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thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite · 4 months

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[[BODY MUTILATION, BODY HORROR, ABUSIVE PARENTING]]

Hooves legs ache as they clack toward nowhere. There is no silence this time, instead it’s echoed by faint screams he can almost place. Meaning there’s someone else here.

Wig-Wiggly!?

There is no other word for what T’noy Karaxis feels: weak. The persistent burn in his bones has only spread as his head fogs. That doesn’t mean he stops running. Yellow fizzles past his clouded eyes to something brighter and harsher. There’s no harm in trying for freedom, even if there is nothing past these walls. ‘Harm’ does not include the sickness beating through him like it always has. Tinky’s hands, pocked with age spots, twitch coldly. He almost trips over himself, eyes darting around for anything of a different shade. There was only one rule: never stay in the same spot. Whatever can be done should.

Blinky!?

He’s at the dead end he always ends up reaching. Stopping once means he might not get up again - Tinky tries to grip the wall clumsily with feeble fingers. Metal gushes into his mouth as he absently opens his mouth to let it flow out, stark against the yellow floor. Nails scratch and, as they do so, each one chips. Karaxis doesn’t stop, getting hysterical. His nailbeds bleed at the strain of separation. With a jerk, his thumbnail clatters to the floor. The exposed skin burns, but he doesn’t notice. The cracks along the rest of his nails make sure they don’t go as quickly, rooting deep into his palm with electric shudders. Every breath is a stab to each lung. Frantic in his escape plan, Tinky doesn’t hear footsteps.

“You.”

T’noy staggers around to come face to face with his favorite toy. Teddy Bear grins without enjoyment.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You fucking bastard.”

Aware of how frail he feels, Tinky backs into the corner while baring his teeth. Ted steps closer, eyes shining. T’noy did not directly interact with his Boxed victims often, and he would have been elated in any other context.

“I’m going to have so much fun, Tinker-Toy.”

There is something wrong with his grin - it's usually lopsided, with a dimple Ted’s hated since childhood. Even with his waning vision, this wasn’t right. Before Karaxis can focus on anything clearly, a shiny flash almost blinds him. In Ted’s hands is a length of piano wire. He shouldn’t have that. Tinky designed the Box so that-

T-Tinker-Toy? You’ve never…

Ted’s grin never slips - his imposing figure steps in closer, cornering his tormentor. The wire gets spun around in his fingers casually.

“Goats don’t have fingers, silly wiwwle Tinky~.”

His eyes were brown, not…

“I’m sure you miss ‘em. Your hooves. Huh?”

His tone is light. With nowhere to run, not that his legs would let him, Karaxis stares at the wire wrapping around his ring finger. But this wasn’t how things went - if his Box worked like it should or if he wasn’t just a human, he wouldn’t-

“Aw, don’t cry, little guy! I’ll save your middle finger, how’s that?”

He wheezes a barking laugh. The screams are no longer there. Prickles and needles dance on T’noy’s finger as blood beads against the wire. It’s pulling too tight to simply slide his hand away. T’noy Karaxis begs.

T-Teddsy - Ted - Spankoffski. Don’t!

Ted laughs again, and it doesn’t belong to him, A hot shock burns through Tinky’s finger and palm as the wire meets resistance.

“Like a child begging for salvation.

Bones crack as Theodore’s figure shrinks away. In his place, towering over T’noy Karaxis, is a hulking blur of shining feathers. They have no set color, switching from glints of purple to glints of pink, blue, green, orange. The skull on top of the feather cloak, unblinking, is that of a goat’s, with twisting horns and jutting teeth caked with rot and bloodied flesh. Its - His - eye sockets shine with something inside, far from hollow. Pupilless and apathetic, reflective and compound. Like thousands of cameras, they settle on their target like flies to a corpse. Perpetually watching.

After all my corrections, you are still disobedient.

Tentacles squirm quicker than before from feathered tips. He does not move.

…F-F-

You need say nothing. I apologize for my dirty trick.

T’noy scrambles back further, but the wall prevents escape. He shakes his head harshly, ears ringing.

This could not happen otherwise.

N…No-

He lifts His head higher.

…’No’.

Tinky shakes his head again, neck aching. He cannot move. The figure leans forward, eyes rotating.

Even now? Agitated about a talk?

Cold tentacles slide over his cheek, pulling gently, startling in contrast to his temperature. They leave behind glowing blue muck.

You were always so quiet after the Box. Why did it ever stop?

He cocks His head to one side, though there is no expectation for answers. Tinky’s throat tightens as his mouth breathes out too harshly. Everything blistered, but only His presence was piercing. Regardless, there was an answer; one that he swears is there.

S-

His voice is high and garbled, but he forces his lungs to get air in as he stammers.

S-sib-li-siblings.

There is quiet where he believes he’s won. The flame sizzles on his skin. He says nothing; the air is heavy with copper. Then, voice low,

What siblings? I don’t recall making any others. Certainly not for you.

There are no names to bring up, with no memories to think of. There is nothing. Blankness ranging millennia.

W-

T’noy mouths something; it might be a name or it might be a plea, but either way he can’t get the word out.

Little fake things to keep you company…how can I expect power from a future Lord who hallucinates?

Tinky whines, the guttural noise tearing through his dry throat. No one else was supposed to be in the Box. This was his punishment alone. Just his.

Your time here is getting to you, Bastard. But somehow you’re still useful. Relieving…isn’t it?

Here - the Box. Karaxis knew it well. Its maze twisted every second with rich yellow dousing every corner. Constantly spinning and weaving through itself like a…

W-Webby-

He chokes as hot blood overwhelms his senses, letting it fall down his chin.

What, this?

His tentacles wiggle around a tiny white spider. It zooms around the tight confinement desperately without glowing. Tinky inhales sharply, trailing its movements. His foot falls an inch forward as he wants nothing more than to get it away from Him.

W~Web-

The cage gets smaller. The spider spasms, bloated with blood. Its legs kick once pathetically before they go limp with a spurt of blue-tinted gore. The crushed thing is dropped, dead.

Pests. You know that, I expect.

Karaxis’ stomach churns as he keeps looking at her.

Y-ou ki…

Like a clock that doesn’t tick.

You act horrified. Did I do something wrong?

The corpse disappears under the myriad of feathers. Tinky can’t move further.

It’s like how you play with your replacement - I thought you would like that.

Colors fill his eyes. T’noy doesn’t reach as high as what would be His chest, lacking the strength to look up. His heart pounds in his ears.

You were always so sensitive. A complainer and a coward. I have naught for cowards. Too weak for godhood. Look, you’ve already hurt yourself.

T’noy Karaxis crumples to the floor in a heap, hitting the ground with a thwack. Ice swallows each molecule in his sweltering body. He sees no yellow or colors, just white as his eyes roll back in their sockets. He jerks up, stiff, skin blistering and boiling under his clothing.

Pity.

The wall keeping Karaxis shifts away. Incoherent, he falls onto his back. It lights up with stabbing pain as he sobs.

They will be sorely disappointed. How will you help them? Stupid, stumbling, creature.

There’s creaking as hot breath makes his face scrunch.

Shoo.

The word is a gunshot. Scrambling away, ignoring the excruciating agony as his limbs sting, Tinky flings himself into the maze pathway. Completely blind, groping with bleeding fingers, he can only reach for obstacles.

Hff…hff - nghk-

Nothing gives chase. A low and penetrating hum blares in his ears as a warm stickiness spreads down Tinky’s forehead. He blinks his sight back. It teeters between white and black, catching yellow flashes. A cough brings up something warm and bitter.

Your town is a rotting poison. At its roots it twists into a shrewd picture. Did you think they worried about your absence? There is no difference - you are mine.

He speeds up his crawl after seeing lights shining from the end of the hall. They blink brightly, multicolored. He’s in marginally less pain.

Ah-ah~.

A thin, cold, sharp thing eases in between two ribs with a squelch. Karaxis shudders, gasping, as warmth seeps below him. His chest heaves through a punctured lung with gritted moans. His tone rises, booming.

Ungrateful. Do you understand the PRIVILEGE I’ve given you? The CONTROL I can rip away if I wish? You’ve seen it already. Ask that trifle of yours.

N~o…P-ea-

His brain melts against all logic. Blood drags on the floor behind his decomposing form, already long dried. Teeth loosen with no choice but to fall out of thin gums. As everything clouds, His voice rings in Tinky’s head.

Go back to your brothers. Tell them how good of a protector you were.

#The Lords in Black #T’noy Karaxis #Their Holy Father #ask blog #rp blog #hatchetfield rp #tw body horror #tw mutilation #(Please inform me if I an missing any TW tags! /srs //OOC)#Blog Event: Hatchetfield Citizens

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angel-inrealtime · 1 year

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November F1c Prompts Day 15

Day 15 - Scent (Chemical/Artificial)

There’s something about the chemical, clean smell of a tattoo shop. Nothing like it in the world. You’ve sat in many, with and without him.

He still doesn’t seem to think you’re going to go through with it. “You’re bluffing, you won’t do it.”

You roll your eyes, turn your phone towards the artist, who’s laughing at the two of you carrying on. You’ve known her for years now, Cat. “There’s a live reference but he isn’t cooperating, so...”

She makes a little ‘aw’ sounds in the back of her throat when she sees the picture. “You want it the same?”

“Yep. Same font, same size, just behind my ear.”

“Sick, give me 5 minutes to set up. Should take half an hour top.”

When you look over at Daniel, his eyes are a bit wider. “Are you...really?’

You raise your eyebrows. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because!” He squawks. “Why? That’s so...”

“Permanent?” You enunciate the ‘t’, looking at him like it’s halfway to a challenge. Maybe it is. You feel a little wild with it.

His cheeks go pink. “I...yeah, I guess.”

“Is this…not?” You didn’t mean to vocalise it like that. Challenge isn’t the right word, you realise belatedly. You’re not the one who’s insecure, in this case.

Daniel’s face falls a bit. “Of course...of course it is! You don’t...” He grabs your hand like he needs a tether, suddenly. “Are you trying to tell me something, or, like...you know? Right? You know I love you and I don’t want anyone else and...”

You squeeze his hand tight enough to stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I know, Daniel. I wasn’t trying to tell you anything. I’d just...tell you, if I was.” He still looks a little troubled, even as you reach to smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb. “You know, right? You believe me when I say I love you, and I don’t want anyone else?”

His eyes flicker away, just for a second. He knows you’ve got him there, at a raw point of insecurity he keeps buried far away from prying eyes (including his own, most of the time).

You squeeze his hand again. “That’s why.” You say softly, only just loud enough to be heard over the tattoo gun of another one of the artists. “It’s for you. Not for anyone else.”

“But you don’t have to...”

You shift your hand down to his mouth. “I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” You sit on the stool, gather your hair out of the way in preparation. “Three’s a pretty universally lucky number anyway, you know. It’s not all about you.”

You go through positioning the stencil, get Cat to adjust it until it’s right where you want it.

He sits and doesn’t say much as the artificial clean smell settles around you, and the tattoo gun is quieter than you expect, there. It doesn’t hurt, just the same needling pressure that’s familiar from the other art on your body.

“All done! You wanna compare with the live reference or are we still uncooperative?”

Daniel huffs and slips his phone into his pocket, holds up his hand next to your ear so the 3 on his is right next to the fresh raised skin.

“Matchy?”

“Matchy matchy.” Cat affirms, small smile on her mouth. “You want a picture?”

“I got it.” Daniel interrupts softly, plucks your phone out of your hands. Mindful of bumping the fresh tattoo, he slides his hand into your hair like he’s done a thousand times, and you catch the sharp intake of breath when you assume it lines up like you wanted, just under the one on his pinky finger. He takes a few photos, almost fumbling with his left hand, and then he looks down at you with something heavy and delicate all at once in his eyes. “Babe...”

“It’s for you.” You repeat your words from earlier, like repetition will make him understand, without you having to find the words. “So you can look at it when you need reminding but it’s hard to ask. Or when you don’t know you need to ask. Just...” You kiss his palm before he slides his hand away. “Let it be for you.”

#f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #November f1c prompts #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1blr #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula 1 x reader

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sserpente · 2 years

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A/N: While everyone else was freaking out over a naked Thor, I cried my eyes out after seeing his Loki tattoo. Then this happened. Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1734 Warnings: pure fluff... and needles, I guess

With a sigh, you closed your browser. You had now saved a total of three hundred pictures to your laptop, all of which were tattoos by different artists from all over the world. You had been dying to use your own body as a canvas for years but unfortunately, never had the courage nor the money to put colour on your skin forever.

And then, you had met gods and superheroes and your life had taken a complete turn and your priorities had shifted entirely and you had fallen in love with the Norse God of Mischief. Passionate sex had led to feelings you could barely describe with words and now here you were, utterly devoted to a man who would outlive you by thousands of years.

People gave you strange looks whenever you mentioned your devotion to Loki, including the Avengers. And while his brother Thor was celebrated as the hero, Loki was still viewed as the villainous brother who attempted to subjugate the planet all those years back. It didn’t matter how much good he did, not to them anyway. Loki always acted like he didn’t care but whenever Thor, the media, and all of his followers praised him for yet another triumph, you could see the pained expression on Loki’s face—the disappointment.

“It’s getting warmer…” You murmured, cuddling up to him. He was so nice and cool you had a feeling this summer would be a lot more bearable than the previous ones. And even though he claimed that he hated physical affection, you could tell he was enjoying being close to you.

“Loki, we’re on the news!” Thor bellowed. He came barging into the room not caring for privacy, with an excited expression on his face. Loki rolled his eyes all the while you were flinching.

“Heavens, Thor…” Loki complained. You sighed, reaching for the remote to change the program. Thor was right, he was on TV—and he was being interviewed. The reporter was beaming, praising him for his help, admiring his strength. Not with a single word did he mention Loki; nor did Thor.

Loki pressed his lips together to a thin line and swallowed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more when you wrapped your arms around him tighter. And then, finally, the camera panned to Loki for a split second. After that, it was a group of squealing fans holding posters and signs and screaming Thor’s name. One of them had Mjölnir tattooed on her forearm. Huh…

“Thor and his brother…” You heard the reporter say. There was nothing else of importance. The God of Mischief sighed. You switched the program again.

“Always a pleasure to be inside this square box.” Thor said, grinning widely. Then, all of a sudden, he paused. “It almost looks strange to see a woman in your arms, brother.” He looked at you. “I don’t know how you put up with him but I’m glad he found someone who seems to like his… chaotic nature, shall we say?” He grinned once more.

Loki tensed up, still stiff even after Thor had left.

“Loki… are you alright?”

He hummed in response. You put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. At least you now finally knew what type of tattoo you were going to get.

Would it stay on your skin forever? Yes. Were you facing any hesitation at all? No. You wanted a part of Loki to be with you at all times when he was gone and this, strangely enough, appeared to mean so much more than a wedding ring.

Thousands of fans were committed to Thor, and not a single person had yet expressed their gratitude towards Loki, not to mention that it seemed he himself couldn’t quite believe he was worthy of such gratitude… let alone your love.

It was the following day already that you found yourself in the tattoo studio. They had given you a last-minute appointment after learning who you were and when you had sent your artist an e-mail with what you wanted to get, even the barrier of virtual communication was unable to hide both his confusion and probably even hostility.

In any case, though, he met you neutrally the following day. After shaking his hand, he showed you the template he had made with your pictures and, after making sure you were fine with it, got to work.

You barely registered your surroundings. The walls were full of art, the smell of sanitiser and what must have been the tattoo colours filling your nostrils, and in the background, you could hear the humming of another tattoo gun along with some rock music.

It was only then, when you sat down on the chair, that nervousness began to wash over you—not because you were second-guessing your decision but rather because this man was about to repeatedly poke your skin with a small needle.

“It’s a little too late to ask but would you prefer some numbing cream?” He asked.

You shook your head, smiling mischievously. “Seriously, dude, I fight wars with the Avengers.”

“Yeah, stupid question… So, um…” You resisted the urge to flinch when he started tattooing you. Actually… it wasn’t so bad. Well, the numerous forums you’d been on online had promised you that the inside of your arm was a piece of cake compared to, say the ribs. You were planning on getting more tattoos one day but for now, this one it was.

You couldn’t wait to see Loki’s reaction. He had no idea you were here.

“Why… why Loki? I-I mean… I know you’re technically an Avenger but... that dude’s kinda evil.”

“Evil? He’s helped Thor and the others on missions countless times by now.” You tilted your head. “People just refuse to see the good in him.”

“Suit yourself, I mean… he tried to enslave all of humanity but…”

“That was a long time ago. And it wasn’t entirely his fault if you remember Thanos.”

The tattoo artist cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess… Still. I mean it’s your skin.”

“Exactly. So let’s just do this. This is my first tattoo, I’d like to have a good memory of getting it and not sit here for hours defending my bo-“ You stopped yourself before you could say boyfriend. He’d see soon enough, for you had asked Loki to come pick you up here a little later. Besides, Loki didn’t like to be called your boyfriend. He was much more of a… lover, he had said. It had a nice ring to it.

“Yeah, yeah… sorry. I promise your choice of tattoo won’t impact the quality of my work. You’ll love it when it’s finished.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You only had to take two breaks in between, drinking plenty of water and stretching your legs a bit. Once the tattoo artist had finished up and wrapped clear foil around your tattoo to protect it, you sent Loki a text.

It was odd, every single time, to remind yourself that Loki was using a phone. He never used emojis though, for some dubious reason. That almost made it hard for you to tell when he was being sarcastic or not.

“What is this place? What are you doing in a tattoo parlour?”

“I was shopping for flowers. What do you think?” Chuckling, you embraced him when he entered the tattoo shop. It was perfect timing, for just when you pressed your lips on his to greet him properly, your tattoo artist reemerged from his private backroom.

“Oh… Oh! Oh. Mr… Mr. Loki. You, um… so you’re… wow.” You winked at him. You had to admit, his fear was rather hilarious… which was exactly why you had asked Loki to come pick you up. Besides, Loki could be quite the gentleman if only he wanted to. He loved being all protective over you and that included taking you home on a regular basis.

Loki tilted his head when you broke the kiss, narrowing his eyes at him with his lips parted. “And who are you?”

“I, um… I did her tattoo. It’s um… you know what, it’s on the house.”

“Oh… thanks.” You said, grinning a little. Scary boyfriend privileges…

“You were not joking then? You actually got tattooed?”

“I’ll show you when we’re back home. Come on. Thanks again!”

“Y-yeah… thanks. Bye.”

As soon as you exited the shop, you burst out laughing. “Did you see his face? I love it. Come on, Trickster.” Intertwining your fingers with his, you dragged him along, not even giving him a chance to respond until you reached the Avengers’ Tower.

You couldn’t wait to take your jacket off and show him your tattoo and it seemed, Loki was equally curious.

“Why did you decide to put ink on your body permanently?” He suddenly asked.

“It’s beautiful… to use the skin as a canvas… and to have art that means a lot to you with you at all times, to become a part of you.”

“Hmm…”

“I’ve been thinking about getting tattoos for a very long time but then all this happened and I forgot about it for a while… but I’ve been doing my research and… well, I think you’ll like it.”

Loki frowned when you beamed at him. Once you arrived in your shared room, your grin grew even wider. Excitedly, you took off your jacket, took a deep breath, and then presented your arm to him.

Loki’s lips parted, you could almost hear his face fall when he laid his eyes upon the golden helmet and the dagger you had gotten tattooed on your arm. Then, his blue eyes, filled with utter shock, met yours.

“You… you… this is my…” You smiled at him, biting your lower lip and eagerly awaiting what he would say but instead… instead he was tearing up.

“You… this will be on your skin forever.” He choked out.

You nodded. “I love you, Loki. This is a symbol of my devotion to you. Maybe no one else around here appreciates you the way they should be… but I do.”

Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. And instead of responding with words, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you feared for your breath. He didn’t need to say anything more. His embrace told you more than you needed to hear.

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moonspower · 6 months

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🍅 : how does my muse feel about plastic / cosmetic surgeries & procedures? is it something they have done or would do? do they mind if others do it?

✨ anonymous. meme. still accepting!

vi spent a lot of time in beverly hills, so plastic surgery is a-okay to him lol. also culturally for him, plastic surgery isn't wild. for little things vi's had braces ( while continuing his yearly whitening treatments now and he spends a lot of money on those ) and he does go in to get skin procedures that could be considered extreme to the normal person like microneedling.

microneedling is a cosmetic procedure. it involves pricking the skin with tiny sterilized needles thousands of times. the small wounds cause your body to make more collagen and elastin, which heal your skin and help you look younger. downtime healing from the procedure isn't long and includes swelling + redness.

the vampire facial, also known as microneedling with PRP, is a cosmetic procedure that involves drawing blood from your arm, separating platelets and applying them back onto your face.

honestly he doesn't need these lol... but he likes to get them.

he'd love to get a nose job / rhinoplasty, some filler in his upper lip, and a little brow lift. but he hasn't taken the dive for these. also maybe a little boost to his ass like the slightest fat transfer or something to make his ass a lil phatter.

#🌙 ABOUT! CANCERIAN SUN SHINING IN THE EVENING.#anonymous #/ the slightest of BBL.............. lkgjfdkgjd.

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siryouarebeingmocked · 2 years

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SYABM complains about a quest again.

There's this CKII-style quest.

The lead is a guy in the 80s, who runs a company dedicated to fighting supernatural threats, researching it to make money (like XCOM), and other activities. The Quest Master gives a bunch of advisors in various categories, and the audience get to vote on available options, and the QM rolls to determine success or failure.

The "Stewardship" advisor is a racist.

That's basically his only character trait. He's a connected Southern gentleman, and he's a "racist bigot".

In fact, he's such a racist bigot that he can't be allowed close to the actual troops, because he'll presumably have Heated Gamer Moments, so to speak.

The obvious question is "Wait. Couldn't the MC hire someone else with the same skills who isn't a raging bigot? Especially someone whose job description includes making connections with a lot of people, in a company that operates worldwide?"

Apparently not.

Also, one of the other advisors got married and had a kid. A few thousand words ago. I just hit the point where we learn she was married to another woman.

In the 80s.

In America.

How do we learn this? Well, the MC marries a Japanese woman, and she casually mentions the respect the advisor and her wife have for the MC. And also that the Steward has a "history of racial bigotry".

Last time I checked, the wife grew up in Japan, in the 80s and maybe 70s. Which...would also be pretty racist and sexist and not exactly gay-friendly. Heck, the narration when she was introduced pointed out that Japan was still a male-dominated culture.

But apparently she's personally really tolerant. Especially compared to the other clearly flawed waifu candidates the quest had. She's explicitly supposed to be a "Yamato Nadeshiko", a traditional Japanese housewife.

Which seems odd, considering the whole "successfully running a company in a culture that frowns upon her doing just that" thing.

Oh, and another advisor is described as 'black-haired' and 'brown-skinned'. This is supposed to be following the MC's perspective. And calling characters "brown-skinned" or "dark-skinned" seems to be a modern progressive thing.

A random guy in the 80s, even a progressive one, would probably call her "black" or "black-hispanic" or "hispanic" or "Indian" or some specific ethnicity. He should have that info on hand, because he hired her.

So, yeah, this feels a lot like the QM wanted to acknowledge prejudice and stuff, but didn't actually think it through.

EDIT:

Since I wrote and queued this post, I've gotten a few more chapters into the quest, and I've noticed some...details.

A while back, God - yes, the God - randomly showed up while The protagonist was eating at a cafe and said " I'm going to die and be reincarnated for no explained reason. And I want you to find my reincarnation and take care of her."

this is the first time that God has appeared in the entire story. There are Angels and Devils, but nobody mentioned the big guy or his actions specifically, IIRC.

the reincarnation turns out to be little girl who is found in a Brazilian favela. some real bad hombres lock her in a dark room, drain her magical blood, and sell it as a drug. as a result, God's reincarnation has a fear of men.

and only men.

not needles or seeing blood or the dark, just men.

