#cttc

[femininenachos]

you know i headcanon once cttc! clarke got back from canada her 1st stop isn't her own apartment but lexa's and by some snooping maybe days or a week later she somehow stumbled upon lexa's strap in one of the many boxes that just sits unpacked in lexa's apartment and BAM WE ALL WHAT FOLLOWS AFTER am i right or-

[someonewhocandance]

he's such a cutieeee ㅠㅡㅠ

[baddestgj]

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Timelapse of another animation challenge! 50 minutes, I blocked out poses and breakdowns so the body's motion just needed polish. Not 100% done I know, but its practice. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #CTTC #complimentstothechef #animated #animationstudent #animatic #student #cartoon #follow #followme #adobe #premiere #adobepremiere #Maya #maya2017 #3d #cgi #cgianimation #characteranimation #character #characterperformance #willyrig #Willyrig #timelapse #worklapse #computer #desktop #phone #camera #recording #record #work #university (at Manchester School of Art)

[femininenachos]

I was in the middle of my re-read of cut to the chase ***PRIDE MONTH*** when you dropped the new chapter of vacation AU... SUFFICE TO SAY MY CLEXA HEART IS HAPPY

Thank you! And I’m so delighted Cut to the Chase warranted a Pride Month reread 🏳️‍🌈

[femininenachos]

How are Cut to the Chase Clexa doing? Is Clarke getting along with her cast/crew and enjoying acting? Did the show premiere? Did Lexa go to the premiere or too early in their relationship? How's Lexa and hair business? How's the long distance? I hope you don't mind these questions lol. I just love Cut to the Chase so much! Thank you for such wonderful fic!

On the days leading up to the start of shooting Clarke had serious jitters, hit all at once by the daunting reality that she’s about to enter the big leagues, working alongside a hugely talented cast and crew, some of whom have a clutch of Emmys and Golden Globes to their names. At the first table read, she was in the stranglehold of the old imposter syndrome. Glancing around the room, a little voice in the back of her mind kept whispering that everyone here - the showrunner Marcus Kane, John Murphy, Echo Winters (the latter just coming off a rave limited run on Broadway!) - was going to figure out soon that she’s a fraud, just a second-rate wannabe who should be padding out the ensemble of some shitty superhero show on The CW and not a prestige drama with production values she could only dream of before.

That evening, she fretted to Lexa about it over FaceTime. A ball of stress and anxiety. On the verge of a panic attack. Pacing the carpet in the chain-hotel room the production company put her up in for the first couple of weeks. And Lexa had patiently listened to Clarke spiral until she ran out steam and flopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh, the mental and physical exhaustion of being on set for 14 hours finally taking its toll.

In a steady, soothing voice Lexa reminded her to breathe. Talked her down from the proverbial ledge. Told her that, even though Clarke would be the Meryl fucking Streep of superheroes and The CW would be lucky to have her on their roster, she deserved this, and she has nothing to prove to anyone. Clarke won this role because of her immense talent, charisma, drive and determination, and Lexa couldn’t be more proud. Proud and impressed and so much in love. She’d give anything to be there now and show Clarke.

And Clarke is like, eyebrow raised, “Oh yeah? What would you do if you were here with me?” 

Suffice to say, things soon took a decidedly raunchy turn and Clarke forgot all about her nerves.

The pep talk does get through, and Clarke’s confidence returns. She quickly becomes a standout, impressing all with her preparation, professionalism and work ethic (it turns out her stint in low-budget genre TV actually provided a good training ground for hitting her marks consistently, in a minimal number of takes). She steals every scene that she’s in, giving an electrifying performance, owning the soundstage. And the notes from the execs, direct from Indra herself, is that they want to give her character more prominence, give Clarke more to do, because this is lighting in a bottle.

Murphy’s top-billing turn as the male Svengali pulling the strings might be how the show was pitched initially, but it becomes clear that the messy, disintegrating relationships within the punk girl band that Clarke’s character fronts is the beating heart of the drama. And so there’s a pivot towards the season’s end, bringing them to the fore. Clarke’s image features prominently in the marketing collateral. When Raven excitedly sends her a snap of a billboard on Sunset with Clarke’s face on it, she knows her life is going to change irrevocably.

