Facetime this morning. Harried. And Clarke’s a healer. She’s literally in medical school, what else is she supposed to do??
Anyway, Clarke’s pounding down Lexa’s college door, only half-kidding in her urgency to lay hands on her beautiful girlfriend, only to have said girlfriend answer the door with all the grace of a single-hinged robot and promptly freak out.
Now, in fairness, it’s Lexa’s version of a freak out, which basically means she goes white and quiet. Maybe her fingers tremble on the door knob, just for a second.
(Clarke sees it ALL.)
(Clarke kisses her girlfriend out of her panic-bubble and barrels herself inside)
Turns out, Lexa’s more than a little harried—she’s got a fundraiser all day tomorrow and two supervision essays given to her this morning, entirely unexpected, and now, on top of it all, she’s got her beautiful girlfriend here, entirely unexpected, who she’s been missing and all she wants to do is pull the bedsheets over their heads and cuddle until dawn except she CAN’T—she can’t, Clarke—she’s down to the wire on these essays and they’ll take all night and…
Clarke lets her ramble on for a few seconds because Lexa never rambles, so when she does, it’s probably a good thing to let her get it out of her system, and then she draws the flustered little commander into her arms, squeezing hard.
“I’m here to help. That’s all. I promise, Lex.”
And Lexa keeps her cheek burrowed into the joint between Clarke’s shoulder and neck for a few seconds before lifting her head and smiling, albeit strained.
“Have you become an expert in Maritime Law and Asian economics?” she teases, a bit croaky but playful. Clarke only sees the dark half-moons under her eyes and the way her jaw waggle is a little stiff, like it’s been clenched for far too long.
And alas, no, Clarke has not. But she has sweets, and a tea the market stall vendor recommended—almond cranberry rooibos, because it sounds ridiculous enough that Lexa will clearly love it—and some new choral music, and she’s determined to take care of Lexa while she works. No arguments.
(Obviously, Clarke then frowns, loosening her girlfriend’s way-too-tight hair bauble bobble and whispers that she’s happy to leave, if Lexa would prefer. Genuinely, no worries whatsoever. The last thing she wants to do is make things worse for the little stress-bunny)
(Obviously, the little stress-bunny brokers no arguments.)
Her shoulders sag last; it takes her arms, then her legs, then her torso and neck before Lexa lets her posture soften, sinking her face into Clarke’s neck for the briefest of seconds.
“You couldn’t make anything worse if you tried,” Lexa murmurs, “I’ve missed you.”
First things first (after another long hug and maybe a little lips-on-every-surface-of-Lexa’s-face action), Clarke takes stock of the messy room (‘messy’ in the Lexa-lexicon entailing a stack of books on the floor, an empty bowl by the basin, and a slightly wrinkled bed-making job) and its occupant.
(a) God, Lexa really must be stressed if she hasn’t had time to clean, (b) her girlfriend hasn’t eaten anything since her morning oatmeal, and (c) she’s ignoring a fairly sizable headache, judging by how the twitching muscles along her jawline.
Ever the diligent medical student, Clarke gets to work on the headache right away, kissing her disaster of a girlfriend ever so softly and then slowly working on loosening up that tight jaw until it (and her soft, disaster of a girlfriend) are as pliant as hot fudge.
Which reminds her—Lexa’s still pretty dazed, her eyes all starry and her knees wobbly from the surprise and all the kissing, and Clarke takes the opportunity to press a couple of acetaminophen/tylenol tablets into her hand guide her to swallow them down with a entire bottle of water. Clarke doesn’t even bother explaining that they’re for the headache—Lexa would only insist she can cope and Clarke’s not beyond using manipulation to get what she wants.
(At least, when what she wants is a reduction in Lexa’s pain.)
(Hippocratic OATH.)
Within minutes, Lexa’s feeling a little better, mostly due to the hydration. She doesn’t even protest when Clarke throws a cellophane-wrapped baked chocolate square onto her lap and orders her to eat it while she picks them up some takeout, all her nervous energy focused back on her laptop and the half-written essays therein.
To give Lexa a little time to work before interrupting with dinner, Clarke wanders around Oxford for a bit before ordering, walking over to the medieval Castle mound that always reminds her of Lexa’s burial mound at Polis. The college porter barely expends the effort to touch the tip of his ridiculous bowler hat when she returns with the food, much less move his mouth when she strolls back through the gate, but at least he doesn’t make her sign back in again.
As if she’s not here ALL THE TIME.
(Obviously the head porter loves Lexa. Clarke swears the old dude is simply digging up healthy flowers all for the excuse to give them to her girlfriend to ‘nurse back to life; she’s the only one who can do it; s’got the healing touch, she does.’)
(CLARKE IS TWO YEARS INTO MEDICAL SCHOOL.)
