She’s Cursed

Had a bit of luck wandering through the lupine fields in New Zealand when this rainbow appeared over Lake Pukaki’s blue waters [OC][1800x2700] @bloveimages - Author: snetljivff on reddit

Korrasami Week Day Four

I wanted to try something a little different with this one. Hopefully it’s okay. Also, I fell behind with the schedule, busy day. Don’t know if I’ll get next up in time, but I’ll do my best. As usual, enjoy :)

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Prompt: longing

"Hello?"

"You have reached Air Temple Island, this is Master Meelo speaking. How shall I assist you today?"

"... that sounded vaguely threatening."

"I'm merely being professional, ma'am."

"Yeah. I bet you could land any job at a front desk. I could put a good word for you if you want. Uh, is Korra there?"

"Please, state your business with the Avatar."

"Business? Meelo, it's me, Asami."

"Pretty lady!"

"Uh, that's me. Could I speak with my girlfriend, please? Is she busy?"

"I dunno. Why would you want to speak to her when there's a real bender right here? Don't you prefer the company of a powerful airbender?"

"You know she's the Avatar, right? She's as powerful as-"

"Pf, I fought and won against a giant mecha of metal once. I saved Republic City from an invasion."

"... that you did. But I'm sure of my decision Meelo. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Your wish shall be my command, then, wonderful lady... Korraaaaa! Your pretty lady is on the phoooooone... We shall meet again soon, beautiful woman, and in the meanwhile do think of me fondly if you can..."

"I'll... I'll do my best, I guess."

"Give me that phone, Meelo, thank you... Hello? Asami?"

"I'll let you know Meelo has more game than you, oh mighty Avatar."

"Ugh, he's just a nuisance."

"A nuisance way smoother than you. I remember our first dates when you struggled with forming barely coherent sentences. Nevermind a whole conversation."

"I was nervous because I wanted to impress a beautiful girl."

"Your nervous rambling was so cute."

"And you're an absolutely awful person."

"Aw, I love you too, Korra."

"You say you love me, but next thing I know you're running after a dashing airbender, much younger than both of us. Mh, I didn't peg you to be like one of those ladies, who only have eyes for younger flesh."

"Ah Korra, you know me so well."

"He's definitely a keeper, though. But wait until you hear about his most famous airbending technique. A brave and challenging pose, one that requires an impressive display of skill and a, let's say, a complete bodily effort. He puts every inch of himself behind this technique."

"Mmm."

"Really impressive."

"..."

"..."

"You should stop making fun of poor Meelo, Korra."

"As soon as he stops making advances at you..."

"Don't worry, dear. He knows I'm happily taken. And I have no intentions of letting go."

"Sounds right. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, 'Sami."

"I think I might have a slight idea."

"Is everything okay?"

"Surprisingly enough, we only had just minor problems. Guess I got used to the urgency of your Avatar related problems. But even if they're small, when you pile them all together-"

"Even the smallest inevitably becomes an annoying inconvenience. Yeah, I get that feeling. Tell me more, if you want?"

"Ranting isn't sexy, Korra."

"Everything about you is sexy, Asami. Even when you complain about misogynistic ancient business men. I love watching them flail as you tear them apart with your words and your looks."

"Looks like somebody took a page from Meelo's guide for flirting."

"Please, I'm not that desperate. And it's not my fault my girlfriend is so hot I can't help my mouth. Oh, don't get me started on that adorable snort of yours-"

"Korra!"

"But I digress. Tell me more about your day?"

"Nothing unusual. Roadblocks between construction projects, whiny workers, complaints... I didn't imagine Zaofu to be so conservative, being a place born from refugees. Oh, we discovered some kind of building? Buried underground? They're not exactly sure what it could be, but it's slowing things down at the construction site. We can't risk damaging what could be an artistic treasure."

"Could it be spiritual-related?"

"Unlikely. It looked like a storage building more than anything else. Maybe a library of some kind... But you're just trying to make it spiritual-related, right?"

"The Avatar is the bridge between spirits and humans, after all. And I'm always happy to give a hand."

"Mh, and since you'd be here we could make that trip to Omashu?"

"You know I've always wanted to go with you there."

