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princess-of-the-corner · 10 months

Note

okay i need a summary of the S5 finale

someone in the server just asked what happened in the story so far so i need concrete details of how everything's been settled

This is gonna be rough because I have watched all this go by in a fever dream and half-remembering stuff and maybe confusing it with the leaked script(I don't remember what was changed) and I do NOT have the energy to look up exact details rn but:

So Adrien and Kagami are in London locked in their respective rooms which are. Pretty blank just a slab for a bed and a foosball table.

They're also drugged I think? But their parents are using their Alliance Avatars to fake celebrity couple moments for the public.

Nathalie tries to kill Gabriel with a crossbow but he manipulates her long enough that she starts dying

Ladybug was investigating the Agreste Mansion for.... I forget why probably but it's sure not because she's suspicious of Gabriel due to Felix telling her his identity in a previous episode because she is absolutely shocked when she sees him transform.

Oh wait she's probably investigating because Gabriel kinda just Scarecrow Fear gassed the whole world with the Alliance Ring's programs and some other shit and sends out an alert on the rings like 'Oh no LB and CN have kidnapped Adrien and Kagami! Don't you want to help? Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to go apeshit?' and a bunch of people turn into the most generic fucking blank 'just a body to fight' Akumas.

Ladybug decides to fight him instead of finding Chat for backup

Adrien is still over in London, blitzed as fuck in gay baby jail. He realizes he's kinda fucked up and hands the ring off to Plagg to escape. Plagg flies across the entire ffucking ocean back to Paris and finds Ladybug mid-fight.

Marinette is now wielding both Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous. She's fighting Gabriel (who has all the others except the Peacock(with Felix) and the Rabbit(with Alix)). And she absolutely WRECKS him. We get a real good fight sequence including some cartoony nonsense like using Lucky Charm to drop a whole fucking grand piano on him.

Anyway. She's winning clearly. They end up in the basement crypt with Emilie's coffin. She knocks the Butterfly off him and into the abyss and like. We've gotten clips of Lila(or whatever her real name is) being in on this so obviously Lila's gonna pick it up.

Marinette has Gabriel pretty backed into a corner but she does the 'I'm sure you're still good you just miss your wife please don't do this give up!' thing. While dropping her transformation and offering her hand out completely fucking vunerable.

Naturally Gabriel uses Venom to paralyze her and steals both the Miraculous.

Gabriel starts up the Wish, which makes Tikki and Plagg go into True Form Godmode where they're giant magical multi-armed beings and do a fusion dance thing to turn into the Kwami of Reality: Gimmi. (this part is actually really cool just like the fight scene)

Gabriel has a literal last second change of heart(?) and asks Marinette to make sure Adrien never finds out that Gabriel was Monarch and that he only remembers the times he tried to be a good father(BITCH WHERE???)

He makes the Wish and fucking dies

Cut to some time later: everyone is back in Paris. Bustier as Mayor is going over soooo well she's turned everything into such a utopia of environmental consciousness(completely ignoring the time and money it would take to make these changes! And more importantly ignoring that even if Bustier isn't a corrupt politician, there's a fuckton of other actual corrupt politicians that would shut this shit down so hard).

They're celebrating Gabriel's 'sacrifice' in helping Ladybug defeat Monarch and he gets a statue(made of melted down Alliance rings) calling him a Hero! Adrien hopes he'll live up to that greatness one day!

Speaking of the Alliance rings, Tomoe gets away with helping Gabriel because she lies and is like 'oh we were totally hacked!' and everyone believes her.

Marinette does not tell Adrien the truth about Gabriel or even that Adrien is a Sentimonster. But hey she at least gives him the wedding ring Amoks?

We get a clip of everyone getting their Miraculous as a permanant Hero team and then having a party at the pool! All the kids are there(except Chloé who is off in London getting abused by her mother because 'oh she deserves it for*checks notes* reacting to the previous abuse she suffered in a not-perfect way!').

Nathalie is healed and fine and also at the pool party.

We get a shot of the woman who is either Emilie brought back to life or Amelie. No one is sure. It seems like Amelie because she wasn't mentioned elsewhere in the epilogue and she's also wearing black(Emilie is always in white, Amelie is always in black). But the leaked scripts and the character model sheet called her 'Emilie' so no one knows.

We get a final scene showing Lila's lair in the catacombs, where she has the Butterfly Miraculous and also the robo-army remote control thing from back when Chloé was mayor. She gets jumscared by something off screen and it cuts out

#ml spoilers

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neon-junkie · 3 years

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A Fine Night of Debauchery

Summary: Javier's trying his best at playing the guard role for this mission, but after defending you from a creep, the two of you end up hiding in one of the ferryboat's rooms and as always, one thing leads to another...

Pairing: Javier Escuella x f!Reader

Word Count: 4086

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Saint Denis, Ferryboat robbery, Poker, Flirting, Friends to lovers, Smut, First time.

Notes: finally, the ferryboat Javier fic that I've been wanting to write for so long!!

