Prompt: Alex wonders what’s Kara hiding when she finds the Kryptonian looking to buy a bed.
Also posted on AO3.
Requested by@myfangirlinghq. I hope you like this sweetie :) It kind of steered off topic around the middle (oops) so hope it was what you wanted.
Note: It’s like around 1 a.m. right now, and I really didn’t have time or energy to edit this, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize beforehand. :)
If someone had told Kara that she’d be spending her afternoon in the DEO, with a laptop that she borrowed from Winn (not asking for it didn’t mean it was stolen), sitting down on the training room’s floor and looking for beds online, she would’ve frowned at them. If they also told her that the reason was because she’d actually broken the bed while having sex, she’d have outright laughed and told them to get their head checked.
Yet right now, that was exactly what she was doing. Searching online for a bed to replace the one at home that she broke with…Mon-El.
Her cheeks heated every time she thought about that. This…thing she had with Mon-El… She wasn’t sure how exactly it’d happened. She didn’t mean to…care about someone, not in that way. Her failed relationship with James showed that she wasn’t ready for it. She could barely manage being Supergirl and a reporter, she literally didn’t have time for a relationship.
I just wanted to let you know Yatamomo’s 7th chapter’s english version is coming along well, I can say for sure that I’ll be releasing it within this week. this chapter isn’t very interesting, but it has a lot of Suda in it so it’s still good in the end owo
holy shit are you crying? I didn't think you even liked that character
Me, having had a very hard week emotionally, physically, mentally and gets way into TV shows to escape life and is coming to the realization that sometimes you just can't escape pain no matter what you do:
Man, I dunno it's just happening
You’re driving in a labyrinth of deep suburb. You’re lost. You are always lost. You look down at your phone to pull up a map, and when you look up again, 26 new houses have appeared in front of you. They are all painted grey. You rub your eyes, and more houses emerge from the aether. Small children peer out at you from the windows, unblinking. There are no trees here. You keep driving.
The chinook winds blow in. The People tell you with benevolent smiles that it’s a good thing, and yet, the city is plagued with headaches. The birds are acting strangely. You find you can’t quite remember your name.
It’s the long weekend, and everyone is going to the Mountains. The city is empty, and it’s deeply unsettling. Once, to escape the overwhelming sense of dread, you tried to go to the Mountains on a long weekend, too. How foolish.
For ten days in July, you must eat the free pancakes every morning. You’ve been eating the pancakes your entire life. You want to trust that there is nothing sinister in the batter. The People all wear plaid.
You’ve seen Nenshi in the flesh. You don’t remember when, or where, but you know in your gut that it happened. You just know. You update your Facebook status. 85 people like it.
You’ve been driving on Deerfoot for an hour. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. You don’t want to think about how much time has truly passed. One by one, the radio stations are turning country. You seem to be the only one that notices.
You hate the Quebecois. You don’t know why you hate the Quebecois.
Suppose an update’s in order…it’s been a really rough couple of weeks.
Presentations are hell, and Thursday’s was no exception. Asked the professor to go first and leave right afterwards. Probably a good thing. Got super sick afterwards, and was mentally and physically ‘hung over’ all weekend. Had a meltdown, and glad it wasn’t in front of the class. Blech.
Friday was my counseling appointment. It went okay, in truth. It was a ‘feeler’ appointment, just getting to know the grad intern I’m working with and try to figure out what’s going on, what I need to do about it, and the steps I need to take to move forward. I’d like something official, as far as a diagnosis - a paper or proof I can show to professors to justify why I miss so many days out of the term because depression is a mother.
But it’s like I tole the counselor…I’ll do literally anything to not feel like…this anymore. Something is going to work, whether it’s therapy, or professional help, or meds. Next visit is on the 5th, and I’ll just work my way towards that.