"I'm sorry, dear. No matter how much I wish you could come here, I'm afraid it will end up being a boring warehouse, instead of a mysterious temple. But I'm flattered you would make that up for me."

"Hey, if I can't even take advantage of the Avatar status every once in a while to see my girlfriend, what kind of girlfriend would I be?"

"The best kind."

"Mmm. And who's taking a page from Meelo's book, now?"

"Oh, shut up. How are things otherwise in Republic City?"

"Thankfully busy."

"Thankfully?"

"This way I don't have the time to miss you any more than I already do. It would drive me crazy."

"I thought I was supposed to be the workaholic one in this relationship. Promise me you won't pick up my bad habits, dear."

"I promise only if you promise to actually work on those bad habits. You're cute when you're sleeping, but hunched on your desk? Not so much."

"I promise I'll do my best, dear. Now, what about Republic City?"

"Oh, yes. Everything has been quiet lately. I'm mostly running errands with Tenzin, helping here and there. I even went to a couple of press conferences with Zhu Li, too. She definitely has a better handshake than Raiko. Less sweaty, for starters."

"Did you end up going to that gala held in your honor?"

"Yeah. Bolin and Opal came with me, so we ended up having fun. And the food was nice, too. Even if everyone wanted to meet me only to tell me what an honor it is to be meeting me."

"They only want to thank the greatest Avatar ever. You can't complain if people love you and keep throwing parties for you."

"Says the lady who built a giant version of me in the middle of the city."

"You deserved it, Korra! A statue is the less we could do. Especially after everything you had done for the city. First Amon, then Unalaq and Zaheer. And Kuvira... You are amazing, Korra, both as a person and as the Avatar, so it's only fair people recognize it."

"Should I expect to see a new statue next time I visit the Beifong's?"

"... it depends if the people prefer Huan's art to my project, I guess."

"You're incorrigible."

"Yeah, well. And I miss you."

"I miss you too, Asami."

"It's only a few days. As soon as things start to run smoothly I'll take the first airship back to Republic City. I'll even pilot one myself, if I need to."

"I have no doubt. But take as much time as you need, Asami. I'll be here, waiting for you and being proud."

"Isn't it a little weird, uh?"

"Being proud of you?"

"No, I mean. Me being the one who's away and you staying at home in Republic City. It's usually the opposite with us."

"I can't fault people for wanting to exploit my girlfriend's genius. You're the best at what you do."

"Still, I can't help but miss you."

"Hey, how about when you come back we have dinner together? Down by the bay? At that water tribe restaurant you like?"

"Only if you promise we can go for a ride on a turtle-duck boat after."

"Then it's a date."

Korrasami Week Day Seven

Oh, we’re almost finished! I’m happy to post this one too. Also, let us all believe that erasers don’t exist in the Avatar universe, simply because everybody uses ink or writes in the dirt. As usual, enjoy this, because we all know that Varrick and Asami are the kind of people who love until the point of invention :)

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Prompt: double date

"Is this really necessary?"

Asami sips calmly at her drink. She's not usually one to indulge herself in alcohol, especially during a lunch in the middle of her workday. Given their company, though, she might find this necessary.

"Zhu Li insisted."

"Yes," Korra grouses and the childish drawl makes her sound young, "But Varrick!"

If Asami shares her girlfriend's feelings, well she's not going to tell.

"Zhu Li promised he'd be on his best behaviour."

Korra groans and drops her head on the table.

Truthfully, meeting for lunch with Zhu Li and Varrick doesn't sound too awful to Asami's ears. They have to discuss a new plan for the city infrastructure and since it involves the area around the new spirit portal, Korra's presence had been required. After a few tribulations of shifting plans and matching schedules, the four of them had settled for a lunch meeting in a plain but cozy restaurant.

Asami raises her free hand to the nape of Korra's neck, scratching a mellow pattern between her locks.

Criminal tendencies put aside, they had foolishly hoped married life would cut a new man out of the eccentric industrialist. Sadly, all hopes were crushed in a matter of time. Fallen from the helm of progress, Varrick had channeled all of his quirks towards his wife and her career. Grand gestures, full support for her presidential campaign, movers centered on her person... he appeared to be completely invested in Zhu Li. He even vouched for bestowing her name to a street under construction after her victory at the elections.