Trelawyns ferryboat robbery was well thought out and had a high potential of running smoothly, but this was the Van Der Linde gang and as always, something was going to go wrong. But Trelawny kept his positivity high, showering both you and Arthur in praise as the three of you went shopping. You'd picked out a nice dress for yourself and noticed the way both Arthur and Trelawny blushed when you came out of the dressing room, deciding that it'd be a perfect fit and hopefully, you'd be able to keep it undamaged after the mission. The barber that Arthur visited thankfully had a lady that helped do your hair and makeup; you came up with some bullshit excuse that you'd never dressed up before and wanted a locals advice on how to dress accordingly. They fell for it, and you were happy with the outcome, feeling rather confident and attractive in the last-minute outfit. Trelawny, the character that he is, had arranged a coach to take the three of you to the docks. Arthur had to leave his guns behind, but you'd planned ahead and put together a tight gunbelt that was strapped to your thigh, the gun not looking obvious through the layers of your dress. You thought Trelawny was going to protest, but instead, he said "good thinking, my dear. Smart of you to plan ahead, we can never be too careful, though I hope you won't have to use it!"

So here you are, approaching the docks, grabbing onto Arthur's arm as your heel gets stuck between the gaps of the boardwalk. "You alright?" Arthur asks as he takes hold of your arm, watching you unwedge your heel. "Yeah, I should have worn thicker heels," you say as you shake your head, watching the floor as you walk to stop yourself from stepping on any more gaps. As the three of you come to a halt, you look up and accidentally catch eyes with the last person you'd expected to be on this mission, Javier. He definitely saw you stumble, and your cheeks turn rosy as you realize. He's far too handsome for his own good, a cigarette pressed to his lips as his eyes flick over to Trelawny whos going over the plan. He always dresses well, enough to make your stomach knot even when he's in his pajamas, but the suit he's wearing makes your chest go warm, and you wish it was you wiping the ash from his blazer as he finishes off his smoke. You try your best not to stare, nodding as Trelawny finishes up the plan and oh shit, you haven't listened to a word he's said. Oh well, you'll just wing it as always. You had a rough idea on what was going on, something about Arthur going for the jackpot whilst you linger around the outskirts and act as eye candy, distracting a few men whilst Trelawny pickpockets them. Strauss was going to... do whatever, help Arthur or something, and Javier needed to find a guard uniform so when it came time to looting the safe, he could 'escort' them upstairs and act as a backup when it came to the robbery. Trelawny begins nattering away whilst going through the process of boarding the ferry, and before you know it, you're on board and ordering a glass of champagne with Trelawny by your side. Arthur has begun playing, and you finally figure out what Strauss is here for as he's taken his place around the outskirts. "Are you alright, my dear? You seem quiet," Trelawny asks you after taking a sip of his drink. "Hm? Oh, yes! I guess my heads in the clouds today," you respond. "Well, bring it back down to planet earth. If you'll excuse me, I need to pop to the restroom. How's about you go and mingle with the others, hm?" Trelawny suggests as he gets up from his seat. "I will do," you respond, getting up and slowly making your way around the outskirts of the room. You have a loose grip on your glass, sipping it every so often as your eyes brush over the crowd. A few men look over your way, but nobody's approached you yet. Such a shame, you didn't want to go back empty-handed, but you've only just arrived and hopefully, your time will come. "Madam, are you alright?" A familiar voice asks. You turn to see Javier stood by one of the doors, a gun in hand, his eyes on you from under the brim of his hat. "Oh, yes. I'm... just having a stroll," you respond, your face instantly going sour as you realize how odd that sounds. "A stroll? Around the room?" Javier responds, trying not to laugh. "You know, Miss, the upper deck would be much better for that, with a nice view and fresh air," he suggests. "Oh? Would you mind escorting me up there, Sir? I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with this ferry," you ask. "Of course. Right this way, Ma'am," Javier says as he begins to lead you to the upper deck, trying to play the part as strangers walk past the two of you. Surprisingly, Javier finds his way and thankfully, there's only one couple up here, leaning against the rails as they look out at the lake. Javier takes you the other way, overlooking Saint Denis as he lazily holds his gun in one hand, his hand resting on the railing. His eyes watch you as you come to a halt beside him, finishing off your drink and placing it on the floor for one of the workers to collect later. Javier looks over his shoulder and once confirming that the two of you are alone, he asks "are you alright?" "Yeah, why?" you question. "You don't seem it. You seem lost, maybe nervous?" "I guess I am, yeah," you pause for a brief second, realizing that you were a lot more nervous than you'd like to admit. "I've gone from wearing those smelly camp clothes to being fully dressed up, and I didn't even know I was going on this mission until this morning. I'm just struggling to focus on the task at hand, especially because I kinda... zoned out when Trelawny was going over the plan," you admit. Javier can't help but let out a soft laugh. "Trelawny does go on, doesn't he? I zone out a lot, but you're doing fine. You were only brought on this mission as a distraction... as bad as that sounds. But hey, you look a lot prettier than you realize. It's nice to dress up sometimes, you know?" Javiers head turns to you as he speaks, and you weren't expecting him to brush his hand over your shoulder as he reassures you, but it's a warm touch that lingers on your skin as his hand moves away. "Thank you," you say with a smile. "It's a shame you can't wear your suit for this mission, you look good in it, though the guard uniform has potential," you say with a laugh. "I'm wearing it underneath," Javier tells you as he pulls down the collar of his uniform. "The guy I stole it from was a size bigger than me, so figured I'd keep it on for extra padding." "And because you wouldn't wanna risk losing such a nice suit?" "That too, though I only brought this one because it's my least favourite. I had a feeling I might lose it," Javier says with a shrug. "You have more than one? That explains why Susan always makes you load your own belongings onto the wagon, I dread to think how much clothing you own," you laugh. "Hey, I just want to look good, alright?" Javier laughs back, his smile lingering on his face. "Well, you always look good," you confess, the words just slipping from your mouth, but Javier can tell from the way your eyes go wide that you weren't meant to admit that. "You think so?" "Yeah," you respond, trying to sound a little more confident. "Hm, thank you. And you do too, even if you are wearing 'smelly camp clothes'," Javier quotes you from earlier, noticing the way