a hero and a king

[kniveslookbooks]

there’s nothing more satisfying than the sound of hitting someone solid in the fucking jaw.

[protectsoceans-blog]

hawkoyed·:

he knows he looks entirely unimpressive. not wiry - he likes pizza far too much to be wiry - but not particularly buff, he’s strong, but not exactly cut. clint barton looks ordinary without a bow in his hands. which has its benefits - but not when he doesn’t want to look ordinary. clint fiddles with his hearing aid, unsure of himself. he’s not used to being unsure of himself - perhaps it’s because he’s so used to only dealing with people he knows like the back of his hand. “oh, i dunno. i make a pretty good coffee.” clint smiles with half his mouth, the self-compliment unusual on his lips. “especially if you chuck a bit of whiskey in there. top it off with some cream, all classic y’know.”

clint stares at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “what am i, a college frat boy?” he laughs, then turns, grabs a jacket, and shrugs it on. “you’re gonna have to accept that i’ll probably pass out before you even get a little bit drunk, dude.”

“Whiskey, in your coffee?” Why hasn’t he heard about this shit before? Intrigued, Arthur allowed his lips to mirror the slight curve of the man’s crooked smile. “Okay, next time. Sounds like a damn good drink for hangovers.” Not that the half-Atlantean hybrid got hangovers, but he wasn’t exactly a stranger to going home wasted only to start the next morning off downing more bottles of liquor. He was abusing his body’s high tolerance and stamina, in a way, but no one had the guts to actually tell him to stop. Not that he would even listen. Pffftch.·

“Hey, man, drink at your own pace. I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you back if it gets too bad. But at least try to hold your liquor long enough for some pool and karaoke,” he was more accustomed to drinking alone, but right now, he more than appreciated the company of someone, well, normal. Watching him toss on a jacket, Arthur’s bare shoulders rolled back, casually awakening the tense muscles. “By the way, you got a shirt I could maybe borrow?”

[ofmoodys-blog]

clint wouldn’t have always thought of himself as a superhero. he’d started off trying to be one, and been swiftly transformed into an agent. when he went back to heroism, it didn’t work out well. the team fell apart. but he’d always felt like he knew who was who: he knew the avengers, some of the x-men. the young avengers - or so they called themselves. but now… now there seem to be heroes everywhere. and clint can’t help feeling a little jaded. heroes doesn’t seem right. operative doesn’t seem right. agent just sounds… well, he’s sick of feeling like an assassin.

but the size of the man in front of him, his beard, the set of his face… it reminds him a bit of steve. this man is a hero, plain and simple. “so, uh, can i get you like, a coffee, or somethin’?” @protectsoceans

[protectsoceans-blog]

The surface is Arthur’s comfort zone, regardless of whatever recent events plagued metahumans and mutants alike. People were warming up to him, admiring him, and it was a relief compared to the Atlanteans, whom remained divided in their acceptance of a King with human blood running through his veins. For a man who'd been misjudged enough, he often looked forward to the days he could just spend on land with his Pops, and sometimes even getting together with fellow Justice League members. Today was different, though, and some man he didn't recognize stood before him.

"Uh, thanks but, I didn't come all this way just for some damn coffee," he grinned, stepping forward, his herculean frame drenched in brilliantly shimmering gems of water. He didn't sense any immediate danger within their vicinity, so that could only leave time for one thing right now: happy hour. "You look like you could use a drink, too. Bar hopping it is, my friend!"

[protectsoceans-blog]

"Don't you dare touch them!" From Supes

A sound and undeniable defeat typically left Arthur in bad spirits, and he didn’t understand why even now, with Atlan’s sacred trident, he still had to be saved by Clark. They were repeating a vicious cycle, flaring Arthur’s temper, forcing him to stand up firm and tall against Superman in order to regain some of that shattered pride back. “Why did you do that!?” he growled lowly, “I had it under control. I don’t need to be saved by you anymore.”

