macolethings
Macolethings
Lover of Clexa even after all these years /Writer in Training/ Writing is hard / Brain. To. Paper!
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Evening reblog.
Sonraun Rein Kiken (A Life Worth Living)
Chapter 5 - Exposed
Lexa and Clarke finally get a break, but Heda's duties always come first.
Read on AO3
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Guest comments back on!
Guest comments have now been turned back on! We'll continue to keep an eye out for any spam issues and make further adjustments as needed. (22:08 UTC April 23, 2024)
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Super excited to find a better way to offer presales. Even if you can't order, I would appreciate a share. I really can't wait to share this project with the world but initial costs with publishing an Indy book are high. Thank you!
#original content#indy book#lgbtwriter#wlw post#non binary character#pansexual character#realistic fiction
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Sonraun Rein Kiken (A Life Worth Living)
Chapter 5 - Exposed
Lexa and Clarke finally get a break, but Heda's duties always come first.
Read on AO3
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Promise me (it's gonna be alright) - Chapter 6
Lexa has some thinking to do and Clarke faces justice, grounder style. Read here on A03.
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Y'all, the world is sleeping on what NASA just pulled off with Voyager 1
The probe has been sending gibberish science data back to Earth, and scientists feared it was just the probe finally dying. You know, after working for 50 GODDAMN YEARS and LEAVING THE GODDAMN SOLAR SYSTEM and STILL CHURNING OUT GODDAMN DATA.
So they analyzed the gibberish and realized that in it was a total readout of EVERYTHING ON THE PROBE. Data, the programming, hardware specs and status, everything. They realized that one of the chips was malfunctioning.
So what do you do when your probe is 22 Billion km away and needs a fix? Why, you just REPROGRAM THAT ENTIRE GODDAMN THING. Told it to avoid the bad chip, store the data elsewhere.
Sent the new code on April 18th. Got a response on April 20th - yeah, it's so far away that it took that long just to transmit.
And the probe is working again.
From a programmer's perspective, that may be the most fucking impressive thing I have ever heard.
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Chapter 13 is posted!!!
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When some one ask me what I am reading
Me: A sci-fi book consisting of fallen spaceships, wars, betrayals, spirits, and murders
What I am actually reading: A blonde and Brunette falling in love the 100th time
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So I was at this women’s basketball game—it being March Madness and all—and this player that I find really really cute (she actually kinda looks like Lexa), wasn’t warming up. When the game started she went through the tunnel and back into the locker room which is kinda weird because even if you’re injured normally you still sit on the bench. But at halftime she came out and I noticed she had earplugs in and after a little Google I found out she has a concussion so she was probably in the locker room because it was too loud on the court. The rest of the game I was thinking about how someone could totally write a fanfic where Lexa is on a sports team, gets hurt, is sad she has to sit out, but has a little mid game locker room rendezvous to cheer her up and give her a thrill. Would you please please pleaseee be that someone?
Lexa’s ears itched to remove her headphones, but the shadow of a headache had started behind her eyes, so she let the noise canceling headphones do its magic. She walked behind the starting team and watched with a frown the pile of windbreakers grow at her feet on the bench while she remained covered. She fiddled with the dark red zipper, the squeaking of rubber against shiny vinyl grounding her while the visiting team entered the arena. Lexa looked away, her eyes darting at the faceless crowd of silver and maroon. The muffled noise of the fans, something she looked forward to at each game, mounted on the pain growing between her eyes. The blinking lights of the stadium did not help with the building dizziness, but she forced a smile as she waved back at a bundle of little girls with signs with her name shining in bright silver glitter.
Lexa Woods.
She bit her lips at the thought of disappointing little girls.
On the other side of the court, the away team warmed up. Lexa looked for a familiar blonde braid, but they were in a huddle, and the amount of blonde heads was borderline offensive for basketball.
“Oi!” A ball came in her direction and Lexa held the pass in pure reflex, but that didn’t stop her frowning at Anya. “You look miserable. Smile for the cameras. It’s the fucking final fours, Lex.”
Their team captain’s shouted words were not as encouraging as Anya thought, and Lexa threw the ball back on the court.
“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” Lexa said and pointed to her headphones. “These are not working as expected.”
A rare sight of kindness flashed over Anya’s face, but it was gone just as fast. She sat next to Lexa, her mouth close to Lexa’s covered ears. “We’re here because of you. No one doubts that. We’ll win this so you can crush it at the final.”