your cheeks begin to blush. "But if they bother you that much, then let me take you shopping some time. My treat," he offers. "Oh, I couldn't let you pay for me!" You say with a blush. "Well, let me just come with you then?" "I'd love that," you smile, your eyes struggling to focus on Javiers as butterflies begin to circle around your stomach. "Good! Now, let's get back down there, hm? I don't want Trelawny down my ear for being too long," Javier says as he picks up his gun, holding it in both hands as he leads you back down to the heart of the ferry. As you return, Trelawny comes over to you, asking where you were and what took so long. He seems to understand when you say you just needed some air, and pulls you over to the bar for another drink whilst he quietly goes over some leads he might have found. A few more glasses later and you're feeling a lot more confident, chatting away to some strangers. You place your hand on the arm of this man, batting your lashes as you tell him some bullshit compliments. He's distracted enough for Trelawny to pick whatever was in his pocket, and you briefly excuse yourself, telling him you'll be right back after you go and powder your nose. You wander down the halls of the ferry, deciding you'll do a loop then head back. That sounds like enough time to powder your nose. You head a sudden thud from behind you and turn to see that man from earlier hitting the ground. Javier has just whacked him with the butt of his rifle, knocking the stranger out. Javiers eyes look up to see you approaching and checks over his shoulder again to make sure nobody is nearby. "He was following you," Javier explains. "That's a fair reason to knock him out, thank you," you respond. Javier passes you his gun as he picks the stranger up and begins to head down the hall, eventually finding a closet and dumping the unconscious man inside. Luckily there's rope in this closet, so Javier hogties the man and ties a fair amount of rope around his mouth, muffling whatever sounds he's going to make when he wakes up. As you shut the door, another stranger calls out as he begins marching down the hallway. "What are you doing, Madam?" he asks. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" you begin as you slur your words a little. "I've had a bit too much champagne and this guard was just helping me find my room," you explain, stumbling a little and reaching out to hold Javiers arm as you prop yourself back up. "Well, that's a closet, Madam. Not your room. Do you remember your room number?" he asks as he approaches. "No, but we'll find it! I left it unlocked, you see. This happens quite often," you say with a fake laugh. The man turns his attention over to Javier. "You'll report back to your post once you've helped this woman," he orders. "Yes, Sir," he responds. "Come on, Madam, let's find your room," Javier says as he turns his attention to you. The stranger shakes his head disapprovingly but turns heal and heads back to whenever he came from. Meanwhile, you begin to turn every handle in sight, hoping that at least one of them was unlocked so that if he did turn back around, you could inform him that you've found your room and head inside. Whatever superior being that may be in the sky had blessed you today, as you turned a handle and finally, a room opened. You peer in and thankfully, it's empty with no signs of luggage either, meaning this must have just been a spare room. "He's still looking," Javier quietly whispers. "You're a mess, Madam. Let me help you inside," Javier loudly says as he almost pushes you into the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Once inside, you turn to each other and let out a sigh. "That was close," you tell him. "Yeah, good thing this room is unlocked, huh?" Javier responds with a nod. "I should stay in here for a few minutes, make it look like I'm helping you still," he says as he props his rifle up against the wall, taking his hat off and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Let's hope that guy doesn't wake up any time soon," you say as you lean back against the desk, resting your hands on the wooden surface. Javier places his hat down on the desk, brushing his hair back into place. "I hit him pretty hard, he should stay out for a while," he tells you as he cleans his appearance up. "But in the meantime, is there anything you need help with, Madam?" His comment makes you laugh, though there's a mix of both a jokey and a serious tone to his voice. "I'm serious," he adds. You turn to him, your head slightly tilted to the side like a confused puppy. "What are you offering?" you ask, unsure where this is going, but hopeful that it'll spiral the way you want it to, just like how it does in those silly romance novels. "Whatever you want," he says with a shrug, taking a slow step over to you. "I err... noticed the way you looked at me earlier when we were on the docks," Javier comments. Oh no. "You did? I mean, what look?" you question, your cheeks flourishing as you accidentally dig that hole even deeper. "Come on, you know what I'm talking about," Javier says with a small laugh. "At least when I admire someone, I do it secretly." "And who have you been admiring, Javier?" "You," Javier blankly states. He's stood in front of you, trapping you between his body and the desk that you're still leaning against. You stand upright, suddenly almost pressing your chest against Javiers, who can't help but smile as you get closer to him. "I didn't know you were sweet on me," you tell him. "Always have been," he says as he moves a gloved hand up to gently hold your chin, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "I've been thinking about how to make a move for a while now, but this opportunity appeared and I just couldn't hold back anymore, especially when you're all dressed up." "It's a shame I only got to see you dressed up for those few minutes," you tell him. Your hands wander up to his chest, brushing over the thin fabric of his guard uniform. He did tell you earlier that he was still wearing the suit, so you begin to unbutton his uniform, taking your time to peel it from him. "We could always dress up when I take you shopping. Gotta look the part if we're walking around Saint Denis," Javier tells you as he shrugs the uniform off his shoulders, dumping the shirt on the desk. "And I wanna look good if I take you out to dinner," Javier adds. "Oh, you're taking me out to dinner as well? Spoiling me, aren't we?" you say with a soft laugh. "You deserve it," Javier responds. Javiers patience finally runs thin as he dips his head to introduce his lips to yours, moving his hand to rest on your jawline, stealing a well-needed kiss from you. Your hands move from his chest, relaxing around his neck, the short hairs of his ponytail brushing over your arm. He's an excellent kisser, his lips gliding perfectly against yours, his moustache not tickling your upper lip as much as you thought it would. Javier briefly breaks the kiss to dip down, wrapping his arms around your hips as he lifts you up, placing you on the desk. His hands are on your thighs as he returns to the kiss, sliding your legs apart and finding his way between them, though the thick layers of your skirt prevent him from pressing his crotch against yours, a feeling that you've always longed for. It seems Javier has the same urge as he