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naralanis · 3 years

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little bumps in the road (pt. 24)

OK everyone, we’re going to finish in 26, maaaybe 27 parts if I decide to go ahead with an epilogue! Enjoy, the ride is almost over!

Previously on LBitR...

For one interminable moment, it goes exactly how Lena remembers it would. The pain—white hot and blinding, cresting in waves that crash against her very psyche in what feels like a sonic boom right between her temples. She feels it bubble up under her skin, searing the insides of her skull, like her brain is boiling.

It makes her feel… suspended, somehow. Untethered from herself—she’s not exactly an observer watching over her own body and mind succumb to the whims of another; she’s still very much there, feeling the flashes and the searing pain that come with whatever reshuffling of memories and actions that took place in her mind as viscerally as if it were all real.

Wait.

No, no, they are real. The pain is real. Lex wouldn’t have it any other way; he would always want to inflict maximum, tailor-made suffering…

Would imaginary pain so visceral it feels real be his version of tailor-made suffering for Lena?

His trigger words are still swimming in her mind, bouncing around, bumping and rattling in there like her psyche is a pinball machine, but there’s something else, too. It’s not poignant, not so invasive in her mind, but it’s there, like a mantra Lena didn’t come up with, a little obstacle everything else that has been forcefully injected into her mind has been plonking against.

You know, Lena. That means you are prepared.

Lena feels blood in her mouth as she tries to make sense of the mayhem in her head, as she ponders what the hell she’s supposed to do, detached and bound to the searing flashes all at once. It’s exhausting.

Her tongue swells a little where at the spot on the side she had apparently bit raw; she worries it against her teeth, feeling and tasting the tender muscle in something she can recognize as a conscious, deliberate action.

Oh.

That means something, Lena’s sure of it. She just needs to unscramble what’s left of her mind enough to analyse it, somehow.

“Lena, Lena, Lena,” Lex’s voice comes through the intervals between flashes, haunting and childlike, crystal clear though almost robotic as it is filtered through speakers. “Open your eyes, Lena! I don’t want you to miss the show!”

Lena wants to retort that her eyes are open, otherwise, where the hell is all the light coming from? But as she clenches her jaw, the fresh cut on her tongue throbs, and she remembers she’s in a Lexosuit.

Her lids snap open and she is immediately greeted by the orange hue of the suit’s visor as it filters the skyline of National City in a crystal clear image and rows of data. It’s a bit much for her brain—she goes from dizzying white flashes to the overwhelming displays in the Lexosuit, and it takes her several long moments to adjust.

And so, Lena blinks into a state of half-awareness. She’s flying, zipping through the air above National City, but she has no recollection of how she got there; another gift from the little implant in her temple. The way her body moves is… unnatural—she’s not controlling the way her limbs adjust so that her current flight pattern is uninterrupted by the wind, and in the part of her mind that is only partly aware of that fact wonders how exactly Lex is controlling everything, whether he’s doing it via the implant or via the suit itself.

“Hey, Lena, I’ve got an idea,” Lex says in her ear, and the Lexosuit stops in midair. It does so roughly and abruptly, enough to give Lena some hope that maybe, just maybe, Lex is not controlling her actual physical movements.

But knowing her luck as of late, he’s probably doing both.

“Let’s play a game, sis,” Lex says jovially. “Let’s play ‘Find the Blue Dot… Then Kill It’.” His laugh echoes in the confined space of the helmet. “What do you think?”

Lena tries to answer this time, but all she manages for several moments is a pitiful series of angry grunts—it amuses Lex to no end, she can tell even in her altered state as his barely contained chuckles reach her ears—until she finally muddles through a gritted jumble of words.

“Ff-u—fuck-k you…”

He tuts loudly. “Now, now, Lena, that’s no way to start a game. You have to pay attention—look, there’s a little dot coming your way right now!”

Lena feels the agonizing slowness of her reaction time; it’s like her limbs are made of lead, and she hasn’t even really tried to move them yet. Her eyes seem to move slowly too—she wonders if her pupils are contracting and dilating again with no control, because it takes her an excruciatingly long time to focus on the little blue dot that beeps on the suit’s radar, indeed careening Lena’s way at breakneck speed.