I’m…Not Okay™, and I don’t know when things will be stable again. The things I usually do for fun, or stress relief are just not fun right now, and I’m not going to force it. Like usual, I’m not going to declare an ‘official’ hiatus, because there may be unpredictable windows where writing comes easily and is fun. But it’s probably best to not expect anything from me for a while - at least not until after finals, 2 weeks. Apologies to the new followers I’ve picked up (for some reason ^^;), and also hi. <3
So I’m just gonna dig in a little. I’m going to set the example I’d want anyone in my shoes to follow. I’m either too strong, too stubborn, or too stupid to give up. I can’t deal with things as-is. I can’t do it by myself. So, I’m getting help. I’m not really the most fun or interesting person to be around atm, but…I’ll still be here to be around.
Discord and IM’s are always open, as usual. Thanks in advance for any support this generates. You all mean a lot to me. -J.))
It’s probably a good thing I can’t draw because if I could it would just be “here’s the OTP napping” “oh look they’re napping again” “napping BUT OUTSIDE” “MORE NAPPING” “not napping but eyyyy sexy times” “Haruka waits for Michiru and nAPS”
Um hello! I was just wondering if you have a status update on Serendipitous Fate? Im loving the story, and i cant wait for the next chapter!
Serendipitous Fate is an epic and the equivalent of a book trilogy, so it’s much harder for me to write than, say, A Commutual Contract because is has so much going on. So it takes a lot more effort and planning for me to piece it together. I’ve been trying to work on it, but with studying overseas at the moment, I just don’t have the time to really get into it. I’ll keep trying, but there’s a chance SF could stay on hiatus until mid-summer, even if I am working on other things meanwhile.
Hey guys. What I’m about to tell you may not come as a surprise for many of you, especially considering the past couple weeks. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to do, and making this decision was and still is very difficult even though I know, for my own sanity, I need to do it.
WTMYH is going to be going on hiatus for a while.
How long? I’m not sure.
Why? Lots of reasons.
When I started WTMYH, Roslin wasn’t even a year old yet. She required a lot less time and energy. She was still taking two naps! My day to day takes a lot more out of me, and on top of that, my creative energy has hit a serious low. The past few weeks I’ve been feeling very discouraged, uninspired, and unmotivated. The thought of working on a chapter was daunting and stressful.
This is not my ideal outcome.
I’ve fought for so long not to become one of ‘those’ authors. The ones that don’t finish (even though, by all accounts, I have finished. TWICE.) But I’ve been making myself miserable.
I’m also going to be cutting back on stream time.
As things stand, I only have two nights out of the week ‘off’. And it’s not enough. I need more time for myself, alone, and to spend with my husband and family. I love hanging out with you guys, and @wrexie and @totalskeletontrash, but my priorities have been slanted for, well, a year.
I’m still going to be here.
I’ll still be on Tumblr every day. I’m still going to be around to talk and I’m not just going to disappear. I’ll still try to pop into streams at least once a week.
I understand that many people will be disappointed. Trust me, no one is more disappointed than me.
This feels like a failure. What if I could just work harder? Try to do more? Am I just copping out and being ‘lazy’? I think a lot of that is my ADD talking, but it sure is hard to tell the difference between hard truths and the lies of my brain chemistry.
I think the past year has been catching up to me. A year of spreading myself out over a number of things, and I need some time to pull back and regroup. Maybe I need to just work on something different for a little while after I take a real guilt-free rest.
Hey guys, just dropping by to let you know that I found another job (aside from my main job) in order to save money for a new (and better) pentab.
But don’t worry, I will post arts from time to time and in case you’re curious, I’m a mouse user before so I might post some digital arts but to draw using mouse takes a lot of time.
That’s all. Thank you for reading and have a good day!
