cascowriteswords - Tumblr blog

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–Erica Jong

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The Glass Essay, Anne Carson | Molly Brodak, Molly Brodak

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much like jesus christ did yesterday i have risen from the dead ✝️ and am on tumblr for the first time in....months. working in the US healthcare system robs me of almost all of my spoons by 6pm so not much writing (or anything creative at all 😔) has been happening lately but i am still here and queer 🌈

here are some pics of my cats

in return for kitty serotonin i'm requesting you comment or send me an ask telling me your favorite book you read lately

ok bye

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Between Clarke and Lexa, who is more likely to cook breakfast in bed for their partner? What would they make?

Honestly?

Lexa. Lexa, for all of her wordly wisdom and love of lists and cute little notes that she writes for Clarke when she goes grocery shopping (turns out, owning a flower shop is way more flexible than bending to the needs of every art patron in the city)

fucking

hates

breakfast??? (and mornings, but breakfast more)

Clarke almost choked on her coffee the first morning Lexa stayed over, turning to meet her hasty lips with a muttered good morning as she scrambled eggs at the stove, two plates waiting on the breakfast bar patiently.

"Hi, Lex. I know you have to get to the shop, but I figured a nice hearty breakfast would be good after all the fu-"

Clarke isn't even halfway through her salacious sentence when Lexa whirls past, a hand darting out to grab an apple and the thermos of coffee Clarke had thoughtfully prepared for her before sailing out the door with a sweet smile and a bashful wave.

"IamlateIwilltextyougottagobye!"

A flash of chestnut hair and the door slams, Clarke craning her head to hear the harried footsteps echoing down the hallway, spatula hanging dumbly from her left hand.

A smile dancing on her lips despite the kiss and run that had just occured, Clarke grates some cheddar onto the pan before fishing in her pajama shorts for her phone, painstakingly typing out her message with her free hand as she folds the rapidly melting cheese into the bright eggs.

Clarke | 9:57: Officer, I've been the victim of a crime- a pretty girl just robbed me of the opportunity to make her breakfast, further wooing her. That's a punishable offense, you know.

a handful of hours later, as Clarke steps away from her easel to stretch and gulp some water (how does time go so fast, anyway?)

She can't help the smile that creeps on her lips as she taps Lexa's name-

Lexa | 2:32 : I will accept the charges and pay them in full. Is there a lay-away sexual favours repayment plan, or-?

Clarke chuckles as she loves Lexa's message, choosing to send a series of suggestive emojis that would make even Raven blush before turning back to her painting, humming merrily as she loads her brush with the brightest green she has on her palette.

Payable offense, indeed.

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What are ny clexa's nightly routine before going to bed?

Clarke likes to joke tipsily that somehow they catapulted from being fun, outgoing, party girls in their early twenties straight into their granny era when they moved in together, muttering about domesticity jokingly over her chilled white wine while Octavia and Raven cackle in the background, both knowing that Clarke would rather cut off her pinky toe than admit how much she loves the routine they have with each other each evening.

Lexa rolls her eyes as she swirls her beer, taking a bored sip as she arches a teasing eyebrow at Clarke, grinning into the Guinness foam as Clarke pinks slightly but doubles down.

"I'm serious, O!" Clarke whines, cheekbones flushing as she gestures wildly.

"We used to be cool, O. Remember when Lexa held the friend group keg stand record for two whole years? Last night we both sipped mocktails in bed, took our magnesium, and read on our kindles with our air purifier going in the background. And then we went to bed. And were asleep by 10:30. On a Friday night."

Octavia fake retches as Lexa brushes a light kiss onto the back of Clarke's hand, Clarke softening immediately from her faux outrage.

For as much as Clarke fake-stormed and stomped about the loss of their "cool years", she loved the quiet home that they had made together, in their tiny Brooklyn apartment.

The routine of eating dinner together surrounded by candlelight, quietly tidying up together, seranaded by whatever record Clarke had been listening to as she worked earlier in the day.

Hands linked, they brushed teeth in close proximitly, bodies brushing as they each washed their face and changed into pajamas, Clarke into the largest t-shirt she could pull from their shared comfy bin, Lexa in her track shorts and tshirt from a bygone high school era.

The magic in the everyday comfort and simplicity followed them as they fell asleep, pretzeled together, Clarke dropping off into sleep as Lexa brushed one last kiss to the nose she adored before following her into sleep.

