never again

🌈 Uplift asexuals this Pride Month for a change! 🌈

I’ve been reading a shit ton of fics lately to get through the The 100 hiatus and I thought maybe you guys might appreciate some awesome stories too. There’s like, a lot of them. 

Here’s pt. 2. for shorter fics and prompts.

Completed: 

These Walls are Paper Thin -  Danistalley12  [Rated G, Modern-setting]

Lexa was deep into her last year of law school and her life was finally beginning to stabilise. She was happy keeping to herself and her few friends, preferring to have as little contact with the rest of the world as possible. That was until she began receiving the mail of the girl who had moved into the apartment next to her and that’s when things began to change.

Summer Is Over (But I Found You) -  snowtamale  [Rated E, Modern-setting]

High school reunions are always a bad idea. Especially for a social outcast who spent four years pining for the head cheerleader before embarking on a summer “romance” with her and ending up with broken heart. 

i built a home for you, for me (held on as tightly as you held onto me) - coat  [Rated T, Modern-setting]

As Lexa walks past, giving the dog a wide berth, she spots a figure beside it. A girl with braided blonde hair stretches out on the park bench, fingers tangled in the dog’s thick fur. She frowns softly. Usually the homeless people Lexa sees are older males with scruffy beards, tugging shopping carts filled with cans. But this girl on the bench, her golden hair streaming over her back, looks so out of place that Lexa almost stops. Most homeless tend to stay near the city, yet here she is, in the middle of the forest.

Or: In which Lexa takes in two strays, but it’s really herself that’s saved in the process.

Rise Into Ruin - crazywisdom  [Rated M, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon]

Post-2x16. She is tired, vengeful and she wants answers: that’s all that draws Clarke to Polis. But a new enemy on the horizon, cracks within the grounder hierarchy that threaten Lexa’s freshly-acquired charade of peace, and the reluctant desire to trust once more, makes her stay. 

The Break Down -  dance_tilyouredead  [Rated T, Modern-setting]

Raven and Octavia grab Clarke for a coastal road trip but their car breaks down an hour in. Lexa is the mechanic that arrives with the tow truck.

Also Lexa has noticed Clarke at inter-school sports games for years. Pining Mini Lexa is my new favourite thing.

We Looked Like Giants - colonelpancake04  [Rated Mature, Modern-setting,  Sequel:  Cool for the Summer ]

Octavia scoffs and shakes her head. “No way in hell, Clarke.”

Clarke feigns innocence and puts on her most convincing confused face. “No way in hell what?”

“No way in hell are you thinking about sleeping with my cousin! She is off limits. It’s, like, girlcode or something.”

somewhere i have never travelled -  unicyclehippo  [Rated E, Modern-setting]

Lexa Wood doesn’t like being woken up at two am when her neighbour comes home from work. But, for baked goods and good company and the offer of no strings sex with possibly the most attractive person she’s ever met, well. Maybe she can make an exception for Clarke Griffin. 

A Summer to Remember -  aos_skimmons  [Rated T, Modern-setting]

Summer beach house AU.

Clarke and her friends go to Florida for their summer vacation.

They’re only there for three weeks, but it’s summer and anything can happen. Right?

pump mud through my veins -  wariangle  [Rated E, Alternate Universe - Canon]

“No,” Clarke repeats, louder. She straightens, reaching her full height. They might be able to disregard the girl they remember, but Clarke, Keryon kom Heda kom Trikru, won’t be so easily dismissed. “I’m going out to meet them. They know me. You are a threat and will be treated as such. I can give you a respite, at the very least.”

And with that, she turns her back on them and marches out the room, out the Ark, to meet the oncoming army.

-

AU in which Clarke fell down from the sky by herself five years before the Ark comes crashing down.

Bloom/Ink -  AvaRosier  [Rated T, Modern-setting]

Flowers, like tattoos, carried a hidden meaning. A second language, if you will.

