mars bars from mars

she/her , 21, 🖤🩶🤍💜

[dsu2014]

imagine owning an independent bookstore with a cafe and bakery with a cat that sleeps on the windowsills and people like to pet her while they browse the shelves

[snoomfies]

snoopy pride flags :)

[michaelnordeman]

Long-tailed Tit/stjärtmes. Värmland, Sweden (January 31, 2015).

[marsbarsfrommars]

"I have a house, and family, and things like that... not like I'm complaining or anything, because I have a cat, I have an apartment, sole possession of the remote control. That's very important. It's just, I never met anyone I could laugh with."

While You Were Sleeping (dir. Jon Turteltaub), 1995

. . . . . . . . .

[marsbarsfrommars]

oh god, it's just not fair of him (to make me feel this much)

superman (2025) | rated t | complete | 2,326 words | clark kent/lois lane, clark kent & lois lane & the daily planet crew | romance, humour

summary

Lois isn't jealous. She’s just slightly displeased with the situation. Across the room, the woman lightly touches Clark’s arm, Lois’s eyes narrow. or, Lois proves she's immune to jealousy by thinking about it excessively and making out with her boyfriend

read

under the cut or on ao3 for better formatting

notes

this has been up on ao3 for weeks, but I kinda forgot about posting on tumblr for a while so sorry about that had this almost finished in my drafts for weeks bc I wrote most of it after midnight (you can tell) and I do not like it, but it's done now so I thought I might as well post it. I think I corrected most of the spelling and grammar, but I couldn't be bothered to proofread beyond that so yeah. title from 'so american' by Olivia Rodrigo

Lois Lane doesn’t get jealous. Well, she does, obviously—she’s only human after all—but not when it comes to relationships. Sure, she’s dated a few individuals who, in hindsight, seriously made her question her taste in partners, but she’s always had enough self-respect to leave if she started doubting their loyalty. She simply had better things to do than wasting time on petty relationship drama.

If she were in the mood for some serious self-reflection, she might question whether it was really out of self-respect, rather than leaving before things started to get too serious, and she could get hurt. Although it has to be said that she does have a remarkable sense for disloyalty. One of her university boyfriends had consecutively cheated on three girlfriends after her, but not her, because she had had a bad feeling about him and dumped him. It’s a tremendously helpful skill for a reporter (and also really good for avoiding being cheated on). This, however, is not the point. She doesn’t even go down that route of thinking, because she’s decidedly not in the mood for self-reflection tonight. Point is, Lois Lane doesn’t get jealous when it comes to relationships. Ever.

Despite this being an undisputed fact so far, she can admit that she is not entirely pleased by the woman talking to Clark at the moment.

He’s standing across the room from where she’s sitting at a table, half listening to her colleague’s chatter, half watching him wait for the bartender to finish his drink order. The woman came up to the bar just a moment ago, ordering a drink as well. She had started talking to Clark while they were both waiting, and Clark was as unfailingly polite to her as he was to anyone else. Now she’s steadily moving further toward him and giggling more often than usual for a casual conversation between strangers at a bar.

It’s not that she thinks he would cheat on her; she knows he would never, and she trusts him wholeheartedly. He certainly wouldn’t flirt with another person while being with her, but he’s also very bad at noticing when he’s being flirted with (something Lois knows from personal experience). He’s not clueless, but when navigating social situations as Clark Kent, he deliberately makes himself smaller, takes up less space, appears as the clumsy nerd with a shy disposition and big glasses. Not all of it is an act; to an extent, he is exactly that, but when he is just Clark Kent, he plays up all these qualities that he thinks make him less noticeable. And they do—Lois doubts the woman at the bar would ever make the connection between him and Superman—but they don’t make him any less attractive, as he seems to think they do.

It never used to bother her when they had first started dating. Way back then, she was still counting down the days till their inevitable break up in her head, convinced that they would never work because he was just so good and she was as bad at relationships as a person could possibly be. Lois doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly all jealous now. Although, is it really jealousy if she’s not at all worried about being cheated on? Surely not.

So she’s not jealous. She’s just slightly displeased with the situation.

Across the room, the woman lightly touches Clark’s arm, Lois’s eyes narrow. She has half a mind to get up and over there, even though she has no clue what she could do or say without sounding unnecessarily possessive and insecure.

Clark has already politely pulled away from the woman, and thankfully, the bartender finally hands Clark the tray with his finished drinks so he can start making his way back to their table. Lois turns away quickly, tuning back into the debate Cat and Steve are having about…leopard print?