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whatever was left, that was ours for a while.

sunrise - louise glück

LizzieOrmian.redbubble.com

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a precursor to this

/////

I tried to warn you when you were a child

I told you not to get lost in the wild

I sent omens and all kinds of signs

I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you

(You can run but you can't escape)

Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

(You will open the yawning grave)

The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

~~~

Clarke’s smile had nearly split her rosy cheeks as she twisted one jolival finger in the air, the same cape spinning merrily in front of Lexa’s disbeliving eyes as it made a neat rotation within the air before landing obediently in Lexa’s lap. 

“I- Clarke this is….”

“Beautiful? Perfect? Incredibly fitting for a promising young witch of newly sixteen?” Clarke had piped up from her seat in the hay-covered loft, having accosted Lexa with a rousing chorus of both “Happy Birthday” as well as a verifiable mountain of sloppily levitated presents upon her entry into the barn. 

“Well, yes. All of those things. Bit it’s also too much. I got you a witchlight for your birthday. This must have cost…” Lexa trails off as she runs an admiring finger down a glistening green seam. The cloak shimmers in response, the trace amounts of magic that were woven into the very cloth reacting to the same power that sung through Lexa’s being. 

Clarke’s smile dims slightly upon seeing the defeated slouch in Lexa’s shoulders. Standing fluidly and brushing trace amounts of hay off of her matching dark blue cloak, she floats gracefully to land, catlike, in front of Lexa. 

They both pretend not to notice how Lexa holds her breath when Clarke reaches forward to gently brush an auburn curl from Lexa’s cheek. 

“I wanted to, Lex. It practically followed me home, you know how these capes are. Besides, I’ve been helping out so much at my mum’s apothecary, I had the extra gold. And, every witch deserves a cape for her sixteenth birthday, it’s witching law. Or so says nan.” 

They exchange a mutual hidden smile at the mention of Clarke’s grandmother, a wonderful woman with twinkling blue eyes who just so happened to produce the meanest Amnesia spell of this side of the Atlantic. Rumor had it Clarke had also inherited her spell casting ability, a skill that Lexa was keen to not try out any time soon. 

“Well…” Lexa draws out the word heistently as she stoops just enough to let Clarke, mouth twitching to hide a gleeful smile, gently tie the velvety strands around Lexa’s slim shoulders. “If nana says so, who am I to argue with the head of the Griffin Coven?” 

Clarke’s fingers linger briefly at the base of Lexa’s neck, pointer finger resting oh so gently on her pulse, which flutters like a trapped hummingbird under the attention. 

“Preciscely, Woods.” 

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imagine thinking this is a flex i would kill myself if this was my life

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a precursor to this

/////

I tried to warn you when you were a child

I told you not to get lost in the wild

I sent omens and all kinds of signs

I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you

(You can run but you can't escape)

Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

(You will open the yawning grave)

The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

~~~

Clarke’s smile had nearly split her rosy cheeks as she twisted one jolival finger in the air, the same cape spinning merrily in front of Lexa’s disbeliving eyes as it made a neat rotation within the air before landing obediently in Lexa’s lap. 

“I- Clarke this is….”

“Beautiful? Perfect? Incredibly fitting for a promising young witch of newly sixteen?” Clarke had piped up from her seat in the hay-covered loft, having accosted Lexa with a rousing chorus of both “Happy Birthday” as well as a verifiable mountain of sloppily levitated presents upon her entry into the barn. 

“Well, yes. All of those things. Bit it’s also too much. I got you a witchlight for your birthday. This must have cost…” Lexa trails off as she runs an admiring finger down a glistening green seam. The cloak shimmers in response, the trace amounts of magic that were woven into the very cloth reacting to the same power that sung through Lexa’s being. 

Clarke’s smile dims slightly upon seeing the defeated slouch in Lexa’s shoulders. Standing fluidly and brushing trace amounts of hay off of her matching dark blue cloak, she floats gracefully to land, catlike, in front of Lexa. 

They both pretend not to notice how Lexa holds her breath when Clarke reaches forward to gently brush an auburn curl from Lexa’s cheek. 

“I wanted to, Lex. It practically followed me home, you know how these capes are. Besides, I’ve been helping out so much at my mum’s apothecary, I had the extra gold. And, every witch deserves a cape for her sixteenth birthday, it’s witching law. Or so says nan.” 

They exchange a mutual hidden smile at the mention of Clarke’s grandmother, a wonderful woman with twinkling blue eyes who just so happened to produce the meanest Amnesia spell of this side of the Atlantic. Rumor had it Clarke had also inherited her spell casting ability, a skill that Lexa was keen to not try out any time soon. 

“Well…” Lexa draws out the word heistently as she stoops just enough to let Clarke, mouth twitching to hide a gleeful smile, gently tie the velvety strands around Lexa’s slim shoulders. “If nana says so, who am I to argue with the head of the Griffin Coven?” 

Clarke’s fingers linger briefly at the base of Lexa’s neck, pointer finger resting oh so gently on her pulse, which flutters like a trapped hummingbird under the attention. 

“Preciscely, Woods.” 

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Clextober 2019 - Day 8: Vampires/Werewolves

Yours for the (s)taking

In the passing of two millennia Lexa bore witness to mortals in all their frailties and tyrannies and glories, their capacity for greatness and predisposition to selfishness and greed.