Or: the one where Clarke Griffin owns a tattoo studio next to Lexa’s flower shop, and it turns out the two aren’t so disparate after all.

carousel of time. -  vulpixgrrrl  [Not Rated, Modern-setting]

they’ve hated each other every summer they can remember, rivals since first session. But they’re finally camp counselors and it’s a whole new battle field.

Come Morning Light -  onemilliongoldstars  [Rated M, Alternate Universe - Canon] 

Lexa loves Clarke with everything she posesses and she’s always thought it would be enough. She is wrong. “When Clarke tells her she wants a baby, time stands still.”

Acting on your Best Behavior - fairytaleslayer  [Rated T, Modern-setting]

Tumblr Prompt: “The skirt is short on purpose” High School AU

or

Clarke Griffin is a little shit, Lexa even more so, and they will defend each other fiercely

Once you work in a unit long enough, each room has a memory, or two, or thirty.  Each room has times you loved, and a patient that warmed your heart.  Each room has a story you are proud of, a patient you know you helped.  Sometimes all it takes is supporting a person on a terrible day, being present, listening.  Each room has some ghosts as well.  Ghosts of could have and should have, of the nurses and the people we used to be.  Less jaded, less weary versions of ourselves exist in these stories.  Ghosts of patients for sure, the ones we carry with us by choice and those that linger uninvited.

Bed one is regret, drama, and things I wish I knew as a baby nurse.

Bed five is too much.  Death happens back-to-back-to-back in bed five.  Once it starts, it has to finish.  I declared it silly and superstitious years ago.  I have changed my opinion; bed five has not changed.  Bed five was uncaring then and remains so now.

Bed six is youth.  Patients my age always end up in bed six.  It is a young woman who we could not save. It was hopeless from the start, regardless we tried.  We failed.  Bed six is another young woman with that too familiar story.  Bed six is a young man that lived.  He walked up to death’s door and camped there for weeks, but somehow made it back.  Bed six is hit or miss.    

Bed eight is the worst, most entitled patient family.  It is signs on the door not to enter, lest you disturb their schedule.  It is complete disappointment with your management and their spinelessness.  It is a little less faith in humanity.

Bed eleven is your first super sick admission in those early days.  It is the mama nurse that said, “You are going to do this tonight. It is going to happen; it might as well happen while I am here.” What would you say to that new nurse version of you? “Run?” “Stay?” You are not sure.

Bed fourteen is the “good old days.“  It is memories of crazy shifts with your dream team of coworkers.  Most of the dream team has left.  You have remained, at times looking for the exit.  We’ll always have bed fourteen though.

Bed sixteen is a feeling.  Now and then, there’s a nurse voice in your head, a whisper on your shoulder, a deja vu feeling.  It’s disconcerting, unnerving, and some days life-saving.  Maybe it was a ghost of bed sixteen that whispered in your ear to check one extra time.  Whatever it was that made you check again; it saved your patient’s life.  To that ghost, you can be thankful, because you certainly do not need another one to carry.

Bed seventeen is the curse.  A story that you do not want to remember.  You’ve heard it enough times, told in such detail by those there, you might as well have been.  You can play the scene out in your mind.  As a preceptor, you tell new nurses that story.  It scares them, but it will make them better.  We let bed seventeen keep its curse; we pass it down.  It brought a hard time that we walked through, who knows if it made us stronger or smarter. It did make us more aware, of that we are sure.  

Bed eighteen is a problem for you because five years have passed and you still get it mixed up with bed seventeen.  Face-palm.

Bed twenty-two is a fun day with a sweet patient.  It is joking with her at 1800, then finding her unconscious at 1821.  For her, it is a ruptured aneurysm combined with the phrases, “Incompatible with life” and “We cannot do anything.“  For you, it is a bout of depression.  Not to make it your tragedy, you know she had it worse.  

He’s tired of people walking all over his face.

Mista, Mista! Get this speaker off of me!

Nom…

Sad banana cake :(

Unimpressed sloth watches while you drive…

This windshield wiper is a little baked…

Found a Stormtrooper in the dishwasher.