Lexa bit her lip. They needed to win, and her concussion needed to be fully recovered for that to happen, and none of that was a guarantee. She nodded, and the movement didn’t help with her growing headache.
“I’m going back in,” she excused herself, standing up. Anya’s face softened, nodding.
“Your head okay?” Anya asked at the same time a wave of nausea hit Lexa.
Lexa moved her palm in a so-so pattern, and before their couch yelled at her, she backtracked her steps into their home locker room. She didn’t look up at the calls for her name while ducking into the tunnel, focused on escaping the noise.
The locker room was messy, with open bags and unfolded clothes littering the floor. The smell of bleach and foot powder was familiar, with a hint of synthetic eucalyptus from the shower row. Lexa finally took off the headphones, her ears popping in relief. Layers of concrete and tile protected her from the loud crowd, and Lexa closed her eyes.
She could have made history tonight. Instead, because of a single nasty call at her last game, she cannot even watch from the bench.
“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips trembling in frustration. She wanted to punch something.
“I know, right?”
Lexa’s neck turned at the voice, her vision blurring for a second as she focused.
She must be hallucinating, because in front of her was Clarke Griffin, point guard of the Arkadia Comets, and the usual pain in Lexa’s ass whenever they played. But why was she here and not on court? Her brain finally caught up with the full image and she noticed the clutches under Clarke’s arms and how her left foot didn’t touch the floor.
“I watched your last game.” Clarke’s dimples showed at a half smile. “I’m surprised you made it to the game tonight,” Clarke said as she sat heavily next to Lexa with a long sigh and the clacks of her crutches against the wooden bench. Her hands immediately massaged her injured thigh.
“What are you doing here?”
“There are stairs to the visitors’ locker room, and I really needed to pee. Can you believe they built this building for like, healthy people? There are stairs everywhere.”
“I meant…” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s whole deal, and differently from Lexa, the other player didn’t wear a uniform or a windbreaker, just a hoodie with her university’s colors.
“Pulled muscle. Bad enough to knock me out. I didn’t want the sponsors to see me with the crutches.” Clarke nodded in the direction of the plastic supports. Lexa noticed a bright blue athletic tape poking out from Clarke’s joggers all the way to her lower abs visible under the hoodie. Her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, Clarke smirked at her.
“How did it happen?” Lexa cleared her throat, ignoring the way blue eyes went up and down her body.
“Not as hilariously as the block that took you down,” Clarke said with a shit-eating grin that Lexa wanted to wipe off.
“That was a fault!”
“Sure, babe.” Clarke adjusted in her seat, massaging her thigh again. “I’m sorry you can’t play tonight. I was looking forward to destroying you.”
That made Lexa smile. “In your dreams, Griffin.”
“Oh, but my dreams about you are quite different, Lex.”
And there she was. Griffin always played the mind game to destabilize Lexa. Whispers on the court, faces from the bench; Lexa hated it. She also felt a little joy in it, but ultimately, Clarke Griffin was a distraction.
“I’m sorry you’re missing the game, too,” Lexa said, unsure if her face showed her reaction to Clarke’s comment. By the way Clarke lounged on the bench and shifted closer, Lexa must have blushed.
“It was a good run,” Clarke said.
“You don’t think you can win?”
Clarke snorted. “Do you?”
“I trust my teammates,” Lexa said and crossed her arms. If Griffin didn’t have any loyalty to her team, that was her problem.
“Don’t get me wrong, darling—” the thin hairs on Lexa’s neck bristled at the pet name — “I love those bitches. But I dragged a bunch of future dentists and teachers to two final fours. You have other girls making draft picks in your team while I average astonishing zero bench points every game.”
“But you’ll be the first draft pick.” The truth rolled out easily on Lexa’s tongue, and she suppressed the bite of jealousy at the thought.
“And you’ll be second, unless they go insane.”
And here they were, top two draft picks dusting in the locker room while the semi-final roared above them.
Lexa shrugged, running a hand over her loose hair. Her usual braid or ponytail was a no-go with her headache, and her hair kept falling into her eyes. “If I get top four, I’ll be happy.”
“You will.” There was certainty in Clarke’s voice. “We are one of the lucky ones.”
“I know.” There was no hiding the struggle of women’s basketball. Sure, the league had promise and potential, but it was a shadow of the sponsorship and compensation of the men’s league. With limited teams, getting a spot as a professional was already an achievement.