[hallowedmuses]

@protectsoceans said  ‘ drink some of this. calm you down. ’

She takes the drink in her hand and nods thoughtfully. although the ale won’t get her drunk, she appreciates the sentiment anyway. “thank you, arthur,” she smiles and takes a sip from the mug. although she’s done the best she can to patch herself up, the bruises and scars from past and recent battled are scattered all over her pale flesh. even the simplest of movements causes her pain. she knows it’s temporary and will heal quickly, but for now she lets herself reel in it. “i think i’m just getting old,” she jokes. “maybe it’s time to retire to florida and take up palates or water aerobics,” she laughs and shakes her head, letting her curls dance around. “let’s be honest though, even in retirement i’d still find a way to get into trouble.” she knows the only retirement plan for this kind of life is a shallow grave. she made peace with that long ago. 

[protectsoceans-blog]

“Mhm...” Despite the recent battle, Arthur had come out of it decently unscathed, his skin naturally durable and swift the heal. It was time to just kick it and soak in the aftermath of their victory. He loved a good fight, but even more so, the sense of triumph and relief that he hadn’t lost any lives on his side. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, arms folding behind his head as he leaned into the cushioned arm chair. “You’re like me. There’s not a goddamn chance you can keep your ass out of trouble.” There’d been a time when he thought he didn’t want it ---- the responsibility of being King, Justice League member, and peace-keeper between two worlds. He still wasn’t wholly valiant, but he struggled more and more every day with keeping out of danger. Arthur found that he was capable of making sacrifices for the greater good, more so capable than any ordinary person --- and so it was his obligation to do better. “Let’s say you could retire tomorrow. Would you really go down to Florida or would you rather be somewhere else? I’d go to Rome or Sicily.”

[protectsoceans-blog]

kryptonianofsteel·:

At Arthur’s inquiry, Clark chuckled. “Although my cooking skills aren’t bad,” he started, drinking the last of his coffee before reaching for a refill. “Sadly, they are nothing compared to my mother’s,” Clark admitted as his mother giggled and denied his statement. She was far too humble to accept such praises. “Plus, Bruce would probably kill me, you know how he looks at Wally when the speedster pulls out his snacks.”

As Martha dismissed Arthur’s own praises with a kind smile, she took a seat beside her son. As food was served, his mother began to speak of Lois Lane. It was hard to ignore Arthur’s poor tries at making his laughter pass for bouts of cough. Clark shot his friend a warning look, but before he could protest further, Martha was asking what was so funny. Clark stuffed his mouth with waffles and bacon, not wanting any part of it.

Hearing Arthur call her son a casanova, Martha laughed, passing the waffles to the Atlantean. “Well, I sure hope not… We raised him better than that.”

Clark downed a long gulp of coffee. “You did, mom.” He then turned to Arthur. “Don’t worry, you’ll be invited to the wedding. See if you can catch the bouquet,” he teased his fellow Justice Leaguer. “But, as I was saying, she’s in Metropolis following a story on a pesticide Lexcorp has been pushing to the federal goverment.” He paused to take abother bite of his waffles and bacon before reaching over for some sausge links. “Seems like in a small rural county south of Metropolis, however, the pesticide has been causing… Troubles.”

Martha heard the name Lexcorp and tensed. “But… You’re keeping an ear out for her, right?” She asked, looking to Arthur after a moment. “Both of you…”

Clark reached out to grab his mother’s hand. “Always. You raised me better than that, remember?” His words relaxed her, returning a smile to her kind features.

There was something adorable in the way that Clark interacted with his mother, putting a cheesy grin on the Atlantean’s scruffy face. It was something that he too longed for when he was younger, that his father tried his best to fill in for, but Arthur knew that he couldn’t run back to comfort of the lighthouse. Not like this.

Arthur’s features darkened sullenly as the conversation breached more seriousness. It wasn’t as though he could do anything about Lexcorp now, lacking his raw strength. He slumped in his chair, visibly sulking over his waffles. “I think Clark can handle this one with the rest of the team, ma’am,” he grunted. After all, could he really remain a team member when he had nothing to offer? Pffft.

