Arckee-dreams - The Tortoise Jumps In The Lake With Dreams Of Being A Sea Turtle

The threat of a rubber band 😖

Last full moon of the year, in Þingvellir by Ann Silvestre.

That’s a lot of links!

Omg can you write a one shot where Lexa is paid by her college peers to write love letters to their gfs/ppl they want to date. So Finn asks her to write for Clarke and it becomes a constant. Until one day clarke goes up to her and says I know its you

OKAY. So this has been sitting in my asks for like a year. There will be a few (but short-ish) parts to this. And before anyone asks, this is not based off of “The Half of It” ... but here ya go.

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Letters

PART 1

It was Polis Record’s fault. Lexa’s atrocious week was definitely Polis Record’s fault. Had Titus not been a complete asshat of a manager and dicked the schedule around, Lexa certainly wouldn’t be having this predicament. Had Lexa’s hours not have been cut back, she wouldn’t be where she was. Had Lexa not known that her next paycheck would be half of what it normally was, she wouldn’t be writing a fake love letter to the devastatingly beautiful girl in her Astronomy class. Had Finn Collins not offered her cash to do so, she wouldn’t be writing this letter on his behalf, even though she was the one that’s had an earth-shattering crush on the recipient ever since their Freshmen orientation, four long years ago.

Let’s rewind.

“Titus, are you kidding me?” Lexa huffed at the bald-headed man who was scurrying around the break room like a headless chicken. “You did what?”

“Lexa, listen,” he tried to calm her down. “The schedule will be back to normal before you know it. I had to hire her. There wasn’t another way around it.”

She was mad. No. More than mad, “There was. But you just didn’t have the balls to tell your mistress’ best friend that you already had a full roster of people on your fucking schedule.”

“Can you keep it down!” He hissed. “This is temporary. I’m sorry. I couldn’t dock my cousin, okay? The schedule will even itself back out. You’ll be back to selling these shitty, scratched up vinyls in no time. Ride it out for two weeks, it won’t kill you.”

What he didn’t realize was that two weeks of half-pay because of shitty scheduling could actually kill her. He just didn’t realize that. There was the pressure of doing well in school, that was one thing. But there was also the pressure of doing well enough to keep her GPA high enough to keep her partial scholarship. And then the pressure of her shitty part-time job at the local record store to help make early payments to her student loans so she wouldn’t have to worry about crippling herself into debt once she figured out what to do with a fucking degree in Geology.

“Two weeks,” she warned him as she started to storm out. “This better be fixed in two weeks, Titus.”

Spoiler alert: Two weeks had come and gone, and Lexa was still screwed off of her work schedule.

“C’mon,” Finn pleaded at Lexa’s side. He had managed to weasel his way into the vestibule of Lexa’s apartment building. “I took that writing class with you last year. I know you’re good. I just need one letter. Typed. That’s it.”

She was already on the verge of a massive outburst after her conversation with Titus. The dickwad that he was, managed to screw her hours up for another week, even though he promised he wouldn’t, “This is not a good time, Finn. Seriously.”

“$200.” He stood tall in front of her. “$200 in cash right now, and all you need to do is type up a page of words that will have her vaguely interested in the person who wrote it, and that’s it. $200 right now. If you do this, then I’ll never bother you for anything again.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Listen, I just need a good way in. I can take the rest from there, okay?”

$200 was enough to cover a good portion of what she would be missing out on for the week. $200 was enough to get by. $200 was enough to get her mind to start churning.

“$300 and it’s a deal,” she tried to match his height. She straightened her back and broadened her shoulders as far as she could.

He laughed at the request, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“You’re the one that needs me,” she reminded me.

He let out a huff and pulled another Benjamin out of his leather wallet and clumped it with the other two. “Fine,” he shook his head as he handed her the wad of cash.

Lexa nodded as she took the money. She buried the pang of guilt she felt into her pocket, alongside the earnings she just made and was ready to make way up the two flights of stairs when she felt Finn grab her arm.

“Hey,” he called out. “Wait a sec. I started a letter already, but didn’t get very far. You can just go off of this,” he handed her a folded piece of paper.

She opened it and read it aloud, “Have you ever felt like you couldn’t breathe? Like the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has amounted to this one moment in your life? Like there’s this burden placed so heavy on your chest that has left your lungs struggling for any ounce of air?”

Finn nodded as the words poured out of Lexa’s mouth. He was more than proud of what he thought was eloquently poetic. Lexa’s look of confusion went missed by him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Pretty good, right?”