It was oddly charming.

Korra's unintelligible grumble in the folded napkin interrupts Asami's trail of thoughts.

"What was that, dear?" Asami asks, fingers teasing at Korra's scalp. The Avatar moves, turning her head and Asami's hand moves accordingly. Korra watches her through lethargic eyes, "If you keep doing that, I might fall asleep before they get here."

Asami smiles and withdraws her touch and Korra's nose wrinkles in response. The heiress is tempted to lean in and kiss it.

"I didn't say you had to stop..." Korra sighs, but straightens in her seat. Her plain water remains untouched in the glass.

Before Asami's tone can swirl into a gentle tease, a bell chimes and the restaurant door opens. Varrick marches inside, an exuberant flair to his gait.

Korra's mouth concedes a happy smirk, "Took you long enough."

"Nonsense! One is never too late to do the thing!" Varrick's loud voice carries through the room, "But now that you mention this, I'm actually thinking of making punctuality into a fashion. People could arrive late to appointments and still look amazing. I'll call it stylishly late!"

From beside him, Zhu Li smiles at the pair, "Korra, Asami. Thank you for joining us today. Have you been waiting for long?"

"Not at all, we-"

"I got it!" Varrick interrupts to lay an enthusiastic arm around Korra's shoulders, "We'll call it fashionably late! Eh! This way you'll never be late, only fashionably late! What do you guys think? Eh?"

Zhu Li doesn't bother with a sigh, "We'll work on the branding later, dear. I apologize for our tardiness, but Varrick insisted on driving and since he couldn't manage a parallel parking, we had to find another spot further down the street."

"We can't have the president herself driving a car, like some commoner. And it's those parking spaces' fault! They are ridiculous!" Varrick protests, as he pulls out a chair for Zhu Li, "Who decided to make them so narrow and compact?"

"That would be my girlfriend," Korra replies evenly, "You know, the CEO of Future Industries who rebuilt the city after the spirit vines?"

Varrick crosses his arms obnoxiously, "Well Asami," he says, "I'm sorry but I need to say this. Your parking spots are simply unacceptable. Barely passable. What kind of planning is that?"

"Now, hold on a minute-" Korra begins, but Zhu Li precedes her, "Don't anger the Avatar, dear," she puts the menu between his hands, "Why don't you decide what to order?"

Asami places her hand on the small of Korra's back, and guides her back down in her seat.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting," Asami says, "I know it wasn't easy to coordinate all our schedules."

Zhu Li smiles congenially, "If one of Republic City's most brilliant minds proposes a plan for the evolving infrastructure of the city, the least I can do is listen. And with the Avatar input and approval it's already one step closer to fruition."

"But first, let us eat!" Varrick exclaims from his seat, nose buried between the pages of the menu, "I'll have this one!"

Zhu Li examines his choice with a critical stare, "You don't like spicy food, so you'll end up complaining about the weird taste of the seal. Plus, you're lactose intolerant, so you can't order meat simmered in milk. I'll order the noodles for you, I've been told they're quite good here and I know you'll like them. Isn't that right, Korra?"

Korra stumbles through her reply, thrown off by the couple's fast dynamic, "Uh, yes they're good. Me and Bolin used to eat here after probending practice." She turns back to Asami for help, but her girlfriend is busy schooling her feature in an even expression, moments away from cracking in mirth.

Their waiter takes orders with a professional bow, writing concise words on a small notebook with a velvety black cover. As soon as he leaves, Zhu Li folds her hands on the table.

"Shall we take a look at your designs, Asami?"

Nodding, Asami turns back to retrieve her blueprints, but Korra precedes her, hands already buried inside her bag. She rifles quickly through the small pile of belongings, before landing on a red binder overflowing with papers. Asami accepts the folder with a grateful nod.

They balance each piece of cutlery in a carefully arranged scheme on the table, so they're able to both eat and discuss schematics at the same time.

"And that should do the thing, right?" Varrick questions, hand folded to his chin in contemplation.

Korra takes the last sip of her drink, "Yes. I'll need to communicate with the spirits first about these changes. But I have no doubts they'll agree," she trails off, noticing something left untouched on Asami's plate.