“Nngh” she grunts again, like she’s chewing out the words. “K-kar—Kara—”

“Let’s give the Girl of Steel a warm welcome, shall we?”

Everything happens in slow-motion then—or at least, the part of Lena’s brain that she’s compartmentalized away for herself perceives it that way.

She sees that little blue dot zoom through her visor once, twice, before entering her actual field of vision. Kara’s blue suit is a weird shade of green through the orange of her visor, her cape an odd brown hue as it flutters in the wind, though the movement seems so slow to Lena’s perception she might as well be in water.

With her hair cropped short and the different colours of her suit, it’s like Lena’s brain has to play catch-up for a moment; it’s like she cannot recognize Kara for a second that stretches into infinity as the Kryptonian comes closer and closer.

Lena feels something at her back—a mechanical whirr, hydraulic hisses—and then, against her will, her arms are outstretched towards a rapidly approaching Supergirl, and Lena’s brain has finally caught up, just as the blasters at the suit’s forearms click into place and begin to glow green.

An image of Supergirl, of Kara—long hair, red and blue suit, face riddled with green—flashes before her eyes, and she’s falling, falling lifeless from the skies. For a moment, Lena thinks she’s seeing the future, but at with another painstakingly slow blink she’s back in the present, where Kara’s currently barreling towards fully loaded Kryptonite blasters.

“Kara, no!”

There’s an explosion of green, and the impact is enough to send the Lexosuit reeling backwards—Lex’s laughing in her ears, and Lena has to fight to get her bearings. Kara’s blue dot still darts in Lena’s visor—the radar puts her somewhere behind the Kryptonite-powered suit.

She’s alright.

“What a miraculous save from Supergirl,” Lex’s voice cackles. “Very last minute, though; a little less graceful than we’d like, but we’re used to her brawn, aren’t we, Lena?”

“S-stop it,” Lena hisses, and she’s not sure she’s talking to Lex or to herself, but the thrusters on the suit don’t heed her choked plea.

She’s zipping after Kara in what probably looks like a frenzied, disorienting game of tag over National City’s tallest skyscrapers. Kara dodges, dives, curls around buildings only to shoot upwards again, and Lena tries her hardest to follow the Kryptonian’s movement with her eyes as her body blindly follows.

She needs to stop this—she can already feel the blasters powering up again, and the suit has locked onto Kara once more, preparing to fire; Lena can even tell when Lex will take the opportunity—as soon as Kara weaves back from the CatCo building and into open skies—

“Lena!”

It’s Kara’s voice, coming from quite a distance, but Lena can still hear it, clear as day. For someone who needs to fly away from a Kryptonite-powered war-suit, Kara sounds relieved. She’s stopped zipping through the air, now merely hovering above the CatCo helipad, a sitting duck for the blasters Lena wields unwillingly.

“K-kara, stay away!” Lena shouts, the panic easing the passage of her words through her throat, even if her entire body rebels against the action.

“She never learns, does she?” Lex drawls from within, sounding absolutely giddy. The green light emanating from the blasters seems to illuminate Lena’s full field of vision; it gives everything a sickly glow.

“Kara, go!”

“You can stop it, Lena—I know you can!”

Lena feels like she’s shaking her head, but it’s hard to tell—the Lexosuit is suffocating, her mind is a jumble of thoughts, past and present, some of them not even hers. She can practically feel the implant pulsating in her temple.

“Lena! Look at me! You can stop this; Lena, just—look at me!”

Lena is, she’s looking straight at Kara, who has her arms raised above her head as if she’s surrendering despite the crackle of green in the air, as if she can’t see the blasters powering up or hear the beeping of the suit’s targeting system, and no, no, no, no—

The whole world explodes in green.

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#nara's word vomit #LBitR #supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #it's the final countdown #ficwriting #femslash #Featuring Nara Being a Bastard Again #But Not For Long Now

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

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*begging on my hands and knees* please give us some Arthur and Miss Turner sexy times??? We all know she wants it so bad and I’m living vicariously though her

SNAKE BITES & MODESTY ;

summary: miss turner gets bit by a snake. arthur treat is the best way he knows how, suck and spit. she is… confused. the predicament lends to an exploration.pairing: arthur morgan x reader, turner as a surname placeholder.rating: nsfw. heavy petting, casually dry humping of hands? listen, idk, their whole arc is a slow burn anyways including sexy times. word count: 1.3k, this is a whole full fledged fic for u horny cowboy hoesa/n: me? writing delicate smut? it’s about time! these two are a part of my simpler said aloud series – here’s the masterlist in poor need of an update, but every drabble can be found on my blog under this tag!