Then the advance reviews come out for the show - The Roxy - but Clarke can’t bring herself to look. Old theatre superstition. Never read your own notices. So Lexa reads for her. Clarke is singled out for praise among the ensemble by the Hollywood Reporter and Deadline, among other publications. It starts to snowball from there, her profile on the rise. She gets featured in a “ones to watch/30 under 30” list in Variety, and Roan is fielding calls all the time, Clarke heavily in-demand for interviews and the talk show circuit.

The premiere is a glitzy affair, the private screening held at a movie theatre. Lexa’s chest balloons with pride to witness Clarke’s shining moment from the sidelines, to see her posing for the photographers on the red carpet, that megawatt smile lighting up her face, looking drop dead gorgeous in a long navy blue gown with a plunging neckline, dripping in loaned diamonds. 

When they take their seats and the lights go down, Lexa reaches for Clarke’s hand. She’s nervous. Despite the glowing reviews in the press and the praise from the studio, Clarke had only seen bits and pieces of the rushes, so she doesn’t yet know how it all hangs together, and she never likes watching her performance back anyway. Always picking out the flaws, critiquing this line delivery or that facial expression.

There’s a graphic sex scene in the first ten minutes, to establish her character’s sexually-freewheeling, wild-woman of rock persona, and while it’s weird and a bit cringey for Clarke to see her tits on a big screen (the ‘B’ in HBO really does stand for ‘boobs’), beside her Lexa is restless for other reasons.

Normally, Lexa is cool as a cucumber, calm and collected on the surface, but she gets an uncomfy wiggle in her stomach watching Clarke getting hot and heavy with another woman. And this twinge of jealousy is new, disconcerting territory. Lexa has never been the type. She’s secure enough in herself and their relationship to rationalise that it’s just acting. Nothing to feel threatened by. 

But, even so.

It doesn’t help when Clarke leans close to be heard and whisper-reveals that it took four takes. Joking that, by the time they wrapped, her scene partner knew her cup size almost as intimately as she does.

Lexa smiles tightly, but says nothing.

Too busy staring at the screen, where Clarke’s counterpart currently has her hand working between the groupie’s legs in a way that’s made explicit more by suggestion than any gratuitous display of skin, by the way the girl’s breath hitches sharply, pretending like she’s being fucked hard enough against the wall to lift her whole body up an inch with every simulated thrust.

It makes Lexa flush all over. 

Kind of turned on, because it’s undeniably hot and she can’t help putting herself in that girl’s place. At the same time, watching this stranger attack Clarke’s mouth in a hungry kiss makes Lexa burn for different, more territorial reasons. Which is absurd, because it’s Not Real. Except, Clarke’s making those same low, throaty noises like she does when they’re together and it’s impossible for Lexa not to make that connection in her mind.

She’s so much in her own head about it all that she doesn’t immediately notice that Clarke’s gaze is boring into her cheek.

Because Clarke catches on quickly to what’s happening.

She isn’t outwardly smug about it, but she does experience a little thrill. A tiny bolt of giddy pleasure that zips down her spine while Lexa stews in her unease. Tension rolling off her. Evident in how rigidly she’s sitting. Free hand clenched into a fist on her thigh, the other squeezing Clarke’s. Jaw clenched so tight she might give herself a muscle strain.

There’s a fervent urgency to Lexa’s touch when they get home in the early hours, having made appearances at the afterparty (and the even more exclusive after-afterparty). Kisses fierce and unrelenting. All the brooding reserve Lexa exhibited at the parties is long gone. Clarke comes twice before they even make it to the bed. Barely gets a wink of sleep because Lexa seems intent on claiming her over and over.