He practically inhaled the rest of his food, and let them have their moment. Intruding upon private, heart-warming moments wasn’t really his thing, and he wasn’t an overly affectionate type to begin with. He took their hand-holding as a sign to grab his polished off plates and start cleaning up in the kitchen, wanting to contribute around the house as much as possible. Getting into a small routine of things by washing dishes helped keep Arthur distracted. The overall Kent Farm was a soothing distraction from the world that Arthur and Clark knew so well --- an unforgivable, terrifying world.

When he finished, he didn’t announce anything to Martha or Clark, just stormed right out the front door. Sitting in silence at the bottom of the stairs, where he could inhale the crisp morning air, had to be better than discussing hero work he couldn’t do or arguing with Clark again. His mind was made up, and as footsteps carefully approached, Arthur chose to tell his friend right then, “I’m not gonna stay here; I’m just thinking about where I can go next. I guess I won’t be seeing my father again anytime soon 'cuz that’s where the Atlanteans know to look for me.” Sadly enough, he couldn’t be anywhere near water because then he could be tracked. “Sorry I can’t help you with Lexcorp. That sounds like a shit show waiting to happen.”

[protectsoceans-blog]

‘Don’t you dare touch them!’

Everyone who could run fled at once, but not her. In the grip of silent panic, eyes wide, heart raging, Arthur pushed himself up to his feet, ignoring the twitching of his muscles that were straining against sudden movement. A hero protects everyone. He didn’t believe that he was someone worthy or even admirable, but he would never be able to forgive himself for watching a friend die. As the King of Atlantis, Arthur connected two different worlds; it was his obligation to lay everything on the line for those worlds to continue thriving. For his friends, family, and teammates to be safe.

Summoning Atlan’s Trident once more, Arthur felt the sacred, magical power flow through him as he vaulted across the air. His burly frame landed between Natasha and the enemy, before he shot a seemingly disgruntled look at her over his shoulder. “Never do that shit again. Scared the hell outta me.”

[justiceleague]

Jason Momoa behind the scenes of “Aquaman”

[protectsoceans-blog]

don’t you dare touch them! uwu

The pain shot up fast, muddling Arthur’s thoughts in a mental soup of conflicting instructions, and paralyzing his body. Maybe he screamed, but he couldn’t recall that part, only pain. “Brother!” the cry was hoarse in his throat, and lost within the rage of the ocean, the thunders from up above — both the sea and the sky seemed to be mourning the King’s great fall. As the sea monster coiled around Arthur’s body, dragging him deep into the pit of a relentless whirlpool, he felt so inexplicably desperate. For his brother, his entire family, perhaps? For more time on land, or on the throne? More time to make things right…? But it was all only distant, wishful thinking — the inevitable failure of a greatly despised half-breed.

[sidestuiff]

Send ‘Don’t you dare touch them!’ to see how my muse reacts to being protected by yours.

Send me ‘Where did you come from?’ if you want to see my muse protect yours!

[inkxlenses]

Cotton Candy Sky (The Ritz-Carlton, Grand Cayman) | by kevinandamanda

[protectsoceans-blog]

kryptonianofsteel·:

At Arthur’s arguement, Clark took the mug to his lips and sipped his coffee. Arthur was not the type to give up, but Clark needed him to understand that it was for his own good. Although he tried to remain understanding the fact that Arthur went off to say he was going tk be a burden, made Clark very upset. “Burden?” He repeated, frowning deeply. “Are we a burden on you when we call for your help?” He asked, visibly hurt and offended.