"Have you spoken to Tenzin yet? I'm sure the Air Nation will want to be involved in the process," Zhu Li points out.

"Not yet," Asami shakes her head, "We wanted to wait for your approval."

She watches as Korra scoops a spoonful of her serving of cabbages, the side to her main course of fish. Half turned in her seat, the Avatar proceeds to eat the entire of her portion in few large bites and Asami's smile tilts in grateful fondness. She never quite liked cabbage, be it a food on her plate or the shoddy work of her rivals.

She nudges her foot on the back of Korra's calf, leaving the touch there. There's nothing sensual in her gesture, just a grounding pressure that feels familiar and comfortable.

"Is that all?" Korra says around a bite of food. She speaks with her mouth full, so when the words come out they sound more like "Ish de a?"

Zhu Li lowers her fork and produces a pencil out of her pocket, "Except for minor alterations. But mostly, yes, this looks like a solid plan for the new district," she says and proceeds to cross out a section from an equation. She ponders for a second before she scratches the paper with the wrong end of her pencil. Asami quirks an eyebrow at the motion, puzzled by Zhu Li's actions.

"What are you doing?"

Zhu Li halts her motion, "Oh, this? It's an eraser."

Asami looks closer, noticing for the first time the pink end of the pencil. It's not made of graphite, nor wood, and it feels softer to the touch.

"You like my new invention?" Varrick snatches the pencil out of her hands, "It's a special kind of rubber, one that can cancel pencil's strokes. It doesn't work with ink, but I'm working on finding a solution."

To demonstrate, Zhu Li doodles a small star in one corner. Using the eraser, she carefully traces over her drawing, until each line disappears and the page turns white again.

"I first thought to produce little squares of this rubber, like portable erasing tools. But then, genius struck!" Varrick continues, wiggling his eyebrows, "What if we put the eraser on the back of the pencil? Then you both have the pencil and the eraser on the same tool!"

Asami touches the rubber again, the pink now stained by a gray smudge, "That's really smart, actually. How did you get the idea?"

Varrick sits back and crosses his arms, expression sombering somewhat, "My dear Zhu Li kept running out of paper in her office quite fast, so I had to find a way to let her save space. With my eraser, she won't have to stop and look for more paper ever again!"

Asami glances down at Zhu Li's notes, letters shaped in a small flowing cursive, neat and elegant even in small corners. She catches Zhu Li's knowing grin, both of them aware that making typos and mistakes falls outside the realm of possibility for the president. She did have a past as an assistant, after all.

"Yes and I thank you, dear. Never be said that the president doesn't have enough paper in her office."

Varrick visibly perks up at the words, that sound so much like something he would say, and his smirk turns satisfied. Beside Asami, Korra leans over her plate in his direction, impressed.

"Woah, Varrick. Think you can let me have one of those? Asami's notebooks are always filled with crossed sections and torn pages. It will be useful for her, too."

A familiar feeling warms Asami's chest and the heiress mirrors Zhu Li's smile, green eyes crinkling.

After another volley of proposals and questions and counterarguments, the waiter approaches their table again to take away the empty dishes.

"May I interest you in a dessert? Our kitchen offers the finest selection of chocolate from the Earth Kingdom."

Never one to turn down more delicious food, Korra accepts two servings, for both her and Asami, but Zhu Li hesitates, eyes flickering downward.

"I shouldn't," she says, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles of her shirt, "The meeting between heads of states is next week and my public relations consultant said-"

"Nonsense!" Varrick springs up from his seat. Despite the thundering, he addresses the waiter in an even tone, "We'll have two as well, kind sir."

The waiter blinks and nods, adding another line to his pad. Zhu Li waits for him to leave their table before hissing at her husband.

"You know why I shouldn't eat that dessert, Varrick, Jin said-"

"You shouldn't listen to that consultant of yours. Jin is just a bloated head, as sensible as a hippo cow with an hernia," Korra's eyes bulge at the image, suppressing a sudden snicker, "There's nothing wrong with your figure, dear."

Varrick brings one hand to his chest and kneels down on the ground. The end of his blue jacket brushes the polished floor.