You hate snakes.

God, you hate them.

They are — really — pointless, angry, little worms that strike fear into your very mortal soul. They’ve got a clear vendetta against the human race, as so demonstrated by the current snake bite on your leg.

The thing had lunged from the brush as you’d been aiming down the iron sights of Arthur’s bolt action rifle.

(Practice makes perfect is Arthur’s mantra now that you’ve gotten a bit more comfortable with the whole idea of shooting, so you happily humor him with more practice between hunting trips and jobs. You’re getting quite good and, according to Sadie, you’ve got a natural affinity for sharpshooting. That makes you puff with pride and Arthur can’t help but happily chirp: I taught her everything she knows.)

Currently, though, the shooting practice has been forgotten and you’re screeching in pain, jumping around in sheer panic as the snake slithers away into the woods — Arthur’s eyes pull wide in panic, hands moving to urge you to settle on the stone wall.

“Oh, god,” you breathe, hands shaking, “I’m gonna die.”

“No, y’ain’t,” Arthur says sternly, hands flying to press your dress up without a word, “Let me see it.”

“Christ, the little bastard,” you whine, hands shaking a bit as you tug your skirts up and away from the two fanged wound, “It hurts.”

Arthur spares you a sympathetic look from his spot knelt in front of you before he unceremoniously latches his mouth to the flesh above your knee and sucks.

You gawk.

He, then, casually spits the venom from the bite out over his shoulder and pats your thigh.

As if nothing happened.

You’re still gawking.

“That cannot be good for you.”

“Probably not,” he rumbles, “But snake venom ain’t either.”

“… Was it even a venomous snake?”

“Noooo,” Arthur chirps sarcastically, head tilting, “I just wanted a good enough reason t’ lift yer skirts — ‘course it was venomous. Did y’ not see th’ stripes?”

“No, I was busy screamin’, thank you,” you swat at his shoulder. “And as if you’d need a reason.”

His brow quirks beneath his hat. “Y’ tryna tell me somethin’, Miss Turner?”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of the hand lingering on your calf — calloused fingers brush the skin there, hitching your breath a bit as you try desperately to keep your composure.

“Mr. Morgan — I’m simply stating…”

His eyes never break from yours, even as he leans to press a slow kiss to the front of your knee. Your heart jumps, skin absolutely burning from the languid kiss. He moves, then, scruff ticking the inside of your knee as he moves to press another kiss to the spot there.

You’re not at all sure where his confidence has come from, but you’re not at all complaining. In fact, you’ve turned to an absolute puddle, face pulled into a delight look of surprise that Arthur finds rather charming.

“Still hurt?”

“You,” you swallow thickly, “are doing a wonderful job of kissing it better.”

He laughs against your skin, smirk pulling the corner of his mouth as he bites a loving little mark to the inside of your knee. That startles a little gasp from you, one that leaves Arthur chasing more.

He shifts then, kneeling in the underbrush and finding your gaze again — it’s heavy with a burning tension that scalds him to think about. The skin under his fingertips is fire hot. Your dress is hiked up over your hips, showing the delicate lace undergarments there.

Under thick lashes, blue eyes dart to your covered core. Only for a moment. Like he’s glimpsing the way of forbidden fruit. They’re back on you in a moment as his hands scale your thighs.

You stir, belly stirring with heat that drives straight to the juncture between your legs as his hands brush you there.

“Y’ can tell me t’ stop,” he rasps, “An’ I’ll stop.”

��I’d rather you didn’t.”

That comes out a bit more desperate than you intend.

He ducks, then, pressing a searing kiss to the inside of your thigh that’s not nearly close enough to your core but very much there — you snag his hat, happily dropping it on your own head and threading greedy fingers into his hair.

Arthur smirks into your skin again, left hand crawling to press against you over your bloomers.