Putting his coffee on the small table his mother kept beside a rocking chair, Clark faced Arthur once more. “Friends are supposed to help one another, Arthur. Through the fighting, through the laughter, through Hell,” he reminded the Atlantean. “Or have I been wrong this whole time when I’ve called you my friend?” He asked, locking his gaze with the King’s glacial hazel own. “Just as you’ve helped us, let us help you. Bruce can run his tests, maybe even get you back your prowess,” he added, his tone softening. “Not that you aren’t welcome to stay as long as you want, but if that’s your choice, you’ll have to live with my choice of wardrobe,” he added, offering Arthur a smile.

Once his mother came into the picture, Clark didn’t fail to notice the depowered metahuman’s whole demeanor change. He almost called him out on it, but that would’ve meant receiving a scolding from his mother in front of the King of Atlantis… And he wasn’t sure how even Superman could live that down. Grabbing his coffee, he prepared to renter the home. “Thank you, ma,” he said after Arthur walked in through the door his mother was holding open for her boys. He placed a kiss on her cheek before walking behind the Atlantean.

“Please, think about it,” he added before Martha Kent walked in to serve them. Taking a look at the table, he had to smile. Apparently, she really had wanted to make Arthur something he might like seeing as the table was littered with stacks of pancakes, french toast, waffles, smoked sausage links, toasty mapple bacon, fried ham along with three different types of eggs–hard-boiled, scrambled and fried. He dedicated Arthur a smile. Powered or depowered, king or not, they would surely feast like such.

Friendship wasn’t something that Arthur actively sought out. He’d resigned himself to the life of a loner. Growing up, Arthur really only ever had Vulko, chief counselor to the throne, and his father to trust. Hence why he didn’t immediately mesh with the Justice League, believing that at some point, they would all turn against him and stop needing him around like everyone seemed to eventually. He would never say something like this out loud, but he was proud to finally have true camaraderie and friends in his life. He no longer had to be alone. However, without his abilities, he felt more vulnerable than ever. 

Glaring at Clark out of the corner of his eye, Arthur ignored responding to him for the scent of bacon and eggs trailing in the air. They could argue later because the feast awaiting them on the kitchen table looked damned good. “Why don’t you ever cook for the team like this?” Arthur quipped, his deep baritone softening a bit so that Martha wouldn’t get mad at him for teasing her son too much. “You really outdid yourself, Ms. Kent. Everything looks fantastic.” 

His heavy footsteps bounded over to the table, and he sat across from mother and son. Martha tried engaging Arthur, but as sweet to her as he could be, he wasn’t in the mood to answer questions. He replied vaguely to her prodding inquiries, then proceeded stuffing his mouth with scrumptious pancakes so that she’d get off his back and start grilling Clark. 

Arthur nearly choked on his orange juice as Martha mentioned a certain Lois Lane. He brought a fist to his mouth, pressing his knuckles as hard as he could against his lips and disguising his low-toned laughter between coughs. Apparently, he didn’t do a good enough job because then his mother inquired, “I’m sorry, did I say something funny?” The idea of Clark smooth-talking and dating any woman was hilarious in itself, but he’d save the nerd comments for another time.

“Noooo, course not, our boy Clark’s just a regular Casanova! Ahem--- You mind passing the waffles, Ms. Kent?”

[protectsoceans-blog]

kryptonianofsteel·:

The offer to buy the Atlantean King some Superman merchandise had been meant to be no more than a joke… But the joke had backfired when Arthur did not decline the invitation. The joke turned out even worst when Arthur began browsing and Clark saw the prices on the tags. If he began taxing on the merchandise with his symbol on it, perhaps he could make a small fortune on his own. His greedy thoughts had been abruptly interrupted, however, when a commotion reach his ears. After a quick warning at Arthur, he disappeared and once he had returned, it had been with his crimson cape rippling behind him as he took to the sky.

He had trusted Arthur could handle his own, had believed the Atlantean would be ok… So, Superman had taken flight and fought the terrorists… But once he had returned to Arthur, the horrific truth that awaited him broke him.

Depowered.