begins bunching up your skirt, lifting the hem to settle around your thighs, exposing your legs to him. He quickly pulls off his gloves, chucking them to who knows where so his soft palms can stroke along your thighs. Javier finally notices the firearm strapped to your thigh; he pulls it out of the holster, placing it on the desk as his expression changes from confused to intrigued. "Always two steps ahead, aren't you? I'm not surprised that you managed to sneak that in," Javier smirks. "Better safe than sorry, hm?" you shrug. Javier nods in agreement then turns his attention back to your thighs. His hands soon find their way under your skirt, grabbing onto your undergarments and sliding them down as you lift yourself up, helping him peel them off. Javier moves from between your legs and watches as you kick them off onto the floor, he grins at the sight as he settles back between your legs, only this time, he's dropping onto his knees and pulling your thighs over his shoulders, scooting your hips forward until you're on the edge of the desk. Before you can say anything, Javiers began by licking a firm stripe across your cunt, finally discovering the flavour of you. He does it again, over and over, until his tongue decides to settle on your clit, lapping the bud with firm circles. You can't help but whimper and moan, one hand brushing along his hair, holding those few loose strands off his face whilst your other hand holds your weight up. Javier has a hungry grip on your thighs, often kneading and massaging them whilst his tongue preps you. He moves one hand off your thighs to dip between your legs, slowly inserting a finger into you, his tongue brushing back and forth over your clit. You can't help but let out a moan, admiring the way Javier curls his fingers. "So pretty," he compliments, "and so sweet," he adds on. Another finger joins the one already inside of you, and you peek your eyes open to see Javier moving his hand off your thigh so he can begin to unbutton his blazer, managing to do most of it with just one hand. His fingers slip out of you and as he stands, he pulls his coat off, chucking it to the floor, revealing a dark grey waistcoat that he wears underneath. Javier keeps his eyes on you as he unbuttons his pants, slipping out his cock, solid and throbbing. He pumps his shaft a few times as he pulls your legs around his waist, then ruts his cock against your folds, slicking himself up with your own juices. "Javier," you sigh as you watch him rut his cock against your pussy. "So impatient," he says with a soft laugh. "But I can't deny you," Javier tells you, sliding down your pussy one last time and pushing the tip of his cock into you, slowly sheathing himself fully. Javier holds himself inside of you for a brief moment before slowly sliding out. This time, he slams his cock into you, smiling at the sound you make as the air is pushed from your lungs. He begins to slowly fuck you, slowly rolling his hips, clearly trying to tease you. His lips find your neck and he begins to tenderly kiss along your skin, his facial hair brushing oh-so-perfectly against you. Javier seems to distract himself with the kissing as his thrusts come to a halt, his cock pushed deep inside of you. "Javier," you whine, catching his attention. His head peeks up so he can look at you, stealing a kiss from you before apologizing. "I'm sorry, amor," Javier says as he begins thrusting into you again, picking up the pace this time. Your head rolls back against the wall as you let out a chorus of moans. Javier has a firm grip on your hips, his eyes flicking between watching his cock slide inside of you, to admiring the pretty faces you pull. He's in love with the fact that he's making you feel this way - he's the one making your chest rise and fall heavily as you gently rub your clit, whimpering and moaning for him. Javier decides to make you more comfortable, questioning if your bum had begun going numb from sitting on the wooden desk. He pushes his cock deep inside of you as he pulls your legs around his waist. Before you can question his change of pace, he's already picked you up, his arms tight around your waist as he moves you over to the bed. His cock surprisingly doesn't slip from you, but you feel it go even deeper as he pins you down against the covers, towering over you. A tender kiss is placed on your cheek before Javier begins sensually fucking you, though there's a feral roughness to his thrusts. Your hand moves back down to your clit but Javier quickly snatches it away, moving your hand above your head. He moves your other one above you, eventually pinning your wrists together and keeping them firmly pressed against the bed. "Here, let me," Javier says with a soft purr, moving his other hand down your body. His fingertips press against your stomach whilst the pad of his thumb finds your clit, flicking over the bud, making your thigh muscles shake as your orgasm begins building. Javiers own orgasm begins nearing, and you can tell from the way his eyes begin to scrunch shut and his moans become louder. His cock twitches inside of you, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. A few more flicks of Javiers thumb over your clit and you're cumming, your walls clenching tightly around Javiers cock. Javier manages to pull out just in time, quickly lifting your dress up so he can spill his load on your stomach. He lets out a long moan, panting heavily and admiring the sight of his seed against your skin. A handkerchief is pulled from his pants pockets and he cleans you up, like the gentleman that he is. Once you're clean, Javier tucks the cloth away and begins to re-dress himself. "The others are going to wonder where we've been," you tell him as you sit upright, sliding on your undergarments after Javier passes them to you. "Yep. We'll just tell them the truth but leave out the sex part," Javier says as he begins fasting up his blazer. "Do you think Arthurs already won that pot?" you question. "I doubt it. He seemed to just be playing a few standard games. He's not the best at poker so he'll be testing out the water before jumping into the deep end," Javier replies. "Let's hope so," you reply as you stand, neatening your dress and fixing your hair in the mirror. Javier finishes putting his guard uniform on and picks up the rifle. He opens the door slowly, peeking out into the corridor and letting you know that thankfully, the coast is clear. He escorts you back to the main room, his head turning to talk to you as you both enter. "Do you feel any better, Ma'am? I hope the fresh air helped," Javier questions, putting his guard act back on. "It did, thank you for escorting me, Sir," you reply. "No problem," Javier says with a small nod, returning to his post. You wander back over to the bar once you spot Trelawny sitting there, giving you a funny look as you trail into his line of sight. "Where have you been?" Trelawny asks as you take a seat beside him. "For some fresh air," you tell him, your voice raised slightly so the strangers nearby assume nothing. "I'll tell you about it later," you tell him in a hushed tone. Trelawny gives you a small nod. "How's he doing?" you ask, noticing that Arthur had finally moved up to the main table. "He's... well, he's Arthur, you know?" Trelawny says with a soft laugh. "Well, I guess this is going to be a long night."