"You're beautiful, my dear. Even more beautiful now than when I first laid my eyes on you," his moustache twitches with his theatrics, "You are the strongest woman I know and I won't tolerate you refusing your favourite dessert only because of empty words."

An expression of surprise crosses Zhu Li's eyes, "Oh, hush. You say that because you are my husband, so you have to."

The denial spurs Varrick in a series of cheesy compliments that have Korra rolling her eyes at Asami. Opposite of them, Zhu Li doesn't bother to hide the pleased redness that spreads on her cheeks at her husband's words. When their food arrive, she ends up scrapping every morsel of dessert with a pleased hum.

After a fumbled argument about settling the bill, the four of them make their way outside the restaurant in idle chatter. They part ways with smiles and promises of another meeting soon.

Korra waves a lazy hand at Varrick and Zhu Li's retreating backs, "Well, I'm surprised that turned out well."

"Yes," Asami says, entwining their fingers together as they start walking in the opposite direction, "I knew you would end up enjoying yourself. They are a... surprising pair, but pleasant nonetheless."

They fall in a comfortable silence for a moment, before Asami speaks again, "Do you want to do something else? I have a couple of hours before my next meeting and-"

She trails off and stumbles on the curb, caught unprepared by the pull of Korra's hand on her palm, like a dead weight, "Korra?"

The Avatar is frozen mid motion, mouth open in a perfect circle.

"Holy Raava, Asami," Korra states, free hand moving into vague figures and voice warped by shock, "I just realized we sort of- kind of went on a double date with Varrick and Zhu Li! Oh, Raava..."

Astonished, Asami stifles a laugh into her hand, prompting Korra to give her a confused stare. It only takes a second before Asami's hearty laughter steals the entirety of Korra's annoyance and makes her join in.

Well, according to physics, he's liquid

wait then what shape does sir mochi think his ears are

Mochi thinks he's pocket-sized, always trying to hide in small places. if he fits he sits - the real q is if he's aware he even has a physical form 😱

Korrasami Week Day Eight

Because apparently there’s an eight day...? Oooh, I’m so happy there is. Well, here’s the last one (a little bit shorter, a little bit sadder), hopefully you’ll enjoy this one, too. It’s been a blast to take part in this fun little week, go check out other people’s works: I saw many others share their art in honor of Korrasami Week.

Without further ado, here’s my last, and thanks to everyone who read :)

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Prompt: free day (unspoken)

Even if you aren't completely healed, Asami writes, even if you can't walk, ever again, the paper scars under the ink, please.

She retraces the word until the page wrinkles around the curls of the letters.

Please, please, she writes and struggles and flails and drowns in the river of her emotions.

A drop of ink splashes on the last words, don't give in, I know you think yourself useless, but I don't want the next Avatar, I want you. Don't give in.

The blare of a faraway siren pierces the stillness of her office

Asami tries to breath, I can be strong enough for both of us, I can hope for both of us she lies and even if I can't, I can be strong for you. Maybe not for me, but I will give up all of my strength for you.

A log sparks in the hearth, cleaves in two.

Until there's nothing left for me she tries to figure out how to stop the life bleeding out from her beating heart I know what it feels to be broken, in shards and splinters, I can rebuild myself, I already did, I know what to do to feel whole again.

I'm a builder she writes I replaced that mirror you broke at the Air Temple, her little finger itches, the puckered line of new tissue itching, but I'm not brave enough to face its reflection alone.

Asami's vision swims, and the letter seems endless. A rattle of thorn and teeth, a desire. I love you the words plunge in the space beneath her ribs I love you. Please come back to me. Please

There is a twitch of movement at the edge of her spotted vision. A flicker.

Do you still have my brooch? her smile aches It was selfish of me, but I wanted you to have a piece of me she confesses and the shine in her eyes burns to unshed tears.

And if you don't like it, she bleeds, even if you don't know it's from me-

The thought flashes in her mind like the rotating blink of a lighthouse.

Toss it in the ocean. But please. Come back. Or I can come to the South Pole, it's just a matter of hours. I-

She crosses out everything thrice, then crumples up the paper.