“So, can you help me back to my locker room, princess?” Clarke asked, pointing to her crutches. Heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms.
“Why are you always like this?”
Clarke, halfway to standing, sat back down on the bench. “Like what?”
“Why are you so, so…” Lexa searched for a word, but unwelcomed suggestions jumped to the front of her mind like “hot” and “sexy”, and she ended up going with, “infuriating! Why do you flirt with other players only to mess with their game?”
Clarke huffed, an unusual pink dusting her cheeks. “I don’t flirt with other players.”
“You’ve been pretending to flirt with me in every game for a year!” Lexa didn’t know she needed to vent about something tonight, but Clarke gave her the opening she needed.
“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, raising her hands in surrender. “One, I don’t do that to other players. Two, I mostly do it with you because I know it won’t affect your game. I need to have something against your resolve, and flirting with a straight girl is harmless enough. Besides, you’re hot, Lex. Wow, why don’t you react like this on the court?”
Lexa’s cheeks burned, and she rolled her eyes. Once she stepped on the court, nothing else mattered and Lexa would be hyper-focused on the game. But tonight, not being under the spotlight and off her game, Lexa was not immune to Griffin’s tongue. Compliments—Griffin’s compliments! She needed to change this line of thought.
“What on earth have I done for you to think I’m straight?” Maybe that wasn’t the correct shift in the conversation. Clarke lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth opening for a second, then closing again, settling on a half smile.
“You never reacted to me before.” Clarke’s voice was a full octave lower, and Lexa might be in trouble. Lexa swallowed and fidgeted with her jacket zipper. “And maybe, yeah, I’ve been flirting with you not only because of the games,” Clarke confessed, the heat in her cheeks darkening.
Was Clarke flirting with her again?
“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to play tonight,” Clarke continued, “so I could watch you all night instead.”
Yes, that was flirting, Lexa’s concussed brain detected. She didn’t move as Clarke shuffled closer, their thighs touching.
“I tried to find you early on, but all your teammates were wearing braids,” Lexa said. At 21, Lexa should have a better control of her mouth, but alas, there she was confessing her charms to her rival.
“They wanted to show me support.” Clarke’s voice was close, and closer still as she said, “So you were looking for me?” But the expected grin or tease was not behind her words. Lexa gathered the rest of her courage and chanced a glance at the fellow point guard, finding nothing but… admiration?
Kiss her, Lexa’s obviously concussed brain offered, and Lexa’s heart race in adrenaline as she ignored the thought.
“You’re the best player,” Lexa reasoned, swallowing as Clarke invaded her personal space. “Of course I look for you on the court.”
“Well,” Clarke said, and her hand, a tad larger than Lexa’s, reached for Lexa’s own. “I look for you outside of the court, too. I watched the video on your channel about your work against bullying in your town’s high school. That was inspiring.”
Lexa’s heart swelled with something akin to fondness, but she blamed that on the concussion. “Thank you.” Lexa whispered, the moment asking for softness.
“You, Lexa Woods”—Clarke’s large hand closed around Lexa’s, warm and steady—“You are inspiring.”
It wasn’t every day that the league MVP said she was inspiring.
Kiss, kiss, her brain supplied.
Lexa didn’t have to wait for her body to listen to her brain. Clarke was MVP for many reasons, and not hesitating was one of them.
The kiss was soft and warm, and Clarke’s hand tugged lightly at Lexa’s neck. For the first time that day, Lexa breathed easily. It lasted a moment, as Clarke showed to be dexterous with her tongue, and then Lexa was breathless.
“My team will be here at half-time,” Lexa whispered when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulled away.
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me again?”
Lexa wished she could say no to that smile, but she was learning that denying that smile was harder than to block Clarke’s 3 pointers.
“It means we can’t do it here,” Lexa said.
“I’m staying in town for an orthopedic appointment tomorrow morning. You could always stop by my hotel later tonight.” Clarke reached for her clutches and stood.
“My team will want me around after the game.”
Clarke smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather be in a noisy bar with your team celebrating, or watching the British Bake Off with me while making out on a king bed?”
Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “The British Bake Off?”
Clarke made her way out of the locker room, slow and steady. “We can watch it on mute, which helps with your headache, and watching it always makes me… hungry.” Clarke delivered the last word over her shoulders, licking her lips for extra dramatic effect. Lexa felt her face heating as Clarke limped out of the room.
Hours later, Lexa’s team had gained their place at the final. Her headache was under control, and her utmost satisfaction had nothing to do with the chocolate cake they ordered from the 24h hotel service.