During breakfast, Clarke prods at Lexa’s lingering reticence, gently teasing, until Lexa sighs and admits her discomfort. Not about Clarke, but Lexa’s own baseless feelings of jealousy and her failure to process them in a healthy way by communicating with her girlfriend. And Clarke melts a little. Situates herself in Lexa’s lap, and tells her she’d be more concerned if Lexa hadn’t been fazed at all. But she explains that part of the job is treating it like an action scene. Every beat is choreographed. An intimacy coordinator is present at all times and the blocking is discussed in clinical detail so that both parties are fully comfortable and aware of boundaries. It’s not remotely arousing; Clarke was mentally considering what to have from craft services at lunch when that girl’s tongue was in her mouth.

With a small, faint, but palpably relieved smile, Lexa says, “always thinking with your stomach.”

And Clarke is like, “well, duh. I’ve been on this awful diet for months. At any given moment I’m daydreaming about fish tacos.”

Then she spots the impish twinkle in Lexa’s eye and Clarke swats at her shoulder. “Mind out of the gutter, Woods.” A pause. “Okay, yeah, that too. But only yours, for the record.”

Lexa brushes the tips of their noses together.

“The most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

[femininenachos]

How are CttC!au Clarke and Lexa doing? I love that fic so much. I read it again last night. Bless you for writing such wonderful fic!

Thank you 💜💜💜💜💜

Have some notes/outline I wrote for a hypothetical next chapter:

They make plans for Lexa to fly to Toronto for a long weekend

There's some tension around Clarke's insistence on buying Lexa's plane ticket. Meanwhile, Lexa is adamant she wants to pay her own way. They argue a little - not a fight, but they're both stubborn.

Until Clarke is like, exasperated, "what's the point in having money if I can't spend it on the people I love?"

And Lexa relents, her objections dismantled by pleading eyes that haven't lost their ability to disarm her over Facetime

Lexa goes to the set to watch the filming of Clarke's show. She's met at the security desk by an assistant (Maya?)

The set: a dingy basement club, the brick walls covered in overlapping tour posters and fliers: The Stooges, New York Dolls, The Velvet Underground, Iggy Pop. A small stage at the back of the bar, lit by a couple of spotlights. Tables and chairs scattered around. A neon lit bar runs the length of one wall.

Clarke's costume: smoky eye makeup and faux fur hanging off one bare shoulder. All in black. An alluring stare directed at the camera

Lexa gets to watch Clarke in action, tearing up the stage. It blows Lexa's mind. Impressed by it all and wholly infatuated by Clarke's performance, this charge of headstrong rock, the bluesy swagger of her vocals, full of crags and cracks, and the sneer on her lips. Parading around with so much attitude. Clarke glances at Lexa while she sings in a sandpapery alto, holding Lexa's gaze for a long second and it gives her chills

Lexa gets an insight into what acting for television is really like. Each scene is shot multiple times from multiple angles, with different sets of blocking. It takes hours to shoot a single minute-long scene. Resetting the position of the cameras. Adjusting the lighting. Makeup and hair retouches. Running the same lines 20 times over, at varying cadences; faster, slower, and the widest range of emotional temperatures. Heightened or naturalistic. Intense preparation and a flurry of activity followed by a lot of waiting around

There's no privacy either. People knock on the trailer door every five minutes or you could be sitting around for hours

Clarke's process for memorising lines: she has a working script where she writes out the lines from the whole scene and blanks out her own, leaving only the prepositions as a memory aide

Lexa watches Clarke chat with the crew a little, the gaffers and grips. Jokes as a hem is adjusted or a hair is teased back into place. Sees how at ease and natural Clarke is with the crew, no ego. She's super nice and polite to the production assistants when they bring her water between takes

Murphy is the opposite. He takes a method approach. He doesn't talk to anyone or make eye contact except with the director or producers during downtime to stay focused, stay in character. Withdraws to his trailer. Even maintains a flawless English accent throughout (thick Brummie like Ozzy Osbourne? for the lols)

At the break, Lexa tells Clarke how badly she wants to kiss her. And Clarke is like, "Uh, I'm not gonna incur the wrath of the hair and makeup ladies by letting you mess up my look, buster."

But she walks her fingers up Lexa's bicep, following the trunk of the tattoo, then slips her hand around to grip the back of Lexa's neck. "Fuck. Kinda really want to though. But, hey, come discover the joy of craft services."