It's possible they did...other stuff, but the story isn't clear. In fact, we don't even get to 'see' her captors, only the aftermath of the rescue, from her perspective. The fact that they’re men is just implied.

and who does the protagonist (and the quest readers) decide to leave her care to? yep, that's right, the aforementioned couple.

God is a woman, and she lives with lesbians.

So I'm starting to think that this particular subplot is some kind of attempt at ironic edginess. I'd probably care less if I wasn't a) Christian, and b) a writer myself. It shows the same lack-of-thinking as some of the other stuff.

Just to be clear, this isn’t portrayed as a good thing. The protag’s job - which he seems remarkably cavalier about - is to make sure Little Miss Godette doesn’t grow up toxic.

For obvious reasons, that would be bad.

#personal #fanfic #sjws #social justice #writing

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bacchicly · 2 years

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A GARVEZ BOXING LESSON ONE SHOT: HE'S GOT HIS HANDS. SHE'S GOT HER LIPS.

This a "happier version" of Chapter 10 of Deep and Crisp and Even for those who are not keen on the lovers to friends trope I'm exploring over there. This is published as a stand alone as this chapter will not be included in the "happy version of DCE" (soon to be re-titled)

Paring: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

Summary: Penelope has prepared a surprise for Luke. This can be read as a stand alone or as a follow-up to I HAVE YOU: A HAPPY MUSICAL ONESHOT.

Many thanks to the lovely and brilliant @vangsn who helped with some of the Spanish.🧡 Any mistakes are of course mine.

Words: 8500

Content: Sex, Boxing, Fluff, a small injury, a bit of random sadness

FYI: Sex is that of an established couple using birth control but no protection against sti/std - decisions were mindfully made following conversations not featured in text.

After a morning of listening to music and some very kiss-a-riffic floor sex at Luke's apartment, Penelope and Luke wake up - or rather…

Penelope wakes up... realizes they have fallen asleep on his hard living room floor and starts laughing so hard and helplessly that Luke groggily opens one eye.

Luke awkwardly tilts his head up off the hard floor so he can peer down at the cackling woman sprawled nakedly across his chest.

"Luke! Oh! oh! oh! That was awesome but we have to stop meeting like this! Oh! Oof. O.M.G you have a hard floor! ... and..oh.. ow..and I am turning into a Penelope-cicle! Don't bother turning your heat on, Mister I'm-So-Hot-Furnaces-Are-For-Other-People ....oh...and...oh...and my arm is all pins and needles! Ooooh. Ouch. Oh. Oh...I can't breath...oh...this is your fault "

Penelope's words swoop and fly on the momentum of her laughter and she is gasping and howling with mirth mixed with little mewls of discomfort as she alternates between trying to untangle herself and flopping back down against his warmth. Luke for his part has one arm wrapped around her - his eyes closed - his fingers enjoying whatever skin her wriggling brings close - and is silently shaking with silent manly giggles.

"I can not believe we just fell asleep AGAIN in some AWKWARD-ASS post-coital position in the MIDDLE of the afternoon. Seriously! It's like you think we're in some modern day version of The Notebook or something and we have time to… Oh wait! Panic stations! What time is it?!?! Luke Alvez if we slept through..."

Penelope grabs Luke's wrist which still has his massive watch wrapped around it - bending his hand awkwardly so that she can try to make out the time with her nearsighted eyes - it is honestly a bit of a mystery how that thing hasn't inflicted her with any scrapes or bruises during all their canoodling...

"OW! PENNY STOP - ARMS DON'T BEND THAT WAY! LET ME, WOMAN."

Luke pulls his arm out of her reach and checks the time "It is 4 hours and 17 minutes of the clock, madam. Although why it matt-"

"Oh! Thank goodness we didn't sleep through it - almost but not quite. Quick! Where did you put my bag?"

The previously floundering Penelope Garcia finally makes it to her feet and is headed with great determination - naked as the day she was born - to the front hall where she is pretty sure she left her bag. Luke's eyes are now wide open. He wolf whistles playfully - which brings Penelope up short - she tosses A LOOK over her shoulder - ok it's more of a glare that melts into one of her cheeky thousand watt grins - but that still counts as A LOOK, right?

Having rendered Luke back into the usual state for him these days: dumbly besotted… Penelope turns triumphantly and carries on with her self-appointed mission - although not without rewarding him with a bit more of a sauntering step and a very nice bum wiggle.

Luke Alvez is a very happy man.

In a nonce, the lovely Penelope is back with the large bag she had insisted on bringing this morning… a big black tote decorated with multi-coloured geometric cats. She sits on the floor beside him in a mermaid pose - legs swept primly to one side and behind her like she's wearing one of her usual short skirts.

Curious, Luke swings himself into a crossed legged position - smirking slightly as he catches her gaze first land on - her pink tongue reflexively darting out to wet her lip - and then be purposely averted away from his semi-erect penis... only to land on his chest...which seems to have her just as transfixed.

"My eyes are up here, darling."

"Yeah, cus' those peepers of yours are any less distracting? It really should be illegal for me to be as attracted to anyone as I am to you. But I digress. Don't you want to know about the surprise?"

"But of course, my lady! It's the only reason I'm currently all the way over here instead of over there showing you…"

With his words, Luke reaches out one arm and touches her face with a single finger, tracing a crescent from her temple down to her chin, then lazily letting his finger trace her well-kissed lips. Penelope closes her eyes and just lets him touch - drinking in his husky words.

"… showing you why, if it were illegal for you to be so attracted to me, there would have to be a warrant out - stating that for my crimes of passion - I am wanted dead or alive."

Penelope snaps her eyes open at that. She parts her lips with a squeak-soon-to-be-protest but Luke is all smiles and innocently rests his hands in his lap.

"I thought you had a surprise to show me, Chica?"

"Just because you…arghh...o.k….. Ta da!"

With a flourish, she pulls out an envelope and a knobbly plastic bag with the logo of an online sports shop. She hands the envelope to Luke - it's blank and white and unsealed - so he pulls out the white piece of paper that is inside. It's the printout of a receipt...with all the prices blacked out… but apparently Penelope has booked them an hour long private lesson at 5:30 pm tonight at a local boxing gym.

"I um checked THEIR records just to make sure it wasn't where you usually go...since I wasn't sure what you were telling your non-bau friends about all this… but otherwise all I know are the reviews are good - oh and I made sure it was real boxing not like boxing fitness...not that there is anything wrong with that...it's just that...I wanted to go for authenticity, y'know? I signed us up for an intro lesson - but explained that they needed to pitch it so that someone with a lot of boxing experience and someone with no experience could get something out of it. I thought you might like?"

"Oh. I like. Penelope Grace Garcia, you have done it again. So what's in the bag?"

"The guy said we wouldn't be doing any sparring so we don't need mouth or head protectors for today… although if you have them - you should bring them - but he said we would need to wrap our hands and use gloves. He said we could borrow from the gym. I figured you have your own gear - but the guy I spoke to at the gym said boxers can always use new hand wraps...so here you go…"

Luke, who thought he could not be surprised any more by this woman of his...stares gape-jawed down at the hand wraps she's handed to him. They are printed with a bright blue geometric pattern - way fancier than the ratty plain ones he has in his closet...and when he peers more closely he sees that at the intersections of the light and dark blue lines there are the silhouettes of little German Shepherd type dogs.

Where the heck did she find these?

He looks up to ask and his eyes catch on the pink leopard print boxing gloves and pink camo hand wraps she's set on the ground between them - wonderingly he picks up a glove and checks it - the brand is one he's familiar with and trusts, the wrist support seems to have the right degree of firmness, the leather and stitching are good, and the weight and balance seem right for a training glove meant for her.

"...and since I am not going to use icky sweaty shared equipment….these are for me. The guy at the gym sent me some hints on what I should be looking for - but he didn't tell me how cute boxing equipment could be. They had hello kitty hand wraps but I decided I just couldn't repeatedly punch something with hands wrapped in her adorable visage...they also had crime scene tape ones which I considered for you...but frankly we are on vacation and do not need any additional reminders of work right now. If we decide to keep it up - I'll get the rest of whatever it is I need."

As he examines first her glove then her hand wraps, Luke lets Penelope's words flow over him, partly listening and partly marveling at how incredible it is that he gets to spend time with this amazing person who is so full of care and verve and imagination. He has no idea what he did in a past life to deserve this time he gets with her...but whatever it was must have been unspeakably good… far better than anything he has done so far in this one that is for sure.

"Luke? Say something. Are they ok? Or did I get bamboozled? The guy said this was what I should look-"

"They are perfect. You are perfect."

Luke leans forward and kisses her full on the mouth. But almost before the kiss has hardly even begun he pulls back - checking his watch - calculating frantically.

"Pen, it is now 4:37 - let's say 20 to 5.. If I remember correctly the gym we're going to is 15 minutes from my place by car? And it says here we should arrive about 5:15 to check in and get our wraps on etc. So we have…about 20 minutes to get ready and be in the car. What do you think, Chica… do you think we can have the quickiest of quickies and still get there on time?"

"Well...we are already naked."

"You read my mind."

"How then? It needs to be super fast and it's not like we've been cursed with abstinence today to help us hurry things along..."

"Not going to be a problem." Luke reaches for her as he lies down on his back gently pushing away the boxing stuff... "Get over here. Kiss me."

Penelope clambors over and straddles him up on all fours - her hair curtaining around them as she leans down to kiss him with her hot roving mouth. His hands run up the backs of her thighs - firmly - quickly - then cup and massage her arse - then slide deliciously up her back - each touch sending a frenzy of heat through her - and more blood pumping fiercely into his cock - from the angle it's pointing - no one would call his erection a semi now. They both had thought they had tried every kiss on the menu and that from now on there would be only delicious seconds to be had...but no… this kiss is somehow its own unique brand of hot and questing and oh my goodness…

Luke's hands have now slipped down around her rib cage and he cannot get enough of playing with her dangling heavy breasts - his thumbs brush and then swirl and then rub over her rock hard nipples and she cries into his mouth - sucking hard at his tongue - until he squeezes both breasts hard - and she gasps and arches - pulling up and away from his grasp - so that her breasts swing free and oh god he loops his forearms her under her armpits - pulling her to lean just far enough that he can get a nipple and a good portion of the surrounding soft flesh into his mouth.

He sucks hard.

"Luke! Sweet Jiminy Cricket! Oh everloving fuzziness...ooooh!"

He sucks again. His other hand is back on her other breast. First squeezing and massaging and then his fingers are tweaking her nipple - pulling it so her whole breast stretches exquisitely - not so it hurts just so that she feels it to her toes.

Penelope is gasping. Her face is red, tingling and aching from the intense arousal that slammed through her so quickly. Her quim is reacting even more strongly - positively pulsing - shooting messages of "now!" and "touch me!" - clenching in frustration that it is empty and alone. Penelope is hardly going to have to worry about doing her kegel exercises this week, now is she?

Then Luke's free hand slips down and finds her clit - fingering her ever so gently.

Penelope howls wordlessly and then cusses very wordily.

Luke chokes on a laugh and just sucks hard on the breast in his mouth - breathing in hard through his nose - adding fingers and pressure to his feeling up of her quim as she grinds mindlessly into his hand.

Penny only has a split second to think - I am cumming! before everything goes white and she chokes out Luke's name. She dimly hears him ordering her to ride him - dimly feels his one hand grab her ass and pull her down - down onto his hard cock which he is guiding into her - once securely pushed deep into her - Luke grabs her her rib cage - guiding forcing her to sit back on her haunches before her shaking arms give out and she ends up sprawled on top of him.

Slowly it dawns on Penelope that Luke's hands and words are encouraging her to grind down on him - not bounce - and that she is following his directions.

"That's right, Penny, that's right, grind it out. Grind it out, sweetheart. Penny… you… feel… so….good...and your breasts...are...oh...my...beautiful… gor...gor...geous… so hot…"

Luke makes this guttural sound then and his hips thrust hard up into her and she switches from hard grinding figure eights to a rocking riding 1-2 motion... speeding up when she sees the look on his face...1-2...1-2...faster and faster… and then she has her breath back to chant…

"Cum for me Luke. Cum now. Cum hard. Cum now. Cum hard. Cum now. Cum hard. We have to go. We have to go. We have to go.

Luke starts to buck harder and faster - his skin is lathered in sweat - he is snorting and his face is turning purple - and Penelope is riding riding riding…her hands on rubbing up and down over his belly...she is shouting shouting at him.

"CUM LUKE NOW. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU."

And suddenly he is shouting and cum-cum-cumming what feels like ropes and ropes and ropes and ropes of hot sticky semen high up into Penelope. One hand clenches around her - with the other he slaps the floor open palmed and stingingly hard - over and over. It is too much. All too much. All too much.

And then he feels her cum around him again - unexpectedly - hard and clenching and tight - and something inside of him orgasms again - this time is is dry but his toes curl - his body shakes - the edges of his vision blacken as they clench hard hard hard and then she falls on him shaking and clinging.

They both blink hard trying to come down from the high.

"Ahh. Ten to Five. Get off me wench - we need the world's fastest shower, make sure Roxy is set for the couple hours, and into our gym clothing stat."

"Aye. Aye. Oh a bit wobbly."

"I will hold you up...but we have to hustle. I can't be late...this amazing woman bought me a boxing lesson."

***********************************

Miraculously, Luke and Penelope made it into the car by 5:03. The traffic lights were good to them, so by stretching just a couple speeding limits, they were pulling into the gym at 5:16.

They'd both put on only their gym shorts and t-shirts under their coats after their lightning fast shower - so they sprint for the door to avoid as much of the D.C. December wind as possible.

Penelope shrieks with laughter for the second time that day as her tote bag bounces on her shoulder and Luke grabs her elbow as they slip and slide across the parking lot.

A bell over the door rings as they push their way into the glorious warmth of the gym. When Luke notices Penelope's nose crinkle the tiniest bit it is his turn to laugh. He takes a deep breath - the air is fairly fresh but with undertones of stale sweat and rust and leather - the smells that became so familiar to him as a kid when he first started tagging along with his older cousins to the boxing gym in their neighborhood. Perfection.

Luke can't help but turn to the wall opposite the reception desk to scan the framed cuttings and photographs of boxers who clearly trained at this gym. There are several prize belts displayed too and more than a few of the plaques awarded for coaching excellence. It's an impressive collection and Luke recognizes more than one name.

Just then an older tall bald man comes into the front office from the gym area to greet his 5:30 private lesson. Penelope hussles over hand outstretched.

"Mr. Moreno! Good to see you again! You may not remember me? I'm-"

"Miss Penelope. Of course I remember you, Princessa! And I told you to call me-"

"Manny?"

Both Penelope and the trainer spin just in time to see the look of pure surprise and joy completely take over Luke's countenance. The next thing Penelope knows, Luke and Manny are hugging it out and filling the room with these glorious plummy laughs.

When they finally break apart, Manny smiles at Luke like a long lost son, cupping his face with a rough palm and speaking Spanish way faster than Penelope can process - oh she picks up a few words here and there "abuela", "casa", "padre", and a favourite of her step-father's… "esos primos tuyos alborotadores"...just enough to deduce that Manny is asking about Luke's family.

Luke who seems to be struck mostly dumb by this surprise encounter, just nods adding few words here and there, until Manny asks one question which he punctuates with a head tilt in Penelope's direction…

At that point, Luke shakes his head in a hard "No." Manny's fluffy gray eyebrows almost fly off his head in disapproval. Luke just shrugs helplessly - it's too soon to talk about marriage and he doesn't want to scare Penelope away even though he's been thinking about what it would be like to be married to her since the moment he met her. Manny looks like he is about to say more - so Penelope jumps in.

"So how do you know Manny, Luke? And not to rush things but I am going to need one of you fine gentlemen to help me with my hand wraps since I have absolutely no idea what I am doing!"

Penelope sees the relief that momentarily flashes in her love's eyes at the rescue.

"Sorry, Pen! Manny ran the gym in my neighborhood growing up. I used to tag along after my older cousins and Manny would let me hang on the ropes and watch them train or hold their towels. I would beg him to give me lessons so finally finally he started giving me drills to do off in the corner. Sometimes I'd even be allowed to spar with the big boys."

"Finally. Bah. He was only 4! He makes it sound like I kept him on the ropes until he could grow hair on his chin!"

"So sue me. It felt like a very long wait!" Luke throws an arm over Manny's shoulders. "Manny let me train at his gym all through highschool until I left for the army."

"He coulda been something too if it wasn't for all those nights chasing skirts at the clubs."

"Yeah yeah..I coulda been a contender… Manny you know it was the music not the skirts that had me hooked."

Penelope jumps back into the banter with a teasing smile, "So the skirts were just a fringe benefit, eh mister tall, dark, and blandsome?"

"Hey! It was the Nineties - no one's skirt had fringe!"

"Where did you spend the Nineties, Newbie? Under a rock? I had at least 3 fringed pencil skirts! Not to mention at least one fringed blazer à la Saved By The Bell."

Penelope and Luke have swayed together as they banter - all grins and heart-eyes.

Manny shakes his head with a bark of a laugh and claps Luke on the back.

"¿Y dices que no te vas a casar con ella? Ten cuidado, hijo... porque quizás yo lo haga. Alright you two - let's get ready to rumble as they say…Luke I imagine you can still manage your own hand wraps… so I will help, nuestra amiga. Let's go, Princessa… Luke."

Manny leads the way into the gym. They follow, but Luke looks anxiously at Penelope and whispers,"You still don't understand Spanish, right?"

"Right. But I do speak teasing old guy in any language…so I do have some idea of what might be being said. Don't worry, ok Luke?"

"I'll try."

Penelope gives his closest hand a quick squeeze. Then raises her voice so that it's loud enough now for Manny to catch what she's saying.

"Well you heard the man! Let's get ready to RUMBLE! I am ready to learn this so-called Sweet Science."

At that, Luke can't help but lean over and rasp into her ear - his tongue curling the words like a promise…

"Pen-el-o-pe… you know it's bizarrely hot that you know boxing is called the Sweet Science. Did you know they say that in boxing your mind is your best muscle? If that's the case…then I really am gonna be a goner if we ever find ourselves in the ring, Prin-."

Just then Manny turns back to them, catching Penelope's flustered blush.

"C'mon you two NOT-ENGAGED love birds - come meet your coach for today's lesson - we'll explain how it is going to work while you gear up - you sit here, Princessa. Yo! Lukey Boy? Over here."

They sit where they are told and both open their bags and pull out their stuff. Manny let's out a low whistle when he sees their fancy handwraps - then looks straight at Luke and waggles his eyebrows starting to count up from one the boxing knockout hand signals that he first taught Luke as a boy - another warning that this woman was not one to let get away - that Luke should fight for her. Luke emphatically glares at his old mentor and then breaks eye contact to pointedly wrap his hands.

"Boss? This my private lesson?"

For the second time tonight, Luke's head whips around in recognition. This time it is a woman who appears to be in her late thirties early forties and looks like a shorter buffer version of Tara who has made his head spin. Luke jumps to his feet.

"Marissa? Marissa Talbot? What the heck are you doing in DC?"

"Luke Alvez? Get outta town! What AM I doing here? What are YOU doing here? Last I heard you were chasing fugitives in Montana or some other forsaken place. Get over here!"

Now it is Penelope's turn to experience deja vu…as she watches Luke greet a second "long lost whoever"...

WHAT IN THE SEVEN KINGDOMS IS HAPPENING? GREAT OOGLY MOOGLY!

"Penelope?"

His voice is gentle but it still makes Penelope start, "Oh! Yes! Oh hi!"

"Pen - get over here. I have the great honour of introducing you to my good friend from my time in the Army, Marissa Talbot! One of the best hand to hand combat teachers I have ever come across. Mar this is Penelope Garcia - we both work together on the same team at the FBI and she is probably the best technical consultant on the planet."

Marissa shakes Penelope's now-wrapped-hand enthusiastically - first beaming at the colourful woman and then smirking back at Luke.

"Nice to meet you! He's a bit faint on dishing out praise ain't he? ONE OF THE BEST - PROBABLY THE BEST…REALLY MAN? So I guess if his assessments are consistent you are head and shoulders above the rest of your field? Oh and smart guy… it's actually Marissa Moreno now. I married this old guy's daughter for some reason."

"Wait!? Gianna is in town too?"

Manny butts in, with a chuckle:

"Yup and she runs a swanky café four blocks west of here. And as for you, Missy, the reason you married into my family is that you have good taste - in father-in-laws at least. Now...there is boxing to be done!"

But before anyone can agree or even draw a breath…Manny barrels on…

"I cannot believe you, Marissa, know our Luke! And apparently today is old home week at the gym. Are you a witch, Princessa? Did you make this happy magic happen for our boy here?"

"No. Believe me. I had no idea."

Penelope's eyes are huge and fixed on Luke and her voice is tinged with urgency - although only Luke can hear that particular undertone. Which makes sense, because he is the only one there who knows she could easily have used her mad skills to at minimum anticipate this reunion. Truthfully, it would have been easier than snapping for her to rig a meet up like this if she had wanted to.

But… Luke is pretty sure - no, completely sure - Marissa's right, he should stop hedging - so… he is completely confident the urgency stems from her being afraid he'll accuse her of digging into his past - not that she's actually done it. He trusts deep down she would never do that unless she had an excellent life or death reason - or at least one she seemed as such…you know, like he had a no good brother who was coming to town and might make him sad or want to borrow money…

So yes he trusts her…but… he'll also tease her about the possibility that she might have done some cyber magic to engineer the events of the day - but later - Manny's right…

"Of course you didn't, Pen! It's just that the best things in life follow you around like little ducklings and the rest of us love it when we get to bask in the happines-."

Marissa punches Luke in the shoulder grinning like a monster at her old friend.

"Luke! I do not remember you being such a softy in Iraq…well except maybe with the doggos - what did this lady do to you?"

"Apparently not enough to get him to make an honest woman of her. Lukey Boy here-"

"Alrighty, break it up…break it up…time enough for is all to reconnect *slash* make fun of me later. Marissa over to you…where do you want us? I can't wait to make a boxer out of Penelope Garcia so that the world may tremble at her feet!"

"Don't you mean tremble HARDER, Newbie?"

……..

Marissa leads them over to two crosses taped on the floor and while she leads them through a basic warmup, explains that they will start with stance and then she will run through the basic punches with both of them. Then, she'll set up Luke with a series of shadow boxing drills while she shows Penelope the basics of foot work. After that she will bring them back together to do some punching drills.

Penelope instantly loves the first part of the lesson. Marissa gets Luke to put on his full (including his mouthguard and headgear - which Penelope privately thinks makes him look like a teddy bear) and then instructs him to demonstrate his stance.

The best part is they do this drill that checks Luke's stability and Marissa gets Penelope to slap his shoulders one at a time and then his elbows to see how solid he is. Then the women switch places and Marissa throws a series of individual punches to his body and head (describing them as she goes) instructing Luke to stay in place and block - but reminding him that the point is not to go crazy with his defense but to work on his balance and stability. Next, Marissa gets Luke to demonstrate the punches but gets him to freeze midway through the movement and gets Penelope to slap him again to find where the motion has left him vulnerable. After each punch or slap, Marissa compliments what is working and then suggests a minor correction or alternative method. Penelope can tell that Luke is comfortable and confident but also that he takes Marissa's suggestions for how to tweak his stance and blocks extremely seriously. It is exceedingly clear how much he respects his old army friend's opinion.

