Tag: majorly judging you

Majorly judging you, 14!

superslashco:

foxx-queen:

sitting on someone’s lap

It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that Alura’s life on Krypton was, for her, not so long ago.

It’s easy to forget that for her, her planet’s destruction was not decades ago, but so recent, so, so recent, because she’s adapted to life here to quickly, and she’s built a life in the place of her sorrow. She’s happy, too, Lucy knows that, she can see it, she sees it when Alura laughs with her sister and embraces her daughter, sees it when she watches Astra and Alex lean together like they have no troubles in the world. She sees it in Alura’s eyes when the woman kisses her. She knows that Alura is happy, because the woman spent enough of her life pretending, and hiding, and she leads this new life with an open honesty that is more refreshing than Lucy can describe.

But its the little things, really, that remind Lucy that Krypton’s influence is still very much present and alive within Alura. Things like this; the way Alura glances away when Lucy cups her face and tells her she’s beautiful, the faint crease that furrows her brow, the dusky flush high on her cheekbones.

Lucy frowns slightly in response, running her thumbs over Alura’s cheeks, and leans forward to nudge her nose against her jaw. ‘Hey’, she murmurs, kissing the defined edge, ‘you okay?’

Alura nods, her lips curving, her fingers carding through her hair. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’

Lucy purses her lips slightly, considering her words, running her hands up and down the woman’s back. Alura’s weight is warm and familiar in her lap, their hips pressed together, and Lucy reaches for the remote to mute the television, silencing their marathon of Brooklyn Nine Nine, before she settles her hands on her hips. ‘No reason, really, just…’ she cups her face again, fingertips curling at the hinge of her jaw, ‘you sometimes look… so surprised when I say that’.

Alura blinks. Her brow furrows slightly, and she murmurs, ‘I suppose… I suppose I am’.

Lucy’s frown deepens, and she loops her arms around Alura’s neck, twisting locks of her hair around her fingers. ‘You don’t think you’re beautiful?’

Keep reading

( x )

total crack prompt but could we get drunk!In-ze twins? I feel like Alura and Astra would be pretty hilarious when drunk. Plus, that alien bar has to be good for something lol

wearethewitches:

Okay, so this isn’t crack – it’s only vaguely funny and kind of went out on a vaguely angsty tangent, but here you go anyway!

–

“Why did I do this with you?”

Astra slides another shot of some kind of alien alcohol across
to her in answer. “Because, sister, you wanted a break from human law school
and going out with your human friends to get drunk isn’t feasible.”

Alura groans, leaning sideways onto her sister’s shoulder. “I
don’t like being drunk, it makes me think of lots of things I wouldn’t.”

“That’s what being drunk is,”
Astra replies, patting Alura’s head gently. “Did you get all your essays done,
before you came?”

“Yes,” Alura reaches for the shot glass at the reminder,
wanting to completely forget the nightmare that were her essays. Downing the
fiery liquid, Alura struggles not to cough, accepting the citrus piece that
Astra offers, still leaning on her. “I miss Lucy.”

“Oh?” Astra queries, sounding like it amuses her, “Do you
really? What do you miss about your wife, Alura?”

“Her hair. Her smile,” Alura sighs, moping, “She makes me scrambled
eggs in the morning and I haven’t been able to make them the same way.”

“You might have the milk to egg ratio wrong,” M’gann offers
as Astra motions for the bottle, watching as she pours more shots for them
both. “Or the temperature might be wrong. Oil makes a pan hotter.”

“We make eggs in the microwave machine,” Alura meets eyes
with the Martian, not expecting the horrified expression. “What is it?”

“Eggs in the microwave?
What kind of heathen is your wife?” M’gann demands, wrinkling her nose. “You
make scrambled eggs on a pan with bacon-”

“We don’t eat meat,” Astra interrupts, “Unlike my sacrilegious
niece.”

“The point remains: you make any type of eggs in a pan,” M’gann
moves away to answer some other patron’s demands, Alura frowning.

“Why does Kara eat
meat?”

“She was raised that way,” Astra replies magnanimously,
pushing a shot to Alura when – predictably – her sister’s mood sours as a
result. “Apologies. This is supposed to be a night of fun and relaxation.”

“Instead, we talk about the wrong way to make scrambled eggs
and how Kara was raised into eating animals.”

Astra clinks a shot glass against Alura’s. “To dreadful conversation.”

Alura snorts, “To dreadful conversation.”