“After all of her ambling she started heading back towards the apartment, resigned to her fate. Maybe even a little excited. It would all be over soon. She was just so desperate for relief. She turned a corner, boots hitting slick cobblestone while the rain continued to pour down, and for no real reason at all looked up.
It’s been a few weeks since Clarke walked into a subway car in 2022 and walked out of it in 1977, but every morning her new reality hits her like a goddamn brick.
Her muscle memory still makes her reach for her phone with bleary eyes and hold the screen up to her face so it can unlock. It still does, power outlets haven’t changed much in the last —next?— forty-five years. But her usual morning routine of scrolling through Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, then Twitter again is a thing from the past —the future?
After looking at what time it is without really seeing it, Clarke holds her phone against her chest and stares at the popcorn ceiling she’s pretty sure has asbestos as if it has answers as well.
It had been an ordinary morning smack dab in the middle of an ordinary week.
Time draws near and the concert is only a day away. As Lexa bonds with The Grounders, her anxiety continues to build, throwing her mind into chaos as she attempts to maintain the courage to pull through. In the meantime, Clarke deals with the stress of being a top-ranking musician. She enjoys so many aspects of it, but the pressures build up and the only way she knows how to handle it, is by living in the moment with her friends or sometimes finding a moment to escape it altogether.
When Clarke’s latest escapade leads her to Polis Theater, she discovers someone special. Someone she hopes to learn more about.
“Life is a braid, Clarke. The people we meet. Their presence in our lives whether we know they are there or not, we are tied to them. And them to us. Woven into each other’s lives. Our story is their story. The thinnest of strings. The thickest of ropes. All twisting together. For a reason. The life we make is because of chance encounters, fleeting affections, and great loves. We collect relationships, sometimes on purpose, often on accident. “
“This collection. These relationships. They are our legacy. Our anthology. It’s not until we look back on our lives do we see that. Do we see the braid we have created. The reason for it all. I can’t tell you why this is happening, Clarke. But I can tell you we will look back on it one day and know.”
A modern AU in which Clarke and Lexa are just plain meant to be. It’s all about connections - a compilation of vignettes detailing how all of the relationships in Clarke and Lexa’s lives, including friends and family, teach them who they are as people and prepare them for the love of their lives. Lexa is an awkward and squishy squid masquerading as a regal clam with an impenetrable shell. Clarke is all confidence and Burberry moonbeams. Until she’s not. But she finds her way. They both do. They find their way to each other. Featuring every Clexa relationship milestone we deserve. Eventually.
The chapter we’ve all been waiting for is coming soon. They finally meet.
i don’t wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips)
She can’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment it all started. It began with her attraction to Lexa, of course, what else could it have began with, but when did it become more than tentative – at times, awkward – friendship?
Please, she tells herself, and her inner voice sounds just like Raven’s – because what else best friends are for if not for embodying one’s conscience. As if it ever was just friendship.
But that’s all it ever could be. Even if she ignored the fact that they are neighbors – and you don’t start anything with your neighbors for the same reason you don’t start anything with your coworkers, or roommates, or friends’ brothers and sisters – even if she ignored that, their age difference would still remain. Clarke can’t fuck someone who’s still in college. She just can’t.
Except that’s exactly what she’s about to do, and if the heat of Lexa’s gaze is any indication, she certainly doesn’t mind.
Clarke takes a hurried sip of her wine and gulps it down, just to have something to do; and, as it usually happens with her and alcohol, her mind takes her down memory lane, in a futile attempt to figure out where it was that she went wrong.