- still sorta depressed, but getting better! which i’m still amazed by. how did that happen - still dysphoric as hell, spironolactone’s kinda helping but not as much as i’d like (also it’s disgusting) - still fat. workin on it - i kinda got back into homestuck? why did i do that. that was a terrible idea - also read cucumber quest - peridot is good
Sneaking out of Charlie’s house was little more than child’s play. The man slept like the dead; he’d slept through countless fire alarms, thunder (this as commonplace), and countless other wailing offenses. It would likely take a full-fledged wail of pain to wake him from his impossibly deep slumber, but you imagined he could learn to ignore even screaming. The rain was an excellent conditioner for deep sleep; the constant pattering of water against windowpanes trained the mind to ignore sounds as soft as footsteps on hardwood just as it did the whip of branches against the siding of his home. You tread carefully nonetheless, keeping in mind each faulty plank, though you knew the creak of the wood would never be enough to wake the humble giant sleeping upstairs. Your course was simple and direct; your bedroom on the ground-level of the house made for an easy escape. It was all but a waltz down the hallway and to your front door, and you were home free. You turned the knob cautiously, paranoid despite your knowledge of your relative safety, working the heavy door open, the sound of rain amplified tenfold as the outside world was invited in. You slipped your arms through the nylon sleeves of your world-worn raincoat, hiking your hood up over your hair before you ventured outside, closing the door behind you, quiet as the grave.
You turned to face the rain-slick night, your eyes falling first on the inky sky above, scarred by the strips of ashen clouds above, illuminated by the dim lights of the occasional streetlamp. Raindrops struck your cheeks as you lifted your face to the Heavens, allowing the water to pull you to alertness before your eyes fell on Jacob Black’s smiling face, his features brightened by the force of his happiness. You offered him a widened smile, your emotions heightened and fueled by the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins at the very thought of slipping out of the house at such an hour. You crept along the lawn, throwing yourself into his waiting arms, his body warm through the layers of your protective outerwear, his hands smoothing along your back. Your hands, clenched behind his back, clung to him as if he were the final life preserver thrown to the masses of passengers who’d fallen into the water after the Titanic ran out of lifeboats. You never knew how lonely you’d felt all this time until the darkness was banished, driven away by the light of Jacob’s presence. He chuckled in your ear, his beaming grin audible in his voice.
“It’s good to see you, stranger,” he giggled, holding you at an arm’s length, his eyes scanning over your body as if to identify what about you had changed since your last meeting so many days ago. He smirked, his eyes alight with mischief, his hand dropping to your wrist, tugging you lightheartedly across the soggy expanse of your front lawn, treading backwards, his eyes on your face. For a boy as clumsy as Jacob was, this stunt was a feat in itself, an act to rival his recent jailbreak. “Let’s get out of eyeshot, before your dad wakes up and arrests me for kidnapping,” he joked, his pearly teeth biting down on his lower lip to stifle his laughter, his body turning at the torso to guide you back to where he’d parked his car, your feet splashing against waterlogged grass as you raced for shelter.
“Wait, whose car are you driving?” you whispered, your brow knotted in confusion. If he’d been waiting to inherit Bella’s tank, and Billy certainly wasn’t driving, how had he managed to travel from La Push to free you from captivity? Jacob’s eyes glinted, his mouth pressed in a line just barely hinting at a smile, his dark hair dampened into congealed strands by the rain his hood had failed to repel.
