i have two weaknesses

Y’know, I really enjoy the concept of Clark Kent.

Like, minus the whole superman aspect.

because, like, okay I can buy that maybe he can disguise himself well enough to hide the fact that he’s superman, but i doubt any amount of slouching and glasses wearing can truly disguise that he’s a very tall EXTREMELY muscular man with a jawline that can cut glass.

So basically this newspaper office has this guy who looks like a weightlifter/supermodel just hanging around but he wears glasses and acts like a huge nerd and everyone just goes with it???

Like “Oh yeah, that’s Clark. No no he works here. Oh no don’t bother being intimidated by him, talk to him for five minutes and he’ll devolve into a lecture on proper tractor maintenance. We like Clark.”

 I wonder if the ladies in the office ever drag him with them to bars so they don’t have to worry about creeps trying to harass them like “back off creeps our friend here is 6′4″ and grew up chucking hay bales” 
And then it’s funny because (as far as they know) Clark is like, the meekest lil nerd around. (He don’t look it though!!!!)

It’s just incredible to me that Clark Kent can pull off being a quiet harmless dork while still looking like, well, superman. 

4

❝ This type of love we got, they’ll never get it.❞

“Gentlemen don’t cry, Jeremy.”

Happy Father’s Day :^)

3

when do you think lexa started having feelings for clarke?

happy birthday @hedawolf  (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

3

every time lexa says clarke’s name: 20/?

jharvelles  asked:

"11, things you said when you were drunk" which I'm sure you've already received but is dying to be written after vol 2!

Peter had long ago perfected the art of drinking just enough alcohol to get drunk without losing control. 

His teammates, apparently, had not, judging by the fact that most of them were currently passed out on the floor around him (including Groot, but only because it was well past his bedtime; they weren’t about to give alcohol to a baby, c’mon).

Gamora was the only one besides him who had managed to stay awake, but that was because she was some kind of drinking superhero.

“How’re you doing that?” Peter mumbled into her stomach. He was currently curled up on the floor with his head in her lap, trying not to fall asleep – okay, so he might actually have toed the line as far as drinking too much went, but it was hard to care when Gamora was so comfy.

“Doing what?” she asked, casually sipping a beer.

“Being all – sitting and stuff. You had as much to drink as the rest of us.”

“Alcohol doesn’t affect me as easily.”  

He turned his head a bit so he could look up at her more easily. “You’re such a badass,” he said, proud that he was only slurring his words a little.

She smirked, amused. “So you’ve said.”

His eyes traced over the scars on her face and his head bumped lightly against the hilt of her sword where it was strapped to her thigh.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, G’mora? Hey –“

“Yes, Peter?”                                                                                                     

“I ever tell you why I named the ship the Milano?”

“After a character on a TV show.”

“No. Yes.” He giggled at his own fumbling response. “I mean, she was actually the actress. But like, why I named it after her?”

“No, why?”

“C’mere,” he said, crooking his finger for her to bend down. “Issa secret.”  

She indulgently lowered her head and he whispered, “I use’ta want her to be my girlfriend when I was a kid. Even when I thought love was icky.”

“Icky?”

“Yep. Scientific term from Earth there, you’re welcome.” He laughed loud enough at his own joke that he briefly woke up Rocket; he heard him roll over and grumble something about ‘damn singing fool’ before falling back asleep.

“She was cool, though,” Peter said after he’d calmed down. “Like you.”

“Was she?” Gamora had started playing with his hair and he leaned further into her as he kept talking.

“Yeah. In the show she was really strong and awesome. She punched someone once, and she liked basketball.”

“What’s basketball?”

“Sport.”

“I don’t care for sports.”

Peter waved a hand (or tried to; he ended up just sort of slapping the floor). “Doesn’t matter. The important part was the punching. And you’re into swords, which are cooler than sports.”

“I agree.” She was looking at him with a soft, pretty smile that melted his insides even when he was sober. “So, your childhood dreams came true then? David Hasselhoff was your father and Alyssa Milano is your girlfriend?”

“No, no.” He shook his head, which made him dizzy, but he pressed on. “You’re way better than her. You saved the galaxy and you killed a monster and you do that thing where you scratch the back of my neck – aahh, yeah, like that.” He closed his eyes, lost in pleasure for a moment.

“Plus,” he continued on a yawn, keeping his eyes closed. “You let me fall asleep on your lap.”

“Peter Quill, you better not.” She tried to sound disapproving, but he could feel her stomach jerk with repressed laughter.

“Mmm, too late.” He wrapped his arms around her so he was basically hugging her waist, settling in like she was a pillow.

“Ten minutes,” she said. “Then we’re moving to a bed.”

“Deal,” he mumbled. Though he was pretty sure she was gonna have to carry him.

But she was badass and strong, even stronger than Alyssa Milano, so she could handle it.  

It was…I don’t know if you could call it love, what we had. I don’t know if we ever stopped fighting long enough to call it anything but a bad idea. But…it was kind of magic. Whatever it was, it was magic.
—  from an unfinished story #849

sternentreue  asked:

Highspecs + jealousy? I'm always so shy about sending requests, but this is a great opportunity and I hope this is alright, no pressure, okay? 💙 The most important thing is not to push yourself, I hope you'll get your mojo back soon!!

Thank you so much for this request. I understand being shy about asking for asks from people - I’m so shy when I submit a request for a story from a blog, but this was really fun to write. My mojo is definitely coming back slowly, helped by little gems like this ask. Have some sexy Highspecs (how gorgeous is this ship name) to say thank you. Featuring sideline Promptio and Lunoct.