You gasp, then, hand shooting to grab his wrist. He moves to pull away, but you urge him on; his smile grows in confidence, a bit boyish, but very content with the reaction he’s rousing out of you.

“Good?”

“Very,” you exhale, dropping your head back a bit as his thumb presses against the bundle of nerves there — the friction is enough to have your legs shaking a bit. Your eyes are screwed shut, hand bracing you up on the stone wall as the other spurs him onward.

Snake bite long forgotten.

Arthur is very content kneeling in the dirt between your legs. You’re slowly but surely coming undone above him and it’s certainly a sight to be seen. Even with layers of clothing between you two, the moment is bathed in a sort of intimacy that has his own arousal aching.

Especially when you whine his name like that.

“I think,” he rumbles, chin high as he watches proudly as you squirm against his hand, “that bite a’ yers will be just fine, Miss Turner.”

A high peeled laugh, more breath than sound. “O-Oh? That’s good, thank you.”

Another hitch, another whine.

He’s suddenly aware of how soaked you are through the lace. In response, he surges up, rising to snag you in a kiss that smothers the sweet, little sounds you’re making. You crumple, then, arching over the wall as Arthur straddles your thigh and continues his ministrations — this time circular and repetitive and in the perfect spot. His mouth latches to your throat, sucking a pretty, little bite into delicate skin there.

“Yer very welcome.”

“Arthur —” it’s a plead.

He laughs, low and deep, in your ear. “Mhm?”

Your hand finds his shirt, clawing at him as your hips buck and you whimper, breath stripped from you as he winds you higher and higher and higher —

“Go ahead,” he nearly purrs, “I gotcha.”

It’s blinding, really, when the monsoon of an orgasm washes over you. Your legs are shaking and your hearing goes for a moment, but you’re saying his name over and over like a prayer as you ride out the best feeling in the universe — and when you go slack, his hat falling off your head, he can only laugh all proud and warm and pat your thigh.

All is quiet for a moment, then you come back to the world.

“Christ almighty.”

“Tha’s not my name —”

You throw his hat at him as he stands back, hands falling to his hips as he marvels a bit at the comical sight of you, draped over a stone wall with your skirts hiked over your hips. He catches it with a grin, shrugging it onto his head.

“You alrigh’ there, sleepin’ beauty?”

“Leave me here,” you chirp, bones like goo, “I’ll die happy.”

Arthur laughs again, shaking his head and fixing himself in his pants. He’s painfully hard but — he’ll take care of it later. This whole encounter is certainly wonderful fodder for when he’s alone.

“C’mon, you. Can’t let y’ go septic because a’ tha’ bite.”

You guess he has a point.

You pull yourself up, pouting a bit.

Following him to Sugarcube, hitched beyond the trees, you can’t help but marvel at two things: the fact your knees are like pudding, and the fact Arthur’s head is held high as he clears the way to his horse.

He’s proud of himself.

Sugarcube whinnies. You’re thankful she didn’t see the on-goings.

Arthur offers a hand to help you up.

“You know,” he says slowly after a bit, “That’s barely the beginnin’ a’… that. Dyin’ happy comes much later.”

“Sounds like you’re tryna tell me somethin’, Mr. Morgan,” you chirp, hands around his waist, “Care t’ share?”

He just smiles, shaking his head as you laugh.

Modesty will be the bane of both your existences.

#simpler said aloud #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 smut

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howiexperiencemusic · 4 years

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cat heaven

honestly i’ve loved a lot of albums in my life. i’ve been fixated on musicians, songs and albums until one day i just simply move on. so my obsession with cat heaven isn’t entirely unfounded; but this album in particular, i’m completely enamored. i love everything about it, every song means the world to me and i just can’t stop playing them all. i’ve had phases with every single song at different times, i’ve also had phases where i just loop the album as a whole or i can’t stop playing a three-song run in it. it all makes sense to me and it’s one of the few things that does. this isn’t a review or a reaction, this is a scattered recollection of everything i’ve been through and how cat heaven says it all. it’s messy and scattered in a million directions so don’t expect perfect grammar and phrasing.