“Finn,” she deadpanned. “It sounds like you just described having the fucking Spanish Flu. I’m not using this. You sound like a serial killer.”

“What?” he yelped. “It’s poetic!”

“It’s a terrifying beginning to what’s supposed to be a love letter,” she deadpanned again. She shook her head as she finally made her way to the flight of stairs, “Give me a few days, I’ll come up with what we need.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine. But you better make it good.”

She made it good. She made it really fucking good.

Clarke ran her fingertips over the paper as she scanned the words again. She had no idea who had left it for her—she walked into the lecture hall a few minutes early, as she normally did, and saw an envelope pinned to the corkboard with “Clarke” scribbled on it. She looked around, wanted to see if anyone in particular was looking in her direction. It was the usual suspects that always got to class a little bit early. Monty, the one who was always quiet in class but loudest at the neighborhood bar during happy hour. Echo, the girl who always sat in the back row and snoozed as soon as the professor opened her mouth. Finn, the boy who always found a way to have an uncalled for argument with the professor. Lexa, the one who was always in the front row and tended to herself.

Not a single one of them was paying her a piece of mind, so she let her eyes scan the letter one last time before the room filled up.

Clarke,

I was sitting on the lawn behind the library catching up on reading for a class last week. I was skimming through Voltaire’s words:

“Sensual pleasure passes and vanishes, but the friendship between us, the mutual confidence, the delight of the heart, the enchantment of the soul, these things do not perish and can never be destroyed.”

This particular passage struck a chord with me, and it was mostly because when I looked up after reading it, I immediately saw you consoling who I’d assume to be a friend of yours. I’m not sure what had happened, but she looked like she was crying and you showed up with a blanket to sit on, a bowl of fresh fruit, and sat with her and listened intently while she spoke. It was life imitating art, right before my eyes.

Voltaire’s writing is mostly straight and to the point. It isn’t hard to decipher the messages he often tries to relay, but it was most certainly a breath of fresh air to finish that passage to find a parallel to present day. Your actions on that lawn helped me see things a little clearer.

I suppose I just wanted to thank you for that. SO, thank you for being the catalyst for making something in my brain click.

Before I close this letter off, I do have a question for you. And if you feel so inclined to indulge and answer it, you can drop it back into the envelope where you found this one and pin it back to the board.

Has anything happened to you recently that struck a chord? Something that stood out to you, but you haven’t had a chance to dive deeper into it? I’d like to know.

Enjoy your week, Clarke.

Upon tucking the printed note under her laptop, she took another look around the hall, which was now practically full. She moved her computer to the side and pulled a notepad out of her bag. The professor had started her lecture, but Clarke’s mind wandered from the images pulled up on the projector from the Spritzer space telescope as her pen started to move across the page.

Hello,

I believe you’re at an unfair advantage here. You know my name. You know what I look like. Yet I have absolutely no idea who you are. So if you write back to this, I’m hoping you’ll share some insight on the person behind the pen (or keyboard, in your instance).

I’m happy that the interaction you saw helped bring better insight into what you were working on. Coincidentally, the friend that I was with when you saw me is also reading a Voltaire piece for an assignment. I wonder if you’re in the same class?

She’s taking “Romance Studies” as an elective. I tried to convince her that there was no point harping on what was considered to be “romantic” through archaic literary pieces that are now long gone, and replaced with mediocre-at-best Netflix series about teenage love.

It always seemed that with the way things were going in our lifetime… that all “romance” really was, was when two people swiped right on Tinder.

With that said… I guess I can honestly say that your letter is what struck a chord with me. Especially after freshly coming out of that conversation with my friend.

I don’t want to be presumptuous. But it seems that this gesture of yours, whether it was meant to be platonic, or if it was meant to imply a sense of something more, is making me realize that maybe—just maybe—the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic after all.

-Clarke

She was happy with the end result of what was hurriedly committed to the page. Clarke quickly tore it from her notebook and tucked the loose piece of paper back into the envelope. She scanned her fellow students to see if anyone was watching her. She slunk further into her seat and wondered if the recipient was there, sitting in that very room. Unfortunately for her, the lecture that was being given on the Nebular Theory kept the attention of every other person in the hall, so she quickly reached for her computer to start typing notes on the theory’s premise of how every planet in the system was formed.

A tedious hour later, her fellow classmates started packing up and rushed towards the exit door. Clarke took her time shutting her computer down and tucking things away into her bag. She was suddenly aware that the person who wrote to her—the person she now wrote to—could be in the room watching her to see if she had a written response back.