Because of him, Arthur had been depowered… The guilt ate at him, even after he took matters into his own hands and delivered his friend to his mother’s land. Martha had not asked any questions, she had simply treated Arthur and fed him. Made him a bath and brought him a set of clothes from Clark’s old room–a room he still used when he came to visit. When Arthur had gone down for the night, she had held his son in her arms as he blamed himself for the terrible fate that had befallen his friend.

The next day, Arthur had awoken before him. In the farm, he didn’t try so much. Although Clarl didn’t parade in his Superman suit, he didn’t feel a need to wear his glasses. So, after collecting a cup of freshly brewed coffee from his mother, the Kryptonian exited the house and gave his old dog a pat on the head before hearing Arthur approach. Turning to face him, Clark smiled, raising his cup at him. “Good morning…” Before he could get anything else out, Arthur was spewing words alnost too fast for Clark to understand.

“Relax, nobody needs to know… Except for Bruce,” Clark added, raising his chin. Perhaps a more dominant stance would get the message across that Bruce knowing of their issue was important. “He’s been researching the issue since it happened and perhaps can help us understand it a little better,” Clark tried to explain. “And no worries, you don’t need to be a farmer–wait! What do you mean nerd clothes?” Clark added once he noticed Arthur had slid an insult, alnost pouting like a teased child. “Those are some of the best Wrangler jeans and Dickie’s shirt I own,” he argued. Then again, Arthur was royalty… Perhaps he expected Gucci brand or something. He’d definately have to speak to Bruce then.

Sensing a shift in Clark’s posture, all of the subtle nuances one might use to pull rank on Arthur, the King wasn’t having any of that shit. He got that Clark was as much of a decision-maker over the League as any leader of a strong unit would be; however, Arthur was born with issues against authority figures. Furthermore, any personal information regarding his current depowered state didn’t deserve to be broadcasted, not even to Bruce. Arthur was not about to be labeled a liability to the team, or someone else’s problem (even though he’d become the Kents’ problem in a way). 

It was a matter of pride. Arthur had grown used to the other members of the League seeking him out, requiring his strength. Recognizing that he could no longer provide security for his closest friends was a tough pill to swallow, and he did not want to be seen as inferior to the rest. He was already the half-breed of Atlantis; he couldn’t be essentially useless on land as well.

Stomping up to Clark and ignoring all the ‘good morning’ pleasantries, Arthur narrowed a glacial and hazel-tinted gaze against the Man of Steel. Truly, the King had difficulties backing down or getting bossed around, despite Clark’s honest and meaningful intentions. “I said we can’t tell anyone. It’s my choice, whether you like it or not,” a deep, gravelled tone almost crossed the line past threatening. Almost. It wouldn’t be anywhere close to a fair fight without Arthur being powered up and near the ocean; even then chances were extremely high that he’d get socked to Mars. Still, regardless if Bruce was the ‘keeper of secrets’, the situation was uncomfortable enough for him with so much as Clark knowing the truth.

“Look, I don’t like this shit anymore than you do, but the less people who know about me, the better. I’m not gonna be the fucking burden of the entire Justice League.”

The front door opened, and Arthur allowed the tension to unravel from his burly shoulders. He had to remain aware of how dangerous he might look to Martha Kent, who was a tiny angel. Arthur was a family man through and through, and even if he wasn’t always compliant with Clark’s leadership and Bruce’s nosiness, he had a soft spot for a sweet Mother, naturally. “Are you boys ready for breakfast?” she inquired, “Arthur, I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat...”

“Oh, I like everything,” Arthur shot Clark one final grumpy ass look and turned right around all excitedly to face Ms. Kent. The best way to calm down an angry fish man, after all, was to feed him a real home cooked meal. 

[protectsoceans-blog]

@kryptonianofsteel

Powerless.

The King of Atlantis was fucking powerless --- not something he wanted a goddamn soul to know, and he made that aggressively clear to Superman. He recalls doing some casual browsing at the gift shop with Clark before all hell broke loose, and despite claiming he wasn’t interested in getting involved, he jumped in front of a bullet without hesitation. Thinking the bullets in those guns couldn’t affect him. Immediately his worst fears were realized. He couldn’t feel the connection to the ocean anymore, which left him hiding away like some weakling.

