poetry in motion man

Bruce/Clark; PG-13; grief and loss

Summary: Despite the fractured bones he’d scanned countless times, the contusions and scars carefully hidden by armour, part of Clark believed the Bat would outlive them all. For fifteen years, night after night, Bruce survived the streets of Gotham. Until he didn’t.

Note: This fic references Bruce’s canonical death in Final Crisis and relies heavily on the Superman: New Krypton storyline. To those unfamiliar, here is a brief synopsis of the events and timeline relevant for the purpose of this fic: Clark liberates the bottled city of Kandor from Brainiac, freeing thousands of Kryptonians, including his aunt and uncle, to live on earth; Jonathan Kent dies from a heart attack while Clark is off-world dealing with Brainiac; shortly after that, Bruce seemingly dies after being hit by Darkseid’s omega beams; humans and Kryptonians don’t get along, Clark’s uncle gets assassinated, and Clark’s aunt eventually relocates their people to another planet to serve as New Krypton.

Thank you to @superhero-justice and @superbatfleck for cleaning this up for me. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Constructive criticism welcome.

Reporters rush in and out of the Daily Planet offices in pursuit of the latest scoop, shoes squeaking and clicking on the floor. Others are hunched over their computers, racing to meet the print deadline, each keystroke as loud as a bullet. One floor down, the refrigerator in the break room emits a low hum. Ten blocks away, a car alarm is blaring on the street and a dog starts barking. There are other indistinct sounds he can’t isolate, nor can he manage to block them out. He hears all of it, and he hears none of it.

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A man is constantly in motion,
A man needs to be still
as upon this requirement rests his
contemplation, that of his nature,
Thus, a man proposes an action be
taken for this his will,
And unto him comes the photographer
for a portraiture.

tozawas  asked:

talk abt your boy kofi!!! <3

kofi !!!!!!!!!!!!! my crop top, double buns boy!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg i’ve been a fan of kofi for as long as i can remember? i love high flyers!!! that used to be my big basics, i love high flyers and kofi was the Ultimate. but then i fell for his little personality they let him show?? i just thought he was so good. because he is SO GOOD. like kofi makes wrestling look easy? like he makes it look like he jut MOVES like that. he’s poetry in motion, man. and like, fun fact (not so much of a fact to people who have followed me from even my first blog), that i am such a big kofi kingston fan that for like 2?? 3??? years i hated dean ambrose so fcking much because he took the belt off kofi. i hated this mfer. like i hated him because it was KOFI’s belt and he just came up in here and took it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hated him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but now i’m cool with him u know i tolerate dean he iight. but back then WOOOOO my love for kofi sure did That.

but tbh, i really and sincerely think he can be world championship material. there isn’t a specific guy who’s allowed to be one, he doesn’t fit wwe’s mold but there is no mold just TALENT. and kofi’s got TALENT BABY. and like, he has so much to offer. he has such a likable personality and he makes ANYONE look good. like ANYONE~!!!! there is NO bad kofi match!!!!! he’s just so neat-o!! so so sooo neat-o!!!!! KOFI KINGSTON FOR WWE CHAMPION UNIVERSAL CHAMPION IC CHAMPION US CHAMPION UK CHAMPION CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION NXT CHAMPION KING OF THE RING MONEY IN THE BANK WINNER ROYAL RUMBLE WINNER ALL THE THINGS KOFI KINGSTON FOR EVERYTHING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

panic-angel3314  asked:

Draw 😊

Draw ~ List 5-10 qualities about your favorite wrestler(s) that caused you to be fan of him/her/them?


  1. The fact that the guy literally gives zero fucks. He will take anyone, anytime, anywhere. You want a drunken death match? Boom, you got it.
  2. He had this amazing move set that I was totally in love with. Like yes. Lift me in the air and toss me on the bed like that aye, papi. I think he’s changed a lot of his moves since, because I don’t remember seeing him do Dirty Deeds back then.. Maybe he did and it was another name? I unno. I just know I love to watch that man move. He is poetry in motion.
  3. That god damn smirk.
  4. The bat shit crazy promos. Like that one where he says his moms purse smells like a Tootsie Roll? Or the one where he talks about melting the belt down, drinking it so that it flows through his veins?
  5. The promos where he’s pissed and he feels fucked over so everybody will feel his wrath by the end.
  6. That fucking “I’m about to fuck the world up and you can’t stop me” laugh.
  7. That fork. RIP 5 prongs. *shrugs* that’s what I called it?
  8. Switchblade Conspiracy.
  9. His theme song, Shit List. It was my jam.
  10. His determination.

anonymous asked:

Dude. Spy Au (A+ btw) Dex would be like the best at knives. Crab boat experiance plus any other training? That boy is scary with a blade. Nursey thinks it's hot.