Lois has no time to question how they arrived at this particular topic of conversation before Clark appears behind her, setting the drink tray down in the center of the table. Their friends loudly express their gratitude to him and he just smiles before he places his hands on the back of her chair and leans down, concern evident in the slight furrow of his brow. “Everything okay?”

She half turns in her chair to look up at him. The bar’s dim lighting makes his sharp features all soft; he’s taken off his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves and Lois thinks that she cannot possibly go another second without kissing him.

Not here, though. She smiles and squeezes his hand reassuringly. “I’m alright. Just tired.”

He nods, and she can tell that he doesn’t fully believe her, but he doesn’t pry. “Should we leave?”

She agrees and they announce their departure to their friends, who protest and act as if they’re committing high treason by leaving Friday night drinks early, though it’s all in good fun. Cat raises an eyebrow and winks at her and Lois rolls her eyes at her in mock-annoyance as Clark helps her into her coat. They say their goodbyes, and Lois swats Jimmy with her scarf when he makes a joke about ‘the old people having to go to bed early’, even though Cat, Steve and Ron are their age and Jimmy is only slightly younger than them.

Outside the bar, they’re hit with a rush of cold air, swiftly making Lois feel more awake than she has since they arrived at the bar. It’s a welcome sensation and she takes a deep breath, tilting her head back to look up at the few stars in the night sky above Metropolis she can spot from here. When she looks back down, she catches Clark looking at her with a look of fond adoration on his face. She smiles and tucks her face deeper into the scarf around her neck to hide the blush gracing her cheeks, because apparently, Clark Kent is the only person on planet earth who can make her blush with just one look.

He takes her hand and intertwines their fingers as they make their way back to her flat. There’s no need to question if he’ll stay the night. They haven’t officially moved in together, but half of his clothes fill her wardrobe, there’s a set of pots and pans in her kitchen Lois knows she didn’t purchase herself, and she is hard-pressed to remember the last time he spent the night at his own place. The thought of sharing her space—her life—with someone in this way used to scare her; it doesn’t anymore. Every morning, she vows to finally ask him to really move in with her, but they lead busy lives and there’s always another story to chase or a city to save, overthrowing all her carefully crafted plans, and he ends up in her bed every night anyways, so she keeps postponing her question.

Tonight, I’ll ask him tonight, she vows while unlocking the door to her flat, Clark’s hand resting at the small of her back. They make their way inside, and Lois hangs up her purse and scarf and locks the door behind them, while Clark takes off his coat. He turns back toward her and pauses, brow furrowed in question. It seems she's been starring again.

Lois just shakes her head and steps into his space, pulling him down towards her. He goes easily. Their lips meet and she makes a soft sound she would resent if he were anyone else. Clark’s hands fly to the front of her coat and his fingers make quick work of the buttons there. He doesn’t bother pushing it off her shoulders, just slips his hands beneath it to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. She feels his fingers brush against the bare skin of her waist where her sweater rides up, as she wraps her arms around his neck and she sighs against his mouth.

Unfortunately, Clark chooses that moment to pull away, only to lean back in and press his lips to hers for a second longer before she can complain about it. Then he pulls away again, just far enough that they can look at each other properly. “What was bothering you?”

“Hm?” Lois asks, drawing idle circles against the collar of his shirt with her thumb.

“Earlier, at the bar,” he clarifies. “You said you were just tired, but I can tell there was something else bothering you.”

Lois bites her lip; she doesn’t want to answer, because it seems horribly embarrassing to her now, but she doesn’t want to lie to him either.

“The woman you were talking to at the bar,” Lois settles on after a moment. “Did you notice anything about her?”

Clark looks at her like she just asked him to solve the world’s hardest crossword puzzle, obviously not understanding where Lois is taking this conversation. “Uh, she had red hair, her name was Tracy, I think, and she told me she worked in marketing or something of the sort. Why?”

“Did you notice that she was flirting with you?” Lois asks him.

“No, was she?” Clark answers incredulously, seemingly replaying the interaction in his mind. Then his face changes and Lois can pinpoint the exact moment he starts seeing right through her. “I really didn’t realise she was trying to flirt with me, I promise, but is it possible that you were a little jealous?”

“No,” Lois says emphatically, dropping her gaze from his face to his chest, blushing once again. “I knew you most likely didn’t notice her flirting, and I know you would never cheat on me, so, no, I wasn’t jealous. I was maybe slightly irritated at most.”

“Okay,” Clark says slowly and she can tell he’s fighting a grin without looking at him. “That’s good then. If you had been jealous, I would have told you that you never have to worry about me cheating on you, because I would never, and also that I love you and you’re the only one for me. But since you obviously weren’t jealous, I’m just going to kiss you again.”