“Quil’s mom’s been driving his dad’s truck around ever since he died, and Quil and I carpool to school. The thing’s as good as ours; Joy hates trucks. Too big, you know? But Quil was all for letting me borrow it tonight when he found out I was off to rescue you,” he grinned, raising his eyebrows, his head tilted in your direction. You rolled your eyes at the thought of your heroic “rescue,” recalling the valiant efforts Jake had made at breaking your bedroom window with the sheer force of determination supplied by his knuckles against the glass. Your pace slowed as you approached the forest’s treeline, rounding a corner onto the side of the road, your house hidden behind the thick curtain of greenery. A beaten and rusted white truck was nestled against the curb, the cabin light glowing within the interior of the car, revealing comfortable (and dry) leather seats. Jacob wound his way around to the passenger side, pulling your door open with exaggerated chivalry, his body bending at the waist in an uncoordinated bow. You slapped at his shoulder, climbing into the passenger seat, pulling the door closed beside you. Jacob joined you in the car a moment later, throwing his hood back, running his open palm over the hair at the crown of his head, his hand closing absentmindedly around the ponytail at the nape of his neck. He shook his head comically, the stray strands of hair framing his face flinging droplets against the window, just barely missing your face. He chuckled, settling into his seat as you, too, removed your hood, watching water pool against the aged brown leather of your seat. Rain coursed over the windshield in rivers, the serene pounding of water against the metal exterior calming the rush of energy through your body, your spine melting into the seat. “As much as I wish we didn’t have to sneak around over enemy lines, I’m kinda glad we got to do this,” Jacob noted, his voice soft in the hushed calm of the cabin. You nodded in agreement, sighing as you watched his hands fiddle with an extra hair elastic around his wrist.
“Charlie’s trying to make amends,” you breathed, your voice just above a whisper as you updated your friend on the status of the warring men. “Thing should be back to normal soon. All I’ll have to worry about is when Edward Cullen’s going to come back into town and stab my sister to death in Biology.” Jacob’s head tilted at the sound of Edward’s name, his brow furrowed as he thought, but he abandoned his process to address the more immediate situation.
“I’ll talk to my dad about calling around yours, see if we can have this settled by the next game,” he shifted in his seat, his weight on the armrest between you, his eyes dancing. “My place or yours?” he inquired, confident in the swift end to your fathers’ fighting, making plans for a meeting during the next major sporting event. You smiled,your eyes lifted as you thought. It’s be easier to monitor the men if they congregated at your house, but you wouldn’t have the privacy of Jacob’s garage to separate yourselves from the aggravated shouting of two old men who assumed the players could hear them through the television screen. Jacob, on track with your thoughts, nodded at your silent eye contact, understanding perfectly your unspoken language. “I’ll let Harry know we need extra bait to keep everything calm.” As if to accentuate his statement, Jacob’s hands twitches outward, motioning a stop as if the steering wheel was as volatile as your fathers could be. You snorted at his movement, leaning further into your seat, your feet kicking up onto the rough plastic of the dashboard, your hand absentmindedly rifling around the storage compartment within the cup holder between your two bodies, returning with half-melted hard candies, their sugared shells adhered to their wrappers form too long a stay near the heater. You offered one to Jacob, his fingertips brushing against you palm as he took the candy, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he retracted his hand. He fidgeted with the plastic twists at the ends of his butterscotch treat, your eyes hard on his hands as you unwrapped your candy, peeling stubborn strips of plastic from their holds on the shell before popping the sphere in your mouth, pushing it into your cheek so you could speak.