Digression aside, Clarke returns to find a significantly different (p<0.001) Lexa, one who’s sitting cross-legged at her desk, leaning back and typing out her essay with a blissful, spaced-out little smile on her face.
“I don’t know what was in those pills, but I feel lovely now,” Lexa tells her, words a little elongated in her relaxed state. “Loooovely.”
“You look lovely,” Clarke coos, because she’s gross like that, and Lexa giggles. The former head girl pulls her soppy girlfriend onto her lap and starts stroking her hair. After a moment, she closes her eyes and hums contentedly. It’s more of a purr, actually.
So Clarke’s feeling good about her self for her amazing healing skills and lets herself be petted like Pauna for a minute or so. Because it’s been more than a week since she’s touched her girlfriend and even selfless doctors have their needs and vanities.
(Also, touch is totally good for the health. Clarke’s seen the research. Clarke’s considering doing the research.)
Suddenly, Lexa’s eyes snap open and there’s a hunger in them. A hunger on the brink of starvation. A hunger Clarke understands.
(And if we haven’t already discussed how Clarke is a VICTIM of Lexa’s thin little leggings and pink-painted bare toes tonight, well, now’s the time.)
Clarke dips her nose into that pocket of warmth at the nape of her girlfriend’s neck, begins hopscotching her lips over to those tiny ears and—
“Is that Thai food?” Lexa breathes, sniffing the air and jumping to her feet, apparently using her nose to sniff out the takeaway bag.
Now, Lexa would never just let Clarke fall to the ground, obviously, instead dragging her along by her waist to the food, feet stumbling behind them. Nevertheless, Clarke is rather put-out by her usurpation by a bunch of rice noodles and oyster sauce—put out about not being able to put out, one might surmise.
Anyway.
Lexa inhales her portion of the noodles before Clarke’s even found a fork, which is just as well because now she’s free to insist that she’s not hungry, that she ate earlier. Because it’s such a treat to see Lexa accept a second helping of anything. Because Lexa has a rice noodle plastered to her cheek and she has. no. idea.
Wait.
Clarke’s heart stops.
(Well, it doesn’t, really. Because doctors-in-training know that.)
“Lexa. Um. That brownie I gave you earlier. Did it taste…odd at all?”
Clarke doesn’t breathe as she waits for the answer, which takes a few seconds because Lexa’s cheeks are puffed out with Pad Thai noodles like the cutest chipmunk ever and oh god oh god, oh fuck.
Several chews and swallows later, a couple of gulps of juice, Lexa finally nods. “Rosemary, maybe? Or some other unusual herb? I wasn’t sure. It was delicious though, thank you.”
Unusual herb, indeed.
Because Raven had actually given Clarke that brownie, brought down from her favorite bakery, and they’d been talking about weed brownies at another point in her visit, and oh god, had Raven’s eyes twinkled when she’d given her the brownies at the end of the trip?
They did.
Clarke drugged up her girlfriend.
Lexa’s high.
LEXA.
(HEDA IS HIGH)
So Clarke explodes into a messy, tearful, slightly snotty apology, horrified beyond belief because not only has she basically roofied the future leader of the free world and the most beautiful, wonderful person on Earth, oh god, Lexa has SO MUCH to do tonight, and she came here to de-stress Lexa, not incapacitate her, and she’s a DOCTOR, or at least she will be, maybe not now, she doesn’t deserve to be in health care after this, and it goes on like this for a long time.
A really long time.
Until Clarke notices that Lexa’s laughing. Laughing.
(Well, of course she is; she’s fucking high!)
“No worries,” Lexa tuts, with a wave of her hand. She leans over and plants a sloppy kiss to Clarke’s shin and then drags her laptop down to the floor, hardly noticing the pile of papers and books that come tumbling down with it. “I’ll whip these alphabet soups out in an hour. Just watch. I don’t feel any different, anyway. Anywaysss. No, it feels all wrong, I can’t do it, Clarke. It’s not grammatically correct. Anyway. Anyway.”
Anyway, verbal diarrhea aside (“Logorrhea, Clarke. Logorrhea diarrhea. [head nod to self]”), Lexa’s not wrong about the essays. Clarke’s expected job of calming Lexa down changes to reminding the over-worked scholar to stay on track, to batting away pretty lips and distractible fingers.
(“Do we have any alphabet soup, Clarke? I’ve never had alphabet soup. Have you had alphabet soup? Clarke?”)
(At some point, Lexa opens youtube. Lexa.)
(Lexa. Youtube.)
(She seems to have a saved playlist of cat videos?)
But the essays do get done, and maybe even quicker than they would have otherwise since Lexa’s not overthinking or stressing every word. Clarke even looks them over; they’re perfect. Not even a typo.
(Lexa said ‘hippo’ instead of ‘typo’ though, so that should count)
(On the other hand, she’s entirely correct when she asserts with a wagging finger that “Clarke, there are no hippos in this essay. None. Not even a rhinoceros. [squints] Should I have mentioned illegal hunting?”)