Dear Korra, she writes again, and let the words spiral in a whirlwind of calm, undamaged sentences about her week I went to the park yesterday after lunch because my assistant insisted I was spending too much time holed up in my office. So I did some cloudgazing, feeling like a child again and I saw a big long cloud that definitely looked like Naga.

Her words are perfectly aligned, each letter curling upwards on the blank page in a way that makes Asami want to cry. Her voice is raw, her body broken.

..may this joke land with y’all the same way it did for my sister and I lol

Long-eared Owl - Bufo-pequeno (Asio otus)

Vila Franca de Xira/Portugal (25/11/2021)

[Nikon D500; AF-S Nikkor 500mm F5,6E PF ED VR; 1/400s; F5,6; 640 ISO]

There are Secrets of the Heart to Wonderful for Words

Another soulmate AU—in which the first words your person ever says to you are written on your wrist. Only Lena doesn't have any markings, and Kara has far too many.

Word Count: 1898

Read on AO3

Year: 2004

Lena:

Words. Lena Luthor obsesses over other peoples’ words.

From the time a person is born, the small, black letters written on their wrist indicate the first words they’ll hear their soulmate speak.

Except Lena doesn’t have any letters. She has a painfully blank canvas on her wrist where there should have been a saying. A word. Something.

Anything.

It’s the only thing Lillian likes about her. Or likes to point out about her, amongst not being a real Luthor or not being as smart as Lex. Not having a soulmate is a frequent point of conversation between them.

“I don’t need a soulmate,” Lena says every time it’s brought up. And she doesn’t. Her greatest love is learning. Why would she ever need anybody else? Why would she ever want anybody else?

Lena is pretty sure she doesn’t have a soulmate because it would be unethical to subject them to the Luthor family. They all have them, though. She’s glad she doesn’t have one. Really. She is.

“Who would love you?” Lillian sneers every time.

Harsh words that prove to be correct.

Lionel dies. Lex is in prison, and Lillian becomes crueler with every year that passes.

Lena’s blank wrists are another checkmate in Lillian’s books; as if their very lives are an entertaining game. Lena is good at chess — likes it — but she doesn’t always want to play. She is, however, resigned to a life of being toyed with. Lena knows it’s all she will ever have, and as horrible as it may be, Lillian’s sharp criticisms and condescension is better than nothing, isn’t it?

Kara:

Words. Kara obsesses over her words.

Most people have some form of a greeting written on their wrist.

Eliza has ‘Doctor Danvers? Hi, it’s great to meet you.’

Alex has ‘I’m looking for my brother, James.’

Everyone has a few short words written at the bottom of their arm, but not Kara.

Kara can’t believe the spiel of words that takes up her entire arm.

Sure, some people have more words than others, but Kara has never, ever seen anybody who has an entire half-sleeve, starting from the crease of her elbow and ending at her wrist. Some of the words aren’t even in the dictionary, though Eliza assures Kara that her soulmate must be a scientist, based on the tattoo.

Kara’s soulmate also believes, in the future when they meet, that Kara is a new intern.

Kara isn’t sure how she feels about that. The thought of someone assuming she isn’t as smart as the writing on her arm kind of insults her, even if she doesn’t know all the words yet.

“At least we’ll know who they are right away! You could have something generic, like ‘excuse me.’ Kenny has ‘sorry’ on his wrist.” Alex does her best to make Kara feel better about having the largest soul mark in the known universe.

Kara knows she’s a rambler. She’ll talk with her hands and go on and on and on about anything and everything with very little control over it, and she worries that her soulmate’s tattoo might be even longer than her own. She’ll just have to wait and see.

Sometimes she worries over her soulmate’s mark, though.

Would they even have one?

Present Day

Kara’s late. Gosh, she’s so late. She was supposed to be at the library an hour ago but her alarm didn’t go off and now she’s going to get fired. Or probably reprimanded. Or maybe Nia covered for her, but still! Kara is late to the only good job she’s ever had, where people don’t mind how quiet she is.

She can’t lose this job, not on her first week.

She rushes toward the library, or where she thought the library was. Moving to National City to be closer to Alex was a good idea, but on days like today when the concrete and glass of the buildings bleed together like some sort of shifting labyrinth, Kara doesn’t enjoy it so much.