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LOLing at the fact that the last two fics I updated are DTTW and BOL, and how each au's clexa are absolutely pathetically gay for each other, but in wildly different ways
Like, excerpts from the latest two chapters:
BOL~
"Lex."
Lexa jolts awake again. The room is much darker this time, but her eyes adjust after a moment. Clarke peers at her in the dark, face screwed up with drowsiness. She gently shakes Lexa again, as if she can't tell whether Lexa is truly awake.
"Hmm?" Lexa manages.
"We should go to bed," Clarke whispers, chagrined. "I've slept on this couch before and your back will thank you for it in the morning, trust me."
Well. Lexa doesn't want to get up, but more than that, she doesn't want Clarke uncomfortable. So she nods dumbly and shifts back to allow Clarke to clamber up off the couch first. Lexa grabs her phone off the table and squints at the brief flash of light as she checks it; it's three a.m.
"Come on," Clarke mumbles, hand sliding down Lexa's arm until it takes purchase on her own. She tugs Lexa along up the stairs, and it's there at the top Lexa expects them to part ways, Clarke turning left to her bedroom and Lexa continuing right towards her own— but Clarke pulls her with her, left. Lexa stumbles after her, and is being pulled into Clarke's bed before she can even think about it.
She blindly feels her way under the covers, and pauses, lips tipping up at one corner, when her hands catch on a familiar lump of fabric.
"Share," whispers Clarke, scooting forward until her head's on Lexa's chest, and Sushi the elephant is cradled between both her arm and Lexa's.
"Goodnight," Lexa murmurs, curling her other arm around Clarke's waist.
She thinks Clarke breathes it back, but Lexa falls asleep almost instantly once she closes her eyes, so she's not sure.
\\
DTTW~
"Are you serious?" she demands when she storms into the lone restroom and finds Clarke leaning against the sink with her arms folded below her chest. "For fuck's sake, can we get through one mission without you derailing it?"
"Me?" Clarke says heatedly. "You're only bothered because you know you're just as dull and uninteresting as they are."
Despite the heat of her words, there's no real fire behind them. Lexa can see that. There's something twinkling in her eyes instead— amusement.
Lexa sighs. "You're really that bored, you need to pick a fight?"
Clarke deflates with a pout. She echoes Lexa's sigh, turning to flatly observe her own reflection. "This is worse than the Dropship."
The Dropship, where Clarke was bored enough to invent that ridiculous game to see who could get the most numbers. That is, until dragging some stranger into the bathroom to get a rise out of Lexa— or a threesome.
And now, conveniently, she's dragged Lexa into this bathroom to pick another fight with her. Lexa watches as she bends over under the guise of leaning close to her reflection to adjust her hair, the perfect curve of her ass exposed to Lexa in all its glory. Her dress is short, and judging by the amount of skin on display, Lexa would wager she isn't wearing any underwear.
She's so predictable sometimes.
Lexa stalks across the bathroom. Clarke doesn't move, continuing to absently adjust her hair without even a glance at Lexa despite her standing so close their hips were nearly touching.
"Is it actually impossible for you to get through a single mission without needing me to fuck you senseless like a little whore?"
The words do what Lexa intended them to do; blue eyes flash darker, spitfire gleaming in their depths as she meets Lexa's gaze in the mirror and stands up straighter, turning to face her.
"Is it possible for you to get through a single mission without being an obedient little service top?" Clarke reaches over, trailing her fingertips down the arch of Lexa's neck under the guise of brushing away some nonexistent fluff. "The real question is, how much time are we going to waste in here until you stop pretending you aren't already wet, wondering whether or not I'm wearing any underwear?"
"For fuck's sake," Lexa swears again, before grasping Clarke by the wrist and dragging her into the largest bathroom stall.BOL
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Yes ! Thank you ! Number 20 "...on a scar" please. You're amazing !
"Does it still hurt?"
Lexa's breathing shakes still as Clarke's finger brush over the scar that now permanently adorns her abdomen. A decade later, the scar has shifted with Lexa's body changes, a duller pink tone to it, so much easier to look at than the angry black hole it was at the time of infliction.
"Sometimes."
She still wakes in a cold sweat, a horrible cold pain where the healed scar now sits, betrayal and confusion washing over her until she is reminded she is safe and alive.