i initially came across roy about a year or so ago being a fan of enya, and finding out he was her boyfriend. i had the music video for happy recommended to me on youtube and once i finally gave in and clicked it, i saw myself on the screen. of course i cannot relate to the nitty gritty details of the lyrics, they’re just so personal, but i found those same feelings in myself. i heard his voice say everything on his mind in a way that was familiar yet new. it made me long for what i once felt but only the idea of it all. the sound was expansive, it took me up into the sky at night and crash-landed me into raw earth. the sound was so specific to myself i couldn’t help but pay attention.

over the course of the last year, my life has changed entirely. everything i’ve ever known got upended and destroyed, with no chance of getting it back. i’ve had to learn how adaptable i truly am, and explore my ability to land on my feet when nobody is there to tell me how. i had lived life before that was difficult but manageable. i had a life that wasn’t without challenge, but didn’t necessarily have a lot at risk. however, over the course of the year i had my home, my relationships, my finances, my life as i knew it, uprooted. and there was nothing i could have done and nothing i could do to ever get it back.

now, all that to say this album has been my soundtrack for it all. it would be disingenuous to say it was the only thing i listened to the entire time. of course, i listened to other artists throughout this time and found other things to obsess over (posts for those forthcoming), but this album was the definitive supreme over it all. when i look back at my twentieth trip around the sun, i will forever hear cat heaven being the soundtrack to it all. and for that, it has entered into the upper echelon of albums defining my life. and i am so appreciative of it. there isn’t a moment on this album that isn’t special to me in some way, whether it’s the quiet part during the bridge of thunder, the fuzzy awakening of grow up,or the triumph of hazel, a bittersweet anthem. it’s his searing honesty in the face of a world that had wronged him. he told his story regardless of who wanted to listen and it gives me chills to even think about how powerful that is.

when i say i’ve had a phase with every song here, i mean every. single. song. grow up is the perfect opener, it starts the album and every day when i wake up and press play, it begins my day in the same way. that song will forever be special to me because in a lot of ways it represents me waking up in a brand new life i can’t escape.

alex comes in like an energetic jolt of lightning. he quite literally says “i’m gonna lose my mind tonight, no one in the world is gonna stop me” it’s so empowered and positive, he doesn’t just promise to enjoy himself regardless, he threatens it. this song for me fills me with so much happiness it single-handedly got me out of bed and ready some days because it fueled me. alex is the song i want people to know if they want to get to know me.

family simmers at first, it’s lowkey and you almost miss it. he’s quiet and it’s ominous. he says “pain keeps growing taking over my life, i don’t really care it’s been like this for a long time” and you almost believe he doesn’t care until you hear the chorus and you hear how pissed he is. the chorus looks you in the eyes while it openly bleeds. this song was all i could hear during the darkest times in 2019. so many things wronged me this year. when i let the anger encompass me, i found solace in knowing someone else had my same fury.

perfume is the sugary delicacy i can’t stop eating. when i was streaming this song with my sister one time, she asked me “when he says ‘everything i do is for you’ who do you think of? since you’ve never been in love.” it was a read for sure and i laughed when she said it. but i told her that for me, when i hear him say that to someone, i think about how much nerve it takes to say that to someone, and how much courage i would need to ever put it into a song and i’m blown away. sometimes love songs are even more vulnerable than they appear on the surface. i aspire to love somebody so hard i forget the fear of expressing emotions. and when i hear that i don’t think of a boy, i think of a concept i may one day attain. it’s beautiful and pure.

thunder had to grow on me. thunder doesn’t go out of it’s way to be in your face like perfume or alex. it makes you wait for all of the best parts of it and it takes it’s time getting there. every second is pure quality and it’s perfect. he gives you time to think about everything he says and it’s important you do because he says it so perfectly. but once i heard it the way i needed to, i now regard it as one of my favorites on the entire album. it’s s u c h a good song and i am still in awe he had the emotional maturity to create it. it’s the perfect song to stare at the stars and listen to and if you haven’t done that yet, get on it!

jane is my current favorite on the album. it’s my most recent fixation and i listen to it for hours on end sometimes and just savor every second. the drums are so vocal and the guitar communicates such a specific feeling i can’t put it into words. the part that sits in my soul the most is when he says “the best thing about not having you around, i can finally be myself, think out loud. and the trees tall since i always look down.” it’s quietly bittersweet. it refuses to let you be completely happy or sad it just forces you to hear it for what it is. and the outro is just pure perfection it sets the scene for what’s to come and helps the album feel the way it does.

