Anyways, Little Inbox Call So I Can At Least Say I Did More Than A Few Things Today. It'll Either Be

The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) dir. Anthony Minghella

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."

Characters with goggles? Always awesome

CLARK / @amcssing ——— a blur of azure, a flicker of red, a dash of gold—— it’s the roar of wind, the tearing of sound then the chill of the tundra. crystal shards stacked high, threatening to pierce heaven itself yet … they would never. gently it holds the world aloft, an icy place of solitude and respite, a place where even heroes might rest: a fortress. ears perk, catch the sound of clicking heels, the gentle shift of blonde hair, the sound of plush lips made stern. a boom—— a clap of thunder, the roar that announces the elation of flight before he appears. clark hovers, weightless, blues peering at her with a stars luminosity. warm, inviting, kind. boots tap the ground gentle, no longer content to linger above … no, eager to stand beside. cape swishes, faint traces of wear, a battle fought and won. strong fingers, warm like flame cup her cheeks, forehead resting against hers. ‘I’m starting to think you like the fortress of solitude way more than I do, Emma. Trying to live up to the last name?’

SHE FEELS HIM BEFORE she hears him, sees him, before the wind shifts and suddenly he is here. summer fruits / warm flannel / old folk music / sunsets. her silence interrupted but for once, it is welcome, this cacophony of thoughts running mile - a - minute . the moment her mind can touch his, the rigidness of her shoulders seems to melt.

lashes flutter shut, brushing the cheeks lifted with touch. his hands are calloused----how are they so soft ? questions she'll never ask because she doesn't care for an answer. first time she's had that thought since her arrival, which was, how long ago ? emma loses track of time here with an unnerving ease. or perhaps comforting ease.

-- " can you blame me ? "

it isn't a real question / he would never. he would never blame her for her loneliness, her wondering. and wondering she has been: her curse is to think, after all. to think of her responsibilities, her loves, her life. her failures. broken children, broken heroes. for every time she attempts to protect the metahumans, does she do anything but paint targets upon their backs ? her heart so open, yet caged.

he frees it. instantly. emma looks up into eyes full oif hope and the glacier melts, so does her gaze. a forehead 'gainst chest. something solid to lean against / not violent, but fierce. unmoving. she is diamond, but he is her rock. holding her down to the ground despite his ability to fly. perhaps that's what drew her in, after all these years; someone with a genuine want to hold her without suffocating. protect, not control. an open mind both literally and figuratively, easy to forgive and easier to trust.

his mindsong hums against hers, and she doesn't read them, just listens. enjoys the comfort of his alien mind with hers, his very human embrace.

-- " ... i apologise. i should have had batman inform you i was leaving. you didn't need to rush here so suddenly. "

@metanoen

XX

ABSOLUTE FLASH !!!

i saw his design and i couldn't resist

flicking back and forth between blogs rn but inbox call ! give this a like i'll either send smth from your memes tag or make something mysellf. specify if you wanted from a certain muse.

random lil hcs for wally.

wally  is  a  good  cook,  really  good.  between  a  healthy  appetite  and  a  strong  need  for  calories  (  super  speed  go  brr  )  he's  gotten  good  at  cooking  for  himself.  on  the  opposite  side,  at  a  point  i  doubt  he's  even  picky  with  food.  you'll  eat  his  food  and  it  taste  five  class  and  he's  just  like??  what.  it's  roughly  all  the  same  to  him.

slaps  on  a  red  nose  every  year  at  Christmas  time.  wallace  rudolph  west  lives  forever. 

prone  to  hyper  speed  talking.  he's  a  bit  more  restrained  than  his  peers  but  get  him  going  and  you'll  never  hear  a  single  word  just  a  long  ass  buzz  and  him  looking  for  understanding.  wally:  you  got  that? 

CONTINUED FROM HERE.

green   hues   flit   between   plush   and   her,   eyes   narrowing,   hushed   voice   only   feeding   into   curiosity.   she   leans   forward   /   he   does   the   same.   (   an   effort   to   further   mask   their   secret.   )   gaze   quickly   scans   left,   scans   right——   returning   when   coast   seems   clear.   it   takes   effort   to   not   wilt   beneath   intensity   ...   but   wally   manages.   stray   glares   from   a   certain   caped   crusader   might've   been   far   worse,   if   only   by a   little.   ❛   no   judgement.   c'mon——   'm   the   least   judgmental   person   ever.   when   have   i   ever   judged   you   !   ❜   voice   climbs,   words   cut   short   by   hand   covering   own   mouth.   (   oops.   )   ❛   ...   m'bad.   now   spill,   man.   no   one   likes   a   gatekeeper. open the gates.   ❜

@hadobreeze

me being strangled by someone who rightfully wants me dead: lmaooo i can't believe how bad u wanna fuck me