It gives Penelope a glowy feeling… it's kinda like… well…you know how they tell women to pay attention to how a man treats his female family members and friends because it can show a lot about how they will treat a potential partner? That's what it feels like is happening here - like Penelope is getting to see how truly truly respectful Luke is of the women in his life. Oh sure, she's seen him work respectfully with Tara, J.J, and Em for years…and treat female victims and witnesses with the utmost dignity… and she knows deep to her bones how good he is to her…. but seeing the way he is with Marissa brings one more layer into her appreciation for his overall treatment and regard of 'the female of the species'. She knows it's something so simple - something that should just be expected - and thus not noteworthy… but their work so often proves that unfortunately not every man (or woman) is able or conditioned or willing to see women as people - let alone people deserving respect… so she can't help but have a reaction whenever she is given evidence that there are good men out there - and the fact that for right now at least… they are together? He has chosen her?

Indescribable.

As the lesson progresses, Penelope finds that learning the punches reminds her of the lessons Derek gave her in shooting - except more comfortable? So far this whole thing hasn't given her any flashbacks to her shooting or when she had to shoot Baylor. Mostly she is reminded of the millions of evil p.e. classes she had to attend in highschool and that day the evil Derek tricked her and Reid into doing the F.B.I. fitness test. That Derek - despite being her beloved best friend and a truly good man - had the occasional ability to be a prize jackass.

Luke's favourite part of the lesson is after they have done some work on the heavy bag and the speed bag and Marissa gets him to put on the focus mitts and catch Penelope's punches. This woman he's fallen for is ridiculously adorable and remarkably strong and precise for a beginner. By this point he has his head gear off and has worked up quite a sweat doing the various drills Marissa had thrown at him over the last hour, so he is totally jazzed and they just can't stop laughing and goading each other - which just makes Penny more determined and fierce.

The lesson finishes around 7:30 pm (Marissa totally gave them extra time for free) and they leave with promises to come back for more and to meet up soon for dinner and very tired sweaty hungry bodies.. the teasing from Manny and Marissa about neither of them having warm-up pants echoing in their ears…

Shrieking with laughter Penelope and Luke make for the car as quickly as possible - slipping and sliding on the slick icy pavement…

They almost make it to the truck safe and sound when just after they part to go to their respective sides of the cab - Penelope's foot shoots out behind her on a particularly dicey patch.

"Oh! Oh!"

Sounding like a cartoon character, she pitches forward - then she slams chin first against the edge of the hood before she is able to catch herself with her hands and push up using the freezing metal surface to scrabble herself back to standing.

Luke is by her side in the fastest move he's made tonight - helping her into the freezing front seat - her legs dangling - as he makes her face him. He thinks from the way she moved as she took the steps needed to get into the car that Penelope is mostly dazed - nothing seems to be causing her pain except her chin and her lip which looks like it got bit hard when she struck the truck. But he checks anyways, asking soft questions sliding his hands down her legs making her bend knee then ankle then doing the same for her arms - making her check that there is no pain in her shoulder or elbows or wrists when she moves. Asking her to make a fist with each hand - wiggle her fingers. Checking that she can lower her chin to her chest, look up, look to the side. Once convinced that she is reasonably ok, Luke grabs a blanket from the back and tucks it around her knees. He considers heading back into the gym for an ice pack, but one look at shivering Penelope - who has only said yes or no to his questions and who looks pretty much at the end of her rope - and he opts to just grab a towel from his gym bag and wrap it around some clean snow.

"Penny? Hold this against your lip, ok? Home time."

“I’m… … …”

“You’re what, Beautiful?”

Her eyes peek guiltily at him from behind her glasses.

“Sorry.”

“For what? Planning the best day ever?”

Penelope gives him her best “get out of town you person who is deliberately and annoyingly aggravating me” look.

“Ohhh you mean for slipping? No sorries needed. Everything is going to be ok. We’re going to get Roxy, grab something that is 100% delish, change into warm comfy clothing, and watch something relaxing and go to bed, deal? The perfect end to the perfect day. Now, just hold that to your lip, ok?”

She answers in one of the smallest voices he's ever heard her use and the words are muffled by the makeshift ice pack "Thank you."

They are silent for a bit as Luke pulls out and then it is Penelope who broke the silence.

"You know I have never ever dug into your past right? Not that I wasn't tempted but .."

"I know Penny. You were genuinely surprised first by my music collection and then by the chance reunion. I never would doubt you. Pen - I trust you. I always have. It was.."

But Luke won't say it. Won't say that it was her who struggled to trust him. Won't say how hard it was to gain her trust. It doesn't matter.

The rest of the drive back through town is quiet but comfortable, they pick up Roxy, pick up some take-away, and head to Penelope's to feed humans and animals alike. Ready for a comfy evening at home.

….

The evening rolls on just as Luke had laid out - and Penelope regains her bounce with the infusion of warmth and good food and mindless old T.V. - and after a few episodes of the Rockford Files, both Luke and Penelope are completely ready to curl up together in bed.

Luke draws Penelope a hot bath - adding lavender Epsom salts - then sits beside her as she soaks reading aloud from an old favourite he - of course - found on her shelf:

"Chapter 1: An Unexpected Party…. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort…"

Then while Penelope heads to the bedroom to get into her jammies...Luke takes his turn in the washroom - having a super quick shower - then smiling to himself as brushes his teeth.

WHAT A DAY!

When he sidles to the bedroom though - pj pants slung low on his hip and his chest bare - there is Penny sitting on the bed in her soft warm pink nightgown as he expected - but what is not expected is she is leaning back against the headboard, hands are knotted in the covers on her lap, and fat slow silent tears are rolling down her cheeks.

"Penny?"

"I don't know what's wrong - I'm just suddenly so sad..."

Luke tosses the towel he was using to dry his hair into the corner and crawls up onto the bed beside her. She turns her head - not away to hide - towards him - eyes wide and pleading and so so so tired. Her poor lip and chin is a bit swollen and scraped but - he guesses rightly - that is not the problem. He reaches out cupping the sides of her face in his warm strong hands - pushing his fingers into her hair - smoothing the tears away from under her eyes with firm strokes of his thumbs. She closes her eyes like at cat - pushing into his touch almost imperceptibly - but he feels her response and knows that the amount of pressure he applies instinctively was what she needed so he repeats the gesture with the same firmness - feeling her lean in just a bit more - but the tears don't stop - no, Penelope let's go and start to sob into his hold - but Luke doesn't flinch or let go. Instead,.he pulls her to him in a hug and she bawls messily into his shoulder - he smells of his spicy shampoo/body wash - which for some reason she can't figure out - makes her cry harder - cling tighter. Her lip stings and her chin throbs but she ignores it…. and just weeps.

Luke asks nothing of her - does not seek an explanation for her tears - or tries to stem them in any way. Just holds her until slowly slowly the wracking sobs lessen until all that is left are little shaky hiccupy breaths. And still he just holds her - kissing the top of her blond head - whispering comforting non-sense - until she is completely cried out.

Penelope feels wrung out - heavily vacant - not an ounce of give left in her. She cannot summon any part of herself to care or want in a waking way and yet she welcomes his strong arms and his touch. This passivity is not the 'put on' or 'stepped into' indulgence they have allowed to grow between them where she lets him have - gives him - control at times for the pleasure of it.

No, there is no let or give about this.

What is - just is.

In this moment, Luke literally has total care of her because she has nothing to exert in care of herself.

He must decide what is next.

What is best.

Oh, both he and she knows she has agency and if she were with practically anyone else on the planet there is no way she would have allowed herself to be this vulnerable. He remembers how she pulled herself in when he found her weeping when Reid was in prison - trying to push him away. This is a complete reversal of her behaviour that day and that she has given in this far to her grief in his presence? It is a mark of how much her trust in him has grown - a testament to all the small ways they have earned each other's respect and confidence over the last few months.

Luke can practically smell Penelope's sadness and exhaustion - for even though she is cried out - neither is either resolved nor vanquished and it is still oh so palpable - cloying in the air around them - buzzing with an unsettlingness under his fingertips.

And who is he to deny this moment?

Sometimes tears need space and time to be shed and our wildness must be set free.

As Luke thinks and holds this rather soggy love of his life…

…Penelope, still trembling and snuffling - thinking that she probably looks a tear-stained mess but truly not caring because she is just so tired and profoundly done - finds that she is nuzzling miniature teeny tiny ever-so-dear micro-kisses into his bare chest. His chest hair rasps against her sore lips and wet cheeks - but she doesn't stop. Her emotional state is a heady mix of physical exhaustion and mental overwhelm, sadness over all the horror they have to stare down every day, self-satisfaction for planning such a good surprise for Luke, and a wild unfocused spitting gnashing anger at anything and everything that ever hurt or destroyed that which could be precious or good or beautiful.

Luke notices her snuffling explorations but doesn't loosen his hold - he remembers how she craved his weight upon her the other night and guesses she'll let him know if he's exerting too much pressure.

Penelope finds herself with her mouth right next to his flat brown coin of a nipple - she opens her mouth almost in a silent roar - and then bites down in agonising slow motion - her teeth dragging - then clamping around a mouthful of hot taught man flesh. Not on the nipple…just up and towards the centre of his chest.

Luke straightens - breathing in sharply through his nose - then holding her tighter gritting his teeth and grunting her name as the pain blooms electrically from where she's bit him. She lets go then and leans back so she can look up into his face - and she could never tell him why - but she bares her teeth then and hisses at him like a jungle cat with its hackles up - her nose crinkling like a mad feral thing. It is both terrifying and strangely adorable to him - and strangest of all he finds himself hissing and nose crinkling and teeth baring right back. She snaps at him - then hisses open mouthed at him again - then pants him in - the scent of him - the heat of him - her body stretching and tightening and Luke matches her - mirrors her - spars with her - and they are slammed surprisingly into a place infused the tension of courting wildcats or mating Klingons or a lovers tryst between two of those blue jaguar-like warriors from Avatar.

Up now on her hands and knees - backing away from him towards the end of the bed - eyes flashing - a gleam of a smile curling her lips - her cheeks streaked with mascara like she is a tigress - the juxtaposition of Penelope's pink frilly nightgown with this new barbaric glee should be comical - but it is somehow right and just makes her attitude more louche.

As the space grows between them, Luke finds himself bending forward - his weight on his hands - he fists the sheets - pulling himself forward - landing on his knees - stalking her - but fully aware she is dangerous prey.

Their clothing and the bedclothes bunch and catch - but they ignore it or fight through the tangle. They snarl and snap at each other - mouths coming so close - they breath in the other's hot breath - but never come together. Penelope lunges - licking his shoulder with a broad flat tongue then nipping - memorizing the salty taste of him for despite his shower this new round of play has made him suddenly slick with sweat and pheromones - rearing up as he pulls up and back and then does his own lunging - surging forward and curling down - sinking his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder blade exposed by the curve of her neckline - just below her nape - then switches to sucking - pulling a glorious mouthful of Penelope deep in mouth taking his turn to taste her salty sweetness - then releasing her and laving 'the wound' with wet tender strokes of his tongue.

Penelope mewls… then rolls out of bed - kneeling on the floor - pulling the hem of her nightdress free of the weight of her knees - then raising arms above her head. He follows and swoops down - grabbing handfuls of the nightdress - dragging it violently over her head exposing her body to the night - to him. He throws it away and then steps away - pushing down and stepping out of his soft pants.

Penelope is back on hands and knees - back to a place of untamed head tosses and lips pulled back to show her fangs. Her breathing is harsh and powerful - every move both a warning and an invitation.

If Luke weren't so caught up himself - she might appear ridiculous - but he is right there with her. His nostrils flare, he bares his teeth, he falls to his hands and knees and advances on her - teasing and snapping - his fingers like claws on the purple and black throw rug of Penelope's bedroom. They circle each other - feeling the animalistic pull between them. He finally catches her in one quick move - grabbing her hips - dragging her back towards him as he goes to mount her - biting her again on her shoulder like a stray dog mounting a bitch … but Penelope is too fast - she twists away - bounding like a feline queen to the bed - but laughing now as Luke sprawls then catches himself. Now he bounds and joins her - both in laughter and on the bed…

Penelope is lying on her back - the bounty of her body spread out for him as Luke lands and stretches out beside her. Her skin is flushed and the wildness is gone from her eyes - she is now all softness and vulnerability. Luke props himself up on one elbow and then cups his free hand gently around her neck - stroking her throat with his thumb - a whisper of a touch - feeling as she swallows spasmodically. Penelope closes her eyes and Luke presses a kiss to each lid. And then the side of her face and then her shoulder - each one a press of lips, then stroke tongue, and then a sucking and nibbling of flesh - his mouth reaches the slope of her breast and then he finally he tongues and sucks her nipple - her fingers tangling in his hair - pulling him closer. He senses the exact moment where she goes utterly limp - giving in. He presses his special brand of kiss, lick suck to the underside of each breast and then kisses his way back up her body - moving to cover her - letting his full weight press into her belly and between her legs as he presses new kisses to the side of her face - buries his lips against the crook of her neck - breathing in the scent of her hair - glorying the feeling of her hands that are now running up and down his back leading him to transform his kisses into a roving hunt of nibbling and sucking - alert to what brings a moan or a pant from her soft wet mouth or her nails spasming into his back.

I am going to be covered in love bites tomorrow.

The thought makes her growl and then cry out and arch up hard under her lover and all at once she needs him. All of him. Now.

She hisses again and now it is his shoulder that is being marked - and not just by wild sucking but by teeth as well - and it is now Luke who is gasping and arching.

Penelope lets go and somehow flips over again - thrusting and taunting him with her ass up as she raises onto elbows and knees inviting Luke to mount her again. This time there is no allusion to dogs to be made - they as regal as a lion and lioness. He rocks with her movement - kneeling behind the lush round ass she is presenting to him with a cheeky sway. His cock is ferociously hard and weeping with pre-cum. He reaches between her legs and strokes the wet flesh - letting two fingers tangle with her clit - pressing and then gently pulling - playing first fast and loose with her tender flesh - then zeroing in circle hard and fast on target - he does hurry her but waits until he is rewarded with a mad shriek from his lover. Then - only then - he pulls his hands back around cupping and spreading her ass cheeks - ducking down to lick at the seam between the two then up her spine. Her whole body trembles and then lifts and then pushes back against him - physically begging him to cover her - to rut - to mate. And like a feral thom pushes his cock deep into her pussy - an appropriate word for this wild cat-like love making.

Penelope is rearing and thrusting - loving every bit of his cock that pushes inside her - pressing into his clever fingers which are massaging the globes of her ass making her want to growl and bare her teeth - so she does. Then her tired brain makes sense of the words he's saying as he thrusts deep:

"That's right wildcat. I've got you. Cum for me my jaguar, my lioness, my queen cat."

And Penelope is rearing and stretching and clawing and then…and then…and then… she is cumming all around him. And it feels incredible for both of them - but he just thrusts through - holding back - refusing to explode - then when he feels Penelope slump in release - he pulls out. And she is so empty…she howls at the moon and the stars and all things wild….

But he deftly guides her onto her back and now he is heavy on top of her…and he is back inside of her and she is wet and all around him - still quivering from her untamed orgasm. And he looks in her eyes and he thrusts and now he is all human - all language - all words - and love. And he thrusts. And thrusts. And as he plunges into her there are words - so many gasped shouted strangled aching words tumble from his lips and tongue… and they tell of how glorious she is and how she deserves happiness and how she is his human. It is all that is the best of humanity - it is not a sweet or tender joining but wrangled and desperate and raw.

And still he thrusts and he thrusts and he thrusts… and as thrusts he names her…gasping and rasping: names her as his love, his life, his happiness, his hope, his home, his mate… and he thrusts and he thrusts and it is a 'once upon a time' mixed with a 'and they lived happily ever after' and 'there be dragons' - a poem and a prayer and a song and still he thrusts and thrusts… and as sweat pours off of him onto her…and they adjust their bodies as they ride and they gain a new stride - she turns to waterfalls and starlight and the smell of spring and baby ducklings all in a row and mittens and kittens and all that is good and she is a puddle - his puddle - and still he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts….

…Until finally all wildness is spent and all of their humanity is fled and all they are is joined light.

They spiral into a supernova together and all is sunlight and summer time and spotlights at concerts and they cum - oh how they cum - and then they roll together into a heap of love and contentment and trust and sleep.

They sleep and sleep.

And the world - all in it that is feral - all in it that is humane - all in it that is pure energy - smiles.

.....................................

List of my other One Shots and Happy Versions: Here

Thank you so much for reading - I'd love to hear what you think.

All the best,

🤎 Bacchic

#criminal minds #garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #garvez smut #garvez fanfiction

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willowcrowned · 3 years

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Hi, I just found your blog and I love it! I have nevere laugh so hard thanks to chewku and I started reading some of your others AUs. Can I ask you if you'd like to continue a bit the Gray Apprentice AU? The one with Obi-Wan both a sith and a jedi? Pretty please? I would love to see hin and Maul bicker for everything but then they form a brotherly bond and Maul gets adopted by Lord Zannah.

Okay, thank you SO much for reminding me that this AU exists because I love it very dearly (to the point where at one point I was starting to write full-on scenes and stashing them in a word doc for later). You can ABSOLUTELY have a bit of the Grey Apprentice AU

Obi-Wan, unlike his master, isn't really one for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. During tenure as Qui-Gon's apprentice, he's had a firsthand view of what results from judicious snooping, which is mostly messes that he’s had to help clean up, and that has never endeared him towards the practice, but this is different. This is more than justified. After all, it’s not often that one gets to look at a rival Sith’s ship, especially when that rival Sith is trussed up in the hold like a Takodana chicken on a festival day.

Unfortunately, Maul’s ship is disappointing. Obi-Wan has long done away with his notions of Sith caves and fortresses dripping with filth and darkness, but he’d at least been expecting something more interesting than a closet full of black tunics and half a burrito wrapped up in the fridge. There should at least be some weapons— a few poisons, maybe, or a cursed pike if he’s lucky; Sith tend towards backups, and that extends to weapons as well as plans.

He frowns, looking around the hallway. He’s checked all the places he would hide things— inside the engine’s wiring, behind a second fake panel that is itself behind a wall panel, and even in the vents (though those are fairly obvious, and therefore a last resort)— but he hasn’t found anything. Obi-Wan reaches out with his senses, calling for the Dark in the hopes that the Sith-blessed weapons will call back, but there isn’t any response; the entire ship is peaceful, almost blank.

Obi-Wan slaps a hand to his forehead, swearing. He’s been looking at this as though Maul is a fallen Jedi. Of course he’s not going to bother hiding the weapons carefully, he’s just going to mask them with the Force. Instead of looking for where they are, Obi-Wan should be looking for where they aren’t.

He reaches out with the Force again, and finds several deeply suspicious blank spots. Obi-Wan grins. Perfect.

Which is, of course, the moment Maul has to wake up and start making noise. Obi-Wan sighs. That’s the trouble with kidnapping people. They never let you look over their things in peace.

By the time he gets to the hold, Maul is screaming (presumably with rage, though the bindings, physical and Force-created, are keeping him from moving even his face). It’s a rather funny scene— it’s always amusing to watch someone used to having power suddenly have access to none of it. It’s the panic, really, sort of like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “Hello there.”

Maul, predictably, screams.

“You know you’re just going to damage your vocal chords if you keep at that,” Obi-Wan says, undoing the bindings on Maul’s face, mouth and lips included. “Can we have a civil conversation now?”

“I will defeat you, Jedi,” Maul hisses, eyes blazing with fury. “You will know the pain of my saber as your flesh is rent apart.”

“Haven’t we already been through this?” Obi-Wan sighs. “I defeated you on Tatooine. You can’t seriously be expecting a do-over.”

“I will tear you limb from limb. I will break every bone in your body, and feed the splinters into your muscle. I will pierce your skin with one thousand needles, crush your brain inside your skull. I will—”

Obi-Wan gives him a flat look. “You’ll do nothing until I undo your bindings, which isn’t going to happen if you keep up with that.”

“My master will come for me.” Maul’s eyes are filled with such fervor that Obi-Wan almost feels bad for him.

“Maul,” Obi-Wan says, looking at him with a sincerity he hopes displays how utterly stupid he thinks it is that they have to have this conversation, “do you really think your master cares if you live or die?”

“I will tear your beating heart from your chest, rip your spine through your back—”

“Yes, yes,” Obi-Wan says, “we’ve been through this. I’m sure you know many ways to kill me gruesomely.” He huffs. “I mean, fuck’s sake, he’s already grooming a new apprentice. He won’t be finished cooking for another year or two, but you’ve not got more than a couple months before your replacement waltzes in and kills you.”

“I have no replacement,” Maul growls.

Obi-Wan wants to feel cheered that Maul has stopped issuing death threats, but the murderous intent gathering around the other man is somewhat dampening his triumph. “Yes, you do.”

Maul opens his mouth, but before he can argue, Obi-Wan continues.

“He’s been laying a trail, you know. Your killing my master was supposed to be the final straw for him to finally immerse himself in the darkness. Of course,” Obi-Wan adds, not very contrite, nor inclined to fake it, “he was then supposed to track you down in a little while, and kill you— for the light, of course. All that would be left then is the sacrifice.”

“You lie,” Maul spits.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, exasperated, “I don’t, and I know you know that because I can feel you listening to the Force to check. Sidious is going to do away with you, sooner rather than later, and you’re not prepared to face him.”

Maul’s eyes widen, the implications finally settling in.

“Work with me,” Obi-Wan offers. “Help me kill him before he can get rid of you.”

“This is a trick— you want me to give away my secrets, to betray my master, to turn us against each other to take us down.”

“Well, yes, that was the general idea.”

Maul’s expression doesn’t change, suspicion still clouding his features beyond all else.

“I’m offering you the chance to save your life,” Obi-Wan adds, gentler.

“Very well.” Maul grits his teeth. “But know this, Jedi, after we have disposed of him, I will come for you and your master, and I will make you watch as I kill him.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, disgusted. “Banites.”

#fun fact!#this is the tumblr au that's most likely to get turned into a fic by me #I did have most of it plotted at one point but I forgot to write it down #still—#fun premise #easy-yet-satisfying romance #lots of quips #and approximately half a complex theme #it's the polar opposite of what I'm working on right now and it'd be a really fun next big project #we'll see #grey apprentice au #willow's aus #star wars #star wars au #sith au #sith!obi wan #darth maul #asks #sarcasticamaleont

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thinking1bee · 3 years

Text

Absorbed Part 2

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Violence, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Mentions of Transphobic Rhetoric, Hate Crimes, Xenophobia, Powers, Healer!Reader

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead

You knew that Kara going out on patrol was a bad idea! The atmosphere was swimming in kryptonite, another plan implemented by the Children of Liberty to kill Supergirl. Luckily, Lena came through with an anti-kryptonite suit, but even the smallest breach was enough to expose Kara and harm her severely. You should have said something! You should have reassured her that everyone would have been fine if she sat this one out! But she was adamant, saying that she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing while people were being attacked.

“We’re surrounded!” came Alex’s voice again, and you could hear the strain. You could here her struggling as she fought off their assailants.

“Please if anyone is around, help us!”

You listened as all the other Superfriends as chimed in.

“I can leave now, but it’ll be 20 minutes until I get there,” Nia said.

“Likewise,” Brainy chimed in. “Even if I fly, I put my estimated time of arrival at 22 minutes and 6 seconds.”

“I’m leaving the DEO now,” came J’onn’s gruff voice.

That meant…that meant that no one would get there in time for Kara. It was only a matter of time before she would start seizing. After that, the toxicity would be too great even for her to fight. Kara would die.

“Alex, I’m up the street,” you said. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes.

Your ribs would just have to deal, and you took off at a sprint, running as fast as your legs could take you.

When you got there, you gasped at the scene in front of you. There had to be at least 10 of them, and they were overpowering Alex. You could see Kara on the ground, some few feet away. She was still moving, which was a good sign. At least she hadn’t lost consciousness yet. You took your gun from its holster and fired a warning shot into the air.