Lois hums. “Right, because if I were jealous, which I definitely wasn’t, I would feel a lot better now.”

“Good,” Clark says, no longer fighting his grin.

“Yeah,” Lois says, returning his smile.

He leans down to kiss her. “I love you.” Kiss. “You’re the only one for me.” Kiss. “I would love to make dinner for us, because Jimmy stole all my fries at the bar and I’m really hungry.”

Lois pulls away with a snort. “Sure, but I doubt you’ll find anything besides a piece of cheese and some crackers in the kitchen. We haven’t been to the store in at least a week.”

Clark shrugs. “That’s fine, I can make a cheeseboard.”

“With one kind of cheese?” she asks sceptically.

He considers that for a moment, unable to come up with an argument in defense of his cheeseboard. So he kisses her again. It works excellently at making her forget all about cheese.

He finally bothers to push her coat off her shoulders and leans to the side to hang it up without breaking the kiss. Then he wraps his arms back around her waist and pulls her even closer, while his mouth migrates from her lips to her neck. Lois hums contentedly and tangles her fingers in his hair.

“You know,” Clark says thoughtfully between kisses. “You could always just ask me to marry you.”

Lois freezes and pulls away so she can look at him properly. She’s reasonably sure she’s finally lost her mind and started hearing voices.

“If I were wearing an engagement ring, people would stop flirting with me,” Clark—real Clark, not a voice in her head—elaborates.

Lois stares at him disbelievingly, unsure what to say. He stares back, his face completely serious. Half a second later, he cracks up, loud laughter filling her hallway. He was just joking, thank god. She smacks his chest lightly in retaliation.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he says, still laughing. He catches her wrist before she can smack him again. “That was such a dumb joke, I don't know why I said that.”

“You’re such a jerk,” she says, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re lucky I love you as much as I do, or I would throw you out.”

“I really am,” he says, then leans down to kiss her again.

“But if I asked you,” he whispers, barely audible against her lips, “Which I will someday if you allow me, because it's only ever going to be you for me, would you-”

And God, she can’t possibly answer that now, because then she’d have to think about the fact that she would marry him in a heartbeat if he asked, because she doesn't think she’ll ever love anyone else in the way she loves him. And despite how far she’s come in terms of emotional vulnerability in the last eight months, it’s definitely still too early for that. So she cuts him off before he can finish his sentence. “Move in with me.”

Clark has to pause for a second, his train of thought swiftly interrupted by her, but he recovers quickly and they’re still so close she swears she can feel his smile. “Sure.”

There’s no discussion, no questions, and it occurs to Lois that if she asked him to marry her right this moment, he’d probably say yes. She files that information and its implications away for later. “Good. That’s good. Are you still going to make that cheeseboard, or was that just an offer so I wouldn’t kick you out? Your offering as a guest, you know.”

Clark laughs. They both know he’s been more than a guest for months. “Don’t worry, I still intend to make it, even if we only have one type of cheese.”

[somedevil]

Jimmy Wright, Ice Bear

[plastic-pipes]

happy pride my dudes

[mirasmohan]

"do you think this is going well" "i think i'm doing a good job" never let the power of kindness stop you from being kind of a bitch

[mylittleteenageideas]

a warm cup of tea 🍵

[aestheteasteria]

seeking, yearning, reaching hands

[spicymochi]

little sky bison

[world-beauty]

The Rosette Nebula

Credits: Brian Davis

[marsbarsfrommars]

[mydairpercabeth]

james gunn writing a script where superman is anti isreal, extremely supportive of a free palestine, pro immigrant, anti ice, anti billionaire AND falling for lois at first sight???? OH HE KNOWS CLARK KENT DOOOOWWWNNNNN

[marsbarsfrommars]

like the love that discovered the sin (lover, be good to me)

superman (2025) | rated t | complete | 1,819 words | clark kent/lois lane, clark kent & the justice gang | fluff, humour

summary

"I’ve never hypnotised anyone, and neither have my glasses,” Clark furrows his brow, confusion evident on his face. “Who told you this?”

“Green Lantern,” Lois answers. Then, because she’s starting to become increasingly unhappy with the situation, she adds, “You know, the guy with the abysmal haircut.”

or, it starts in the kitchen with the mystery of the pseudo-hypnotic glasses and ends with making out (still in the kitchen)

read

under the cut or on ao3 for better formatting

notes

went to the cinema last week to watch superman, obsession came back with the force of a freight train. this one is dedicated to @bikananjarrus who doesn't know me, but has been reblogging lots of superman stuff so I always saw something new on my dash during writing breaks which kept me motivated. (if you don't like this and don't want to be associated with it I totally get it, just pm me and I'll delete this paragraph) I hope I did lois and clark justice and somewhat matched the tone of the film. anyways, see you next time the motivation to write finds me. cheers!