Especially not with all the car horns and people chattering on their cellphones. Cigarette smoke burns her nose as someone longboards by her, and the smoke mixes with the food of the vendors lined along the street.

With the bright sun overhead, it’s too much. Too much noise, too many smells and sights and feelings, and Kara needs to escape it.

She pulls open the glass doors of the nearest building —a crisp white daroca stone one that towers above the rest—and she hopes nobody minds her borrowing the space to calm down.

The heat of the sun melts away to cool air that clings to her sweaty brow, the din of the city melting behind the door as it swings closed behind her.

Kara takes a few deep breaths before looking up, her eyes widening at the blue marble floors and the white fountain that’s sunken into the floor in the middle of the room.

Small ficus trees line the walls in grey, ceramic pots.

Its austerity is calming.

The receptionist at a monochrome silver desk raises an eyebrow and Kara waves, trying to convey she’s not a total weirdo.

She glances around the room and sighs in relief when she spots a shiny, silver plaque engraved in black letters and an arrow indicating the directions to the bathroom.

Kara adjusts her glasses before following the sign down a series of hallways — all a mirror image of the last with every turn she takes, but eventually, she pushes through the black door with a bathroom sign on it, locking it behind her.

She takes a few minutes to practice breathing before she goes to the white sink. It’s like a hotel bathroom almost, with another ficus in the corner, the white porcelain and silver chrome shining like it’s never been used.

Kara smiles as she washes her hands. The soap doesn’t smell like anything.

She pushes her glasses to the top of her head while she splashes cool water on her face, eager to get rid of the sweaty residue.

After drying off with a thick paper towel, Kara glances at her watch with a sigh.

She is late, but she can explain how she got lost, and try to avoid the mistake in the future. These things happen.

She nods at herself in the mirror before leaving the room, eager to try to find her way through the city again.

Only the inside of the building is just as maze-like, and Kara goes around in circles.

What’s weird is that even though the building is lovely —sleek and clean, nobody is in it.

Kara is in a maze of white walls and marble floors with never-ending ficus trees breaking up her twists and turns.

She rolls her eyes as she ducks into one of the black doors, intent to ask someone to help her escape.

She freezes and her eyes bulge as she enters a lab.

Like, a real, mad-scientist-esque lab filled with chrome robots that shine, immobile, on the surfaces of desks, varying glass vials on the surface of another.

Kara has half a mind to leave the room and continue her lost torment, but a woman in a white lab coat and a maroon three-piece suit underneath smiles at her as she sits up from behind a desk, dropping a screwdriver onto it.

Kara means to wave or introduce herself somehow. Really, she does, but the woman is so pretty, and as soon as her green eyes land on Kara, Kara’s mind goes blank.

“Oh, you must be my new intern. You’re early, though I suppose that’s not a bad thing since we have a lot of work to do. I just started testing the biological reactions of these DNA samples after I add in nanogenes. We’re only at a success rate of 73%, so we have a ways to go. Feel free to observe while I explain-”

She continues, and Kara ambles forward, helpless to the pull. She ambles between the few rows of lab tables until she’s close enough to read the name off of the woman’s lab coat.

Lena K. Luthor

Kara beams down at it as her heart thunders in her chest.

It feels exactly like she thought it would. Her palms are sweaty, and this woman rambles on and on about nanogenes and technology that could change the future.

Her green eyes sparkle with passion as she talks about her work, and already, Kara wants to get lost in them.

Kara’s breath comes in small pants, catching in her throat each time as she smiles at this beautiful, marvelous woman.

A woman whose words Kara has read over and over, words Kara doodled on top of when she was bored in class, read when she was sad, thought about to remind herself that there was someone, somewhere, waiting to be loved by her.

Lena’s jaw is sharp, like her mind, Kara’s sure. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail as she gestures to the microscope in front of her. Kara wants to reach out and touch her, hold her, explain who she is and how she got there.

Lena freezes when she turns back toward Kara, surprised by the proximity, and she raises her eyebrows at the closeness before they pinch in concern.

Tears have gathered in Kara’s eyes and she wipes them away with a noiseless chuckle. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and rests her leather bag on the lab table before she unbuttons the sleeve of her navy blue oxford.