Their great beauty, too.

And in this moment, there are none lovelier than the woman in salmon pink scrubs currently blocking the exit to the refrigerated storage room and threatening to summon hospital security if Lexa doesn’t relinquish those two bags of O Negative.

Coming soon…

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bite me

Clarke should have seen this coming. The signs have been there all along. 

“There is such thing as too much garlic, Clarke.”

“The sun is hurting my eyes.” 

“My skin is sensitive, Clarke, I can only wear gold or medical grade titanium.”

“This is the skin of a killer, Clarke.”

Okay, maybe not that last one. 

But still, the signs were all there, all these years. It was only her own naivety that prevented her from predicting this earlier on. 

“So, vampire, hm?” she hums as Lexa jogs down the stairs, velvety black collar popped up around the slender column of her neck, coattails flowing behind her. “I didn’t peg you for team Edward.”

“I’m not,” Lexa answers smoothly, pecking Clarke’s cheek as she takes the mug of coffee held out toward her, leaving a black outline of her lips in their wake. “Party City was fresh out of werewolf costumes. But I’m not team Jacob, I’m team Seth - the only good character.”

“I see,” Clarke says coyly. “Remember when I said you should pick out a costume a few weeks ago? Instead of the night before Halloween?” 

Lexa is buzzing around the kitchen, spreading avocado onto her toast and grabbing pickled onions from the fridge. It’s an ironically vegetarian breakfast for someone with painted-on blood dribbling from the corners of her mouth. “Are you saying you think the kids won’t like my costume, Clarke?”

Working as a physical therapist in an outpatient pediatric clinic means going all out for Halloween isn’t optional. Lexa’s kiddos would be so disappointed if their favorite clinician wasn’t dressed up, and getting 3 year olds to focus on PT is hard enough on a normal day. She has all sorts of spooky themed games and obstacle courses planned for the day.

“Of course not, they’ll love it. They love you.”

“I love you,” Lexa quickly says, eyes flicking up to meet Clarke’s in a way that somehow still makes her stomach swoop even 3 years in. 

“I love you,” Clarke answers, grinning affectionately at her sweet golden retriever girlfriend as she eats her toast in full vampire garb as their tiny bistro table. “Are you going to ask what I think about your costume?” 

Lexa quirks a brow inquisitively, peering at Clarke over the top of her mug as she takes a sip of coffee. “What do you think of my costume, love?”

Clarke moves away from the counter she’d been leaning against and prowls forward, as if she’s the one dressed as a lethal predator instead of Lexa, intently focused on her target. When she reaches the table she rests one hand on its edge and the other on the back of Lexa’s chair, caging her in. “I think,” she says, ducking down to press her lips to the hinge of Lexa’s jaw which earns her a lovely, pretty breathy sound from her girlfriend, “You might be the one dressed as a vampire, but I’m going to be eating you tonight.” Lexa swallows thickly and Clarke grins; nips at her neck, feels the pulse fluttering beneath her tongue as it laves over the skin there. 

When she leans back Lexa’s eyes follow her, pupils a bit wider and darker than they were just a moment ago which suits her costume quite nicely. Clarke reaches out and runs a thumb along Lexa’s bottom lip, cleaning up the edge of her black lipstick. “I’m going back to bed for a little while,” she tells Lexa. “Have a great day at work, honey. And happy Halloween.” 

“Clarke,” Lexa whines. “How am I meant to focus at all today now.”

“You’re a highly intelligent and cunning immortal being, you’ll figure something out.”

She skitters up the stairs smugly, already knowing how tightly wound Lexa will be when she returns home in 9 hours.

Already more than a little excited to unwind her.

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Have You Been Long Enough At Table, Leslie Sainz

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it's finally below 70 degrees and i'm drinking a pumpkin porter, send me clextober prompts please and thanks

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Hey everyone! October is right around the corner and that means Clextober23 is coming up! 7 days of Clexa will begin on the 25th of October this year, so get ready! 

We can have all things Clexa with the spooky vibe of Halloween or Autumn sweater weather feels. Reblog or send this post out to anyone you think will enjoy it!

How To Participate: Fanart, fanvids, fanfics, mood-boards, photo manipulations, fic recs, anything that screams Clexa with a spice of Fall/October/Halloween - let’s see it!

7 Days of Clexa: This will be 7 days of Halloween/Fall-themed posts. Reblog Share Repeat! Send out ideas/prompts to your favorite writers and artists! Don’t forget to tag!  #Clextober23  #7DaysofClexa Oct. 25 - Day 1: Spirit Week! Oct. 26 - Day 2: Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice Oct. 27 - Day 3: Annual Fall Festival Oct. 28 - Day 4: Magical Nights Oct. 29 - Day 5: The Other Side Oct. 30 - Day 6: Vampires vs. Werewolves Oct. 31 - Day 7: Free Day