I bring to you: “something to totally fucking happens during Operation Oz” 

Fuck, Dex, watch out, he’s got a–” Derek doesn’t even have to finish his sentence, because Dex is whirling around the same time the ACE agent they’d cornered did, amber eyes wide as the guy swings at him with a knife. This is it, Derek thinks, trying to scramble for something, anything to help with, but he’s been disarmed, and his is head pounding, and his vision is swimming in a way that lets him know that he was going to be unconscious in half a minute. 

This isn’t it, though, because in the same moment Dex’s eyes widen, they narrow, and his arm shoots out, catching the guy in the throat. The ACE agent stumbles, and Dex is up now, disarming him, and–

Holy shit. “Holy shit!” Derek’s pretty sure he says aloud, because Dex has the knife now, and he’s a fucking ballerina with it, jumping and slashing like some Hunger Games version of Swan Lake. 

“We gotta move.” he says once the ACE agent is bleeding out on the floor, dragging Derek to his feet. 

“Holy shit.” Derek repeats, and promptly blacks out. 

“Holy shit.” Nurse says. It’s all he’s been saying for the past hour and a half. Dex is somewhere between concerned and annoyed, at this point. 

“Are you… broken?” he asks, brow furrowed. If he’d broken Nurse, Lardo would be pissed. As good as Dex was at fixing literally anything else, he had no idea how to fix a person; he himself was good enough evidence of that. 

“You just–” Nurse makes a few vague hand gestures, and oh. That’s what this was about. Dex turns red, and shrugs. 

“It’s not a big deal.” he huffs. “I used to help out on my uncle’s boat during the summer when I was young, and knife training was an elective while I was in training, when Katya was over here still, so–”

“Holy shit.” Nurse says again, and now Dex is just annoyed. “You were beautiful, man, fucking poetry in motion! A deadly fucking nymph of the night, a cutting star on the horizon, a–”

“–Another shitty metaphor, blah, blah, shut the fuck up.” Dex growls, but he’s blushing and he can’t hide it. “I liked you better when you were unconscious.”

“No, you didn’t.” Nurse says, and he sounds so sure of it with his dopey grin. Dex wants to punch him, but also kiss him. This feeling isn’t new. 

“Rest, Nurse.” he mumbles instead of doing either, rolling his eyes and turning away. 

“Whatever you want, dark prince.” Nurse hums. Dex throws a pen at him. 

A Simple Silver Band

From @dichotomous-dragon to @eugenideswalksintoabar
Bull wants Dorian. Dorian wants Bull. It should be that simple, and predictably isn’t.
Mutual pining
The Bull’s Chargers
Happy ending (?).

It wasn’t the first thing he noticed.

The first thing Bull noticed: the man…no, the mage, was poetry in motion, staff cutting down demons in as martial a display as Bull himself had provided cutting down ‘Vints on the Storm Coast. Bull could smell the ozone in the air that meant ‘magic’ but the man in the Chantry wasn’t using it.  Either tapped out or holding it in reserve, didn’t seem to matter.  The bladed end of the staff tore into a demon as he spun, smashing an attacking shade with the focus stone at the apex of the same movement.

The second thing?  He was fucking gorgeous. Chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, well-muscled, if the chest peeking from below the white silk cloak was any clue. His skin was a rich golden shade even in the eerie green light of the rift, his hair somehow perfect despite the rigorous activity.  High maintenance and higher breeding stock, Bull snorted.  What was it about Redcliffe that seemed to be drawing Alti these days?

The third was the voice; pleasant in timbre, cultured in accent.  It resonated in the wrecked building, the tone easy, almost relaxed.  But there, underneath the eloquent mannerisms and obvious flirtation was a cadence of desperation, maybe of sadness and betrayal.  Bull wondered at the ease with which the mage swept from fighting to flirting; from one to the other in a blink. He was good, better than good, and knew it, every iota of his expression and movement calculated to produce the most stunning effect.

The ring was, in fact, the fourth thing Bull noticed. Thick silver and unadorned, noticeable on his left hand amidst the intricate gold on most of his other digits, it flickered in the sickly green glow. A wedding band. It was a shame Dorian of House Pavus was married, the Bull thought, as the five of them leapt into battle with the demons.  He might be a double-agent, one more back-stabbing ‘Vint in a damn sea of them, but something about the mage was alluring in a way that had nothing to do with how hot he was.

“Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst.”  Bull growled it out loud, as much a warning to the others as to himself. He had an unhelpful weakness for ‘pretty’ and it wouldn’t do to forget it.

Even if Dorian was on their side, he was clearly off-limits.

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