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

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I know you are already making me something but the “I love you whispered in the dark” is so cute :(((( could you do it with Donnie please?

Here you go! Donatello (TMNT) x Reader Rated: T Prompt: “I love you” whispered in the dark for @whygz

(Now with a Part 2)

You look up from your computer at the sound of a tap on your window. At first glance, all you see is a dark streak across the glass. You quickly abandon your work and rush to the fire escape. It’s late into the night but earlier than you’re expecting. Donnie comes by after patrol every now and then. After talking to him this afternoon, you had a feeling tonight was going to be one of those nights. But you hadn’t expected him to show up before midnight.

You open the window and you don’t ask questions. He doesn’t like to answer them, and neither of you likes the lies he tells to cover up the truth. You know he’s working on something big. Something beyond ridding the city of local scum. But he’s been tight-lipped about the whole thing and it leaves you on edge. It makes you anxious because you suspect one of the reasons Donnie doesn’t explain–knowing the truth has to be even more dangerous than being left in the dark.

When Donnie steps into the room, he braces himself with a hand on your shoulder and gives you a weak smile. Without his mask and goggles, you can see him properly. He looks exhausted. And he’s holding his left hand close to his chest.

“What happened?” You reach for the bandana that’s been tied around his palm. You adjust the wrappings and hold his hand in yours.

“The cut’s deep enough I can’t hold my bo. Leo sent me home.”

“But you came here,” you say. And even as the words form in your mind, your heart swells to think that maybe Donnie considers your apartment just as much a home as the lair. With all the time he spends here, with the way the weight of responsibility falls off his shoulders, you know he at least finds this a place of comfort. But, a home. The butterflies that have seemed to take up permanent residence in your belly, now, take flight

Donnie looks down at your hands, still cradling his injury, and takes in a slow, shaky breath.

“You’re tired.” You state the obvious, but you doubt anyone else has bothered to acknowledge the fact.

Donnie nods. His shoulders slump. You’ve never seen him so fatigued. He looks like he’s practically asleep on his feet.

---

After letting him shower and helping to patch him up, it tugs at your heart to know he’ll be heading back into the night again - injured and alone.

“Are you sure you’ll find your brothers?”

Donnie has all kinds of tech, trackers among them. Of course he’ll be able to pin their location. Still, it worries you to watch him go without backup close by. The streets have been getting more dangerous by the day. With aliens and time travelers popping up right and left, no one knows what lurks around the corners anymore.

“I’m sure they’re headed back to the lair by now,” Donnie says, and for some reason your brain sees this is the perfect opportunity for you to ask him to stay. “Here?” he asks, like he’s genuinely unsure if he heard you correctly.

“Yeah.” Now that the question is out, there’s no turning back. “Stay here, with me.” He considers it a home, right?

You had seen Donnie when he came out of the bathroom. Fresh from the shower, without the layers of sweat and grime concealing the truth, his eyes were set in dark circles, bruised with exhaustion. Even now, he walks slumped forward as if his shell carries the weight of the world.