“You look like you witnessed a murder, Jake. Stop-” you began, placing a palm on his hands to slow their turning of the candy, his eyes on yours as your hand held his from producing any more crunching sounds. “Are you okay? Did I miss something drive by? Headless Horsemen, the Ghost of Christmas Past? What’s gotten into you? You were fine five minutes ago,” you spoke, your tone almost reprimanding, though you were more upset with yourself for not noticing Jake’s discomfort. He shook his head, his lips tugging into a forced smile, his eyes dropping to his hands. He was quiet for a moment, his and your breathing the only sounds within the truck to accompany the fall of rain around you, his chest expanding slowly before his hand twitched. He shifted beneath your hold, turning his palm until it was flush against your own, his fingers twining with yours slowly, as if each move had to be calculated so as not to detonate a bomb. Your face flushed at the action, not uncommon between you, but the atmosphere in itself was of a different flavour than you had experienced. You avoided his eye, your gaze glued to his fingers between yours, the russet silk of his skin contrasting sweetly with the complexion of yours. The heat from his hand spread throughout your entire body, warming the blood in your veins, the air within the cabin… you couldn’t imagine how the rain wasn’t turned to steam on the glass before you. You lifted your eyes to Jacob’s face, his cheeks flushed, his eyes lifting to meet yours, his expression one of fearful confidence. You had both noticed the shift, it seemed, and neither one of you knew how to stop or how to continue. Jacob cleared his throat suddenly, his hand clenching on yours. He inhaled deeply, his jaw tight, lips pursed around his exhale, his head nodding as if to encourage himself
“I was wondering…” he began, his voice quiet, but surprisingly smooth for the level of nervousness you could see physically flowing over his body. “You know, it’s kind of a funny story, but, uh, Quil only let me borrow the car if I…” he closed his mouth, swallowing somewhat labouredly. “He told me if I could… If I could ask you, maybe, you know, if you wanted to maybe go on a date? With me?” His eyes were open, honest on yours, impossible to break contact with, his face flushed with the embarrassment of having to put his emotions in the open. You inhaled slowly, struggling to digest what had just happened, your hand comfortably in Jacob’s, despite the heat and wavering comfort of your situation. In your silence, Jacob continued, his speech slow as a side effect of the strain on his brain under such emotional stress, gaining momentum and speed for the same reason. “I don’t want you to think I’m asking you out on a dare or anything, Quil just wanted me to step up, you know? Because it’s been… it’s been a while since I thought about it, about you… like that. And, you know, I guess I just thought we could try it out or somethi-”
“Yeah, Jake. That sounds nice,” you spoke, your voice mingling with his, his eyes going wide momentarily before the width of his enormous smile caused his eyes to wrinkle at the corners, his teeth biting once more on his lower lip in an attempt to conceal the extent of his enthusiasm.
“Cool, cool,” he whispered, smiling again to himself, his eyes on his hand in yours. His eyes fell on the dashboard’s clock, his sigh indicative of not wanting your time to be over, but understanding the consequences of keeping you too long. “You’d better get back in there before the Chief starts an Amber Alert,” He joked, inching towards his door, your hands untangling slowly. He raced around to meet you on the passenger side as you let yourself out of Joy’s truck, your hand closing your door behind you, falling to your side. Jacob reached behind your head to tug your hood up, covering your face from the fall of rain, his hand dropping once to occupy yours, this time much more casually than before, your joining more natural. He walked you back towards your home, his free hand hauling his hood up to cover his sleek hair from the generous pelting of water from above, your journey punctuated by comfortable silence. When you reached your door, Jacob’s hand still in yours, you turned to face him, his smile hinting at a happiness much greater than he let on. Your hand fell from his, not unkindly or abruptly, but naturally. You were close enough that you didn’t need a physical connection.
“Thanks, Jake. You managed a successful jailbreak.” Jacob grinned, offering a small bow. “I’ll call you, okay? We can… figure something out.” Jake chuckled, his head tipping back slightly, his smile growing.
“You sure Charlie won’t mind that I’m taking you out?” You rolled your eyes, feigning arrogant disdain.
“I think he minds that you haven’t asked his permission to marry me yet,” Jacob snorted, muffling his laughter with the backside of his hand, his feet carrying him backward, away from the door. “Night, Jake. Drive safe,” you whispered, your voice carrying to him despite your volume. He nodded, waving farewell.
“Night, Y/n. I’ll see you around.” You let yourself into the house, turning the lock slowly, your eyes on Jake’s back through the door’s raised window as he walked back to his borrowed transportation. You turned on your heel, creeping back towards your bedroom, your thoughts racing. Unbeknownst to you, Jacob’s mind was equally wired, his hands on his head, his body slumped back against the driver’s seat in disbelief at what he’d just accomplished. You sunk into your bed, your raincoat dripping quietly within your closet, your brain far too active to sleep. You’d suffer for it in the morning, but with daylight came a whole new round of stimulation to keep you occupied. You closed your eyes, daring to dream of Jacob Black.