It was rare that they all went out together. To get the king out of the palace with Luna and not to be recognised was also a miracle, and yet, out at Galdin, he was perhaps less on people’s radar.

The Mother of Pearl had changed only a little since their very first visit there, with a dance floor added, and space for a live band.

With their dessert plates cleared away, Prompto grinned his brightest smile at Gladio, and the king’s shield, as ever, was totally incapable of refusing him anything. “Come on then, sunshine,” he smirked, standing and holding out his hand to the smaller man. Boundless energy fizzed inside Prompto like he was twenty years old again, though that could have been the lemon meringue pie and ice cream that had had just enough time to hit his bloodstream.

Luna watched them go, a soft smile on her pretty face, and Noctis leaned close to kiss her cheek. As they left for the dance floor too, Ignis turned his head to listen hard.

Aranea had been behaving strangely all day, and he couldn’t work out why. Acerbic at the best of times, though surprisingly affectionate in private, Aranea was capable of bearing a grudge for even the slightest offence, and Ignis was very aware that he had done something, though quite what that was, he couldn’t tell.

“Darling,” he began.

“Don’t darling me,” she snarled under her breath. “If you are finished, I’m done for the night. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait,” he snapped, “Come on, stop,” and he reached faultlessly for her hand.

She twisted her wrist away easily, though Ignis hadn’t held her tightly to begin with.

“Aranea,” he hissed, “Please, what have I done this time?”

In the silence at the end of his bitter question, he felt Aranea freeze. And then, to his surprise, she softened. It was in the slow exhale of her breath. He could picture those lips still. They’d be tight, angry, pressed together in that sullen pout of hers which he remembered from before Altissia. “This time?” she repeated quietly.

The soft rustle of her dress as she sat back down caught him by surprise too. Ignis sighed. “I always seem to be upsetting you lately,” he murmured, folding his hands dejectedly in his lap.

He jumped when she slid her cool palm over his knuckles. Her hands were always cold. “You really don’t know, do you, shortcake,” she grinned.

“Know what?” he asked, irritation flaring. “And I thought you only called Prompto that?”

She chuckled. It was like crumpling autumn leaves. “You really don’t have any idea of the effect you have on women, do you?”

Ignis’ mind spun for a moment, his brows knitted as his brain revved. “Nea…?” he asked, using the shortened form of her name she usually loved to hear.

She breathed out, all her tension and anger leaving her as quickly as it had come. “Ignis,” she sighed. “Ignis, I’m sorry. I’ve been angry at you all day. And it’s not even your fault.”

“What did I do?”

“You? Nothing. That horrid blonde who I wouldn’t mind impaling on my lance? The worst.”

“The worst? And what blonde? Nea, you know physical traits such as that mean little to me now…”

“I know, I know, you don’t discriminate over hair colour,” she scoffed.

“Actually,” he said playfully, his voice deep and lyrical as always despite his confusion, “I’ve always been rather partial to a particular shade of ash blonde, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Ack, I should have learned by now not to try and spar with you like this,” she chuckled.

Ignis returned the gesture. “It’s a different story with lances, but even Queen of Sass is no match for me in this arena…”

“Yeah, I should know better than anyone that no one can out-sass a Scientia…” she laughed, picking his hands up and settling herself in his now-empty lap.

Ignis ran his palmst around her slender waist and sank his nose to the elegant line of her bare neck. As realisation came to him, he chuckled once more. Inhaling deeply, he murmured, “You were jealous I take it?”

He could practically hear her eyes rolling. “What actually got me so worked up is that you’re so damned oblivious to it,” she groaned. “That woman had her hands all over you, trying to get you to take her arm, while she fawned and fussed all over you, and you just let her.”

“I did not let her,” he retorted, his breath tickling her neck and making her giggle girlishly. He loved the sound of it, leaving a spontaneous kiss right beneath her ear. Her heavy earring caught his nose, the ruby cool in its setting against his skin. “She’d have had me out there dancing with her if the encounter had gone her way. And yet here I am.”

Aranea rolled her hips. “You wanna give her something to stew over?” she drawled, apparently satisfied and contrite, or as contrite as Aranea Highwind ever deigned to become.

“She’s here?”

“Yeah, drowning her sorrows alone at the bar. I hope she chokes on it.”

“Nea…”

“Fine, but let’s give her a show…”

“Indeed,” he said, steadying her by her hand as she slid gracefully from his lap, allowing her to pull him to his feet and guide him to the floor.

The strings picked up a new rhythm. A rumba, one of the slow, sexy ones they played in Lestallum on sultry summer nights.

It was perfect for Aranea and all her slow, sexy sass.

It began with distant flirtatiousness, spiralling inexorably towards a sensual closeness that would ordinarily have made Ignis blush to display in public. But he was Aranea’s that night, that night and every night, and he was not about to let anyone doubt it.

He felt the curves of her body as she brushed against him, the cool strength of her fingers when she held his hand, and the painful absence of her body when she stepped away. He ached for her.

By the time the music finally ended, he was drained. They were alone on the dance floor. He held her close, his nose pressed against her neck again, heart pounding. “I’m yours,” he whispered against that ruby earring. “I’m yours.”

“I know,” she said. “And I like it when you show everyone else.”

He had to laugh. “You’re a manipulative siren, you know that?” he chuckled.

Her throaty laugh was all the answer he got before the applause of the gathered crowd drowned it out. “Upstairs,” she growled, gripping his hand at her side. “Now.”