“You can sleep here,” you suggest, nervously. You’re already fortifying yourself with reasons for why it’ll be safer for Donnie to spend an entire day at your apartment than to leave right now–because Donnie is a ‘reasons’ kinda guy.

But instead of the argument that you’re ready for, Donnie looks wistfully at your double bed, the downturned blankets, the pair of overstuffed pillows, and the quilt your roommate’s nana gave you when she found out you didn’t have a living grandmother of your own.

“O.K.”

Only two letters are spoken, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of you.

He looks at you and says them again. “O.K."

Donnie shrugs off his gear and hides what he can under the bed. Then strips until he’s down to his boxers and socks and slides between the sheets. He’s half-hugging a pillow to his chest, breathing shallow, but already making some sleepy noises, as he snuggles down.

You don’t think he’s awake enough to notice you anymore, but he gently lifts his head when you begin to tiptoe away. “Hey, w-where are you-”

“Oh, I’ll just-” The sofa really isn’t that uncomfortable. And there are a few spare blankets you can grab from the communal living room. “It’s fine,” you say, but the owlish expression Donnie wears has you reconsidering just how ‘fine’ it really is–and fine for whom.

You’re halfway to the hand-me-down loveseat by the television when you wonder if maybe Donatello doesn’t want to be left alone. “I’m gonna grab us some water, that’s all. I’ll be right back.”

When you return with two glasses, Donnie has turned down the opposite corner of the comforter. Your suspicions are confirmed. You take in the sight as you place the waters on the bedside table with twin *clunks*. The invitation to join him sends your butterflies into a frenzy. You turn off the lights, both excited and scared. Trembling with each inch you’re taking towards new intimacy, you climb into bed behind Donnie’s shell.

“Thanks,” Donnie whispers into the dark. And his voice sounds broken and worn thin. He shimmies deeper under the blankets, seeking warmth and comfort, and you reach over to properly tuck him in. It settles you, taking care of him.

As you pull the quilt to his shoulder, your hand grazes the edge of his shell. The scales are hard and rough; they tickle your wrist, but it’s Donnie who shudders. There’s a rumble in his chest. It lingers in the air, a churr. You know from experience that it’s an involuntary response that brought on when Donnie’s feeling especially relieved, contended, or grateful–and you freeze.

You realize that, right now, this is Donnie’s appreciation for your touch. And the realization steals your breath. It sends your heart swooping into your stomach.

The next time you lay your hand on his shell, you do so with purpose. You move closer on the mattress so that you’re tucked around his shell and you press your forehead flat against his scales. As Donnie’s shell rises and falls with a breath, you finally release the one you’ve been holding.

The two of you lie like this for what must be an hour. In the silence of your breaths. In the delicate whisper of your fingertips brushing his shell. Donnie’s breathing has been so even, it surprises you when his next exhale shakes and falters.

You stay quiet, cuddled against his back. You wonder if he can feel the difference between the pressure of your lips versus the touch of your forehead on his scales.

You caress the curve of his shell with another languid sweep of your hand. You nuzzle your cheek against the swirling pattern of his scales. You imagine you can hear his heart beating as you ride the waves of his breaths.

When he whispers, "I love you,” you think you must have fallen asleep. It must be a dream, because Donnie can’t be saying those words to you.

But when you pet his shell again, Donnie releases a low, resigned sigh. “I just wanted you to know.”

Your response is softly spoken. It’s a struggle to get it past the tight emotion in your throat. And it’s muffled further by the press of your lips to Donnie’s shell. You hope he can hear your words, because the hammering of your heart against your chest is so loud you can hardly hear yourself. “I love you, too."

Your confession is sure to change everything. But Donnie doesn’t move. He doesn’t turn toward you and he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say anything in reply. You hear him sniff and swallow and sigh. And you worry that maybe you misheard him. Maybe it’s like you thought–you dreamed the whole thing.

Then, in the quiet, in the dark, you hear his churr.

#donatello x reader #Donatello x gender neutral reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x gender neutral reader #ask answered #whygz #prompt fic #my writing

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anagrammaddict · 7 years

Text

Small Messages (bou din waa zuk)

Last fic for SpiritAssassin Week. Late as usual, because I kinda burned out yesterday & the day before, lol

Thank you everyone for reading. & many thanks to @fyeahspiritassassin for hosting. I had great fun doing this but man I’m so relieved it’s over. this was hands down the most difficult writing thing i’ve done lately.

SpiritAssassin Week 2017 Last prompt: celebrations

There are ghosts in Chirrut’s eyes.

He sees:

colour mostly, or the memory of colour. Jedha City, or the memory of it. When his eyes were still functional, when the world pin-bright broke into seven colours and flipped upright on the screen of his retinas. And that was sight for him.

Nowadays the only eyesight he has are old visuals. He sees with ghost eyes. Useless.

He remembers:

when he was still a novice at the Temple, when the Temple still stood, when his eyesight worked fine, and yet he kept missing things. Muddling up. And Baze would tell him where everything was, where to look.

Where are my prayer beads? In front of you.

Where is the datapad? You’ve been looking right at it for ten minutes.

Where did I put my shoes? You’re practically stepping on them.