Weakness is difficult for someone like Arthur to process because he’s spent most of his life, well, beating the ever-living shit out of his problems. Of course, he’d learned to empathize with the creatures of the deep, and he felt immense compassion for the people on land. But he couldn’t afford to be ordinary. What would his enemies do if they discovered him like this? No, he had to trust that Clark knew what he was doing by bringing him to the Kent Farm.

...On second thought, maybe the Justice League’s leader didn’t really know what the fuck was going on. But he would keep Arthur’s secret until, hopefully, his powers restored at some point. He walked the dirt path up to the house, hands shoved into the front of his jean pockets, eyes and body language undeniably weary. He didn’t like needing someone else’s help, yet here they were.

“You can never tell anyone that this happened, you understand?” It wasn’t a threat ... but it kinda was a threat at the same time. Arthur’s anxiety had seeped into his bones, taking control of him. He was at a loss; exposed like a goddamn nerve. “Shit. I can’t believe any of this. All I wanted was some damn cotton candy. This is my life now. I’m gonna have to grow old here and be a farmer and wear nerd clothes like you.”

[inkxlenses]

Villa Treville (Positano, Italy) | inkxlenses

[protectsoceans-blog]

Although he was sure that Arthur hadn’t meant his comments in anything more than a tease, Clark felt guilt boiling in the pit of his stomach. Arthur wasn’t wrong, and Clark knew it–especially after looking at how many individuals wore his symbol upon their own chests. But they didn’t need Superman… Not just yet. “I am wearing my cape, Arthur,” he answered lowly, offering his friend a small smile. “Just… Not the right time to display it…”

Clark laughed wholeheartedly when Arthur defended his preference for cotton candy. “I was just saying,” he countered. “I find it too sweet myself.” Not that he didn’t enjoy sweets, but there was definitely something such as too sweet. Another laugh was ripped from his lips as Arthur expressed his need for a deep-fried Oreo. “Carny food, you’ll never find anything quite like it,” he promised. 

After Arthur put in his order, he turned to Clark. At the other’s words, Clark blinked, taking a look down at himself. “Why does everyone says that…?” He almost pouted, mostly to himself. “Surveillance,” the Kryptonian answered. He was about to go into detail when the vendor handed Arthur his order and charged him. Clark stood with a small smile, nodding and thanking the vendor as both males began to walk away from the stall. “Sure, interviews are one of my goals, but mostly surveillance. Bruce is also here–” as he mentioned Bruce, Clark showed Arthur his communication device disguised as a tape recorder. 

“There’s rumors–even now–” he added, looking back where, in the distance, the protesters stood. “–of an attack. I haven’t heard anything concrete as of yet… But a lot of people on that side of the fence are muttering about warrior of the true human race and their willingness to neutralize the metahuman and mutant savages,” he informed his fellow Justice Leaguer.

Arthur withheld (to the best of his abilities) a bout of laughter as Clark took the time to inspect his outfit. “It’s okay, man. You’re from a different planet; so you get a pass.” Not really, but he’d seen that Superman temper before, and the last thing he wanted was to get punched into orbit for talking shit about Clark’s farm boy style. To this damn day, Arthur was convinced Clark’s moods were unpredictable at best; though they seemed to be getting along a lot better nowadays … Hopefully, things could stay this relaxed.

They couldn’t, of course. An aggressive noise crawled up the back of Arthur’s throat, his cheeks lightly puffed out as he stuffed his mouth with cotton candy. He didn’t want to hear about any of that anti-mutant shit, or that they were going to be under attack. Leave it to a group of fucking morons to turn something as fun-loving as this festival into a complete wreck. Deep down, hot burning anger twisted into something that was strong inside of Arthur; however, caring too much was useless. He didn’t know how the constant injustices failed to get to Clark or even Bruce ---- the fact that no matter what they accomplished, it would always be the same damned mess.