They all turned to face you and you smiled, beckoning them to come closer if they dared. Of course, they took the bait and they swarmed you. The thing about angry mobs was that it seemed like once a group of people all got together, the IQ level plummeted drastically, and between all of them, maybe there was one brain cell, acting as a hive a hate for them. Your assumption was true because it was likely that they forgot that you had a gun, and here they were, getting closer and closer as they gripped their bats and crow bars.

One thing that Alex taught you how to do was to shoot to incapacitate instead of to kill, and her rule of thumb was to shoot anything below the knees. You aimed, firing shot after shot, hitting shins and feet and one by one, the Agents of Liberty fell to the ground all while screaming and groaning in pain.

You took at least 7 of them out before you ran out of bullets, and from there, it was hand to hand combat. You punched one in the nose. The sounds of cartilage crunching sounded off in the space between you before a gush of blood spurted from their nostrils. They fell to the ground as they held what was left of their face. You turned your attention to another, dodging their punch before taking their arm and snapping it at the elbow. The adrenaline overtook you, and you twisted on your feet to face the next person behind them. You were about to engage them when a surprise punch to your cheek made you stumble back. Before you knew it, more of them were showing up, filling in the spaces where their comrades had fallen. It didn’t take too long before you were overpowered as well, and you fell to the ground as they all beat you. You felt feet kick the wind form your lungs, and bats split open skin. You covered your face as best as you could, but it was no use. Soon you were spitting up blood, the world swaying as you struggled to breathe.

You thought that you were going to pass out until you heard boots running towards you. You looked through squinted eyes and blurry vision to see Brainy, Nia, and J’onn sprinting into the crowd, taking on the growing number of the Liberty army. You watched as even your friends became overpowered. Even J’onn, with his multitude of powers, was struggling to keep up with the hoard. They needed Supergirl and you looked over to see her. She was only a few feet away and she still lie writhing on the ground. You crawled there, wincing and crying out at the way your body screamed for you to stop moving, but you pushed through it, willing yourself to keep moving, to make it to the woman that had done so much for you already. When you got there, you peaked inside the helmet to see her eyes squeezed closed in pain. The displays in her helmet flashed wildly and you could see the warnings, the suit repeating over and over that there was a breach in the suit.

“Kara, can you hear me?” you asked her. She nodded weakly, groaning as her body throbbed in pain. You could see the way her veins glowed an ominous, neon green beneath her skin. They almost seemed to raise under her skin, forcing themselves out her body.

“It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I know.”

You knew what you had to do. You would have to heal her, and you told her that. She forced her eyes open, shaking her head weakly.

“Y/n, this could kill you. It’s too dangerous.”

You shook your head. Kara was who everyone needed. She was hope and light. She never gave up, even when the odds looked grim, even when there was every reason to just give up. Kara changed so many lives, including yours. She made life worth living. She reminded you that sometimes it wasn’t just about living for what you wanted, but it was enjoying the small things. She helped you remember that it was the summer nights and the winter mornings. It was the game nights and the savory potstickers. It was being alive for the next hug or looking forward to the movies. It was the small stuff, the things that we all took for granted because we’re programmed into thinking that we’re alive for some grand cosmic purpose. Sometimes being alive is just that: to live. The world needed more people like her, to fill it with warmth and love. Kara needed to stay alive, and you made up your mind to heal her, raising your hand above her body and watching it as it glowed white.

“Please don’t,” she begged, but you shushed her gently.

“Stay still.”

Your power blasted her, a jet stream of pure white energy healing her from the inside. Slowly you could feel her agony transfer to you, and you watched as the green in her veins started to dissipate while it simultaneously started to assault your body. You watched as the kryptonite started at your fingertips, and spread throughout your arm, searing through muscle and bone. The moment it hit your chest, you cried out, the pain more intense than you could ever imagine. When Kara said it felt like needles in her veins, she wasn’t lying. It was like being ripped apart from the inside, and you had to concentrate hard to keep going. It felt like days as this happened. You were forcing your eyes to stay open, forcing yourself to stay conscious just long enough to heal her, and when it did happen, Kara gasped, sitting up abruptly and looking at you. You cried out, your body buckling and if it wasn’t Kara who caught you, you would have hit the street. She was crying, her blue eyes twinkling as panicked tears left tracks down her cheeks.

“Why did you do that?!” she demanded.

You couldn’t answer. Every heartbeat was like broken glass in your veins, and you groaned as they throbbed under your skin. Kara sniffled, her expression turning from panic to determination as she lay you down, and she got up to face the Children of Liberty. She would end this, and she will do it for you. The gust of wind you felt signified her powered disappearance into the fight, and you’re left staring at the night sky, fighting for every breath you took.

They were beautiful, like tiny little Christmas lights in the sky, and as everything went numb you smiled as you gasped once more, relishing in the fact that you did get a chance to enjoy the twilight heavens above you.

*** You woke up slowly to still lying on your back. Was the fight over? Were you dead? Your senses were slow to come to you, and when you cracked open your eyes, a bright light blinded you. You groaned and squeezed your eyes closed again as tears escaped your eyes.

“Hold on,” a soft voice came. The lights dimmed and you opened your eyes again to see Kara sitting beside you.

You were in the DEO med bay, with an oxygen mask, IV, and a heart monitor all hooked up to you. You took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the dull throb in your chest that it illicit, and remembered how it was you got here. You watched, groggily, as Kara looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What you did was incredibly scary,” she whispered. She reached over to hold your hand and you held it back. Her touch was infinitely soft and strong, and you let it ground you. With your other hand, you reached up and pulled down the oxygen mask.

“I know.”

“And you shouldn’t have done it.”

“But I did,” you replied. Kara nodded.

“Thank you.”

Kara was so selfless, and she wouldn’t understand why you did what you did. To her, she would die a thousand times over before she let anyone put themselves in danger for her. That was the true beauty of Kara, her nobleness and her sacrifice. At times it was admirable, and at other times it was annoying, but at the end of the day it all worked out. So, you accepted her gratitude knowing that if it happened all over again, you wouldn’t change a thing.

The comfortable silence that settled between you and Kara was interrupted by the rest of the superfriends coming into your room. With them they brought, smiles and laughter, flowers and food, and you watched them, silently thanking whatever was listening that they were in your life. Alex came to your side and sighed.

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving my sister. For saving all of us.”

She had a split lip and a dark, purple bruise marring the smooth complexion of her cheek, but otherwise she was fine and in one piece.

“You’re welcome.”

After that, there were no more words. Just joyful laughter and the sounds of everyone stuffing their faces. After all this time, you found something worth dying for, and it was your friends. It was all the people that surrounded you and loved you with everything that they had.

#supergirl fanfic #kara danvers x reader #reader insert #angst #violence #injuries #transphobia tag #hate crimes #xenophobia #powers

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coffintownkids · 2 years

Text

I have so much to say about Ch.40. Everything about it is epic, including the length. The chapter is almost 11,000 characters long! Keep in mind, most chapters in the book are around 5-8,000.

There's way too much to contain in any one post, so I'll start out with how much I enjoy how openly and delightfully antagonistic AQ and XY are to each other all the time. Also hilarious is that XY rolls his eyes all the time. I think I've counted 5 or 6 different instances! He's so petty and childish :D

Here's some examples of the two of them sniping at each other:

Listening as Ā-Qìng squawked away as she always did to coax Xiǎo Xīngchén into telling her a story, he lost his patience, “Quit carrying on. Keep it up and I’ll tie your tongue in a knot.”

Ā-Qìng simply didn’t listen to him and demanded, “Dàozháng, I wanna hear a story!”

Later on, when XXC is referring to SL without naming him, XY of course keeps needling him about it.

Although Ā-Qìng didn’t understand the situation, she seemed to pick up on it. She scarcely was breathing as she silently cut a look over to Xuē Yáng. There was a faint itch down in the roots of her teeth, as if she couldn’t wait to bite him.

This chapter is, of course, when SL returns and then meets his untimely end :( That in itself deserves its own post, but AQ's reaction afterwards...

She sobbingly said, “I have to go back. Dear spirit of the departed, please bless me so that I can save Xiǎo Xīngchén-dàozháng no matter what. Bless us so that we can escape from that demon’s clutches. Never let that living monster Xuē Yáng have a decent death, tear his corpse into ten thousand pieces, and never let him reincarnate for the rest of eternity!”

That curse is metal as fuck. Get'em, girl!

She goes back and XY is instantly suspicious of her crying face. AQ goes on to put on an Oscar-worthy performance.

Suddenly, Ā-Qìng dropped her pole and started wailing. She was sniffling back tears as she cried, not able to catch her breath, and threw herself into Xiǎo Xīngchén’s arms, “Uh—uh—uh—am I ugly? Am I really ugly? Dàozháng, tell me. Am I really, truly ugly?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén stroked her head and said, “Where? You’re so beautiful. Who said you were ugly?”

Xuē Yáng regarded them with disdain, “Drop dead ugly. You’re even uglier when you’re crying.”

So petty! I think he's more jealous that she's hugging XXC more than anything else. After they get through one terribly nerve-wracking dinner, this happens.

After eating, Xiǎo Xīngchén tidied up the dishes and took them away. Ā-Qìng was too restless to sit there and wanted to slip out after him, but Xuē Yáng suddenly called out to her, “Ā-Qìng.”

Ā-Qìng’s heart abruptly skipped a beat and Wèi Wúxiàn felt every hair on her head stand on end.

She said, “What are you suddenly calling me by my name for!”

Xuē Yáng said, “Didn’t you yourself tell me you hate it when I call you ‘blind kid’?”

Ā-Qìng groaned, “Anyone that starts acting that nice all of a sudden is up to no good! What do you actually want?”

Xuē Yáng grinned, “Nothing. I’ll just teach you what to do next time someone makes fun of you.”

Ā-Qìng said, “Ah, tell me. What should I do?”

Xuē Yáng said, “Whoever called you ugly, you should then make her uglier and cut up her face seventeen or eighteen times with a knife. Make her so that she wouldn’t dare show her face to anyone for the rest of her life. Whoever made fun of you for being blind, you should sharpen the end of your bamboo pole and then poke both her eyes out. Make her become blind too. Do you think she’d still dare to run her mouth?”

Ā-Qìng’s blood ran cold, so she just pretended to believe that he was bluffing, “You’re messing with me again!”

Xuē Yáng hummed, “I’m just messing with you.” After he said it, he pushed the plate with the rabbit apples towards her, “Eat.”

Looking at the plate full of round cuteness, the rabbit apples with their red skin and golden flesh, a cold chill spread through Ā-Qìng and Wèi Wúxiàn’s mind.

XY sure is creative when it comes to threats and torture. The apples were, in fact, just apples though and not poisoned. Which makes me wonder...He was carving those before AQ ever got back and he had no idea she was around when he fought SL, so he wouldn't need to try and entice her. He apparently just carves apples into cute shapes for his own enjoyment. I enjoy that about him.

#mdzs #ctk reads mdzs #mdzs translation #my translation #xue yang #a qing #yi city #i get way too much enjoyment out of how much they hate each other

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lydias--stiles · 3 years

Text

i’m getting old, it makes me reckless

canon compliant juke | angst | title: when we were young // adele

The band ended their last song in a clash of instruments and vocals, roaring above the audience yelling the lyrics right back. It was the biggest venue yet, the arena stretching far and wide and holding more people than Julie could imagine. Her throat was aching, but it was all worth it. Every note savoured. Every lyric tasted till it staled on her tongue.

It was the gig before she left for college, leaving a whole lot more behind than this arena with the thousands of adoring strangers.

All four were drenched in sweat. Alex, with his hands red from an insanely elaborate three minute drum solo. Luke, with his callouses aching and slick, barely holding on to the strings. Reggie, no longer wearing his leather jacket and hair come undone. Julie, glitter on her cheeks mixed with the sweat and hair like a raging lion. They looked and felt maniacal. They played the concert of the year. The absolute euphoria they experienced wouldn’t be gone for a while, though her blush would quickly fade.

Now, she could still pretend Luke and her were still together. Now, even Alex and Reggie were kept in the dark from their long dreaded decision. Now, the idea that she stood on stage with the loves of her life was enough for a satisfied smile to bloom on her lips.

“Thank you!”, she bellowed into the mic. The audience didn’t stop. Screaming, whistling, asking for more. Encore, encore, encore! They were all out of songs though, having played their anthem again when they asked for it the first time. Covers seemed like a lackluster ending to the night, the band members shooting each other doubtful looks. The finality of it all ached her.

Luke’s gaze caught hers; troubled, unable to keep the sorrow at bay. Had this been any other concert, she would’ve kissed him backstage and remind him that feeling empty after giving it his all was normal. That she felt that too. She wouldn’t do that though. And she also had an inkling his expression wasn’t about that.

Words pushed themselves out of her throat before she thought about it. “I have something. It’s a cover though. Do you guys like covers?”

Another salvo of applause and shrieks, a sea of phones getting whipped out to capture every move. Reggie approached her with a slight frown.

“What’re you thinking, Julie?”

She moved away from the mic. “Is it alright if I do a solo cover?”

His casual nod caused nerves to coil in her stomach, only now realising what she did. What she was about to do to herself. The bassist made a sign at the boys to get off stage, Luke’s fingers ghosting her back (not entirely, never entirely, she has never truly felt the atoms of his hands touch her) and following the boys into the wings.

Curiosity buzzed around the concert hall, Julie making her way to the grand piano on the left of the stage and attaching her mic in the designated stand. When she looked into void, it instantly quieted down. Her timid voice was like a sharp thread slicing the air.

“This next song, uh…” Swallowing back the feeling of loss that simmered right beneath her skin, she took a deep breath. A needle could drop, so silent everyone heard her pained intake. “I’ve taught it myself a while ago. It’s quite melancholic, but I’ve always been a bit like that, I guess.”

Her feet found the pedals, fingers the well-loved keys. The lights were hot on her skin, yet a certain person’s stare felt more fiery than anything else.

Julie took another steadier breath. “Thank you once more for a beautiful night, LA. This is ‘When We Were Young’.”

The beginning notes caused another uproar from people recognising the song, lighters and phone flashlights flickering up one by one like stars. She sunk into the notes, let her hands find the familiar path as all she could think about was Luke. Every word would be laced with the memory of him.

He wasn’t gone, but he might as well had stolen her heart and vanished into the night with it.

With her eyes shut, the first lyrics uttered melodically from her lips.

Everybody loves the things you do From the way you talk, to the way you move

(A fifteen year old Julie watched as the crowd ate up Luke’s guitar solo, the riff an electrifying ensemble of unique sounds that shouldn’t work but somehow did. He played it for them, but his torso was twisted her way, like his body couldn’t decide who he preferred. Back then, Julie presumed it was the crowd, obviously. Music was everything for Luke. Music and nothing more. Sure, that included her and the boys, but she had accepted quickly on she’d never claim that top spot in his heart. And she was fine with that. It hurt a little, except then she’d remind herself of her own love for music and what a gift it was playing in a band like theirs. To be the name people sought out online.

Luke shot some winks to the first row, dropping to his knees to get him even closer to the fans. Alex caught her eye when she turned around, rolling his good-naturedly. Luke being Luke, it meant.

“It doesn’t inflate your ego, does it?”, she teased hours later, slumped on opposite sides of the couch.

He scoffed, a smile edging his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“It is-” she pulled herself upright, brown peering into the curious green. “-merely an observation.”

“An observation.” He mimicked her, all of a sudden not so far away. Their legs were brushing and if she leaned in, she could kiss him. His head tilted, never one to stop teasing. “Right.”

The high of a good performance made her say it. “Do you want me to be?”

When he kissed her, she expected his lips to be cold. Ghost-cold. Instead, they were warm and soft, like in her dreams, and he smiled when she kissed him back - also like in her dreams. It had been short, the way his nose brushed hers a promise for more.)

Everybody here is watching you 'Cause you feel like home, you're like a dream come true

(They quickly found an escape from the hysteria in Griffith Park. It was closeby Julie’s house and its sweeping nature left enough places for Julie and Luke to hide and be with each other without disturbances. It was a bit unorthodox for a teenage couple to burrow themselves in the forest, but she supposed she threw normality out the window the moment she decided she wanted to date a ghost.

Luke sighed, body dropping on the soft grass and pulling her with him. His beanie fell off, a pleased smile quirking on her lips as she raked a hand through his locks. It was always a cause for celebration whenever he got rid of the hat, the impending doom of baldness something she’d warn him about had he still been alive. Julie pushed the thought back. She couldn’t think that way. A finger curled around a soft strand of hair.

His nose pressed in her cheek, coaxing her closer until she snugly fit in the curve of his body. Lips moved against her skin. “Can I keep you here? Screw homework.”

Julie chuckled. Her meandering hand sloped to his chest, circling the soft fabric of his sweater. “Unfortunately, calculus and I have a date tonight.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”, he gasped. “Julie!”

“I know.” His laugh reverberated, the sound melting into her skin as she pushed herself impossibly close. Adding, her voice was muffled: “Very sneaky of me.”

Luke’s arms fully wrapped around her, humming contently at their new position of having her half-sprawled on top of him. If it wasn’t for the slight flush on his cheeks, she’d think he completely cool about this. It made her smile. He may act all tough sometimes, but he was just as new to this as she was.

She tapped against the red. “The macho is gone.”

He rolled his eyes, though it held a glimmer of fondness. It was for her, she giddily remembered. The way he faltered in quiet awe, soft and timid, was for her. Reaching to kiss him, the blaring declaration that he was home rang in her head.

She didn’t tell him that. Ever.)

But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment before I go? 'Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know

(“Sixteen,” he bellowed. “Is there a song about being sixteen?!”

She laughed. “Ellie Goulding has one, I think. You wanna sing me a song about being sixteen-”

“Cause you are sixteen!” He hoisted himself on the grand piano, grinning at her from across the studio. She tried as best as she could to match it.

Birthdays have felt like taboo ever since the boys came into her life. She aged, they didn’t, and eventually they would have to disband. Eventually, everyone would notice how they were frozen in time. Eventually, she and Luke would be too far apart in ages.

Julie has dreaded her birthday since the first time her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Sensing something was off, the frown replaced the grin. “You okay, Jules?”

“Yeah,” she dismissed, waving him off with an air of nonchalance. It was easy for her, something she became an expert in after her mom passed. “Just tired from school.”

He poofed in front of her, hands massaging into her shoulders. She couldn’t look at him. And then she said it anyway.

“Are you okay?”

The unsaid was clear, him stilling as his jaw locked in place. It was then that something cracked between them. Unnoticeable, like a small line in a ceramic cup. They were fine after, but never before had they stamped an expiration date on their relationship. Her simple question changed everything.

He coughed, struggling with the smile. It felt rehearsed. “Course,” he muttered. “I’m good.”)

You look like a movie You sound like a song My God, this reminds me of when we were young

(He breathed into the kiss like she himself gave him life, hot and open-mouthed and tongues caressing to feel more. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, legs straddling his waist in the safety of her bedroom. He left no space between them. Flush together, fingers pressing into her back, breaths and grins mingling when they parted for air. How she got him breathless, she wouldn’t ask. The fact that he did, was enough for her. He never felt like a ghost to her. Not before they started dating and certainly not now.

Each kiss was like music to her ears. Each touch alighting her skin with sparks of affection and need.

“God, I love you,” he whispered.

Her dazzling smile stretched against his jaw, halting in place. She giggled. “You love me?”

Their eyes met, his hooded from passion as he slowly tracked her face. “It’s not obvious?”

“It is.” A tender kiss brushed his lips, thumbs swiping his cheekbones with that boundless devotion she never wanted to let go of. It was the most blissful feeling in the world.

Julie uttered it right back. “I love you too.”)

Her voice exploded into an anguished belt, head rolling back as the lyrics flew into the sky. If she hit her notes, if she was making any sense, if the audience was worried - it didn’t matter. Julie needed this. This was her goodbye.

Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time that we might Be exactly like we were before we realised We were sad of getting old, it made us restless It was just like a movie It was just like a song

(Julie jumped on top of him in a sneak attack. Armed with her Polaroid camera, she swerved out the way from his grabby hands as she took shot after shot. Her laughing boyfriend snatched her by her side, fingers like spider tickling her until she relented with tears in her eyes. Strewn around them were the pictures, still processing.

“What’re you doing?”, he chuckled.

Julie plucked a Polaroid from her mattress and began waving it around. “You look so cute,” was her simple answer. His grin widened at that.

“Only now?”

“I wanted to capture you just like this. When-” When we’re like this, so goddamn happy and in love. “When you look all…” While Julie mimicked his face, Luke planted his hands on the mattress to pull himself up and give her a chaste kiss.

His smirk eradicated her previous thoughts. “Can’t make a silly face after I have sex with my beautiful girlfriend?”

She hummed, all mushy from his actions. “You can. That’s why I’m taking a picture.”

Luke kissed her again, letting that ‘silly face’ run free and craning his neck to watch the picture develop.

He cried when he didn’t appear. Another crack in the cup.)

I was so scared to face my fears Nobody told me that you'd be here

(An outsider looking into the Molina household would think there was funeral going on. An insider would be even more confused, as Julie Molina just got accepted into USC and rather felt like crying for three full days then celebrate with her friends.

It settled then. She’d go to college, like she always wanted, and have her life radically change once more - not like she wanted. The band was solid, she and Luke were solid. College would change everything. Alex assured her that it’d be fine, that minor adjustments wouldn’t ruin them, but Julie had her doubts.)

And I swear you’d moved overseas That's what you said, when you left me

(He hardly looked at her when she turned seventeen. She couldn’t blame him. Her doubts, fears stacking on top of one another at rapid pace, surged to the forefront. They were the same age. Tomorrow, she’d be 364 days closer to eighteen. Closer to being older, to surpassing him, to hitting their expiration date.

His troubled expression resolved a little later. Back to his bouncy, enthusiastic self, he showered her in kisses and dedicated all the songs at their gig in Raven’s Nest to her. The boys even sang her ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA, her appropriately dressed in sparkly flared trousers and matching top. Her fears were forgotten then. Later too, when she giggled as he pulled her into a laughing kiss, the glitter of her clothes staining his own.

Luke was so alive in that moment. Sweat brimming his forehead and buzzing with adrenaline and each kiss rougher than the next. He was real, real, real, real, real, real.

The lie brought her temporary comfort.)

Julie repeated the chorus, body trembling from all the memories hitting her at once. Soon, the numbing final strike would bring her ease. For her sake, for his, for the band. The refrain flowed through.

When we were young When we were young When we were young When we were young

(“What about ‘when we were young’?”, Julie proposed, blue pen pressed into her songbook. Luke sat next to her, slouched against the front of the couch as his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, mustering for the muses to gift them genius lyrics.

“When we were young?” He chuckled. “That’s a joke, right?”

She paused, pen clenching between her fingers as her head turned to look at him. “What?”

He caught her tone, straightening his back with a shrug. “Nothing.”

“No, why do you think that was a joke?”

They’ve been on edge ever since her dad bought her all the USC merch the online store offered. The sea of red draped across her room got him upset, once his favourite colour now his biggest enemy. It wasn’t like they were trying to hurt each other, but…

Julie didn’t know what to do anymore. Songwriting was their usual remedy and even that didn’t diffuse the tension. She wished her mom was here, for advice, except would she be able to give proper words of wisdom when a relationship with a ghost was unprecedented?

All she wanted was go back to the start, when flirtatious jabs were thrown around and they danced around each other. To kiss him for the first time again. She wanted to go back and then continue to go back every time they hit this point. To love him in a loop; to not age.

He sighed, scribbling an annotation in the margin. “Do you really want me to answer that, Jules?”

Her lips thinned. “No.”