Words upon words are revealed and Lena glances at them in confusion before her eyes grow wide.

Lena looks at Kara’s forearm, her own words —to the exact punctuation—staring back at her.

She reaches up to touch them, goosebumps rising across Kara’s skin as cool fingers caress her tattooed flesh.

The sleeves of Lena's coat and suit rise as she cradles Kara's arm like a precious thing, rubbing her thumbs across the paragraphs with reverent disbelief.

This is when Kara’s heart breaks because where there should be something —some grand declaration of all the fierce love Kara carries in her heart—all Lena has is pale, blank skin.

Lena bites her lips as she inhales a shaky breath through her nose. Her eyes, lovely sea-green eyes, are red around the edges and her lashes wet as she lets a tear trickle down her face.

She didn’t think she had a soulmate, Kara realizes.

And maybe Kara can’t talk—hasn’t spoken a word in her life—but she has never needed words to get her point across.

Kara points to her mouth with her tattooed arm, shaking her head when Lena looks up.

Lena’s shoulders ease in understanding, and she takes a breath so full it’s like the first time she’s ever breathed.

Kara bites her lips as she opens her arms, slow and tender as she brushes her hands across the white lab coat around Lena’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug that starts gentle but gets firmer the more Lena clings to her.

Kara rests her head on the side of Lena’s, sure that the steady pressure of her hug is saying everything for her.

It says, “I am here now.

I’m sorry it took this long.

I care about you so much.

And I am not going anywhere.”

Metallo!Lena AU Pt 3

The air feels different.

The warehouse had been damp, perpetually chill, and echoed with emptiness. As Lena slowly wakes, the air around her presses warm and dry against her skin, enveloping her in gentle sounds.

Beeping monitors, now a fixture of her reality.

Muffled voices, urgent yet distant, as though muffled through a door.

Faint snores, from someone sleeping in the room next to her bed.

With considerable effort, Lena pries open her sleep crusted eyes. The ceiling overhead is too close, too white. She blinks against the disorientation, and when she tries again she can count the ceiling tiles between the air vents, and suddenly it doesn't feel like the room is caving in on her anymore.

More surprising, though, is when she turns and finds the snores are issuing from Supergirl herself.

Alarm sears against her senses, and Lena gasps when her heart starts to pound. Supergirl jolts awake at the sound, bolting upright even as Lena recoils.

"Get away!" Lena chokes out. "Get away from me, please--"

Supergirl lifts her hands placatingly. "I'm not going to hurt you--"

"I don't want to hurt YOU--"

"You won't," Supergirl promises gently. Lena pauses when the hero nods towards her chest, hands still aloft. "Look."

Lena reaches for the collar of her hospital gown, peeking beneath to see that the chunk of kryptonite is covered by a portion of her leaded apron, now secured by shoulder straps over each arm and a buckle around her ribs.

"We're both safe," Supergirl continues. "I promise."

Sagging, Lena sucks in a ragged breath. All she wants is to curl into a ball, close her eyes, and pretend none of this had happened at all, but she hasn't the strength. Tears start to come, burning hot against her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says again, her voice cracking under the strain. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone."

Supergirl nods, slowly bending to perch on the seat she'd just been dozing in. "I know. But I'm okay. We're more concerned about you."

Lena blinks up at the ceiling. "You can't remove it, can you."

"No," Supergirl responds after a beat. "The kryptonite is fully grafted into all of your neurological and circulatory systems. It's... It's the only thing keeping you alive."

It comes as zero shock to Lena-- Lillian has made no effort to spare Lena the details of her condition, or the success of her work in resurrecting her. Lillian has never been one to sugar coat.

"I know you've been through a lot," Supergirl continues. Her eyebrows crinkle in the middle. Lena doesn't quite know what to do with the concern in the hero's gaze. Or the sympathy. "But we were hoping you could help us."

"How?"

"The people who did this to you... we think they're part of a group called Cadmus. We think the person behind is--"

"Her name is Lillian Luthor," Lena surrenders readily, bitterness rising in her throat. "She's my mother."

Lena's jaw tightens. She meets the hero's gaze.

"What do you want to know?"

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.

---

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.