If You Ever Catch Martin Where He Can't Think Of A Rebuttal He's Just Gonna Smile And Start Singing In

Papers in the wind. Hotaru, Good Samaritan despite the way he speaks of people: bends to help gather the materials which seemed to spill from the professor(?)’s hands. Sometimes a rabbit doesn’t know it’s crossed a lion and wanders in its den regardless. “… bad weather. Ah, here you go.”

a single second. lots can change in one   —   an arrow might strike true, or an encounter might occur. in a single second, his attention drifted. golden irises, deep and rich like pools of ichor, glance towards the sky. it's getting later, the purplish orange hue edging the far reaches of the sky warns him. still, the sun hangs up above with unchallenged bravado. it does not shy away from the shadows; it does not fear sinking beyond the skyline   —   it knows it will rise. it will always rise; its destined to shine, so let it do as it was destined. and in a single second, he's jealous of its certainty   —   of such a simple fate.

papers slipped from his fingers, plucked by thieving winds, howling and cackling as they went. a soft curse, a dead word, in a foreign land   —   slips from his lips. at the very least, none of them went far. explaining how he lost more than half of the documents pertaining to the school wouldn't have been a pleasant conversation. not that thane worries about such things. it's almost time for him to find another place, as things would have it. to see what the next school might offer   —   he's sure his colleagues are appalled by how often he comes and goes. their job security is why they stay. however, it's the security he does not want.

the thin metal clips in his dreads clink gently as he kneels carefully, none too eager to exacerbate old wounds. everything he does is stiff   —   a plain attempt at coddling discomfort. and suddenly, he's not alone, not that they crept 'pon him unseen. it's just more papers returned to his hands than he gathered himself. some of the glow in his gaze darkens if only for a moment; it's never truly gone   —   the lambent within.

❛  & —— and just like that, you're my favorite student.  ❜   lips curve into a mannerly smile.   ❛  even if we've never met before.  ❜   he straightens up, smoothing out each document, a practiced gesture.   ❛  thank you.  ❜

unprompted,

I'M CRYING, LOOK AT CLARK'S FACE WHEN LOIS GETS KRYPTONIAN POWERS

CLARK KENT IS THE REIGNING CHAMP OF BEING LOIS LANE'S #1 FAN THAT IS A MAN THAT IS ABSOLUTELY OVER THE MOON THAT HIS WIFE IS SO COOL AND STRONG AND AWESOME HE IS SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW JUST WATCHING HER THIS IS THE BEST OF OF HIS LIFE

same thing i said on kai but less so since this blog is already kinda how i want it being smaller? ill just be on break. tata.

SUPERMAN AND KRYPTO Superman (2025)

inhaling  what's  left  of  the  burger  half,  wally  cleans  what  little  bits  of  ketchup  and  mustard  are  still  clinging  to  his  fingers.  it  wouldn't  be  lying  to  say  he  felt  a  hundred——no  a  million  times  better  already.  it'll  give  him  more  than  enough  juice  if  he  needs  it,  although  he  isn't  expecting  much.  las  vegas  ...  surely  it's  not  a  place  with  anything  to  worry  about?  it  wasn't  a  mission——as  others  insists.  enjoy  yourself,  they  told  him.  at  a  point  it  started  feeling  like  they  were  just  trying  to  get  rid  of  him,  which,  y'know,  fair  enough.

"tourist-y  stuff——no,  wait——stuff  locals  like——uh  ...  any  chance  we  can  do  both?"  it's  the  first  time  he's  stepping  foot  into  vegas;  he's  been  through  her  more  than  few  times  but  he  meant  that  literally.  it's  a  blur  on  his  travels  to  other  places  and  he  barely  remembers  a  thing  each  time.  to  put  it  simply:  it's  his  first  time  ever  spending  more  than  thirty  seconds  in  the  city  of  sin.  bit  odd  that  it  never  popped  up  during  his  time  with  the  team.  you'd  think  it  would've  been  the  first  place  to  stir  up  all  sorts  of  trouble  for  them  to  be  sent  to  deal  with.

"oh,  and  by  we,  i  mean  me.  i  mean,  i  can't  expect  you  to  follow  me  around  all  day  and  help  me  out  ...  right?  not  that  i'd  turn  down  a  certified  guide."  it's  a  bit  of  a  leading  question,  he'll  admit.  not  his  finest  attempt  to  thread  the  needle  of  a  delicate  topic,  but  he's  doing  his  best.  "but,  y'know,  if that is   something  you  DID  want  to  do  i  can  cover  today's  expenses  for  us."  all  hail  the  batman  appointed  credit  card.  "whaddaya  say?  wanna  be  my  partner  in  crime?"

Damn. He must have been really hungry.

Mark comes close to feeling bad about having made his acceptance into a bit, but it's hard to linger on those kinds of guilty feelings when the guy's sticking around for a chat after scarfing down his leftovers. He's probably not all that torn up over the specifics of getting them.

"Well," he starts, still sporting a bright grin, "you're in luck! No-one in the world's better at this whole tourist thing than I am."

Expertise just comes with the package of being on the move so often; Mark is a tourist everywhere, taking in everything he can everywhere he stops. A local might know a thing or two about some niche, out-of-the-way place for good food or a good time, but Mark's always been good about sniffing out things or places that are entertaining.

He rests his arm on the back of his chair, then leans his head into his waiting palm, attempting to give his food thief some sort of scrutiny—like he's trying to judge exactly what sort of avenue to take this. "So what, you lookin' for some typical tourist-y stuff? Or are you one 'a those people who wants to pretend they know how to blend in with the locals? Plenty 'a shit to do either way. You like shows? Lotsa shows. There's a rollercoaster in a casino. Isn't that the sickest fuckin' thing you've ever heard of in your life? Who does that? It's probably a death trap but that's a sick way to go out. My sister made me ride it."

thane's blood is a bit gold reflecting is godly half but it's mostly red. so, think crimson w/ golden flecks. the gold concentrates itself a lot in his scars and such, kintsugi style.

Prometheus (2012)

sweeping   sângeros   with   a   single   look,   smile   never   wavers,   even   standing   before   the   counter.   senses   catch   a   whiff——   faint   lingering   attachment——   equal   parts   magic.   neat,   worth   mulling   over   for   the   challenge   of   it   (   but   far   less   important   to   him   than   this. )   he   slips   a   ring   off   gloved   finger,   a   silver   band   etched   with   symbols,   the   faintest   glow   lingering   in   engravings   like   dimming   lights.   dim,   weak,   dying.

❛   ciao, bella   !   lookin'   for   a   ring   like   this   one.   brighter   though.   uh,   hot   to   the   touch.   whispers   a   bit   when   you   wear   it.   ❜   sometimes   secrets,   sometimes   lies   about   the   stock   market.   really   depends   on   the   day.   ❛   figured   it   could've   ended   up   in   a   place   like   this.   pawned   off,   probably.   seen   anything   like   that,   love?   ❜ 

@amcssing | starter call

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 actual magic to walk through the front door. It's a lucky thing she's seldom caught unawares by it, given her own magical ability. Even if she didn't have that though, she can smell it on this one. Light- repressed, maybe?- but real.

"Welcome to Sângeros," she hums, perking up slightly from her position at the counter. Her long nails tap a quick beat against the back of her phone case, and then she casts a quick look around- a couple of vanilla wicca girls, more aesthetic than dedication, Nico in the stacks... nothing to worry about.

"What can I help ya find?"

ABSOLUTE FLASH !!!

i saw his design and i couldn't resist

When does a CANDLE become a BLAZE? Whеn does a MAN become a MONSTER?