Clarke's face twists in pained guilt at her words and Lexa's whole being tries to comfort her, remind her once again she is not at fault for what happened to her, no matter what Titus had told her as he was held in a cell waiting his judgement as Lexa fought for her life.
"It is not your fault niron." She dreads how this too weights in on Clarke's mind, another demon that looms over her mind and heart.
"I nearly lost you."
"But I'm here."
Lexa might carry the physical scar of that night, but the pain is shared equally amongst them both. Death has never scared Lexa, she shamelessly admits there were times she would have welcomed it with open arms, but of all the days for death to knock on her door, that had been the day Lexa had given everything to stay alive.
For the month Lexa stayed between brief moments of lucidity and longer periods of bargaining with death, Clarke had stayed by her side and by the time Lexa's had made her case and returned to them, Clarke looked as close to death as Lexa did, face sunken from lack of eating, blue eyes nearly taken over bu the redness around them.
"Will it ever heal?"
It's has been healed for years now. No longer any need to change bandages or avoid certain movements to avoid opening the stitches back up. Clarke knows it. Wounds on the body are easy to treat Lexa has learnt. It's the ones they leave inside that no stitch can close back up.
"Maybe not. But we can try."
Gentle lips touch the small circle on Lexa's naked body, pressing down on the skin below. She takes comfort in the gesture, the warmth of Clarke's lips on her skin much like a bandage - it does not heal, it does not take the damage away; but without it, the process cannot start.
"Yeah, we can try."
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About the AO3 "No Guest Comments for a while" warning
If you're not following any of AO3's social media accounts you might be in the dark as to what kind of "spam comments" have engendered this banner at the top of the site:
These spam comments have been posted about a great deal on the AO3 subreddit for the past couple of days. Initially they comprised a bunch of guest (logged out users) bot comments that insulted authors by suggesting they were using AI and not writing their own fics. Some examples, from the subreddit:
But it then escalated to outright graphic porn images and gifs being posted in comments, again by logged out 'Guest' accounts. Obviously, I'm not going to give examples of those, but between these two bot infestations, AO3 has clearly decided to act and has temporarily closed the ability to post comments for users who are not logged in with an AO3 account.
Unfortunately, this means that genuine readers who don't have an AO3 account won't be able to leave comments on fics that they enjoy.
If you are a genuine reader who doesn't yet have an AO3 account, I strongly suggest getting yourself on the waiting list for one. More and more AO3 authors are now locking their fics down to registered users only - either due to these bot comments or concerns about AI scraping their work - which means you're probably missing out on a lot of great stuff.
Hopefully guest commenting will be enabled again at some point soon, but I suggest not waiting until then. Get yourself on that list.
Wait times are going to be longer than usual at the moment, due to the current Wattpad purge [info on Fanlore | Wattpad subreddit thread], but if you're in line, then your invite will come through eventually.
Update: There's now a Megathread about this on the AO3 subreddit.
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it’s a waste that they didn’t do anything on the throne
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The evening light filtered through the window of the hotel room, casting a warm glow that seemed to dance on the walls. Lexa sat gracefully on the wide windowsill; one leg crossed over the other as she slipped her foot into a sleek heel.
Clarke leaned against the wall; her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Lexa. There was an undeniable elegance to her movements, each one measured and smooth, a testament to the quiet confidence she carried. The setting sun framed Lexa perfectly, highlighting the contours of her legs, accentuating the strength and poise that Clarke had come to admire so deeply.
"You know, you have amazing legs," Clarke said, the words tumbling out laced with admiration and affection. Her eyes sparkled with a playful delight, reflecting the myriad of thoughts that danced through her mind whenever she looked at Lexa.
Lexa paused, her hand holding the strap of her shoe. She turned her head, a gentle smile playing on her lips. The compliment, simple yet so heartfelt, washed over her like a sweet melody. Her eyes met Clarke's, and in them was a gleam of love and a dash of mischief.
"Only noticing now, are we?" Lexa teased, her voice soft but warm.
Clarke pushed away from the wall, her steps silent on the carpet as she moved closer to Lexa. "Oh, I’ve noticed," she replied, her voice lowering to a whisper as she reached out to trace a finger gently down Lexa’s calf, "I always notice."
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I’m feeling dumb tonight…ILAWAP?
In Love and War and Politics! A classic, a gem, a sympathy of Clexa feels 🥰
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5250 words for Chapter 5 of Sonraun have been sent for the beta read!
All your comments inspired me to make sure I don’t fall behind on the posting schedule, so thanks!
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