She waited a few more minutes, and finally deemed it safe when the last few people in the room seemed to be chatting with one another or finishing up straightening their notes from the lecture. With a big exhale, she pinned the envelope back onto the board and made a swift exit.

Lexa felt a tap to her shoulder, which caused her to look up, “What do you want?”

“I think it worked. She put the envelope back!” the excitement in Finn’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Okay,” Lexa lowered her head to finish writing out her notes from the class. “Job’s done.”

“I’m gonna go get it so we can read it and figure out what to do next,” he giddily let out before darting out of Lexa’s peripheral.

She let out a sigh of distaste when he came back half a minute later and pulled a chair close to where she was sitting. “Finn, you said one letter. I did it. This is on you now. And if you don’t mind, I need to finish up here,” she raised her hand, showing she was still trying to get some of her notes done.

“Fine, suit yourself,” he propped his feet onto the table in front of them while he silently read Clarke’s reply. “Hmm, Voltaire?”

The author’s name caught Lexa’s attention. She suddenly looked up to where he was sitting, “What about him?”

“I don’t know. Clarke said something about him. That’s the bad dude from Harry Potter, right?” Finn brought his attention back to the letter. “What did our letter even say? You never even showed me.”

He handed Lexa the notebook page with loopy and wide writing on it. The edges were jagged, as if Clarke did the whole thing in haste.

“What do you want me to do with that?” Lexa eyed the piece of paper.

“Read it and let me know if you think she likes me,” Finn shrugged. “But also, why didn’t you put my number or something on it?”

“Because it’ll probably take more than one letter for her to even be open to the idea of you,” Lexa chided in her reply. She let her eyes quickly scan the girlish handwriting and folded the paper back up. “She’s definitely intrigued.”

Finn finally set his feet on the floor as he leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, “Okay, great! So what do we do now?”

“We,” Lexa pointed her pen between the two of them. “Do nothing. You can write another letter and see if she wants anything to do with you, Finn.”

“C’mon,” he nudged her shoulder. “I’ll pay ya for another one. Another $300. But we need an exit plan for when we move this from letters to texting or something.”

“Her reply literally just said that we’ve opened the idea to her that letters are romantic,” Lexa shook her head. “Your take on that was to immediately turn this to a texting conversation?”

He grabbed the letter from Lexa, “What? Where’d she said that? It doesn’t say that, Lexa.” He scratched his head.

Lexa let out a defeated sigh, “Finn. She literally said something like, ‘maybe the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic’ or something. Did we not just read the same piece of paper?”

“See, Lexa,” he smiled as he patted her shoulder. “This is why I need you. Just one or two more. Same price per letter. I just need a little more help and then I’ll be outta your hair. Promise.”

She took her palm to her forehead and rubbed her thumb into her temple. One more wouldn’t hurt. Mostly because the $300 definitely wouldn’t hurt.

“Fine,” she finally let out. “One more. Give me her letter back. I’ll have our reply ready for this same class next week.”

“Excellent,” he grinned as he handed the piece of paper over to her. “You’re a lifesaver, Lexa.”

She felt anything but that. But at least it meant she’d be able to get by for the next week or two, while Titus still screwed around with her hours at the record store.

Korrasami Week Day Six

Okay, I don’t quite like how this turned out. But, since I lost the momentum of Korrasami Week, I forced myself to write this one and post it. So, here it is. Enjoy :)

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Prompt: future

Dear Asami,

I am flattered you wrote to me about this. What it feels like, loving an Avatar. How to be true to someone who will always put the world first. I shall do my best in aiding you.

The first thing I wish to write is this: you are entitled to ignore everything I say in this letter.

Life taught me that all lovers are inventors when they build a relationship, made of words, sighs, memories, touches. Every person is different, inherently so. It cannot be true that my love for Aang will be the same as yours for Korra.

Despite this, I can understand your concerns.  I promise I will do my best to meet them.

I believe it was fundamental to me to learn to love both Aang and the Avatar as the same person. This probably sounds confusing, so let me try to explain.

When I met Aang for the first time, frozen in that iceberg, I saw the Avatar. Not Aang, but the Avatar. It was a difficult truth to admit, one I recognized only many years later. The girl in me was fascinated by him, possibly starstruck. I was thrilled of being the one who had found him after a hundred years. I was sure he would save us all from the Fire Nation.

But he was just a child.

I was a child.

I had to grow a lot before even entertaining the idea of a relationship with him. We both had to. That first journey to master the different bendings had been a starting point for us, for our relationship. A start.

After those first days, the Avatar became Aang. And I started seeing Aang first, then the Avatar.

