firstfeared-blog

[firstfeared-blog]

A late night sketch that got away from me.

[firstfeared-blog]

✎ scott/kara

nebulas are sewn into their speechlessness, a quiet cataclysm as they work in tandem beside one another. (she on the most recent article snapper insisted upon, he on rao knows what, doing damage control for the clinic.) kara hones in on the abrasion of lead on paper, the turning of pages; silence had never been a friend she’d held dearly. that’s all the phantom zone was     lulls and stars and utter nothingness. 

she’s thankful for the steady beat of scott’s heart as is she’s thankful for most things she holds close, reverently so. while breathing in the calm, kara still feels barely restless; their legs brush together, (hers tucked up, knees bent) and scott almost has dimples cutting into the apples of his cheeks, smiling carefree like a weight’s lifted off shoulders in the meager bask of her presence. her attempts to not stare, overall, are rather frail.

glasses are far from slipping off her nose, but the instinct hemorrhages into veins like water spilling from a tap. fingers drag them down, then up again purposelessly. eyes mimicking the motion, they trail to scott’s face, then back to work in her lap within such short, few seconds.

     ❛mierda, ❜comes from beside, after she’s edited and reedited the same sentence four times in a row; kara’s time on earth hasn’t exactly been limitless, and she hasn’t heard every word there is to hear, surely, but this still isn’t something that registers as english.

unconsciously, ponytail sways near the exact time voice does      ❛what?❜ and she claps hand over the grin spreading her thin when scott looks like he was just caught doing the unthinkable. threads of consciousness rapidly border playful, but the confusion, genuine as it is, never leaves the crinkle of her brow.

     ❛ it’s… spanish? ❜ he says, and why it comes off like a question, stripping the timbre to its bare and honest uncertainty, kara can’t be quite sure. some customs, even after years of living under the danvers arms and name alike, she doesn’t follow.

     ❛spanish… ❜she mimics, face not absent of an affectionate show of teeth, ❛for what?❜

the mumble that follows, kara has to pretend she doesn’t hear. it’s far too quiet for human ears to pick up, but the distrait tilt of scott’s head, farther away from watchful eyes, she doesn’t need to pretend she doesn’t see. 

as menacingly as a kitten mewling near feet, a pencil probes at his side. (fingers had lost their courage sometime last month after poking the particularly tense part of scott’s lower abdomen, and she’d blushed about it for hours.) ❛ if don’t say what it means… so, help me, mccall      ❜

     ❛      shit! it means… ❜ whatever bravado built up in staccato rhythm enough that he cut kara off disappears as quick as it came, because he only barely finishes with a soft murmur. ❛ it means shit. ❜

shrunk in himself, scott seems smaller than he did after kara caught him wolfing down the last slice of pizza a few weeks ago. how cute the notion is, how much like kara herself it is, is as inescapable as the flutter of laughter edging out of her lungs.

scott’s eyes, fawn and warm, don’t leave her even when his embarrassment does. the pit of stomach sparks a flame, a lighter to a match, and kara’s suddenly left to remember how close they really are. startling apart, her eyes are blue and flickering like the wings of a ulysses butterfly, and she only just now realizes scott cursed, because he snapped his pencil in half. the questions froth on her tongue, moth’s against a light, forming but never leaving where they sit at the back of throat.

what spills out, instead, between smiles and shared looks is, ❛ you should probably be more careful, that was like a little tree. nature suffered its loss. ❜

scott misses only seconds before he speaks. the look bestowed upon her, she finds cryptic, difficult to fixate. 

                            ❛ eres bella porque tienes un corazón honesto. ❜

     and even after promising him the last, THE L A S T, potsticker, he never tells her exactly what it means.

[firstfeared-blog]

                       TAG DUMP !!

[firstfeared-blog]

@abitexcessive.

     ❛   the  lilies           uh,   in  my  office          did  you,   well…   do  you  know  what  they  mean   ??    ❜

(   kara  had           of  course,   after  alex  had  given  her  a  LOOK           figured  out  what  they’d  meant.   thanks,   internet.   and  imagine  me  &  you.   but  lena,   she…   well,   couldn’t  have,   right   ??   )

[firstfeared-blog]

@abitexcessive.

      — — SMILE  BLOOMING  TO  full  effect,   it  flourishes  something  sweet  underneath  kneading  paws  and  all  too  happy  licks  of  soft  tongues.

 she’s  at  HOME  in  a  field  of  fur,   arms  spread  wide  enough  to  accommodate  to  as  many  puppies  as  possible,    (   and  warm  next  to  scott,   the  feeling  threading  throughout  her  abdomen,   s u n l i t  nerves,   but  this  is  the  only  a  little  truth  she  allows.   )

ponytail  bobs  with  the  titter  of  head,   golden  shine  tussled  over  shoulder  as  kara  turns  her  grin,   softer  now,   onto  him.   ❛   you          you’re  sure  this  is  okay   ??   you’re  not  gonna  get  in  trouble  with  your  boss  for  letting  me  in  during  your  break   ??   ❜

[firstfeared-blog]

Kara Zor-El + queer clues, references and meta

[firstfeared-blog]

@doktorsorders.

SUPERGIRL AND KARA DANVERS, while being two different personas wrapped up inside the same being, were eerily similar      but, never quite meshed all the way. supergirl’s shoulders were tall, proud      kara danvers’ were more cautious, less confident. where supergirl was heavy tones and reassurance, kara danvers was soft spoken and gentle words. there are pros and cons to both sides, as it is with anything in life, they just don’t      bleed into one another, aside from subtle nuances like the timbre thickening within her voice when she’s really proud. or, perhaps, the stance she can’t quite help; or, maybe, the anxiety fretting along supergirl’s spine that can only be described as a danvers-like mannerism.

     here, though, beneath the veil of a sheet and flowering under pliant touches, the two collide as ONE. kara danvers and supergirl do more than coexist between sighs, breathy and gasped, between traces of skin and tantalizing fingers. they meld together into a beautiful mess; identical to she and angela, (their entanglement of limbs built into pale mosaic.)

the treacle sticks to her bones like autumn does to trees, (and kara’s leaves are wilting under angela’s tenderness.)

     thumb dipped into the hairpin of the other’s elbow, it’s supergirl’s confidence that has her ushering forward to trail open mouthed kisses across jaw, but kara danvers’ blush that lights a fire along her neck.

                          ❛ scoot. ❜

thighs and breathing are an undercurrent to all thoughts, a recurring motif as she fights the war to keep her strength even. kara doesn’t ask about the scars that ache across moonlit skin as she flips them over, (angela on her stomach, she hovering precariously, on elbows, above), and she doesn’t receive a question in return about how no matter what      no matter how hard angela sucks, how hard she bites      the marks never seem to crop for far too long.

     subconsciously, fingers push up at the glasses resting near nose; these are her saving grace, the only prayer separating she and supergirl. (she doesn’t ask why kara needs to keep them on at all times, even when the rest of her body lays bare. the gratitude is unvoiced, but spoken in trembling of her hands.) 

the spaces between angela’s shoulder and kara’s lips are filled with unanswered, terrifying things; searing kisses that don’t leave much to be desired, she closes the distance if only to silence them. all of those begging what ifs and what could bes. she doesn’t have time for that, kara danvers, reporter, or supergirl, hero of national city. 

     to the other’s ear, she whispers: ❛ this      this is beginning to feel an awful lot like a habit. ❜ if lighthearted staccato that flits throughout her words wasn’t justification enough that she’s teasing, the smile (all rao and teeth) pressed into angela’s neck should be.

                                  ❛ you still owe me that exclusive, miss ziegler. ❜