The question has been bouncing around in the back of her mind for almost a full week before she finally asks it. That’s a rather long time for a question to go unanswered by her standards. Still, even star reporter Lois Lane forgets stuff when she’s busy saving her boyfriend from a pocket dimension, taking down a billionaire and realising that she, in fact, doesn’t want to break up with her boyfriend, because she is madly in love with him—has been for longer than she wants to admit even to herself.

In the end, it’s Clark who reminds her. They’re in her kitchen again, she’s sitting on the counter, head leaning back against the cabinets, and a glass of wine beside her on the countertop. Clark is cooking dinner (actual dinner this time, not breakfast) and takes off his glasses when the steam from the pan makes them fog up. He normally doesn’t bother wearing them at all when it’s just the two of them, but he’s so used to them that he occasionally forgets to take them off after work, which works in Lois’s favour today because she finally remembers what has been bothering her ever since she visited the Hall of Justice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he asks absentmindedly, too busy adding the right amount of spices to the pan to give her his full attention.

“About your hypnotic glasses,” she clarifies.

He abandons his quest to make the perfectly seasoned dinner and turns toward her with a look of absolute bafflement on his face. “My what?”

Lois sighs, slightly annoyed that they’re even having this conversation; she didn’t think there were any big secrets left between them at this point, but here they are again. “You told me you use the glasses as a disguise so people don’t figure out you’re Superman, but I thought they were just normal glasses, not hypnotic ones that mess with people’s heads.”

“Well, they are just normal glasses. I’ve never hypnotised anyone, and neither have my glasses,” he furrows his brow, confusion evident on his face. “Who told you this?”

“Green Lantern,” she answers. Then, because she’s starting to become increasingly unhappy with the situation, she adds, “You know, the guy with the abysmal haircut.”

Realisation flickers over Clark’s face, and he starts laughing, turning away from her in the process. Lois doesn't think it’s all that funny, and she’s a second away from voicing that thought, but Clark has already stopped laughing and started explaining.

“A while ago, I told the Justice Whatever who I really am and also showed them what I look like when I’m not wearing the suit,” he has turned back towards her, but is looking down at the countertop instead of at her, “Green Lantern asked me if I’m really relying on a pair of glasses to protect my identity. He was being all judgy about it, so I told him the glasses were actually equipped with a hypnotisation technology that changed my face in people’s minds when I was wearing them. It’s obviously not true. I don’t know why I even said it. I guess I was just fed up with him.”

Lois doesn’t know what to say. She probably should’ve expected something of the sort; he had no reason to lie to her, after all. In hindsight, it all sounds really fucking stupid. Why she even believed anything the Lantern told her in the first place is beyond Lois.

It seems like Clark has drawn the wrong conclusion from her momentary silence, because he’s looking up at her now, cheeks tinged pink and a hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I really am sorry, Lois.”

Lois can hear the concern in his voice, and it makes her heart do something she can’t put into words, so she deflects. “Green Lantern made fun of you for that? That man doesn’t even have a secret identity, the whole world knows he’s Guy Gardner!”

“Exactly! It’s so stupid,” Clark replies, matching her tone instantly.

“I get strength in numbers and all, but working with him seems insufferable.”

“He’s not that bad,” Clark says, because, of course, he would defend Guy fucking Gardner.

She raises one eyebrow. “When you were kidnapped and I asked your friends for help, he told me he couldn’t interfere, because it would be, and I quote, ‘against his vows’.”

Clark sighs. “Yeah, alright, that does sound like him.”

“You should get better superhero friends.”

Now it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Did you tell Guy that?”

“Not exactly,” she replies carefully.

He tilts his head to the side in question.

“I believe it was more like telling him his haircut should be against his vows,” she answers. She’s sorry for being rude to a friend of Clark, but she’s decidedly not sorry for being rude to Guy Gardner. He had it coming, and she won’t apologise.

Clark laughs brightly at that, eyes sparkling. And there’s something about him when he looks at her like this that makes her want to kiss him, so she does, because he’s her boyfriend and she wants to. He kisses her back instantly, stepping closer to where she’s perched on the counter. She tilts her head to the side to deepen the kiss, and his hands find her waist, bunching up the fabric of her shirt. For a moment, she forgets all they’ve been talking about. He tends to have that effect on her. Normally, she’d wonder if this was another superpower courtesy of his biological parents, but she knows this is all Clark Kent.