kansas is special to me because in the last year i’ve driven across the us twice and that songs feels e x a c t l y like middle america when you’re driving through it. there’s so many miles of nothingness and it’s lonely and beautiful all at the same time. the night sky is clear when you look up at it and there’s no noise. just miles of plains and you wonder how people live there. how people have to live in a town with 20 people in it. when you see a random house in the middle of nowhere and it looks abandoned and you just have to wonder what happened. so much wondering while wandering and kansas is the perfect song for it.

september is like a kindling of a smile on my face. it wraps me up in the feeling of home. home for me is no longer a place and now all i can do is hope that the feeling of home returns to me one day. when i listen to that song one day i hope i can mean what i feel. it’s slow-going and it has nowhere it needs to be other than right here. and all that to say it isn’t a happy song. it’s sad but resigned. and that’s exactly where i’m at too.

switchblade defines my time living in a place i wasn’t happy in. when i lived in that place i felt such anger at the world and i needed everyone who lived there to know i didn’t like them. roy spits out these words with such venom you know he still feels that same rage he felt from living there and i know it exactly. when he says “you don’t mean shit to me” i have vivid memories of me in the car yelling that to the world with him. it killed my throat to yell like that but it felt good. it matched the fury burning in me over an unfair world humbling me again. it’s so excellent.

in a broken world where everything turns it’s back on you, grand theft auto reminds you what’s important. he describes a series of things in his life that are broken or ineffective and doesn’t care because “you’re all i’ve got” he’s found his peace despite the fact that life isn’t what he wanted it to be. it’s wisdom.

california is everything to me. this year i left california and moved so far away. it was a circumstance completely out of my control. to hear this ballad about leaving california it means something completely different to me than it does to him. it makes me cry and miss california. “the sun rules on but the leaves got a hole in the center.” he says we need to slow it down. the song is sonically gorgeous but being born and raised in california, i know it’s my speed. the most bittersweet part of it all is that even if i were to return, it would never be the same.

hazel is also one of my absolute favorites on the whole album. it’s just the perfect ending. i’ll never forget my last month living in the place i hated. i listened to this song the whole month. it was a beacon of hope that i knew i was leaving behind the last person i had to cling to in life. it played when i left and i chose to put myself first for the first time in my life. while i still haven’t recovered from that, this song helps me so much in seeing how beautiful life is. it reminds me to look at myself and my choices and love who i am. even if i don’t think i deserve such reverence. “nights in the rv, i won’t remember, rides in your car seat i won’t forget” is just the most perfect line. “the times where i thought it was love, were just peaks. a mountain a month between terrible weeks.” chills. lyrically and sonically he pulls out the stops and it’s stark and stunning. even the part that says “just stay forever,” like he knows it’s impossible but it’s still what he wants. if my life were a movie, the moment i died this would be the first song in the credits. the end is once again immaculate. he closes the album with an audio clip and the last thing you hear is a door closing, when you know the ride you just went on this whole album is over. but before that he winds down and it gives you time to breathe and take in everything he just took you through. you can’t make out the sounds in the closing portion, you hear voices but it’s almost like they’re coming from down the hallway and you’re speeding through your life too fast to focus on just one sound. you hear everything. there’s an overwhelming comforting loneliness. and that’s where he leaves us off at.

this is not a review, this isn’t supposed to make sense. it’s scattered and raw and my stream of consciousness while hearing the album i’ve listened to more than anything else. to an album that understands when i find out once again life isn’t fair and doesn’t owe me anything. there are few things in life that can get me to shut the fuck up and just listen. music has the capacity to do that for me but when it can make me cry just by hearing it, when it narrates my life, there is something special about it. i am so appreciative it came to me in this time and i am even more appreciative of the fact that i got through some really hard times with this comforting me. i can only speak for myself but if i’m the only person on this earth who loves this album like this that makes it worth it. and one day i hope i can make something so powerful.

cat heaven forever

#cat heaven #roy blair #grow up #alex #happy #perfume #thunder #jane #kansas #september #switchblade #grand theft auto #california #hazel #how i experience music #en_jajaja

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