I know I left my prayer beads here! You did, and they are still there. What is that saying you always use?

Gwai am ngaan! Ghosts covering eyes.

When Chirrut lost his eyesight, he said: “Remember what I used to say?”

Baze never found it funny again.

***

The holopad powers up. A buzz. The harsh phosphorescence of the screen makes shadows spatter onto his grey featureless vision. Incoming message.

There is a crackle of interference and then the steady hum of a line. Connection. Nobody speaks. The silence is heavy with a familiar presence.

“You can start,” says Chirrut gently, ��by telling me the time.”

“It’s early,” Baze answers. “Your time, that is.”

It’s strange that they’re far enough apart that they can split time between them. Yours and mine. Your half and mine.

“Have you eaten?” says Baze.

Chirrut remembers that he hasn’t. He hums a note in both reply and dismissal.

“Just because I’m not there,” says Baze, testily, “doesn’t mean you can forget to eat. Don’t pine too hard for me.”

“I was going to meditate,” Chirrut says. “There are other types of hunger besides the one that you speak of.”

“Who said anything about hunger? It’s basic self-care. But I forgot you know nothing about that.” There is a clatter of movement from the other side. A hiss and a sputter. Clacking. Something being dismantled. For cleaning. Perhaps a weapon. A shush of air, like an exhaust pipe.

“The Force--,” Chirrut begins.

“--will not feed you. You should eat something.”

Chirrut sighs. “It’s been three years. And you’re halfway somewhere across the galaxy. And you've gone right back to your nagging self.”

“I’ve lost count of the years,” Baze says. There is a lie in the falter of his voice. A flinty note of defiance.

“I’m going to meditate.”

“Wait,” says Baze.

Chirrut waits.

“Leave the connection running.”

“I don't talk much when I meditate.”

“You don’t have to.”

***

There is a festival (there is always a festival) going on in Jedha City and people have begun lighting tapers and burning sticks of incense in the many street braziers.

You’re supposed to do acts of compassion. Pray for the dead. Feed the hungry. People bake bread, boil vats of porridge, distribute food to the homeless, to the pilgrims, to anyone who asks for food.

Chirrut sits beneath an archway on a back lane, running his fingers along the worn beads of his prayer necklace. Sandals shuffle, the scrape of fraying leather. The hems of robes touch his knees and ankles, stray butterflies of fabric. The crowds move and he feels their wingbeats and their edges. The wake of their movement. The rotund vowels of a muezzin’s call. A minaret in the distance. The wind snapping the tarp. The souk, a heaving organic entity of commerce.

There are more unwelcome sounds now. Heavy boots. The presence of Imperials, their conversations in staccato, voices standardised into a nasal flatness by the inbuilt vocoders in their helmets.

Someone presses a roll into his hands and a flask.

“Eat and drink, uncle,” someone says, performing their act of compassion for the day.

Chirrut thinks of Baze. Of course he does.

***

“Are you asleep?” says Baze.

“What do you think?”

“Sorry,” Baze says. “I need sleep.”

His voice is thick, like textile, as though he’s lying in bed somewhere, one corner of his mouth pressed against rough sheets. Perhaps he has lain awake all night. Is it night where he is?

“Will you tell me where you are?”

“On a planet. There’s a lot of water here. Marshes. The speeders here are shaped like dragonflies. I haven’t been dry in days. When I took the job I didn’t know I’d have to become amphibious.”

“The job?”

“Like any other job,” Baze says, evasive.

The connection sputters. But it holds.

“Night time on this planet is longer than Jedha’s nights. About three times as long. People sleep three times as long, too.”

“You should get some now.”

“What is that?” Baze says suddenly. “There, on the side of your face. Turn your face to the left.”

It’s a cut. Healing, though. It must have been just a thin smudge in the holographic display of his face, but Baze’s sharp eyes had caught it.

“I was cornered,” Chirrut admits. “In a cul-de-sac. By five Imperials.”

Baze swears. “You took on five Imperials without backup?”

“The Force was with me.”

“Of course it was.” Baze scoffs. “So you had no backup. You idiot.”

“So says the true fool, who is faithless,” Chirrut shoots back. “So gwaa.”

***

Chirrut passes through the forms of zama-shiwo, ghost-eyed, with the slow silk movement of his arms and legs. There is no end or beginning to the forms. Perpetual transition. Keep your mind still. Absolute. Nucleatic. The body is not yours. The body is your environment. You are part of a larger body. Only the negligible pinprick of Chirrut’s mind shimmers, edged with feelers, hungry for messages, for a grid of sense.

The sun, he remembers, is frail and dewy, angling away like errant vapour from the domes and the glittering mosaics in the murals. Useless light: the city’s solar dishes had to coax heat out of it, old, old dying light.

But now that his mind and his body are sharp with the recent practice of zama-shiwo, he can feel the sun’s heat, amplified. The sun is a hot salty coin at the back of his throat when he tips his face upward. Sunlight is swallowing metal. The scrape of thirst.

Where Chirrut is standing on this rooftop, he should not be able to feel this much warmth. Not at this time of the day, because this time of the day, the shadow of the Temple would have stretched over it, blotted out the sun.

The spire of the Temple is no more, though. And its shadow fled with it.

***

The holopad buzzes as Chirrut puts the porridge to boil on the portable stove.