You might believe that to be the correct way to love an Avatar. It is not. Seeing first Aang - or Korra - and then the Avatar means denying an important aspect of their being, of their essence. You might see this in the simplest things, like spending an anniversary together or going on vacation. Other times it's rather unpleasant, like being separated for months and years to build a new city while you have to raise your children alone.

Asami, Korra is everybody's person. She has to be, because the world will always need her. They keep asking and digging for resources and answers and demands. I saw this with my Aang and now I see the same reflected in Korra.

But, my dear Asami, if Korra is everybody's person, who's gonna be hers? Everybody needs a person.

And, if I still know Korra, she'll argue about her being enough for herself. Don't listen to her and instead, make her listen to you. She's strong and stubborn, our girl, and even though she grew so much in these past few years, she will need someone to stand beside her.

You have to be Korra's rock, so she can be everybody else's rock.

There's a reason why both Aang and Korra surrounded themselves with loyal friends, team Avatar.

But I am sure you are already aware of all of that, or else you wouldn't have kept writing all those letters even without reply. Or offered to come and visit the South Pole during Korra's recovery.

Or stand back when she asked to do all of this alone.

Don't be surprised if I know of these events, Asami. This old waterbender still has a couple of tricks up her sleeves to keep track of her family.

Now, I won't lie and say things were always perfect between me and Aang.

We had our fair share of arguments, believe me. Communication is key, as it should be in all relationships, but I believe this is mostly true in our special case. I still cherish the memories of me and Aang talking at the end of the day, about everything and nothing, surrounded only by stars.

That is the reason, Asami, why I believe you are deeply wrong when you write that you feel you have to withheld your problems and thoughts from Korra for fear of burdening her. I know it might sound tempting to bottle everything up, shielding behind the weak reasoning of 'She is the Avatar. She has so many other things going on with the rest of the world, how could my issues compare to hers? Be of any importance?'

You're not the first to think along those lines.

Only because you have to be Korra's rock so she can be the best Avatar, it doesn't mean your feelings matter less. Despite having many people asking for her attention, you'll be the first one Korra wishes to spend time with, the one she confides into. Equally, you have to trust her with your feelings.

This is what means loving Korra as both Korra and the Avatar.

By not confiding your thoughts, you are creating a disequilibrium in your relationship. Simply because you aren't treating her as equal to you. Even though your intentions might come from good, Korra is your partner and you have to trust she'll be with you for every step of your journey. She can and wants to deal with your problems, as petty as they seem.

I learned this after a particular harsh fight with Aang, not too long after Kya's birth.

I was tired of feeling alone, especially in Aang's disappointment. He wished to have a child who could airbend like him, but Kya revealed to be a strong bright eyed waterbender from a young age. And while Aang didn't love her or Bumi any less, his desire for a new Air Nation was almost too strong, sometimes. There was a part of him that couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not because of me, nor for the children, but mostly himself.

It all comes down to legacy, in a sense.

Aang wished to rebuild the Air Nation. Korra lost her connection to all her previous lives and the next Avatar will have only her to rely to.

They are two different events, but connected nonetheless. Being the only bearer of a whole world feels overwhelming.

Both cannot be obtained by living alone, though. I believe I have some merits in restoring the Air Nation: I helped Aang with all of myself, after all. (Do not think of me as vain when I write this, Asami, because I have reached an age where I can say everything I believe, without caring about social norms. I may have picked up a couple of things from Toph in all these years.)

Similarly, Korra will need help. Sadly, my old bones do not quite agree with modern technology, but I am sure a brilliant mind loke yours can find a way to maintain Korra's memories and feelings alive, beside the spiritual plane. After all, and I know Korra herself is worried, nobody really knows what happened with Raava and if Korra will be able to talk with her future lives.

You are the future, Asami. Alongside with Korra and the rest of your friends.

And I am sure the world couldn't be in better hands.

With love, and say hi to Korra for me,

Katara

TW: animal death / animal neglect

I wanted to draw this comic for a long time, but I never knew how to approach this issue. In my childhood all my friends had budgies, all of them were put aside somewhere and left alone. Treated like “annoying” decoration. Don’t get a bird if you can’t meet its needs.

Eye of Iceland - Fagradalsfjall Eruption, Iceland - Sep 11 [OC] [3500 × 2332] - Author: grisigt on reddit

Sunflowers at Sunset - Miami, Florida [OC] [3042x4032] - Author: Dermity_Head on reddit

Crush ❤️

This xkcd comic from 2009 changed my life. It feels timeless.