“Right, well, I’m outta here as soon as that goes down. I shouldn’t have even showed up in the first place,” in actuality, he loved being up on the surface and he was disappointed in more of the same old problems. He would sacrifice himself readily for others; but he doubted that was enough, and doubted that he was heroic or powerful enough. “People just wanna make a fight out of anything. Who’s gonna attack when some of the strongest superheroes are around, anyway? Doesn’t make sense.” It didn’t make sense at all, unless the anti-mutant/meta scum had the capabilities to take on multiple superpowers at once. Which, again, wasn’t possible. “You know, Clark, you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. How are you not tired yet?”

[protectsoceans-blog]

After parting ways with Bruce, Clark went towards the opposite direction that the Dark Knight took. His gaze remained on the line of protesters as he attempted to make out any other words on the supposed attack. However, all he could pick up now was derogatory terms and angry chants–and somewhere in the back, a young girl attempted to convince her mother to take her into the festival for sweets and games…

As he passed by the entrance, he had caught sigh of none other than the Aquaman himself. Clark smiled brightly, waving at his friend as Arthur pulled away from his adoring fans. As they began to walk together, Clark didn’t even truly get to speak to him before the King of Atlantis got pulled away again for pictures and to bask in the adoration of those attending the festival. Clark smiled as he waited, watching the whole thing with certain pride. He saw the Wonder Woman shirts, the Spider-Man masks, the Batman capes and Aquaman toy tridents. He saw boy and grils in Iron Man costumes and his own symbol stamped on shirts, snapbacks and even a grown man wearing Superman Nikes. The symbol of Hope carried by many… He almost got teary eyed, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to do so, knowing he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Arthur.

As Arthur returned to his side, Clark chuckled and shook his head before fixing his glasses. “Nothing to worry about,” he assured his fellow Justice Leaguer. “I actually like it. Sorry I can’t help ease your shoulders, just better for us if Clark was here rather than… you know who,” Clark said lowly. “Right, a long sleeve shirt would’ve helped,” he teased. Although was he really in any position to tease? His form of disguise was pretty much a change in character and demeanor along with a nifty pair of glasses. But hey, it worked. “It’s ok though, Arthur. They need it,” he told his friend, looking at their surroundings. “Especially with everything going on…”

“Cotton Candy? You’re going for the cotton candy when they got caramel covered churros and deep-fried Oreos?” he asked with a laugh. “Come on,” the Kryptonian urged suddenly. “I can hear someone ordering cotton candy and hotdogs nearby,” he said, pointing at a stall less than thirty yards away. 

“Still should’ve worn the cape, man. You know the kids are whining because their Superman didn’t show up,” Arthur lightly snickered, reaching over to clasp a palm against the slope of Clark’s shoulder. Honestly, Arthur never pictured himself as a child-friendly hero. Not because he didn’t get along with children, but his rugged appearance and binge-drinking typically incited challenge or intimidation. Superman was his polar opposite in many ways, yet it seemed being a part of the Justice League and even taking the odd hero job on land encouraged other humans to look past appearances and embrace him. Atlantis was different, and he could only earn the title of King by being absolutely ruthless; though Arthur still tended to show mercy when the feeling moved him and when the sea creatures reached out to him.

“Don’t come at me for liking cotton candy, dude. There’s something about the way it melts on your tongue that’s really satisfying. But we’re definitely getting some deep-fried Oreos, because what the fuck are those? They sound disgusting and I need them in my life.” Following Clark’s lead, Arthur weaved through the crowd and towards the food stand not too far away. “So why did you really show up on your nerd shit today? Are you looking to get in some interviews? If you want me to snatch somebody up for ya, just say the word.” Arthur handed the food vendor some dollar bills, grabbing his deep-fried Oreos and stick of pink cotton candy. Yes, pink.