She taught herself the song she was singing right now that night, after he and the boys went off with Willie to some obscure concert. When she woke up the next day, he apologised for his shitty behaviour. It became harder to let love lead when cracks met them at every corner.)

It's hard to admit that everything just takes me back To when you were there, to when you were there And a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn't gone

A choked breath caught the fragile note, barely audible for anyone but her.

‘Cause I still care, do you still care?

(“Jules, you’re going to college in a week. You’re gonna turn eighteen and you’re gonna meet other people and you will not wanna tell them you’re dating a hologram that doesn’t fucking age!”

The raging spiel left him in one breath, face red and tears spilling with each hitting word. His shouts were heavy and tinged with devastation. The studio, once a safe haven, was now a warzone. He’s been sitting on those ugly truths for a while, Julie realised, willing herself to not cry. They had the biggest gig of their lives in a few hours and she couldn’t fuck up her face.

Luke didn’t mean to do it either. Both were hyper-focused the day of a gig. Normally, at least. It was simply a cardboard box too many in her bedroom, another proud comment from Ray, another nostalgic remark from Reggie. The fears stacked up for him as well; she should’ve known he’d explode sooner than later.

Her quivering lip gulped back the nausea edging her throat. She couldn’t breath. “You don’t think I know that? I was just- I just-” A traitorous tear slipped out. “I was hoping we’d have more time. Why did it go so fast?” Why did our expiration date race us to the finish line?

Her boyfriend she loved with all her heart stood right in front of her, yet it felt like they were oceans apart.

Trembling hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. Tearless sobs wracked her body, jaw slack in agony as his action was enough confirmation. This is the end, it meant. They have reached their last chapter. He made up his mind and she wasn’t allowed to change it.

If she did, they’d burn the band with them too.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, face wet with tears pressed into her neck. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Julie gasped for air. “Don’t. Don’t apologise.”

He shook his head, blotched and with a look she never wanted to see again. “If I could change anything, it’s this, Julie. I want to be alive for you so badly - feeling it isn’t enough anymore. You deserve better.”

Furiously blinking, she felt moisture cling to her lashes. “I deserve you,” she warbled. “I love you.”

When he didn’t say it back right away, another tear smeared across her cheek. Her mouth shaped into a please, but he shook his head, shuddering with remorse. “You deserve to be loved out in the open, Julie. Not just in the dark.”

“Please, Luke,” it barely came out, pain squeezing her lungs. “Please. You’re real to me, you’ve always- it was never in the dark.”

He let go of her. The loss of contact made her freeze. His arms hung limp by his sides. Time, for one singular moment, stood still. Her wish came true. Why did it feel like he just disappeared right then and there? Julie bit her lip, waiting for it to happen. It didn’t, but she didn’t dare touching him in case the magic was lost. Luke seemed fearful too, his shivering breaths like knives on her ears. She left before he could say anything else.

Julie wailed and redid her make-up in the backseat of her car until it was time to go.)

The rough vibrato pinched her throat once more, pushing through for the final chorus.

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless Oh, I'm so mad I'm getting old, it makes me reckless

(The year prior, Julie plucked his maroon henley from her bedroom floor as Luke was sound asleep behind her. She shrugged it on and examined herself in the mirror. If she could have it all, she’d wish to never age, to never surpass seventeen and be with Luke forever.

If she could have even more, she’d wish to grow old with him. It was a scary thought to feel so confident about at sixteen, but Julie knew. She just knew. A gut feeling should always be allowed, her mom used to say. This was it.

Julie wished she could do this every day. Stealing his shirt and seeing it fray over time. She wanted stains and holes and fabric thinning from washing it so much. She wanted messy. She wanted real.

Crawling back in his embrace and placing a soft kiss on whatever skin she found that early in the morning, she wished for him to be real until she fell back asleep.)

It was just like a movie It was just like a song When we were young

The last note settled into arena like a heavy blanket, everyone watching with baited breath as the wrecked singer stumbled out of her seat and muttered another thank you. Her shaky smile didn’t waver while the deafening applause washed over her. It was when she reached the wings and noted the horrified looks of Reggie and Alex, that she realised Luke wasn’t with them.

“He just…” Alex’ foot swiped across the floor where Luke once stood, aghast. “He crossed over.”

They were always selfish loving one another. To fall, to love, to be in love. The inevitable never stopped being inevitable, and yet they trucked on. Maybe they had become cocky, thinking their hearts were stronger that they actually were. It was all too apparent now. Her heart wasn’t this spiritual thing. It wasn’t made of fairy dust and magical ghost powers. It was made of flesh and blood and it was bleeding.

Luke’s never would.

The arena lights dimmed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided @sophiphi

#i'm sorry #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better

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itscalledreadingdarling · 3 years

Text

You Weren’t Supposed To Get Hurt - Newt Imagine

Lines indicate time passes, enjoy :)

*Differs from both movies and books

Someone was bound to get hurt.

It was inevitable, really.

I just didn’t think it was going to be me.

I was untouchable, said the gladers. Throughout my 6 months I spent in the glade no one nor anything seemed to injure me.

When we escaped, people died. I was one of the lucky ones who made it out.

When we broke out into the scorch, I was never once bruised, scratched or otherwise.

When our position with the right arm was revealed and chaos broke out, I joined the fight, bullets flying left and right.

Still, nothing ever touched me.

Not when WCKD took loads of immunes, including Minho.

Not when we attempted to rescue him.

Not when the giant wall that separated WCKD and thousands of people started openly shooting.

Utterly untouchable.

It used to be a joke amongst the gladers.

There was no time for joking anymore.

Now, it became a gift. A strategy.

It would all come down to me.

In my hand was the one most important thing, a blue vial.

The serum.

The cure.

The only thing that determined whether Newt would live, or die.

I had to get it to him.

My lungs burned and my legs ached and still, I kept running.

I wasn’t used to it, running so much.

I was a cook in the glade, along with Frypan.

Now it seemed that I was running every day.

This time though, I didn’t think about it.

Instead, I thought about Newt.

The way he always managed to make me laugh, even in the times where laughing seemed unreachable.

The kindness behind every action, just wanting to keep his friends safe.

Always trying to make it to a place where we would be safe, fighting until there was no more fight.

Shit.

I couldn’t lose him.

I ran faster.

——

Newt was teetering on the edge of sanity when I finally reached where we agreed to meet up.

His humanity was almost gone.

The flare was him and he was the flare.

He was fighting Thomas .

There were only brief moments when he would realize what he was doing, and pause, begging for Thomas to kill him.

He wanted it to be over.

He didn’t want to become one of them.

A crank.

“Please Tommy, please. Please.”

I could feel tears spilling down my cheeks at the scene before me, but I didn’t let them deter me, still running, screaming at Thomas that I had it, I had the cure.

Thomas’s eyes flicked to me, unfortunately at the wrong time, as Newt took the chance to lunge at Thomas while he was momentarily distracted.

He was able to successfully pin him to the ground, Thomas stuck underneath him.

Newt had a knife, and was pressing it down towards Thomas’s chest, while Thomas was struggling to keep it from penetrating him.

I was quick, sliding to my knees, and pulling up Newt’s sleeve, which was proving to be difficult.

It took a few seconds, but I thankfully was able to get it up, a sick taste entering my mouth at the sight of the snaky black veins that crawled up Newt’s skin.

It was then that Newt noticed me.

I was surprised he hadn’t before, I wasn’t trying to be stealthy in any manor. I was prepared for a fight.

But I was so close, all I had to do was plunge the syringe into his arm, and all would be fixed.

It all happened so fast that I wasn’t aware of it.

I stuck the needle into his arm, and pushed down the top, the serum slowly draining from the tube and into Newts bloodstream.

I looked up, just in time to see the darkness fade from his eyes and a haunting look of horror flicker on his face before he slumped to the side, Thomas and I lunging to grab him before he slammed his head on the concrete floor.

Out of pure adrenaline, or perhaps hysteria, I laughed.

It hurt to laugh but I couldn’t stop.

There was to much adrenaline in my body that it felt unnatural.

I heard Thomas say my name, quietly. Scared.

I looked up at him with a bright smile. I expected him to look happy, we had just saved Newt.

But rather he looked at me, pain and fear freezing his features.

“What?” I chuckled.

He simply pointed to my stomach.

I looked down and like a button was pressed, my laughter cut off.

Blood.

Seeping.

Red.

To much of it.

I looked back up to Thomas, pain flooding in. It was strange, how the body worked. I hadn’t felt it until I was focused on it. Until the adrenaline shut off.

His eyes flickered to the knife that lay limply in Newts hand, blood coating the tip.

My blood.

I could see black spots in the corners of my eyes.

I was gonna pass out.

Shit.

“Don’t tell him.” I mumbled.

And then the world went black and the pain faded.

——

I opened my eyes to light.

Bright, blinding light.

A small groan left my lips as I slowly sat up.

What the hell?

I lifted up my shirt - different than the one I wore last time I was conscious - and my fingers hovered over the thick bandage wrapped around my abdomen.

There was a light red, excess blood seeping through the bandages, and there was a dull ache emitting from my stomach, but not as badly as I remembered.

I winced as I stood up from the bed, a sharp pain shooting through my body, and my hand immediately flew to my stomach, holding my arm around myself as if it would barricade the pain.

I could hear laughter outside of the hut, and I took a moment to take in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The air smelled salty, such a stark contrast from the glade, that smelled of dirt and earth.

I slowly walked out of the hut, trying not to aggravate my injury too much.

When my eyes adjusted to the outside light, I was able to take in everything around me - from the blue of the ocean, to the tan grains of the sand, the giant huts and billowing sheets of white that covered them, and the abundance of people milling about.

A small breath of laughter left me, we had done it. We actually did it. We were safe.

I scanned the crowd until I saw a familiar face.

“Minho!” I called out, and I could see him turn to me, before jogging over with a smile wide on his face.

I guessed that he was aware of my injury, as he hugged me gently from the side, rather that his usual tight squeeze.

“We thought you were dead shank, how you holdin up?” He gestured to my bandages, hidden by my shirt.

“I’m doing alright. Hurts a shucking ton though.”

He let out a small chuckle, and called out for Thomas and a couple other of the gladers, each greeting me like Minho did.

It seemed all of them knew about my injury, hugging me with care, some looking concerned.

“Hey, where’s Newt?” I questioned.

“Oh, he’s over by the crops, helping Vince or something like that.” Minho replied, pointing to a group of people further away from the groups of shelters.

“Thanks.” I said, making my way over to the gardens in the distance.

I really hoped the serum had worked. It sounded like it had.

If Minho wasn’t worried then Newt should be fine.

I spotted him quickly, his blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, and his skin perfectly free of any black veins.

“Newt!” I called out, waving my hand at him.

He immediately dropped whatever was in his hands, and jogged towards toward me.

Newt was quick to wrap me in an embrace, holding me tightly.

So Thomas did hear my request.

Don’t tell him.

Don’t tell Newt that I’m injured.

Don’t tell Newt that he was the one who injured me.

It seemed Thomas had understood what I was asking, and complied.

For that I was thankful.

The rule back in the glade was never to hurt another glader on purpose.

I don’t know what Newt would do if he found out he had hurt me.

Found out that I was hurt.

I was supposed to be untouchable after all.

I never questioned his intense protectiveness over me - it made me feel loved, and safe.

He was never overbearing about it, knowing I could handle myself, but that’s just who he was. Always wanting to protect and save everyone. I would break him to know he failed his moral.

So I should’ve been prepared for a full on hug, but I wasn’t.

It was to late to hide my yelp of pain, a tight wince on my face as pain racked through my abdomen.

“Woah, are you okay?”

His face wore concern, but I decided to brush it off.

“I’m fine.”

Yet my arm still circled my stomach, clutching the thick bandages.

“You’re obviously not.”

“I’m fine, really Newt.”

I looked at him and he looked at me. He knew I was lying.

I didn’t have any excuse so instead I came up with the best idea I could.

I walked away.

I had expected him to follow me, but when I looked back, he stood there with a dejected look on his face.

This was not the reunion I wanted.

——

A huge bonfire was lit in the middle of the beach.

There was music, and dancing, and laughter.

I was sitting with some Group B girls who had approached me, laughing lightly with them.

It was nice to have some girl company for once.

“Woah, what’s happening over there?” Asked one of the girls, gesturing to the left of where we sat together.

My gaze flipped over to where she was directing her comment at.

It was Newt, looking angry at a flustered Thomas.

I looked at the girls and shrugged. “I’ll go check it out.”

They let me go with the promise to bring them back all the tea, and I agreed with a chuckle.

Newt was close to yelling, as once I got a bit closer I could hear each word loud and clear.

“What do you mean she was bloody injured?”

My step paused, and I glanced at Thomas, who had noticed my presence and looked sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.

I saw Newts head swivel my way, looking at me with disbelief.

“Why the hell would you keep something like that from me?”

I didn’t answer, looking at him with silence, so he asked another question.

“What happened?”

At that, I lowered my eyes, and became very interested at a particular grain of sand just at the toe of my right shoe.

Newt was always good at connecting the dots.

“I.... I didn’t do that did I?”

His voice was soft, so that I could barely hear it over the chatter and crackling of the fire. The pain was evident in his voice, and I knew there ways no trying to lie my way out of this one.

“You were half delusional with the flare-“ I began to reason, but he had already stalked off. “Shit.”

I looked at Thomas who still looked sorry for spilling the secret, and Minho who was now whistling and looking anywhere but me.

I almost wanted to laugh at the situation, for believing that I could actually get away with the whole thing.

Instead I stalked off in the direction he went, ideas to try and make him understand that he shouldn’t feel like it was his fault running trough my mind.

I didn’t know how long I had been walking for to find Newt, and looking back, the bonfire was only a speck in the distance.

Here, it was just the stars and the waning moon lighting the cold beach sand.

I had taken my shoes off halfway through the walk, enjoying the tickle and peacefulness of being barefoot on a beach.

It wasn’t hard to find Newt, there was a trail of footsteps leading up to where he sat, off in the distance, and my injury made it hard for me to move at a faster pace, so I continued my slow treck - enjoying the moment alone while breathing in the salty air.

It felt wonderful.

Safe.

It was a rare feeling to come by in a predicament such as ours but we had done it.

And when I finally reached him, I laid down in silence, looking up at the stars.

It was silent for awhile before he began to talk.

“I had nightmares; when we first arrived and I was fully healed. Most of them consisted of you. You being tortured, you being dead. I remember there was one where you were screaming and I couldn’t get to you. It was like I was stuck. They’re all bloody terrible but the worst one was when I was a crank, fighting Tommy. You were trying to help me, give me the cure but - the flare - it consumes you. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I remember so distinctly taking my knife and running it across your stomach, deep... it always ended there.”

He pauses briefly, taking a shaky breath.

“I always thought they were just nightmares. I guess that last one was actually a memory.”

He was staring out into the distance, at the dark ocean.

I stayed silent.

“Can I see it?” He questioned quietly.

I sucked in a breath of my own, but nodded, knowing that he needed to see it for himself.

I sat up slowly, and lifted the bottom of my shirt, giving him access to where my bandage was tied up at the back.

I looked down and saw a noticeable difference from when I checked it earlier. The light red has blossomed into a darker one, coving almost the whole front of the bandage.

I hadn’t even seen it myself, and I wasn’t sure I wanted too.

I closed my eyes as Newt carefully unwrapped my bandage, until I could feel the sting of cold air hit the injury.

“Fuck.”

His reaction was enough to get me to look down and I could feel a bad taste in my mouth again.

Although stitched up, there was still blood oozing and so much red.

I looked up and closed my eyes again.

I had never done well with blood, always making Frypan cook the freshly cut meat, and turning down a part time medjack job after helping Frypan with a small burn he had recived from cooking said meat.

“I’m so bloody sorry love.”

I looked at him, tears in his eyes and his hand shaky, hovering just above the cut.

“Hey, Newt, it’s okay.”

“No it shucking isn’t.”

He sounded angry, force behind his words but it was only a short burst, his voice turning sad again as he cursed more.

His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully wrapped the bandage back up, asking if he needed to make it more loose or tighter.

Chills ran up and down my body when I felt his fingers brush my bare skin, and was disheartened when he finished.

I hadn’t talked much during the whole ordeal, not knowing what to say, and afraid to voice the wrong thing.

Mostly, I just wanted him to stop blaming himself, like I knew he was.

“I should’ve done something to stop it, I should’ve-“

“Nope, we aren’t doing this. Stop it.” I said firmly.

“No, it’s my fault, I should’ve just fought I harder, if I could’ve-“

And because I couldn’t think of any other way to get him to stop talking, I grabbed his chin, and pulled him down to me, gently colliding his lips with mine.

It was moments of pure bliss, before I pulled away and looked into his searching eyes.

“I told you to shut up.”

And it was like all traces of our previous conversation had dissolved when he mumbled, “Tell me again,” moving his hand so it was cupping my right check, and bringing our lips together once more.

It was soft, but I could still feel his anger and sadness and I pressed my lips harder to his.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing harder than normal.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt.” He said.

“I would’ve done it again. You’re alive Newt. That matters more than a cut.”

He just hummed a response, though I couldn’t translate what he meant by it.

“Wanna go back?” He asked.

“No.” I simply said.

So we sat side by side, watching the waves crash against the beach.

Simple.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Together.

#the maze runner #tmr #tmr newt #the death cure #tdc #newt imagine

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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I am but a sad little trans man who absolutely wants to know your thoughts on immortals capabilities to transition because I have thoughts and they make my depressed little trans heart hurt because how in the world could they transition if their bodies heal everything?

Hi! Sending you hugs because I've been struggling with the exact same thoughts! I wrote this lil meta last month but I don't like it and my brain keeps interrupting things like my job and trips to the grocery store to get me working on this puzzle.

From what we see in the movie, our elderly friends have regular-human healing, just faster and MORE, plus magic. We have canon evidence of how this works with wounds/injuries and can infer from there about how their immortality would handle infections, genetic/physiological/autoimmune/etc disorders, malnutrition/dehydration/etc, mental illnesses, and dental stuff, as well as things that bodies do that aren't necessarily bad but often need medical care — like pregnancy and gender transition. (I’m not a medical professional, just a nerd who loves a good Wikipedia rabbithole.)

Let's start with an easy one. Nile's hand healing after she stuck it in the fire is just a lickety-split version of what would happen to a regular human with a small skin wound: clotting, inflammation, rebuilding, healed.

When Nile yeets herself and pharma bro out the window of the topmost tower, we see the same thing happen again but bigger, plus we see several of her bones pop themselves back into place, and presumably any blood vessels that got torn up magically correct themselves under her skin. Humans have been surviving injuries like major bone fractures for a very long time but a bone that heals without medical intervention to realign the fractured pieces might heal at a new angle, meaning it doesn't work as well anymore, and it might cause damage to surrounding organs/tissues and leave a lot of scar tissue or a chronic wound. But Nile only needs Booker and Nicky keeping her upright for barely a minute and then she's walking around on her own just fine.

A large wound that breaks deeply through the skin, like Nile's sliced throat or Booker's exploded abdomen, can be survivable for a regular human if it doesn't irreparably damage critical organs and if you can get medical attention before you bleed out, but even with modern medical intervention the results are rough. Jay and Dizzy aren't wrong for being deeply weirded out by Nile's flawless neck: even with the best plastic surgeons in the world on the case, closing up a wound like that will leave scar tissue that affects both appearance and function.

So, we've got immortality magic moving bones back into place, restarting stopped hearts and lungs and brains, rebuilding major structures like arteries and intestines, healing up wounds without scar tissue, pushing out bullets, and otherwise handwaving the big stuff. But it's not a magic wand, it’s a process, and bigger wounds take longer. It's like these people's mitochondria have little gnomes in there with schematics to rebuild their bodies to factory default.

From how these bodies handle wounds we can infer that they'd handle pathogens / infectious diseases the same way: inflammation, white blood cells attack, byebye plague see you never. And if these bodies are resetting bones and rebuilding organs, they're probably also correcting genetic disorders and shifting around physiological problems like bone spurs. So let's keep on inferring.

What if, instead of every death erasing hormone replacement therapy and gender-affirming surgery and leaving a trans immortal detransitioned over and fucking over again, what if the magic that governs immortality considers dysphoria-causing body parts just like any other wound to heal?

What if Booker is a trans man, and he's got that sweet muscle mass and that height and that beard that comes all the way up his cheeks because he's been on the wonder drug that is testosterone for over 200 years? What if immortality was all "we see you've been hung from the neck until dead, and your eyes have been pecked out, and also you have all these hormones that turn your body into a shape that makes you miserable — we're gonna fix all that" and then regenerated his pecked-out eyeballs and unsnapped his neck and undid the results of months of insufficient food AND ALSO started pumping him with the fantasy version of HRT so his chest started to reduce and his fat redistributed itself and his beard started coming in?

Who's to say that's not how it works?

All my dysphoria is social — I'm fine with my body for the most part and I CANNOT STAND when people assume things about my gender, because of my body or for any other reason. We see pretty clearly with Booker that mental illness isn't magically healed the way physical injuries are, and I think that's because the causes of mental illness are a combination of physiology/chemistry stuff and things like our beliefs about ourselves and the world, our experiences of trauma, and our experiences of getting our needs met or not. If I were immortal I could maybe break up with my SSRI, but it wouldn't stop me from getting misgendered — I'd still have to find a way to cope with the ongoing trauma of that. Having to navigate hundreds of cultures' ideas about gender when my gender is "uhhhhh" sounds like absolute hell for me, no thank you, do not want.

But for my fellow trans people whose dysphoria is primarily body-related, and for my social-dysphoria pals whose gender is something nearly every human being would recognize and all they need is to pass, how about let's make an executive decision that immortality includes HRT for anybody who needs it, with no psych eval or begging your insurance company or poking yourself with needles, and just like with wound healing it's like regular HRT but faster and more. HRT so powerful and so magical that it gives you the best possible version of the results you want and none of the results you don't. If I had the option to go on HRT for just like one or two changes but not the whole battery of things I would fucking do that, and if I were to join our elderly friends, maybe I could.

This might be easier on transmasc immortals than transfeminine ones, because testosterone's effects are basically impossible to reverse. But also you can't just keep waking back up after repeatedly drowning for 500 years, so fuck it. We're making an executive decision here.

Estrogen that grows your breasts and softens your dick but doesn't lessen your ability to orgasm. Immortality magic that makes your beard go away and maybe shrinks your height an inch or two or six. Maybe Quynh is trans and one time a few thousand years ago she got injured in battle worse than Booker's grenaded belly and she woke up an hour later with a vulva and a uterus and now her body is just like that. Factory reset.

I subscribe to the "God made wheat and grapes but not bread and wine so humans could share in the act of creation" model of transness and I personally feel very weird about the idea of immortality magically giving a trans immortal cisnormative genitals the same way it resets bones. There's no one right way to have a pussy or a dick, you know? Maybe Quynh woke up from a catastrophic gut wound in like 800 BCE with a constructed vagina rivaling the best our modern money can buy, without a uterus but with a clit that's just as magical as anybody else's.

I've been thinking about writing a Book of Nile fic with trans man Booker, which is why the two of them are most of my examples here. It would include porn, because apparently I can't write more than 1500 words about them without writing porn, so I need to think more about what's going to feel good for me and other trans people who might read it and won't accidentally facilitate cis people objectifying us. Like, I've thought in a lot of detail about what a clit enlarged by that many centuries of testosterone might look and feel like, and that specific experience is not mine so I'm treading carefully.