“Look,” Chirrut says when the transmission comes through, “I’m eating. Or at least I’m going to.”

Baze makes a noise of approval on the other end. There’s silence for a bit.

“There was--” Baze begins. And then changes his mind. “This marshland planet, it’s got a very high evaporation capacity. Whole lakes can vanish in days. Then it will rain and rain somewhere else until there are floods, and there’ll be a new lake. All within such a short span of time. They call this the planet of Leaping Lakes.”

Chirrut imagines it. The transient landscape of it. The lakes leap faster in his mind, faster than Baze, slogging through marshes that dry out as he walks, his skin old and cracked from sand. Unamphibious. Dragonfly speeders zipping over dead reed beds.

“I had to--the job involved--,” Baze begins.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Chirrut says. “About the jobs that you do. I can hazard a guess. Or three.”

“What if I want to talk about them?”

“Then tell me how you’ve changed. How they’ve changed you.”

The porridge boils over. Chirrut hisses and Baze lets out a long, slow sigh. Too long and slow to be sincere.

“Your fault,” says Chirrut testily. The porridge has thickened into a layer that clings to the bottom of the pot. A skin of rice. Carbon bitter.

***

Baze fled not long after the Temple was sacked.

“I will never put on those vestments again,” Baze told Chirrut all those years ago. “They have been burnt.”

Chirrut reeled. He’d known the slow crumble of Baze’s faith. But still. “I won’t let you. You can’t go. You are the most devoted of all the Guardians.”

The words broke out of him, splinters of pleas.

“Then come with me,” said Baze. “The Temple is gone. The kyber crystals are gone. There’s nothing sacred here any longer.”

“The Force is still here.”

“Yes it is,” Baze started to walk towards the gates of the Temple. Across the half-uprooted courtyard. “The Force is here and there and everywhere and it is dead. We breathe in its deadness every day. We celebrate its death in the deaths of everyone else. So. Are you coming?”

Chirrut steeled himself. “A match.”

Baze laughed. “I’m not a Guardian. I don’t play with sticks any longer.”

“If you beat me, you can go. You can leave.”

“And you’ll come with me.”

Chirrut didn’t say anything.

“Fine. Just to humour you, then,” Baze said.

They sparred in that ruined courtyard and Chirrut won.

He brought Baze to the ground, kicked his knees in, elbowed his throat and slammed his staff into Baze’s abdomen.

Baze lay on the ground, panting. How Chirrut would have liked to straddle him, lick away the blood from his teeth. He’d hit Baze on the jaw.

“Well,” said Baze. “I guess I stay, then.”

Chirrut hated the hostility of his laughter. He put the end of his staff at Baze’s neck, tipped his chin upwards.

“No,” Chirrut said.

***

“Are you still angry at me?” Baze asks. The sound of thunder in the background. But not thunder. Just a downpour in the marsh planet, in some distant corner of the galaxy.

The generator in the room that he lives in is old. It rattles. It smells like breath. There are probably small dead things caught beneath its casing, things like rodents and moths, fossilised inside.

“No,” Chirrut says. “Are you?”

“Not at you. Never at you.”

***

There are countless things to be celebrated in Jedha City. Apart from the big festivals. There are weddings, births, engagements, various milestones of growth. Deaths, sometimes, depending on what you believe in. Seasonal shifts. Phenomena like rain.

The Imperials have put a damper on many of the Holy City’s festivals, and declared that permits need to be granted for the rest.

But here’s the thing about people: they remember. They remember when celebrations are due, when rituals start calling to them, feast days notched into their internal calendars. The secret way which they measure time within themselves.

And so people find other reasons for celebration. New acquaintances. Extra rations. Finding lost things. Finding lost people. And so on.

The reasons for celebrating anything become smaller and smaller. Until Chirrut finds himself rejoicing at coins on the street. Or coins in an alms bowl. A call of a bird far out beyond the city walls. Clean washing brushing against his face as he wanders through the alleyways and courtyards. A day without the sound of blaster fire in some quarter of the city or other. A memory, an old visual of the inner sanctum of the Temple, stored in his ghost eyes. Still vivid. Preserved even after the destruction of the building.

He goes home in the evening, his stomach a whorl of hunger. The pot with the burnt crust of porridge is still sitting on the stove. The smell is thick and disheartening. Outside, wind. Sand scours the window.

The sting of saline. There are ghosts in his eyes. And sometimes they weep.

But then. Then he remembers something. He reaches for the holopad. Trusts in the Force. Prays for connection.

A crackle and a hum. There is transmission. There is a line, the thinnest thread across the galaxy, but steady. It feels like a celebration.

***

“I was finally getting some sleep,” Baze grumbles. But it’s a glad sound. Relief to be woken from the lonely press of sleep.

“So,” says Chirrut, “when are you coming home?”

bou din waa zuk - literally translates to ‘boil telephone porridge’. means when you talk for hours on the phone. except there are probably no phones in R1

#spiritassassin #spiritassassin week #spiritassassin week 2017 #baze x chirrut #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #im so happy im done #cries #boil telphone porridge #i mean theres no telephone in sw #but i dont know how to say holopad #hahahaha #my work #my writing #my fic #did not edit this #sorry for typos #bad grammar etc

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