It's favorite not favourite
this just in: the world outside of america doesn’t exist
Fic update!
“Babies aren’t weird!”
lena just gets on with her life every episode even tho shes been manipulated into horrible situations by her abusive mother and almost murdered by her brother several times WHILST getting blamed for everything they do NOT TO MENTION been thrown off a fucking balcony and been absolutely sure that she would die in the fall yet she ISNT EVEN FAZED by it is honestly?? unrealistic
Because apparently there’s an eight day...? Oooh, I’m so happy there is. Well, here’s the last one (a little bit shorter, a little bit sadder), hopefully you’ll enjoy this one, too. It’s been a blast to take part in this fun little week, go check out other people’s works: I saw many others share their art in honor of Korrasami Week.
Without further ado, here’s my last, and thanks to everyone who read :)
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Prompt: free day (unspoken)
Even if you aren't completely healed, Asami writes, even if you can't walk, ever again, the paper scars under the ink, please.
She retraces the word until the page wrinkles around the curls of the letters.
Please, please, she writes and struggles and flails and drowns in the river of her emotions.
A drop of ink splashes on the last words, don't give in, I know you think yourself useless, but I don't want the next Avatar, I want you. Don't give in.
The blare of a faraway siren pierces the stillness of her office
Asami tries to breath, I can be strong enough for both of us, I can hope for both of us she lies and even if I can't, I can be strong for you. Maybe not for me, but I will give up all of my strength for you.
A log sparks in the hearth, cleaves in two.
Until there's nothing left for me she tries to figure out how to stop the life bleeding out from her beating heart I know what it feels to be broken, in shards and splinters, I can rebuild myself, I already did, I know what to do to feel whole again.
I'm a builder she writes I replaced that mirror you broke at the Air Temple, her little finger itches, the puckered line of new tissue itching, but I'm not brave enough to face its reflection alone.
Asami's vision swims, and the letter seems endless. A rattle of thorn and teeth, a desire. I love you the words plunge in the space beneath her ribs I love you. Please come back to me. Please
There is a twitch of movement at the edge of her spotted vision. A flicker.
Do you still have my brooch? her smile aches It was selfish of me, but I wanted you to have a piece of me she confesses and the shine in her eyes burns to unshed tears.
And if you don't like it, she bleeds, even if you don't know it's from me-
The thought flashes in her mind like the rotating blink of a lighthouse.
Toss it in the ocean. But please. Come back. Or I can come to the South Pole, it's just a matter of hours. I-
She crosses out everything thrice, then crumples up the paper.
Dear Korra, she writes again, and let the words spiral in a whirlwind of calm, undamaged sentences about her week I went to the park yesterday after lunch because my assistant insisted I was spending too much time holed up in my office. So I did some cloudgazing, feeling like a child again and I saw a big long cloud that definitely looked like Naga.
Her words are perfectly aligned, each letter curling upwards on the blank page in a way that makes Asami want to cry. Her voice is raw, her body broken.
Her body feels foreign. It takes days to adjust to the motions and weeks to grow comfortable in it.
It's like a second thought and each time she moves, she has to think about it. She bends forks and breaks dishes with inhumane strength. She reaches a staircase and doesn't remember how to lift her foot to take the first step.
The woman is always there with her, patient and ever so gentle. She eases her grip on the cutlery and hooks their elbows together before nudging her towards the stairs.
With each passing day, she acquires an inch more of her body.
A rattle of bones, a clack of fangs and teeth. Soft skin that bleeds under halfmoons of nails.
Or my interpretation of this spooky art
read it on ao3
Here’s an old story, while my brain fights with itself and refuses to put together more words. Happy Halloween!
The air feels different.
The warehouse had been damp, perpetually chill, and echoed with emptiness. As Lena slowly wakes, the air around her presses warm and dry against her skin, enveloping her in gentle sounds.
Beeping monitors, now a fixture of her reality.
Muffled voices, urgent yet distant, as though muffled through a door.
Faint snores, from someone sleeping in the room next to her bed.
With considerable effort, Lena pries open her sleep crusted eyes. The ceiling overhead is too close, too white. She blinks against the disorientation, and when she tries again she can count the ceiling tiles between the air vents, and suddenly it doesn't feel like the room is caving in on her anymore.
More surprising, though, is when she turns and finds the snores are issuing from Supergirl herself.
Alarm sears against her senses, and Lena gasps when her heart starts to pound. Supergirl jolts awake at the sound, bolting upright even as Lena recoils.
"Get away!" Lena chokes out. "Get away from me, please--"
Supergirl lifts her hands placatingly. "I'm not going to hurt you--"
"I don't want to hurt YOU--"
"You won't," Supergirl promises gently. Lena pauses when the hero nods towards her chest, hands still aloft. "Look."
Lena reaches for the collar of her hospital gown, peeking beneath to see that the chunk of kryptonite is covered by a portion of her leaded apron, now secured by shoulder straps over each arm and a buckle around her ribs.
"We're both safe," Supergirl continues. "I promise."
Sagging, Lena sucks in a ragged breath. All she wants is to curl into a ball, close her eyes, and pretend none of this had happened at all, but she hasn't the strength. Tears start to come, burning hot against her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she says again, her voice cracking under the strain. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone."
Supergirl nods, slowly bending to perch on the seat she'd just been dozing in. "I know. But I'm okay. We're more concerned about you."
Lena blinks up at the ceiling. "You can't remove it, can you."
"No," Supergirl responds after a beat. "The kryptonite is fully grafted into all of your neurological and circulatory systems. It's... It's the only thing keeping you alive."
It comes as zero shock to Lena-- Lillian has made no effort to spare Lena the details of her condition, or the success of her work in resurrecting her. Lillian has never been one to sugar coat.
"I know you've been through a lot," Supergirl continues. Her eyebrows crinkle in the middle. Lena doesn't quite know what to do with the concern in the hero's gaze. Or the sympathy. "But we were hoping you could help us."
"How?"
"The people who did this to you... we think they're part of a group called Cadmus. We think the person behind is--"
"Her name is Lillian Luthor," Lena surrenders readily, bitterness rising in her throat. "She's my mother."
Lena's jaw tightens. She meets the hero's gaze.
"What do you want to know?"
I’m curious about something, if you write, reblog this post and put in the tags what you write with (MS Word, Google Docs, etc)
Marbles and random things I enjoy
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