Cis people are welcome to reblog this! Fellow trans folks are welcome to join me in the act of creation on this post ;)

#trans things #fandom friends #tog meta #tog #book of nile #fic ideas #transphobia #dysphoria #gore #long post #mine

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spaceshipkat · 3 years

Text

part 1 of my Rea///lm Brea///ker recap will cover the prologue - chapter 8

prologue: we learn that no living mortal had ever seen a Spindle bc “the passages closed, the gates locked” and Allward is “a realm alone”. Andry, the narrator, says it’s a good thing and it should stay that way. Andry, a “honey-brown” boy (who is later also called “brown”), is a squire for Sir Grandel Tyr. it’s spring and at dawn. Companions of the Realm wait in a clearing below a hill, some guarding the “pilgrim road” and others waiting for “the enemy”, and still more patrol a temple where a Spindle once stood, though Andry doesn’t know where that particular Spindle once led. Sir Grandel doesn’t like being awake at “this Spindlerotten hour”. Andry imagines himself in Sir Grandel’s armor bc Sir Grandel is “a fearsome and stirring sight to behold,” and Andry wants to be a knight one day. they’ve been on the road for two months. Andry identifies one of the Companions as “Dom, a prince of Iona” and has a full name that’s “difficult to pronounce”. there are six Elders as well, who Andry says are easy to distinguish amongst the Companions. Elders are immortal. Elders call themselves Vedera. the Companion Dom happens to look up and catch Andry staring at him. Sir Grandel asks if immortals bleed and Andry says he doesn’t know. here’s information on the Elders and Companions. “Corblood princes” are descendants of the “old empire”. Cortael of Old Cor is introduced. Sir Grandel wonders if Corblood princes bleed, too, and says he supposes they’ll find out before joining the other mortal Companions, but Andry says he hopes they don’t find out if Corblood princes bleed. Bress the Bull Rider, a mercenary, likes to needle the knights, to Andry’s delight. Okran of Kasa, a man with “jet-black skin,” says that Andry should pray to the gods before battle. Andry says that he doubts the gods would listen to a squire, Okran asks if that’s what Sir Grandel tells him, and Andry apologizes for Sir Grandel’s mood bc they’ve been on the road for a long time (two months). Andry asks if Okran is afraid of “the thief and his wizard” and Okran says “the Spindle is the danger, not the men seeking it”. Okran explains that they’re there to guard the Spindle bc the Elder monarch and Cortael told them that they needed to. Andry speaks Kasan and Okran is surprised and pleased, and Andry explains that his mother was born in Nkonabo. Okran says that Andry should visit him in Benai one day and Andry, knowing he probably will never be able to, says one day. Dom joins Cortael and says he hears “them” and that there are only two. Bress says they should take precautions against the wizard and the immortals of Sirandel say they’re the precautions. Cortael says “the Red” is a trickster and then orders everyone to encircle the temple. Andry tells us that Cortael is mortal. Cortael gives a speech. the bell tolls immediately after Cortael says it hasn’t rung for a thousand years and vows it won’t for a thousand more. Dom insists it’s an illusion. something tells Andry to move far away from the bell but he doesn’t. two people approach on the road: the wizard is called The Red and wears a red cloak, and is also young and has red eyes. the other man is Cortael’s brother. Cortael calls his brother Taristan a “fool”. Taristan asks how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other, and then he says “since birth” when Cortael doesn’t reply, and says that Cortael probably had a cushy upbringing being Spindleblessed. Dom tells Taristan to return what he stole (the Spindleblade sword he carries that’s twin to Cortael’s). Taristan tells Dom to come get it himself. Cortael tells Taristan to surrender and he’ll be spared. Taristan says the Elders raised Cortael to be heir to rebuild the empire, which is evidently to do what Taristan himself wants to do: bring the Spindles back into crossing and rejoin the realms. Dom says to “tear a Spindle open is to put all the realms in danger,” and Cortael tells Dom to stop wasting his breath bc Taristan’s “fate is chosen” and Taristan retorts “my fate” in rage. Taristan info-dumps at us about Cortael’s past and purpose, chosen by the Elders. Taristan removes his helm and reveals he and Cortael are actually identical twins and everyone, including Cortael, seems surprised by this for some reason. Taristan reiterates that Cortael’s fate was chosen, not his own, and Cortael asks what Taristan chooses to do now. the wizard Ronin raises his hands at Taristan’s command. the Sirandels shoot three arrows each but they’re burned up before reaching Ronin. Ronin claps his hands and strange creatures begin to emerge from the temple holding the Spindle. a light pulses inside the temple and shadows race out of it. Rowanna of Sirandel says “the Ashlands,” which i gather is where these creatures are from. Cortael and Taristan are still fighting and Taristan declares the Spindle has already been torn and the crossing made. “foul, living corpses of the Spindle” emerge from the temple with weapons, though many corpses are already broken. the corpses circle the Companions and are likely going to overwhelm them as Cortael and Taristan keep fighting. Arberin, a Sirandel Elder with supposed immortality, is killed by one of the corpses. the Companions keep being killed by the corpses. Andry waves for Sir Grandel to run toward him and Sir Grandel does, and Andry shouts “with me” which is the Lionguard battle cry, and then Sir Grandel yells at him to run as the corpses catch Grandel. Andry frees the horses while Cortael and Taristan continue to fight and the other Companions die. Cortael stabs Taristan through the chest. the corpses and Ronin the wizard all stop to stare. Cortael asks for Taristan’s forgiveness and Taristan pulls the sword out of his own chest before standing up. Taristan says the bells toll for his god, for “What Waits”. Taristan stabs Cortael’s sword into the ground and then uses his own to kill Cortael. Taristan raises his sword to cut Cortael apart but Dom blocks the blow and says “leave him” and stands between Cortael’s corpse and Taristan. Dom looks up the hill at Andry on Dom’s white stallion, and Andry nods, and then Dom whistles and the stallion charges down the hill to go around the battle. Dom does some trick and tears Cortael’s sword from the dirt and throws it like a javelin. it lands in the grass and then Andry grabs it. here’s the excerpt.

chapter 1: we’re now in Corayne’s POV. Corayne is walking the “ancient Cor road” carved along the cliffs above the Long Sea, which crashes fifty feet below. it’s summertime. her guardian is named Kastio, and is old and weathered, and is also a Siscarian sailor (they’re both currently in Siscaria). Kastio asks if Corayne has had anymore dreams lately, and she lies and says she’s just excited, then tells us that she’s been having dreams and knows Kastio would only tell Corayne’s mother. she dreams of white hands, shadowed faces, and “something moving in the dark”. towers along the Empress Coast are still manned by old soldiers and sailors. they pass a tower and Corayne greets its keeper. the keeper says he saw two ships, but Corayne sees three and tells us that only those who knew where to look would see them. she pays keepers of other towers so she can keep them allied with her, as per her mother’s instructions. they enter the bustling port and we get more description of what it looks like. Corayne and Kastio head for the docks. we get more description of the docks and the ships moored there. the universal language for trade on either side of the Long Sea is called Paramount. Kastio says that Corayne has a head for business and that no one can deny that, and Corayne says she hopes so. she greets “Officer Galeri”, who we learn is fifty, ugly, and wealthy--which therefore causes sex workers to like him. she pays him off. Corayen notices someone at the stern and gives Galeri a paper stamped with a noble family seal, which is the cargo listing containing salt and honey. noble shipments can’t be taxed. Corayne is excited by the sounds of sailing. Galeri welcomes her aboard the ship and she tells us she’s now the ship’s agent. we meet the Captain Meliz al-Amarat, who is Corayne’s mother. Corayne and her mother start discussing what shipments will go where. her mother mentions a “misunderstanding” and Corayne tells us it led to three dead sailors and the Tempestborn, their ship, nearly sinking. we learn Corayne has “desert blood” in her. Meliz is bi, apparently. Corayne has golden skin like her mother, as well as dark hair and black eyes, but she’s not as lovely. Corayne starts to ask her mom something but Galeri interrupts. Galeri challenges her mom about markings on the shipments not matching up, and Meliz grins back in a sort of challenge she’s sure to win with her entire crew behind her while Galeri has only a few ill-trained soldiers. Galeri wisely drops the accusations. Meliz is referred to as “Hell Mel” on the open sea.

chapter 2: back in Andry’s POV, we learn he traded his chainmail for food, and his tunic is “little more than a rag” after his journey. he’s now in the capital and trying not to fall asleep bc he doesn’t want nightmares. he’s kneeling before the throne and recognizes the two Lionguards on either side of it. the Queen enters, sitting on her throne, and Andry clenches his teeth. she’s 19, thin, pretty, and strong-willed. Queen Erida greets Andry and tells him to rise, then asks if he needs a doctor, and he says no, the blood isn’t his. Queen Erida then asks if he’s seen his mother yet and he says no bc it’s late and she needs her rest. Queen Erida asks if Andry can tell her what happened to the others he was with, and he remembers his nightmares of “White faces, red hands, black armor, knives dripping blood, ash and smoke and rot—” and finds it difficult to speak, so the queen tells her Lionguard to leave. they’re shocked bc she’s rarely without them, loyal unto death as they are. one Lionguard protests but the queen says that she’s known Andry all her life and he’s terrified and doesn’t need an audience while recounting what happened. she tells them again to leave and they finally do. when the Lionguard leaves, the queen seems to relax and become her age again, not a queen. Andry remembers the queen when she was young and they played on ships. she says that she “answered the Elder call” and pulls a piece of paper out of her robes; Andry wants to burn that paper for what it says. we get a flashback of the call from the Elder being announced. the queen wishes she had ignored the call and her “own curiosity”. Andry comments how no one could have known. the queen says that she is to take the blame for what happened, since she’s the one who sent them to guard the Spindle temple. Andry tells us important information about Taristan and Spindleblades. he tells the queen everything that happened. he says he should have fought instead of running, but the queen says he survived and brought a very important message. she says that Allward was once a realm of crossing. she says she trusts him bc he’s never been a liar and that she’s sorry for what he experienced. she tells Andry to speak to no one about this. Andry protests that people need to be warned, and the queen interrupts and explains how it would cause panic bc Spindles are myth and legend to most people. Andry tells us what Ascal, the capital, looks like and what happened after the queen ascended the throne (lots of protesting bc she’s a girl). Andry says he doesn’t understand, for some reason, and she says that it’s not for him to understand, only for him to obey. she calls her Lionguard back in. he says okay and bows, and she thanks him for coming home and says at least his mom won’t have another knight to bury. the queen leaves, as does Andry. after a page break, we see Andry’s mom and get a description of her; she’s still beautiful despite being sick. she has dark skin and dark, curly hair. it’s hot in her room, but he still feels cold. voices tell him “It must be hidden” and “It must not be spoken of” and he tells the voices that “It is hidden” and that he hasn’t told anyone about “it”. the voices began when Andry was riding home away from the attack in the prologue. the voices say “This you are bidden. Keep it hidden” and Andry tells us that he hid the Spindleblade beneath his mom’s bed, a secret only for himself.

chapter 3: back in Corayne’s POV, she’s had two glasses of wine and is already drunk, “dreaming of lands beyond Lemarta,” and there’s more info dumping. they’re in a tavern, and with Meliz back, Kastio doesn’t have to “nanny” Corayne so he gets drunk, too. Kastio has “lightning-blue eyes”. the Tempestborn has two new crewmembers after losing four. Corayne tries to talk to her mom, but her mom interrupts and says that they need new oarsmen and wants Corayne to put out the word, to which Corayne says they can sail shorthanded. Meliz insists, Corayne asks about where and when, and Meliz says “are you my mother now?” and specifies that she wants good recruits. Corayne again asks where Meliz is going and again Meliz deflects. we learn the Jaiah of Rhashir has died and left 16 sons to viw for his throne, and there are different stories of how he died (old age, illness, murder). Corayne says that Meliz will be gone for months, if she’ll return at all, and Meliz says it’s a good opportunity and that they’ll leave in three days. Corayne begins to say “I must ask” only for her mom to interrupt her and say don’t ask, and Corayne says Meliz made a promise over the winter, and Meliz denies doing so. Corayne argues about being let to come along, explaining her skills and that she’s a year older than Meliz was before Meliz started sailing, and Corayne elaborates on how she’s more use on the water and how she is instrumental in making the Tempestborn become what it is. Meliz says her decision is final, that not even the gods can challenge it, and that Corayne doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Corayne says she does and continues to talk about being good at her job. Meliz says she won’t risk Corayne’s life on her dangerous profession. Corayne points out the latest two new recruits survived. the argument is really long and i don’t feel like summarizing it, so here’s the full excerpt. Corayne looks over the crew, notes they’re like a family of sorts, but recognizes the brutality they exhibit to the world at large, not someone who’s used to seeing it. Corayne knows her mom wants her to recognize the killing status of all the sailors, but Corayne refuses to be afraid, even after her mom says everyone’s a killer, herself included. Meliz says that Corayne doesn’t have the spine for her kind of life, and Corayne says that at least her dad only abandoned her once. after a page break, Corayne is on the cliffs overlooking the Long Sea. Corayne names all the stars and constellations in another info dump. she belatedly realizes she’s not alone on the cliff’s path. two hooded people approach and Corayne moves aside to let them pass, but instead they stop. one of the people has a wound on his face that’s still healing. Corayne says the port is behind them, this path is the way to Tyriot, and one person says they’re not here for anything in Lemarta. one tries to grab her but she wields her dagger and says to stay away. the person lunges and she doesn’t think she can do anything, and then he kneels before her and says “I beg your forgiveness and your mercy, Corayne an-Amarat”. the other person is a woman who snarks at whether or not the man intends to scare her. the woman also calls Corayne “mortal” in a way meant to imply that the woman and man are immortal. Corayne asks who they are and then immediately knows they’re Elders. Corayne again asks who they are and the man says he’s Dom, aka Dom from the prologue with Andry. he says he is the last of Corayne’s father’s Companions and seeks her aid, and has a story to tell.

chapter 4: now we’re in Dom’s POV. the horse he’s riding is dying, though he’s not sure how he escaped on one Companion’s horse. days pass and we get more world-building dumped on us as he travels. the city of Iona is home to thousands of immortals and hundreds of Glorianborn. the horse Dom’s riding dies at the steps of the palace after Dom leaps off her back. guards flank Dom, their prince. feeling like a failure, Dom enters the palace and walks toward the throne room to talk to his aunt, the Monarch. one of the councillors to the Monarch is Dom’s cousin. Dom kneels before the queen, who says she will not ask how they died bc she can see it weighs heavily on him. he says he’s failed and his cousin argues that he lived. Dom has known Cortael all Cortael’s mortal life. Dom is asked about what happened by one councillor. here’s info on what is coming now that the Spindle has been torn open. Dom says the warriors of this realm can still fight back against Ashlander and Asunder creatures. the Monarch says the Army of Asunder is inconsequential bc What Waits means to devour. info on Spindles and What Waits. Dom tells the Monarch to throw down the branch and take up the sword to destroy the Ashlander army, close the Spindle, put Taristan in the ground, throw What Waits back to His hell. the Monarch traces the cut down Dom’s face and says it’s not like them to bleed, and Dom says “you’re afraid”. the Monarch says they’re already defeated and no monarch would send their people to die. Dom says they die if they do nothing and says they’re of the Ward (Allward), to which the Monarch says no, Glorian awaits. Dom says Glorian is lost to them. the Monarch says the balance of Spindles is delicate and thus they’ve lost their way back, but the boundaries will weaken as Taristan tears open the Spindles. the Monarch says that if they can find the realm of the Crossroads or even Glorian herself they can find their way home. Dom says and abandoned Allward and the Monarch says it’s already lost. Dom says that the Monarch is a coward and her council is angry but she waves them down and says she’s sorry Dom thinks that. Dom leaves and the Monarch asks what he will do, if he has Corblood in him or a Spindleblade. he says that better men and women than him died in vain and it’s only fair he does too. after a page break, Dom’s cousin Princess Ridha (and the Monarch’s daughter) finds him in the stables as he mucks out stalls. Ridha is now decked out in armor. Dom asks where she’s going and she says that she wants to talk to every monarch and see if they agree in giving up like her mother. they discuss where they’ll travel first. Ridha says he needs Corblood and Spindleblade, and Dom says he knows where to get a Spindleblade (thinking of Andry). Ridha once slept with Cortael, as did many women, apparently. she says that he needs to find Cortael’s child, which Dom didn’t know existed, and he wonders if the child is a bastard or not, and how much Cortael kept from Dom. Dom says he can track down an assassin and torture him for info on how to find Cortael’s child. Dom says “Ride well” to Ridha and she says she always does. Ridha says she didn’t know Cortael had a twin, that her mother the Monarch separated them. Dom says he didn’t know either. Ridha says that she supposes her mother thought it was for the best to protect and raise one to be heir to Old Cor, which Dom doesn’t agree with. he thinks the Monarch did it for herself and for Glorian. Ridha and Dom bid each other farewell. Dom rides south.

chapter 5: we’re now in a character whose POV is someone named Sorasa. Sorasa stands over the bed of a fat, evil merchant king with a child bride. Sorasa thinks she’s doing the child a favor and cuts the merchant king’s throat. she removes his left ear and index finger, then tosses them onto the floor, which is the mark that proves the kill was hers. Sorasa escapes through the window by swinging on a whip. apparently it’s midday. a bell sounds to mark the merchant king’s death and the crowd surges. a hand grabs her, she twists out of its grasp, and she says “Garion” as the crowds thin. Garion says he didn’t take Sorasa for a thief and she waves him off. she says she stole a man’s life from him and wonders that the stealing is what concerns Garion. Garion says there are rules to follow and Sorasa wants to roll her eyes but simply turns and says that jealousy doesn’t become Garion. she prepares herself should Garion draw a blade against her. he says he’s not jealous, that she’s been named and inked, and no amount of blood will rewrite what has already been written. a tattoo down her side itches. it’s one she wasn’t given by choice. she tells him to go back to his cage and wait for another easy kill that she’ll steal from him, and he tells her to have caution. he mentions someone named Lord Mercury, who Sorasa fears, and she tells Garion again to go home. he pushes off his hood and reveals his blades and says that this is a warning. she asks if he really wants to do this in the middle of the street, and they survey each other. Sorasa comes up with how to kill him and escape. Garion tells Sorasa she should disappear. she tips her head back so the sunlight shines on her face so he can see the “long year written in her flesh”. he steps away and says that “few of us” get the chance to leave, and she says few want to. then he vanishes. after a page break, Sorasa leaves the inn where she had stashed her belongings, thinking about how she’ll never get the stench of it out of her clothes. she misses the simple days but knows “discord is a better shield than steel.” she walks toward the harbor and pushes her hood off bc she wants to feel sunlight on her face, and then she’s grabbed by a man who isn’t thrown off her her evasive maneuver. she throws a handful of “stinging blue smoke” and unclasps her cloak, running away with eyes and mouth closed while her attacker coughs from behind her. Sorasa runs away through the city, but looks back and finds the man is following her. he has golden hair and she adds him to her list of people to fear. the man is gaining on her quickly. a plan comes together in her mind. she wonders if he’s been sent by Lord Mercury. she ducks down another alley, dodging shit so she doesn’t destroy it, but her persuer doesn’t bother and is only confused when he’s reprimanded by the owners of the stalls he destroys. she feels excited that this will be her first real fight in a year. she scrambles over a pile of crates and then leaps from pole to pole of stalls and tents, believing he can’t follow bc he’s bigger, but he manages it easily and she’s shocked that someone so big can do what she does. she curses Lord Mercury and flips her hood over her head, the man just a stall behind her. she sees he has a scarred face, and he says he wants to talk to her, and she tries and fails to place his accent, though he speaks in Paramount. she says he’s speaking to her now and unfurls her whip. the guy says he’d prefer to talk somewhere else, and she says that’s a shame. he says he isn’t here to harm her and she says she’s heard that before, and he says he will if he must. she sees his longsword and knows it’d be difficult to use when they’re balancing on top of poles of a fruit vender’s stall. she says “try me, then” and he says “very well” and they fight and she remarks to herself that even though she’s been trained perfectly he’s somehow faster and better. he crashes into the fruit vendor’s place as she slips away on her whip, then grabs a new cloak and flips the hood over her head. the man appears to be scenting the air for her but she slips away before he can find her. she walks through the crowds thinking about how badass she is, leans against a pen full of black bulls, and removes her hat to bare her face. she bites into a peach as she finds the man in the crowd, easy to spot for his height and blond hair. when the guy sees her, he starts forward and she opens the bull pen, breaking a man’s teeth when he tries to stop her. she cracks her whip and sends the herd of bulls running, expecting the man after her to be trampled, but he instead stops a bull in its tracks by grabbing its horns, then tosses it aside with a broken neck and the rest of the herd parts around him, and Sorasa realizes he’s an Elder/immortal. she runs away as fast as she can, in as many places as she can, with as many disguises as she can. she keeps trying to get to the docks, but he’s always there, waiting for her, to stop her from boarding any boat or ship. they sword fight, she spits in his face, he stops to wipe his face, she tackles him and climbs onto his back, then manages to stab him but he throws her off. he again says that he’s not here to hurt her and only wants to talk and says “Come, Mortal”. he repeats it, she says no, and runs away again after dropping her sword. after a page break, she sits down at a table in a tavern. she orders a drink. Dom shows up and sits down at the table across from her. she slides one of the drinks she ordered to him, and he hesitantly takes a drink. she feels triumph when he downs all of it and then tells her that immortals are immune to poison, and she says it’s a waste of arsenic. he says that she’s tried to kill him three times today, she says it all amounts to once, so he says she came close three times. she then asks how he’s gonna kill her, and he says again that he isn’t here to hurt her. he then gives her sword back to her. he says he wants information and is willing to pay and pulls out a massive pouch of coins, then asks if a coin of gold will do. she wonders how she can measure how much info is worth if she doesn’t know what he’s asking for, and he says he’s searching for Corblood mortals and was told the Amhara will know. she says the Amhara are few and far between after taking three gold coins from his pouch. she takes coins as he says he’s searching for the bastard child of a Cortael and she says he’s no prince of any kingdom in living memory but tells us the name is familiar. she continues to take coins as he says the father is dead, so she won’t face any trouble from him. she says it’s not her father he should be worried about and tells us it’s the pirate, and he gasps that it’s a daughter. he tells her that’s enough coin and takes his pouch back, and she says she can find the daughter and has settled on a price. he smiles, she names her price (we don’t learn of it), the smile drops, but he still agrees.