The essays get done, Lexa’s outfit for tomorrow’s fundraiser gets ironed (NOT by Lexa, mind you. Clarke’s not mixing flawless skin with scalding hot metal.), and amongst it all, oh god, Lexa’s the cutest stoner in the whole universe. Like, the best. She’s so smiley and keeps twirling her hair and twisting Clarke’s hair and if you guys could just see how touchy-feel-y she is, absolutely engrossed in how smooth the top of Clarke’s foot is and the tickly sensation of Clarke’s arm hair along her nose and how nothing tops rubbing two pairs of bare legs together, skin on skin on skin and mmmmmm.
(Well, that’s always worth exclaiming over. Maybe not drafting an email to Anya so Lexa can spread the leg-skin gospel, but Clarke understands the enthusiasm.)
Sadly for them both, especially Lexa who’d been incentivized with an all-skin-no-clothes Clarke all throughout the essays, by the time Clarke manages to brush Lexa’s teeth (Lexa can’t stop giggling) and wrangle her into pajamas, Lexa face plants onto the bed and passes out.
Happily for them both, Lexa jolts awake three hours later and the stars sing and the unicorns lollop circles around the bed.
(Or so stoner-Lexa had proclaimed they would; she’s pretty much sober by now. Not so sober that she doesn’t snort in laughter when Clarke reminds her of said proclamation, however.)
(Clarke loves, loves, loves every iteration of this girl.)
“Honestly, I feel much better.” Lexa whispers later, as the sun begins to rise and she’s halfway into another sleep. “Maybe I did need to relax. Just a little. Thank you.”
Clarke brushes her nose against Lexa’s, warm and pink from the warmth of their little nest, and snags that pouting lip into her own possession. Lexa tastes like sunbeams and candle glow and radiator warmth and Clarke reads and promptly deletes the messages that finally pop up from Raven.
“Anytime, baby.”
WTF you on about?OMG.You thought it was a weed brownie?Clarkie.OMG Clarkie, you’re hilarious.…OMG CLARKE DOES HEDA THINK I GAVE YOU WEED???????????OMFG. CLARKE.ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE.Octavia’s WETTING HERSELF over here.I SWEAR TO GOD CLARKEEE
i feel like its been long enough that u wont figure out who i am but you once commented on one of my fics and said that you loved it and i think i exploded with happiness at the praise
seen here—probably me, reading your fic. most of my fic reading is done on airplanes these days, so I must have really loved it to remember to log in later and comment ♥
how did i only JUST realize adenne was a play on aden
Hahahha. Well, it wasn’t really super important, just that Lexa had someone to carry on her legacy that we trusted, since the fic was set in their final/senior year. And who better? (I do imagine her blonde and with a cute little pixie cut, lol)
Will there be an epilogue to MWTW. You write so beautifully!
That’s so kind of you to say, thank you! My brain is still holding that epilogue hostage, along with the baby!Lexa one-shot I promised you guys in December (!!), but they’re pressing more and more insistently lately, so hopefully... ♥
Hey, so - i’ve read mwtw about a thousand times, and i dont think i’ve ever properly told you how much i love it. That fic kept me going through some really, really tough times, and it’s still so fucking good now that I’m better. Just, thank you, so much, for one of the best things i’ve ever read. I hope you’re doing good, and that you know you’re one of the reasons i got to the place i am now
I’m so happy to hear that things have gotten better for you, and thank you! So glad mwtw could be a part it ♥♥♥
Oooh, good question! When I first read this message, I hadn’t seen it yet (so thank you for reminding me, I’d been wanting to watch) but it’s now been binged, yay!
I imagine Lexa’s reaction to be similar to my own, because her slight nerdiness about ancient British history comes directly from mine. She’d enjoy it for the alternative, comedic take on the subject, as well for the long, sweeping view, but I can’t imagine her ever taking the time to re-watch it. I can’t figure out who the intended audience was, because several jokes required a fair amount of knowledge but the information provided wasn’t anything new or interesting to someone who has studied the subject. Overall though, Lexa found it entertaining (if slightly disparaging to her fav periods of history and all that second-hand awkwardness for the poor historians interviewed) and loved watching it cuddled with Clarke.
I actually think it was more up Clarke’s alley. She’s a little more into that kind of bawdy humor. Plus, while she’s taken on more and more of Lexa’s nerdiness on the topic of ancient Britain over the years (because Lexa’s so cute and enthusiastic and her eyes light up and she gets all breathless when she launches into one of her fav topics, who could resist??), what she really enjoyed was the sheer Britishness of the show. The self-deprecation and irreverence combined with such ingrained traditions and grandeur was in rare form. :-)
(anyone interested can watch all the Cunk on Britain eps on youtube)
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