When he pulls back from the kiss, it’s entirely too soon for her, and a disgruntled sound of protest slips from her mouth. Before she can lean back in, he brings one hand up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear and cup her cheek.

“Lois, I promise that the glasses are just glasses. They don’t mess with your head,” he says earnestly. And, oh, she should've expected him to not just let their conversation go. Ever since they’ve started dating, she’s been insisting that she’s just not good at relationships, and to be perfectly honest, she had expected them to break up after a short while. It’s not that she’s especially pessimistic; she’s not, but she knows herself and knows how her relationships usually go. But with Clark, it’s like the more she keeps trying to convince them both she’s bad at relationships, the more he keeps trying to prove her wrong. He keeps reassuring her, doesn’t expect things she’s not yet ready to give, doesn’t expect her to be someone she’s not. He genuinely likes her as a person, and she loves him for it. She loves him—full stop. Ironically, that is the one thing star reporter Lois Lane struggles to put into words.

“Thank God, because I was already debating whether I was crazy or they simply didn’t work on me, because you look almost the same to me, glasses or not.” It’s half-joke, half-truth; she didn’t have the time to think about it all that much, but if she did, this is probably where she would’ve ended up.

Clark hums thoughtfully. He keeps on absentmindedly stroking her waist with his thumbs, but his gaze drifts away from her face to a point just above he shoulder. “After I first told you I’m Superman, I kind of stopped drawing the line between Clark and Superman when I was with you. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I didn’t really notice I was doing it, at first, I just did. Other people always see one or the other—Clark or Superman—, but I think you just see me.”

A warmth blooms in her chest that makes her insides feel like molten gold. It’s the feeling she gets when he makes her coffee in the mornings; when he kisses her outside of the bar they get after-work drinks at with their friends, when no one is looking; when he offers to type up her articles for her, when the words on the page keep blurring together and she keeps misspelling every second one; when he looks at her like she’s worthy of devotion. After all, to be loved is to be known.

It’s her turn to cup his cheek and gently turn his face towards her. “Just you,” she whispers, and it sounds like a confession and a promise at once. She leans in to press her lips to his once again. The kiss is slow, but intense, and she’s almost losing herself in it when Clark pulls back hurriedly. “Wait, wait,” he says, “We’ll burn the pasta.”

He leans to the left to turn off the stove and move the pan away from the stovetop, putting a lid on it to keep their meal warm. “By the way, I think you should get new tea towels.”

Lois frowns. “What’s wrong with my tea towels?”

“Nothing, really. I just think you should own more than one.”

Lois rolls her eyes affectionately. “You’re welcome to buy me some, if it makes you happy.”

“Yes, very,” he answers and finally pulls her back in.

This time, Lois decides she won’t let him interrupt their kiss again, and she intertwines her fingers at the back of his neck to keep him close. The way he pulls her closer until they’re chest to chest and she can feel the warmth radiating off of him, tells her she doesn’t have to worry about that. His left hand finds the small of her back to pull her even closer, as if there was still space between them, while he leans slightly forward and places his right hand on the countertop beside her to steady himself. There’s a clink and she belatedly realises that he almost knocked over her long-forgotten wineglass.

“How do you feel about moving to somewhere with fewer wineglasses and stovetops in the way?” he asks, his lips never straying far enough from hers to matter.

“What about the pasta?” she asks between kisses. Truthfully, she couldn’t care less about the pasta at the moment, but the banter has been part of their relationship almost since the day they met.

“We can reheat it later,” he decides.

“The microwave is still broken,” Lois reminds him, nodding towards the half-disassembled microwave Clark had started repairing before the whole Luthor thing even started. Another thing unconsciously abandoned in favour of their worldsaving.

Clark leans back, not enough to let go of her, just enough so she can look at him properly. His hair is tousled from her running her hands through it, the first few buttons of his shirt are undone—Lois wonders when that happened—and he’s grinning at her. “It’s fine, I have heat vision.”

Lois rolls her eyes, but has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Alright,” she concedes, “But if you burn down my kitchen, I’m moving into your place.”

“Sure,” he says easily, like she didn’t just half-jokingly suggest they move in together after dating for less than half a year. God, who has Clark Kent turned her into? She decides that all the investigating and self-reflecting she’ll have to do to answer that question can wait, and lets herself be swept away by him. Figuratively and literally.

[marsbarsfrommars]

several pages into my latest WIP. what even is a sentence

[lokutofu]

For a better tomorrow 💛