chapter 6: back in Corayne’s POV, we learn that the last two chapters are basically the two characters recounting what led them to her. Dom is still kneeling while Sorasa paces, barring the way back to the port. Corayne wishes her mother or Kastio were here. Dom says that Sorasa led them both here to her bc she’s the only one who can save the world, and she says it was good to meet them and turns around to walk away, only for Dom to follow her. Dom says that the Ward will fall if Corayne doesn’t help, and Corayne says her answer is no, that they should return to Lemarta to find someone who believes in whatever tripe they’re sharing. Sorasa says she doesn’t believe Dom either, for what it’s worth. Dom says he swears on Iona that it’s true. Corayne says she’s no lady, Dom starts apologizing and says he’s not sure what her mom told her, and Corayne says she knows exactly who her dad is: Cortael. she says none of who he is makes her his daughter. Corayne tells Dom to give her the gold and go, Dom is confused, and Sorasa implies that Cortael must have left something to Corayne, but Dom says he has nothing of his to give to her, to which Corayne shrugs. Sorasa looks back at Lemarta, the port, and says that it’s no wonder what Corayne’s mom has the best ship: she had Cor gold to support it. Corayne feels afraid and asks if Sorasa knows her mom and Sorasa says she knows her reputation. Corayne says she can bring both Dom and Sorasa to her mom, since her mom knew Cortael better. Dom says it’s she they need and that it’s in her blood, and Corayne says she wants nothing to do with them or her dad. silence falls and Dom looks to his feet, then Corayne says she’s sorry for his loss bc she can tell that Dom is saddened by Cortael’s death. she apologizes to Sorasa, too, who says she’s not involved in any of “these dramatics”. Corayne opens the door to her cottage and Dom says that though she says she wants nothing to do with her dad or them but this (the cottage) can’t be what she wants either. Dom says that Corayne’s blood is of Spindles and distant realms and lost stars and that she wants the horizon, and that her dad was the same. she tells Dom to give her three days and shuts the door. after a page break, it’s the third day and Corayne is in the cottage making arrangements, looking over a map of the known Ward. she finds the place where the forgotten Spindle temple is, where her dad died. Corayne’s mom wakes up and makes a lot of noise, and Corayne knows she’s seeking attention, which Corayne refuses to give. Meliz (her mom) says that Kastio is late. Meliz says that Corayne needs to stay close to him while Meliz is gone bc the roads are dangerous, longboats are disappearing, and summer storms are sweeping in, and that the realm feels twisted. there have been things all over happening that are strange, and Corayne wonders if they’re coincidences or “chaos unfolding”. Corayne says everything is ready for Meliz’s departure. Corayne asks to go with her again, thinks that it might be the only thing to save her from whatever road she’s decided to go down, and Meliz says she will not. after another page break, Corayne, Kastio, and Meliz walk the path toward the port. Meliz says she’ll return in a few months with enough gold to keep them for a hundred years, and Corayne says they already have that, knowing everywhere that her mother’s gold is hidden and kept, and Corayne knows that it’s no longer money that sends her mother out to sea. Corayne says Meliz loves her life and wouldn’t give it up for anyone, even Corayne, and Meliz says that it’s still not a life she wants for Corayne. Corayne says Meliz doesn’t get to decide what Corayne does or wants. Corayne says that there’s something in her blood that won’t let her sit still and that Meliz knows this, and Meliz throws up her hands and wonders if now is the time Corayne wants to talk about her dad. Meliz says that she promises it’s only a few months and Corayne says “farewell” through gritted teeth. Meliz hugs her goodbye and says to keep her feet on shore and face to the sea. Corayne asks how fare the winds and Meliz says “fair” because they carry her home. after another page break, Corayne watches the Tempestborn disappear over the horizon, and Corayne tells Kastio she hears that Doma Martia has just received a few good barrels of wine, and Kastio says that it’s a bit too early for wine, even for him. she holds out a coin and says to try it for her, Kastio says “this is a bribe” even as he takes it, and Corayne says she needs to be alone for just a few hours. Kastio eyes her for a long time and then says Meliz was wrong not to take Corayne. Corayne goes looking for Sorasa and Dom, who find her first. Sorasa says “three days” and Corayne agrees “three days”. Sorasa isn’t wearing her hood today, so Corayne spends a long time taking Sorasa in, and Sorasa says there’ll be time for examination later bc they don’t want to keep the “immortal annoyance” waiting. Corayne wonders if Sorasa will call her “Spindlerot” the entire time or just today, and Sorasa says she’s still deciding. Corayne knows Kastio will know she ran away and that her mom won’t return even if she hears about it. Sorasa says it’s good Meliz left Corayne behind, that ti’s better this way, and Corayne asks why, and Sorasa says that Rhashiran civil wars are boring. Dom waits in the market and greets Corayne, but apologizes after calling her “my lady” and Corayne remarks that she’s heard him apologize a lot. she says that he needs her to save the realm, he agrees, and she asks how do they save the realm. Dom says that two things are needed to open and close a Spindle, and those are Spindleblood and a Spindleblade, and that the Spindleblade is in the Royal Court of Ascal.

chapter 7: this chapter is in the POV of Erida, the queen of Galland, who wishes she could burn the list of suitors for her hand. she knows that her beauty and wit aren’t what draw people to her but the crown. she’s ruled for four years and is nineteen years old. she’s been in the council chamber for an hour but is already sore from sitting straight thanks to her tight gown and the uncomfortable chair. Erida always holds the council in one of the high towers, even in summer. her councillors listen as someone named Lord Ardath reads a letter while coughing bc he’s old. they mock the author of the letter for being a bad speller, since he’s asking for Erida’s hand in marriage. the councillors argue and bicker but Erida lets them bc the longer they argue, the longer she can go without getting married. we learn it’s been weeks since Andry returned, and Erida continues to wonder if he told the truth. sitting next to Erida is Lord Konegin, who is a cousin to Erida’s father, and she asked him to join the council to keep an eye out for usurpers to the throne. Konegin eventually puts a stop to the bickering by saying to add the name of the letter’s author to the list. it’s pointed out that while the suitor is a second son, he would protect the northern border. Erida stands and approaches the map on the wall. Erida says that their armor is five times larger than his, the army of Trec, and that she won’t wed herself to a kingdom that needs hers more than she needs theirs. she also points out Trec’s own geographical disadvantage. it’s pointed out one other country hasn’t conquered in two decades, and Erida thinks “for now” and returns to her chair, saying that that emperor is older than she is and thus isn’t willing to gamble on his sons. she will also not send her soldiers to fight in another’s war, and the councillors praise her intellect. we learn a lot about another army’s strength. Konegin says the Galland armies are prepared to fight and defeat any opposing army and that they have something more important at hand, and Erida says he’s right even though she doesn’t want to. she asks if there are any other names to add or remove to the list of suitors. a cousin gave his intentions, as does a female clan leader of the Jyd. people can marry any gender, but not ruling queens, who need heirs. the Jydi choose their heirs rather than birthing them. one suitor can be crossed off the list bc he’s marrying someone else, and Erida wonders if she can’t be dangled a little longer bc she wants to give her soldiers more time to gather at the border to Madrence bc she wants to push to the ocean and doesn’t want the Madrentine prince to be wed to the Siscarian princess before Galland begins so she doesn’t have to fight two armies. we get description of where armies of Galland are moving and whatnot, and Erida asks how long the armies need to be ready and is told two months, so Erida asks a councillor to get her three with another suitor. she’d rather be bait than a prize, and Konegin says there are more suitors to discuss, but “talk of war always emboldened her” and she tells Konegin that none of the suitors tempt her. she wants a husband who will strengthen her throne and uphold her family’s legacy, which she knows is a high bar to hurdle, if possible at all. if such a man exists, she knows she’ll marry him. Ardath says there are funerals to see to, though the bodies of Tyr and the Norths haven’t been found. Erida says the knights are to be buried properly, bodies or no, and Konegin asks about Andry. Erida says she’s sure another knight will take him on. Konegin again asks what Andry told her when he returned. she says that what Andry said is for her ears alone, and we learn that she says the people Andry was with were killed by a horde of Jydi raiders. Konegin is angry bc he has no idea why anyone was sent to the temple bc Erida didn’t tell anyone why she sent them. one councillor points out that they hadn’t seen the Elders in a generation, so surely Konegin would have done the same as Erida had, though Erida knows that Konegin would have gone himself. Konegin says he wants to hear what Andry says for himself, and Erida says that his words are for her alone, such is the cost of the crown, and Konegin surrenders to it. after a page break, Harrsing, one of the councillors, sits alone with Erida in the council chamber and points out that Konegin hasn’t put forth his own son as a suitor. Erida says it’s bc Konegin would rather sit on the throne himself than have Erida marry his son. Harrsing points out that there are still suitable men, and Erida says that she decides who is suitable, and so far no one is. Erida says that before her dad’s death, he had only two wishes: that Erida choose her own husband, and that none be forced on her. even though Erida is a queen, she’s also a woman, and people think her lesser for it. Harrsing says that the council is behind Erida, but Erida knows that that could change if someone they preferred came along, even for Harrsing, who has known Erida from birth and served her dad before her. Erida asks Harrsing to send word to Andry and his mom that she’d like to visit, and Harrsing says after the petitions. Erida wonders how many present themselves as suitors, and Harrsing says only one but she hears he’s a looker, and Erida asks to be told something useful and all thoughts of Andry vanish in favor of the “demands of the crown”.

chapter 8: back in Andry’s POV, Andry makes tea for himself and his mom, Lady Valeri. he likes making tea bc it allows him to think about something other than blood and slaughter. his mother says “have faith in the gods” in their native tongue, and he helps her to sit down. we’re told that Lady Valeri is still beautiful despite her illness. Andry sits down next to her and thinks about his home. he’s happy to not be in the barracks anymore, where he was as a squire to a knight, but also wishes that the circumstances that allow him to live with his mother hadn’t ever happened. he continues to angst about what happened in the prologue (it’s fine, i just don’t feel like summarizing all of it). Andry’s mom asks how Andry’s petitions are going, since he’s been petitioning lords and knights bc he’s told her that he’s trying to find another knight to be squire for. he tells us that he’s sent letters, but not about being a squire. Valeri asks if there are any promising ones, and Andry says that Konegin’s son recently became a knight and will be in want of a squire. we’re told that the queen’s doctor is set to visit them today. Valeri says there’s no need, that the queen shouldn’t fuss over her, and Andry is annoyed and tells her that he’s university trained in Ibal, named Dr. Bahi. Valeri wonders why the queen is bothering with her, Andry says that Valeri served the queen’s mother and knew Erida from birth, and that Erida is compassionate. Valeri says that Andry knows the histories better than her and wonders if a ruling monarch of Galland has ever been known as compassionate. Valeri looks at the tapestries on the wall, one of which features the sword and shield of Andry’s dad slashed in two, and Valeri asks if that was the shadows of the old empire forged from compassion or blood. Andry says “Mother, please,” but Valeri stands up and tells us about her backstory: coming to the Royal Court of Ascal as a foreign bride, set apart thanks to her skin and voice. she says that she has not remained here in high esteem by being foolish and she won’t let her son be a fool either, and asks what Erida wants of him. Andry is “reluctant to put such a burden on an already burdened woman” and thus doesn’t tell his mom that the last time Erida visited, it was to try to get more information out of him as well as to warn him against saying anything about what he knows. so Andry tells his mom that she’s told Erida everything he’s told Valeri. Vlaeri wonders if Erida believed him, and Andry says he doesn’t know, but that everything she’s asked of him he’s already given, and Valeri wonders if that includes the sword he hid under Valeri’s bed. Andry is surprised and Valeri says she’s not foolish. he says he’s told no one of the Spindleblade, and his mom scoffs and says “not even me,” and he explains it was Cortael’s blade, to which Valeri says it’s “a fine blade” but wonders why he hasn’t given it to Erida or the Elders. Andry feels foolish but says that something in him tells him that he shouldn’t, and wonders if that makes any sense, and Valeri wonders if that voice belongs to the gods or simply his own instinct. he knows the voice isn’t his, and says that he dreams of what happened every night and wonders if his dad ever did the same after battles. we learn Andry was six when his dad died. Valeri says his dad never talked about it like this. Andry asks if Valeri believes what he’s said, what he’s saw, and she says “I do.” he says that they need to make arrangements, then, and be prepared for travel, and Valeri begins to protest but Andry says that they go together or not at all, and Valeri says “Then we go.” after a page break, Andry tells us he sees the shadow of the Hill of Heroes every day, and also hears “with me,” said by Sir Galland. Andry is walking with other squires for the funeral mentioned in Erida’s chapter, and one elbows him and says they’re talking to him. a squire who is called Lemon by the other boys says he deserves to know what happened, just as much as Andry. Andry says that Lemon has the right to be quiet and show some respect to the knights who died. Lemon mocks that Andry is too good for the rest of them and wonders if that’s why he survived the attack, which is being played off as an attack by Jydi raiders. Lemon says that they wouldn’t find him on the Hill, with his lord dead and himself still alive bc of the shame of it. Andry tells us that he feels shame every day, and continues to ignore Lemon’s jabbing elbow and jibes. the procession reaches the section of the Hill reserved for knights of the Lionguard, though the queen and her entourage hasn't yet arrived. three wagons bring the coffins to the Hill, draped in finery. the queen finally arrives with “a somber call of trumpets”. Andry wants to be overlooked even as he watches the queen and thinks about how he and his mother will escape. Andry decides he’ll tell the Elders what happened and give them the Spindleblade. this is what follows, about the voices.

#kat reads r breaker #spoilers #r breaker recap

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absconditum-imaginaerum · 4 years

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Off Limits | Juyeon

Juyeon | Off Limits Words | 4,900 Notes | Professional!AU, Female!reader, in which the reader attends a work party with Juyeon whose coworkers can’t help but approach. Notes of relationship issues and jealousy, but only minor. Fluff with a dash of angst.

Summer was the busiest part of the year at work for Juyeon. Summer kept him away from home a lot, kept him occupied when he was at home a lot; it was a time when the highest amount of trading and activity took place within the business he worked, so summer was pretty much an all-hands-on-deck for as long as possible three-month-long event. He was lucky to have someone as understanding, and patient, and compassionate as you by his side to come home to every night. The biggest perk of this job, you claimed, were the elaborate and expensive dinner parties that were thrown at the end of summer to celebrate a job well done, to commend everyone who stuck through it for all their hard work and for surviving yet another year—for those who had been there for a while, including Juyeon. Naturally, you were his plus one to these events, and what a happy significant other you were.

A soft touch slithered across Juyeon’s middle as he stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, fixing up some final things while his tie hung around his neck, intending on being the last thing finished before heading out. Aside from feeling them, he could see your hands in the mirror slip around his middle while a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His large hands, warm and inviting, engulfed yours against his middle with the intent to relish you half pressed against his back for a little while longer before you were tugging your hands out from under his. Finally, he turned around to face you, and you looked him over.

He donned a suit that was somewhere between baby blue and light gray, it could be mistaken as both in any change of light, and a printed shirt that definitely pushed some values of blue, which made his suit appear far more blue than it was. You eyed the tie hanging around his neck while you could feel his eyes look you over—noting every detail of your patchwork lace topped dress, elegant yet simple, knee length flare at the bottom and the baby blue ribbon that hung untied around your waist.

You ignored the way he moistened his lips for a moment, tapping your index finger against your chin as you thought about what to put in place of his tie while he begged to kiss you. His mouth was in view, so it was hard to miss the way his jaw shifted, the way his lips puckered trying to bring your eyes a little bit higher. You tugged the tie from around his neck, completely dismissing his otiose attempts and disappeared back into the bedroom to return with a small gold chain that would fit nicely in the button holes of his button-down shirt, but not without listening to the way he pouted from the bathroom awaiting your return. After affixing the chain around his neck, you placed both your hands against his chest and leaned up as far as you could to place a chaste kiss against his pleading lips before turning him around so he could see your work.

“It’s a work party, but it can’t be all business,” you muttered from behind him while you watched him reach up to touch his new accessory that went with his suit a lot better than any tie he would be able to find in the closet.

“How is it you always know just what’s needed to bring everything together?” he asked, slowly turning himself around again to lean up against the countertop, but not without taking the two long strands of cloth ribbon that dangled playfully around your hips up into his hands to tie the most immaculate bow you’d never be able to do on yourself—that was good enough replacement for not getting to tie some complex knot he’d seen on the internet days prior. “And you always have just the right amount of subtlety to make us match,” he added with a smile, taking both of your unsuspecting cheeks with both of his hands to place another kiss against your mouth, unsatisfied with the first one, before kissing your forehead.

“We’d better go so we’re not too late; and while I don’t like the idea, we’re supposed to mingle, but if any one of my coworkers so much as looks at you sideways—”

“Darling,” you cut him off, “it will be fine; I can take care of myself.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want you to have to take care of yourself, especially at my work function,” he almost growled, pinpointing the exact guys who would most likely cause problems in his mind so he could be prepared.

You cupped a hand around the back of his neck, albeit he was quite a bit taller than you, and gently tugged him down enough to press a soft and lingering kiss against his forehead. “You worry too much; let’s get going,” you muttered into his skin before turning to leave him in the bathroom to follow you out.

Juyeon had never mentioned anything to his coworkers about a long-term significant other, so arriving with you was a bit interesting. You put on your best jovial smile, trying to leave a good first impression to anyone you met coming through the door to the ballroom the function was taking place in. There were decorations littered about, big congratulations signs with balloons—the works for a half-decent celebration. In the back on a buffet table was an assortment of hors d’oeuvres, appetizers, finger-foods, charcuterie, and anything alike that a handful of people were picking over. While Juyeon had already gotten caught up with a coworker as they exchanged sighs of relief about the most intense quarter of the year finally being over for the most part, you made your way to the punch table to help yourself to half a can of grapefruit sparkling water.

“When I said mingle, I didn’t mean ditch me right away,” he muttered from your side, able to escape his coworker long enough to relocate you as he stood to your side, fixing a cup of his own which was much the same since neither of you were drinkers.

“You were busy, and I was thirsty,” you said, clinking your cheap plastic cup against his with a smile.

“You haven’t even let me introduce you to anyone,” he almost complained and reached out to lace his hand with yours. He liked that you were so independent, so willing to make your way through this function without being attached to his side at all costs, but just to reiterate his point about you not having to take care of yourself at his work function, he wanted to let you know that you were allowed to be at his side if you wanted to be.

“You’re right, I should have waited for you,” you replied, earning a chaste turn into your temple for a quick kiss before he was ushering you over to a very important looking man who you assumed, correctly, to be Juyeon’s boss.

Your nerves set in a little bit as you stood in front of him, letting Juyeon introduce you before you exchanged pleasantries and told him a little bit about yourself including how long you had been with Juyeon and what you did for a living and a handful of your accomplishments and commendations, resulting in Juyeon’s boss looking over at him with what you assumed to be an approving look.

“Seems like you’re the one who keeps this ball of fire a little grounded,” he said to you with a teasing wink. Juyeon couldn’t stave off the blush that pricked his cheeks like a thousand needles and you could feel his hand tighten on yours for a moment.

“Sometimes he gets a little lost in the clouds, but I think he always knows when it’s time to come back down to earth,” you replied sweetly, looking over at your man with the most affectionate gaze. “Besides, we both keep each other in check.”

Juyeon excused himself to the appetizer table when it felt it was appropriate, offering to get you something while you mingled a little bit. You didn’t wander too far, striking up conversation with other girls who were there as plus ones, talking about your significant others who were all coworkers, but some split off in divisions. A couple of them, including some men whose significant others were a part of the company, spoke of how difficult it was sometimes dealing with the long hours and spontaneous business trips and how rocky it had made some relationships. It made you reflect on yours, about how even-keeled you and Juyeon were, that you knew it was the two of you as a team and that you could talk about anything and everything. Granted, the two of you had your problems, and there was no counting that out, but when you were put on the spot, being asked how you dealt with it, you froze for a second.

“We often forget that just because they’re the one who is away doesn’t mean that they aren’t feeling the separation too,” you started after your tongue reconfigured how to function in your mouth. “Sharp words are often exchanged because we think of how we’re feeling, but seldom think about how they’re feeling.”

“This is the first function I’ve seen you at,” one of the wives mentioned, a significant other of one of the higher-ups.

“We both work,” you replied with a smile, although it was a bit forced, “which makes the distance even harder. I typically work evening or night shifts which offsets our schedule and makes it more difficult. I’m typically not able to make it to these functions, so I’m glad I could make it this time.”

A wide palm touched against your low back—a touch you would never mistake for anyone else as he alerted you of his presence to your side, joining the circle as it went quiet. A paper plate littered with all kinds of things was held out in front of you for you to pick off of to fill the new silence.

“And you, Juyeon? How do you deal with it? The distance and demands of the job?”

You could feel Juyeon’s nerves in the air, and he looked at you as if he was being quizzed just to meet your encouraging nod.

“Sometimes, it’s not easy. I won’t lie and say we don’t fight. It’s frustrating; sometimes all the time we get with each other is three hours of sleep before someone’s getting up to go to work, or after just getting home from work. As long as you can look into their eyes and know for certain there’s a place for you, I think everything’s okay, everything’s right. It’s both of you versus the problem, not you versus each other.”

The way his eyes glittered as he looked at you while speaking sent a shiver through your spine, a shiver he could feel in his fingertips still soothingly pressed into your back. Fingertips that soon rose to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear that was hanging in front of one of your eyes.

“Funny the things we can learn from people half our age or less,” an unfamiliar voice mentioned as it entered from the side to take the waist of one of the women you were speaking with to press a chaste kiss against her temple. “The air felt too serious, this is supposed to be a celebration!”

Juyeon’s lips broke into a smile, and so, subsequently, did yours as you finally broke the somewhat intense gaze between the two of you to lean into him for a comforting armless embrace before picking at a couple of things on his appetizer plate as the conversation lightened significantly.

You got to know a few people quite well, and were introduced to their significant others too and you all spoke easily about mindless and trivial things, about your thoughts and opinions on certain things and playful banter about why this was better than that; it didn’t matter as long as the air was light and there was a smile on everyone’s faces. But soon the group broke so you could mingle with others, and you reassured Juyeon you would be fine on your own if there were people he wanted to talk with.

You followed one of the wives from the previous group to a new group, being introduced to her and her significant other; you were quickly finding yourself on the ins with the girls in the company whether they were spouses or employees. It was only natural at a company party with a group full of younger plus one ladies that there would be some interested looming going on. A couple of boys you’d only seen in passing since arriving to the party joined the circle to join in on the conversation—ladies laughing with each other was like vultures circling prey to the wrong types of guys.

One of the boys was a handsome and well-built man; he looked a little bit older than Juyeon but you couldn’t be for certain. You offered your name and shook his hand as he offered his: Sangyeon. He didn’t do much talking in the beginning, just trying to pick up on the conversation where it had left off for a moment to invite more people in. While you typically weren’t the type to be mistaken for naïve, the way you let Sangyeon settle in close and close to you may have had people second guessing. He brought you away from the conversation for only moment.

“That’s a very lovely bracelet,” he commented, noting your sterling silver set opal bracelet.

You glanced at him for a second before looking down at your wrist, and brought it up to shift the cool metal against your wrist. “Thank you,” you replied.

“Let me guess, it was your mother’s?” he asked suavely. You had to chuckle, too. It was a very mother-esque bracelet for you to be wearing, but you shook your head.

“Juyeon got it for me for my birthday,” you replied with a sweet smile, and he seemed to be taken aback by that reply.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear; Juyeon emerged from behind you, giving a startling touch against your hip and you jolted against his chest.

“Speaking of my doting man,” you said, and looked up at him. He looked down at you tenderly, noting your empty hands that were occupied with the bracelet around your wrist. “We were just talking about this pretty bracelet you got me for my birthday.”

He smiled a bit, eyes closing gently. “It looks very lovely on you,” he replied before acknowledging Sangyeon, someone he knew well, and greeted him appropriately. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m okay for now, thank you, darling,” you answered, feeling his warm plam against yours as he took your hand for a fleeting moment, giving it a squeeze before heading over to the refreshments. You turned back to Sangyeon to continue your conversation but the look on his face was different for obvious reasons.

“You and Juyeon seem very close,” he commented, giving one more gauging observation.

“We’ve been together for a long time. Since before he started working here.” You could see the math going on in the glazed over expression he was giving you. It had been quite a while indeed, if he could remember exactly when Juyeon started working with them. He gave you an affirmative nod, being reabsorbed into the general conversation since his purpose with you was through, especially as Juyeon took his place at your side again.

“Your bow is coming loose,” he mentioned and handed you his drink for a moment so he could fix it up. “What did Sangyeon want?” he asked you, even though he already knew the answer. You looked for Sangyeon who had already made his way away from the circle again before choosing your words.

“He wanted to pick me up; asked if my bracelet was my mom’s. It didn’t get far before you showed up, with the usual impeccable timing,” you chuckled back and handed his drink back as he fixed your bow properly.

“I knew these guys wouldn’t leave you alone; this is why I never want to take you to work functions in the first place, some people here have one goal and sometimes won’t stop even if you ask,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and turned into his side to place your hand against his chest and your head against his shoulder as you casually listened to surrounding conversation. For the time being, the contact soothed Juyeon’s nerves. He was less concerned about you—he knew you weren’t the problem, but he knew sometimes you liked to play naïve a little bit more than you should which he sometimes considered opening a door you didn’t want to open.