They hang out with the extras at lunch, and Lexa falls a little deeper as she observes Clarke interacting with people, remembering small details about their lives and showing a genuine interest in them

The AD asks Lexa if she'd like to be an extra in the scene and she leaps at the chance - can't wait to boast to her pals at the salon. Tris, in particular, is gonna flip her shit when she hears

At the denouement of the scene, Clarke goes off script, wades into the crowd, through the press of bodies and up to Lexa. Tells Lexa under her breath to follow her lead and pulls her into a hungry kiss. Lexa's dazed reaction is genuine and she sways forward as Clarke retreats

Dimly, she hears the director remark: "Okay, we're keeping this."

[femininenachos]

I know at the end of the last chapter of CTTC you said it was done, but is there ever a chance of like a “I just couldn’t help myself” next chapter or an epilogue? I mean the potential for “Lexa visits Clarke at work in Toronto and every other actress and makeup artist collectively lose any and all chill” or “Clarke and Lexa break the internet with pictures from the red carpet at the Emmy’s” or “Lexa and Clarke buy a modest yet chic house just outside the Hills and Lexa proposes on their back porch under the moonlight (but also candlelight duh)” kinda storylines? The setup you created with this story is magnificent.

Is this a message from my subconscious telling me to just embrace the self-indulgence and write another chapter?

Seriously, I do think about CTTC a lot. I have about a dozen little snippets of half-formed ideas and a good proportion of them are about Lexa and Octavia bonding at the forge.

Like, imagine Octavia giving Lexa the shovel talk while dousing a red hot blade into a barrel of water. A study in intimidation. Then afterwards, once she’s satisfied Lexa is hopelessly devoted to Clarke, Octavia helps Lexa forge her own scissors for work. And Lexa is insufferably proud of her custom scissors. Keeps them in a special wooden case with plush red velvet lining. Won't let anyone else so much as touch them. They handle like a dream. And Anya is full of envy.

Imagine Clarke, bored after getting out of hair and makeup, a robe on over her outfit while she waits around, and Octavia sends a video of Lexa hammering the shit out of a piece of metal at the anvil, wearing protective goggles and gloves and a mask, and Clarke dies because Lexa has this look of pure concentration that’s simultaneously hot and adorkable. Smudges of dirt on her cheeks. Flyaway baby hairs at her temples going curly from the immense heat and humidity of the forge. Sweat on her brow. God, do her arms look good. Clarke watches it three times in a row, her whole body flushing with warmth. Another vid of Lexa quenching the blade, slightly unsure at first, cautious as she approaches the barrel, but then she looks up at the camera with this huge, dazzling grin when the steam dissipates. Octavia whoops in the background. They do a hive five.

Then later, after another long, long day of shooting has ended and she’s back at her hotel, feeling zombified and too tired to even move, Clarke gets a breathless call from Lexa. Has never heard her so animated and excited as she talks about the afternoon spent at the forge. It’s contagious. Acts like a double espresso shot, banishing the fatigue. And even though Clarke can’t stop smiling as she listens, she also feels this sharp little twist in her gut because she wishes she was there to experience it all with Lexa. It’s moments like this when the distance and separation and pining hit Clarke hardest. But she masks it as best she can. Reminds herself that it’s only for a few more months. And when she tells Lexa “I love you”, Clarke means it with every fibre of her being.

[femininenachos]

How did I not realize you, Nachos, are a sword lesbian? I guess I should've but somehow didn't. Because they were like CLEXA and you were like you're so right bestie let's hear it for SWORDS AND STEEL. Loved the headcanons as always. Has anyone come up with a Brotp name for Lexa and Octavia's friendship? Lextavia?

Lolololol. I mean, I don’t think I am? Not really. I just appreciate the aesthetic. However, my wife is definitely a sword lesbian. She has two, in fact. Plus an assortment of lightsabers.

For the brotp, Octavia would probably tag their adventures with Lextavia on Insta just to goad Clarke, perpetuating the ongoing in-joke about stealing her girlfriend, but while Clarke might make a show of grumbling about it she does actually love that they’ve become close.