For a bit, you followed Juyeon from circle to circle as he found someone knew he wanted to speak with, or who wanted to speak with him. You held on to his arm as an intellectual addition with actual knowledge about the company and what they did, so it was easy for you to keep up with conversation where other plus-ones would just daze off into the abyss and disengage with the conversation. Juyeon appreciated the way you contributed to conversation; it really illuminated just how much communication the two of you shared, almost as a warning sign to not step in between you because it would never work anyway. He couldn’t take enough precautions after the antics already started with Sangyeon.

Once a few circles were dried up for conversation with him, Juyeon excused himself to the restroom to leave you to your own devices for a moment. You made your way to the punch table again to refresh your beverage, meeting the presence of a man about Juyeon’s age you hadn’t paid much mind to, although you’d seen him looming around.

His smile was somewhat greasy, but dashing for the right person all at the same time. His eyes were charming as he looked over at you, watching what you were pouring into your cup. His voice was melodious as it exited his lips and fell into your ears, giving you a soft greeting and offering some small talk about your grapefruit sparkling water until your gaze was finally meeting his. His eyes were swirling pools of amber that attempted to captivate you almost immediately, but he could tell you weren’t the type to be so smitten by that alone as you took half a step away from him and crossed an arm against your body. He offered his name, which made the conversation a little more comforting—at least you knew who he was.

“Charmed, Hyunjae. Have you been with the company long?” you asked him, attempting to divert the conversation to something a little more relevant, especially since it was a one-on-one conversation with a man you’d never interacted with before.

He spoke loosely about his affiliation with the company, not offering up any information of some real substance, but you could tell he was trying to perpetuate the conversation even as you left the punch table with him in tow. He asked about you, about what you did, but never bothered to ask who you were here with.

As Juyeon made his way back into the ballroom from the hallway, his eyes scanned the vicinity for you, and when they fell on you, he caught a displeased noise in his throat. He could tell you were holding your own with the way you were standing, disinterested, but if he knew anything about Hyunjae it was that he was persistent and didn’t typically take no for an answer the first few times.

“Pretty girls like you typically aren’t interested in guys like us or the job we bring home with us, you must have come as a favor to someone with a lot of persuading,” he mentioned, “and to look so dazzling. They must have really wanted to look good arriving with you. Baby blue is really your color—”

You unceremoniously slapped his hand away when it touched at the playful ribbon tied around your waist with care. Your chin tilted up to look at him over your cheekbones with a quirk of your brow, as if to question what exactly he thought he was doing.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to touch things that aren’t yours,” you jeered, “to not beg so pitifully for things you can’t have.”

Hyunjae scoffed with a sneer on his face and spent a few seconds licking his wounds but he was bound and determined not to give up. “Perhaps I overstepped,” he offered to try and smooth over the situation. “But can I just say your personality is positively fiery. A man would be lucky to have you.”

You were about to reply, something else sharp queued in your throat when a familiar aura washed up against your side. His grip was a little tighter this time, tugging your far hip into him, into a body a little tenser than it usually was. Your hand almost fumbled your drink.

“I’ve been looking for you, my love,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just witnessed Hyunjae attempt to put his hands in places they particularly did not belong, which was anywhere near you, and pressed a searing kiss behind your ear that made your eyes flutter. It was unusual for Juyeon to use terms of endearment with you, so you knew he had seen what happened. “I think we’re getting ready to settle down for dinner if you want to find our table?” he asked, pressing another kiss against your temple, and took your hand to press another kiss against the back of it to really drive the point home that you were off limits.

You took the hint, and left Juyeon to deal with Hyunjae as you made your way out of that particular ballroom to the one across the hall where dinner would be had. But not without giving him a particular look, sliding your hands down his forearm to lock hands with his for only a moment before you were giving him the space he was requesting. Juyeon watched you go to make sure you were out of ear-shot before he turned to Hyunjae.

“I like you as a person and coworker, Hyunjae,” he began, “don’t jeopardize that.” It was the most patronizing, threatening, and offensive three words he’d ever said to Hyunjae, followed by a couple of pats on the shoulder before turning on his heel. “In case that’s not clear, don’t ever touch her again,” he paused to say over his shoulder before following after you.

He made it into the ballroom across the hall and glanced over the tables until he found you. There were a few other couples among the room who had enough of the mingling much the same as himself and were just looking to escape for some quiet time. His legs glided him over to you in an instant and he took a seat. He could see the look in your eyes, like you’d disappointed him.

You waited for him to speak first, but he didn’t seem interested in talking. Instead, he occupied himself with your hands, noticing the redness on the back of your right hand which swatted Hyunjae’s hand away from you and soothingly rubbed over it with his thumbs. He looked down at it, few thoughts running through his mind, just that he wished he was there to prevent the whole thing—albeit, also pleased it wasn’t worse. You watched the way he gnawed at his lip, the gears turning in his head.

It boiled Juyeon’s blood when he thought he wasn’t there for you the way he should be. He leaned forward against his legs, resting his elbows against them as he brought your hand up to kiss the back of it, against the knuckles that were reddened. You knew he was micro-focused on that, on the fact that you displayed signs of having to defend yourself, so you pulled your hands from his and gingerly cupped his jaw, sliding soft hands against his cheeks, against his neck, through the hair on the back of his head—anything to soothe him with your presence even if it was just a little bit.

Little needed to be said between the two of you as a majority of it was understood, but nothing was said as he relished your touch, finding comfort and the ability to center enough to get through dinner, at least for a moment.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he muttered into the pad of your palm as he turned his face into it.

“Hush,” you soothed with a gentle shake of your head, the worry knitting your brow together—he didn’t need to apologize for that, none of it was his fault; Hyunjae overstepped a boundary knowing that you were uninterested and that had nothing to do with Juyeon.

“That’s the trade off, I guess, for having someone as smart and beautiful and dazzling and charming as you by my side,” he whispered, looking up at you with those gorgeous glimmering eyes to flash you a subtle wink. “Let’s just go home and have takeaway and a warm bath and a movie in bed?”

It didn’t take any more convincing, and the both of you left Juyeon’s work party without saying so much as goodbye to anyone to meet your takeaway at home—it was far better than any over-the-top expensive food you could get in the ballroom of any hotel served by the tens, anyway. And a warm bath with your love, having hot water run across your achy muscles as you rested against him was far beyond any conversation you could be having with anyone you had met in your time there. It was the right call, to be spending time one on one with the little time you did have together.

Juyeon’s chest expanded and contracted behind you, his even breath against your shoulder as his head tilted to rest against yours, a few of your flyaway hairs tickling his nose now and again. His hand was threaded with yours beneath the water’s surface—all was serene, all was right. The relaxing rose essence that wafted through the water was making the both of you even more sleepy.

“This is so much better than some stupid work party,” Juyeon’s deep voice reverberated in your ear before he kissed behind it. “I can’t even remember the last time we took a bath together.” His lips grazed across the top of your shoulder, from your neck over to the curve, leaving little kisses in his path.

“My birthday,” you replied.

“Too long ago,” he answered. Whatever your answer was, he would have said that anyway. You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that fell from your lips, especially with the way your head leaned back to rest against his shoulder. The smile on your face would have melted him into a puddle, if he could see it, but he was too busy peppering every inch of skin he could reach with gentle kisses until he popped the plug on the bath as the water was getting a bit too cold.

He put your robe around you first after stepping out of the tub, fluffy bathmat under both your feet. Not even slightly taken aback, he leaned into your kiss when you took the lapel of his robe, embroidered with his initials, and tugged him down to meet you. You danced around each other’s feet after he turned to maneuver you back to the bedroom, kissing all over your face until you were giggling mess and lying beneath him, against the cool duvet of your shared bed.

“Next time I ask you to go to a work function, tell me no,” he purred against your forehead before giving it a sweet kiss.

“How about I ask if you’d rather stay home,” you reasoned with him, watching the way his eyes glittered in the pale yellow light of the bedside lamp, the only light illuminating the room, and the way his eyes sparkled was like all of the stars in the night sky compacted into his beautiful irises.

“Where did I find you?” he asked rhetorically.

“At the laboratories in the south district,” you replied anyway, referring to your work place.

He wanted to be disappointed in your answer, but the more he looked at you, the more a smile broke on his face even though he tried to bite it back.

“Let’s put pajamas on and pick a movie,” you suggested quickly, watching the gears turn behind is eyes as he thought of something snarky to say to your previous comment, and immediately his expression softened as he gave a gentle nod and lifted you back up from the bed.

#juyeon fluff #deobiwritersnet #juyeon imagine #juyeon scenario #juyeon oneshot #tbz fluff #tbz imagine #tbz scenario #tbz oneshot #female!reader #juyeon #tbz #q: crafting with Ju

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 4 years

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I would like to revisit my alternate S5 ending...

...to address the villainous aspect of Lena’s character instead of ignoring it, in which case the big reveal leading to the final stretch of episodes being the superfriends finding a hidden server at the DEO that seems devoted to tracking and monitoring a secret convoy.

When they track it down, they crack open a freight truck to find it modified into a prison inside. A prison with a single prisoner.

Locked in a straightjacket and blinded by a dark hood, they can’t fathom who it might be. But when Supergirl wrenches the cell door off its hinges the bare feet that recoil in fear are delicate and pale.

A woman?

Kara reaches out with wary care, and gently removes the hood.

It takes her an eternal moment before she pieces the dark hair and pale skin and green eyes into the complete picture of Lena Luthor.

Except this Lena isn’t the one who glared at her from across her desk in the LuthorCorp headquarters not so long ago. This Lena has sallow skin and dark bruises under her eyes and limp hair and flinches away from Kara without looking at her... but it is Lena.

Kara reaches for Lena’s cheek, but flinches away when Lena kicks out, still without lifting her eyes. “Don’t touch me.”

The clink of a chain follows as Lena scoots away-- a repurposed leash that tethers her to the wall of the truck, barely a foot of give. This Lena is small and skittish of the bodies milling in the truck around them, pressing closer with dangerous intent, but it’s still...

“Lena?”

Bruised green eyes snap to Kara, locking on her face for a long shuddering moment before they drift to the symbol on her chest.

“K-Kara...”

Bruised green eyes fill with tears, and even though it doesn’t make sense, none of it makes sense, because this isn’t the woman who cried in anguish in the Fortress of Solitude, this isn’t the person who turned her back on Kara’s hologram, but it is the Lena who leans towards Kara for comfort as reality kicks in, and the tears spill over.

It is the Lena who Kara wraps her arms around, and holds her close.

---

In a Tower interrogation room, they learn Lena knows less than they do.

“I don’t know,” Lena tells them from across the table. “I woke up, in the-- in a lab, and my brother was there. He told me--”

Her eyes flicker to Kara, then away.

“He told me some awful things.”

She’d spent most of the time since exactly where they’d found her. Lex didn’t seem to want anything, except to keep her contained. Contained, and alone. But when they move the conversation to the medbay, where Alex examines her, she locks up, and can barely seem to breathe for all the equipment around her.

When Alex comes in with a syringe, Lena recoils. “No. No, no, no...”

“Whoa, hey,” Kara soothes, “it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s just a booster,” Alex says. “Cocktail shot of some vitamins and electrolytes.”

“See?” Kara holds Lena’s hand. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Lena’s eyes lock on Kara’s, but she doesn’t pull away when Alex moves back in for a second attempt. Kara brushes the hair from Lena’s forehead, hoping the touch will keep Lena focused on her rather than the needle. It works.

But when Lena starts to relax when the needle withdraws, it’s not in relief. Lena’s eyes grow wild with panic, even as they start to drift shut. “You said...”

Kara looks to Alex, and finds her sister’s features solemn and unyielding. Sudden anger flares at Alex’s lie, that Alex lied to her, but focuses instead comforting Lena.

“It’s okay,” she promises. “You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

---

“We don’t know who she is,” Alex defends herself later.

“She’s Lena, Alex.”

“So is the person who kidnapped J’onn’s brother and stole Myriad,” comes the counter. “Maybe she really doesn’t know anything, or maybe she does. Until we know exactly what is going on, she cannot be trusted.”

And so when Kara next visits Lena, it’s from the far side of the isolation cell glass. Lena sits curled in a ball, head on her knees, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“They don’t believe me.”

It’s not a question. There’s no doubt in Lena now. No more fear. She’s back in a situation she’s familiar with-- being contained, being controlled. There’s a bitter sense of comfort in it.

“Lex told me they wouldn’t,” Lena continues. “He was right. About them. About you.”

Just as with the Lena who sits at her desk in Luthorcorp headquarters, Kara can barely face the hurt in this Lena’s gaze. She almost looks away, but stops herself. This time, she holds Lena’s gaze, and faces the anguish she’d been unable to face the last time.

But this time, Lena isn’t looking for comfort.

“Go away.”

It’s not the second chance Kara hoped for. That second chance remains out of her reach as Lena turns away and doesn’t speak for days after. The only further information they get out of her is that her last memory before waking up in Lex’s lab is of her pulling the trigger on her brother. Of killing him.

“She doesn’t deserve to be here,” Kara argues to Alex. “I know you don’t trust her, but I do. I’m not saying we should just let her out on her own--” they have no idea why or how there are two Lena’s, but risking the two meeting would be a bad, bad idea. “What I’m saying is that she come stay with me. I’ll keep an eye on her, and maybe she’ll be able to trust us enough to give us more information.”

And so Lena soon finds herself standing awkwardly in the middle of Kara’s apartment. She looks around like she’s never been there before. Maybe she hasn’t. Or maybe she has, and she’s absorbing the minutiae of differences since her last visit.

Kara suspects the latter, when she sees Lena’s gaze linger on a photo of the most recent game night that scrolls across her sleeping laptop. It’s one she loves because it includes Winn. That it’s one without James and Lena both leaves her feeling empty.

But when another photo from that night scrolls across, a close up of Will, Kara, and Nia, Lena’s jaw tightens. When Lena averts her gaze, Kara catches a glimpse of anger, and an old guilt rears its ugly head in Kara’s chest. She should have been quicker to invite Lena into her life. Into their game nights, into her secret, into everything. Will’s quick acceptance of and by the group proves that the only thing that kept Lena at arm’s length was Kara’s own inhibitions.

Her own fear.

“Lena, I--”

“I assume I’m taking the couch,” Lena grumbles, forestalling any overture. “Or is this where the chains and dog cage come out?”

Kara swallows thickly, unable to completely deny Lena’s concerns as outlandish, as she’d had to talk Alex out of physical restraints for her guest.

“No,” Kara replies. “No chains. No cages.” She shrugs. “I trust you.”

A scoff is all the response she gets to that.

---

Lena picks at her dinner, and barely eats a morsel before ultimately putting her plate aside. When Kara clears up, she listens to Lena’s breath and heart rate, finding some semblance of relief when Lena finds a comfortable position on the couch and finally, finally relaxes.

She takes her time, allowing Lena extra minutes to herself. When Kara finally returns, she does so with a mug of tea in each hand. Lena simply stares at hers when Kara sets it down in front of her. Kara tries not to notice the way Lena’s eyes follow her as she curls up in the chair opposite the couch. She stirs her tea with a pensiveness that’s not entirely genuine.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

The question comes as quiet as a sigh.

“All I ever wanted was to be trusted, and you let me believe that I was--”

Lena’s voice cracks, making tears spring to Kara’s eyes.

“Lex really was right. Nothing I did was ever going to be enough for you.”

“That is not true.” Kara sits forward. “It was never about that. Never.”

A shrug lifts Lena’s sweatered shoulder. She still has yet to meet Kara’s eye. “No, it wasn’t.”

Because if it had been, Lena would have been told a thousand times over. Like she should have been.

“I was afraid, Lena.” Kara curls her hands around her mug. “I know that must seem so foolish to you, and it does to me too, now. But before I told you? The thought of losing you--”

“What have I ever done to make you think I would hate you?”

“Because… you do?”

“I hate that you weren’t the one who told me. I hate that the words came from my brother, as he lay dying in front of me after I shot him in the chest. That’s what I hate. Not you.”

Kara’s throat locks around a sob, her eyes filling with tears. “Lena…”

“I hate that of all the things my brother is, everything he’s done… I hate that he’s more honest than you are.”

In a single blink, the floodgates open. Tears spill down Kara’s cheeks and don’t stop. On silent feet, Kara moves to kneel at Lena’s side. Reaching for Lena’s hand is a risk, but one that rewards Kara with warm fingers in hers.

“I’m sorry, Lena.” Her voice scrapes and scratches-- there’s no defense in her, no way to hide the raw emotion spilling from her. “I am so sorry. I should have told you. I should have trusted you. Not just with my secret. I should have trusted that you-- that our friendship-- was stronger than that.”

Lena takes a shuddering breath, one that seizes in a sob. When Lena leans towards her, Kara wraps both arms around her. Thin arms hug her back, and bony shoulders wrack with silent sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Lena.”

And just like that-- they start to heal.

---

Their peace doesn’t last long. J’onn can only pretend to be Supergirl for so long before the real thing is needed. Lena’s trust in being trusted is put to the test: she spends Kara’s time away curled on the sofa, eyes on the door, just waiting for Alex’s team to burst in and take her back to the isolation cell. When the only person to enter is Kara six hours later with four pizzas, garlic breadsticks, and a two liter of MelloYello in hand, Lena almost starts crying all over again.

When their paths end up crossing, Kara finds interacting with the other Lena difficult-- she spends the limited exchange searching Lena’s face for any hint that she knows a version of her exists besides herself; that a version of her is sitting in Kara’s apartment, wearing an oversized hoodie and baggy blue jeans.

Kara can’t find any.

Kara knows that doesn’t mean anything.

She goes home that night and asks her version of Lena for a hug. Her version of Lena gives it-- slowly, but without hesitation.

One night, Kara returns home to a ransacked apartment devoid of any Lena. There’s no question who is behind it the blood Kara finds on her hardwood floors. Only one man knows this Lena exists. Only one man knows where Supergirl might keep a traumatized best friend.

And there’s only one person who can go up against Lex Luthor and have a hope of coming out on top.

So Kara goes to the Lena Luthor whose eyebrow lifts in derision at the sight of her, and tells her everything. She explains the second version of Lena they’d found and lost again, tells her how Lex is behind it all, shares how they still haven’t any idea why.

And that Lena stares at her as though she wants to accuse her of more lies, more subterfuge, but when her lips part, what falls out is “then let’s find out.”

They track Lex to one of his many bunkers that still exist in this reality, and there they find him with the second Lena (or maybe the first, Kara’s still not sure). The Lena’s stare at each other, one with more surprise than the other. Kara supposes it’s hard to be surprised when one is cuffed hand and foot, with a collar around your neck.

Lex, for his part, only smiles. “Hey, sis.”

The chain connecting to the collar around Lena’s neck retracts into the ceiling, pulling her to the very tips of her toes and leaving her choking for breath. Kara shoots forward, but the area around the dangling Lena glows green with Kryptonite, effectively grinding her to a halt before she staggers back to be caught by the other Lena.

“Why?” that Lena asks her brother. “What good could having two of me possibly be to you when you don’t let one out of your sight?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Lex returns. “I didn’t double you, god no. Why would I double my work trying to control you? No, I reduced you. By half.”

Shock ripples through them both. The sight of it makes Lex chuckle.

“You always had such potential, ace. But your judgement was always clouded by empathy-- you were always soft. But brilliant. Brilliant enough to figure me out. Splitting all of that between two of you, well… it made you far more pliable.”

“But…” Kara gasps. “How?”

Lex lifts a brow in an expression eerily like Lena’s. “You of all people should have figured it out by now, Supergirl.”

Just like that, the pieces click into place.

“The harun’el.”

The same mineral that once split Kara herself. The same mineral Lena spent months working with. Rao.

Lea leans towards her. “He means…?”

“Red Daughter,” Kara confirms.

She can still see her. Sometimes Kara dreams of her, still feels the weight of her body evaporating from her arms as she holds her dying counterpart.

Kara looks at Lena, sees her eyes dark with thought as they travel from Kara to her dangling twin, then to Lex. Lex receives her silent gaze with an almost proud grin.

“But I gotta say, sis, even I never imagined you’d go as far as Non Nocere.”

Kara staggers to take her own weight, freeing Lena to approach her brother. Whatever Kara expected Lena to say or do in confronting Lex, it wasn’t the sight of long fingers snatching a scalpel from a table as she passed, or for the movement to be so blatant that Lex would see it coming.

“Oh, come now, Lena,” Lex chides. “At least you were smart enough to bring a gun last time.”

Lena lifts the blade towards him, but her features twist into a smirk. “What makes you think this is for you?”

Before anyone has time to react, Lena lifts the blade and plunges it deep into her own throat.

“NO!” Lex and Kara cry in unison.

Kara moves faster, catching Lena as she falls. She cradles her friend in her arms, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Lena… why?”

“I refuse…” Lena gasps, “to be less...”

“What if--?”

“I’m not the copy?” Lena gurgles slightly through the blood filling her throat. It bubbles to her lips, staining them an unnatural red. “I’m the one he kept around. Just like…”

She coughs, unable to finish. Kara does it for her.

“Just like Red Daughter.”

Lena features droop, gray with increasing blood loss. “Don’t… let him… win…”

With her last crackling breath, Lena’s form melts away just like Red Daughter’s, misting into a purple ether that lifts from Kara’s arms and chases towards where Lena still hangs on the tips of her toes. The violet energy sinks into her, illuminating her entire frame for a split second before it pulses out of her in a violent burst that disintegrates her bonds and drops her to her knees, choking for breath.

Kara intercepts Lex when he makes a run for it-- she grabs him by the collar and tosses him back towards his sister, who still glows with unearthly light. He struggles to his knees as Lena climbs to her feet, eyes glowing with power.

“Okay, Lena, listen to me-- I just wanted the best for you. For us to be working together, just like we used to--!”

Lena roars. She roars so loud that Kara covers her ears under the onslaught, and peers through slitted eyes as the power of the harun’el funnels into Lena’s hands, mouth and hands, firing a single combined blast towards her cowering brother. It consumes him entirely.

When the light under Lena’s skin finally wanes, there is nothing left of Lex-- not even a scorch mark. In the silence that follows, Lena sags to her knees once more, exhausted.

Green eyes meet Kara’s, heavy and full of emotion Kara can’t quite decipher.

“I’m sorry,” Lena murmurs. “For everything.”

Kara staggers towards her, and collapses to her knees beside Lena. She wraps Lena in a fierce hug, tears still damp on her cheeks.

Lena’s alive. This time, Lena is whole.

Kara would have asked for nothing else in the world.

---

It doesn’t take long for normalcy to return after that. Lena steps up as the CEO she’s meant to be, and it’s less than a month before she announces her intent to rebrand LuthorCorp as L-Corp. Supergirl resumes her full duties, and this time does so with a true ally in Lena.

Still, there’s a hesitation in her chest when she arrives at Lena’s office one afternoon as Kara Danvers. She has Big Belly Burger in one hand, and kombucha in the other, the only peace offerings she can think to bring besides her heart, ready to be given if asked.

She steps into the room with said heart in her throat, and almost swallows her tongue when Lena’s gaze snaps up to her and freezes for a split second before softening in recognition. The smile that follows is as gentle as the first rays of sunlight on an early sunday morning, and warms Kara just as completely.

“Hey you,” Lena greets quietly. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It takes a long moment for Kara to realize she means Kara Danvers-- it’s been too long since Kara has been anything but Supergirl in front of Lena, even when she wasn’t wearing the cape.

“Yeah,” Kara agrees. “Sorry about that.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, until Kara lifts the heavy bag in her right hand. “Big Belly?”

Lena’s features warm.

“I knew there was a reason you’re my favorite.”

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