#bianfu

[iinmortales-archive]

@bianfu said: -can’t take it anymore and shoves him against a wall kissing him-

he is in gotham as a reporter for the daily planet, not as superman. just as normal clark kent. and yet the one set of eyes that mattered followed him around the room. he was covering a charity event hosted by wang enterprises, and the man of the hour himself was like a shadow in the corner of his eye. which, ha! the bat himself as a shadow, as if the shadows did not belong to bruce.

clark had broken off from the event, a moment of quiet to himself. well, and a temptation, one that bruce, thank goodness, did not resist. of course he knew bruce was there, no footfall was quiet enough to escape his senses, especially as they neared, but clark did not react, instead letting bruce turn him around, shove him to the wall, and kiss him. if he'd been human, his back hitting the wall with that much force might have hurt, but he wasn't and it didn't. instead, one hand immediately slipped into bruce's dark hair, the other hand to his waist, pulling him in flush.

' i was wondering how long it would take you to follow me. six whole minutes. i am, as ever, impressed by your self-control. '

[justbrcathe]

Continued from X with @bianfu

“The Amazons are not-” The rest of Diana’s instinctive statement died on the point of realization. “Ah.” Not goddess in the literal sense as she was aware of them. The colloquialisms of the outside world still tripped her up from time to time. It didn’t help that people’s grasp of her culture was practically nonexistent, resulting in a need for constant correction on her part. She had assumed this man was yet another in a long line.

Feeling like a gasping fish out of water certainly did nothing for her either. Princess was a title Diana wore for as long as she could remember, but on Themyscira it meant something entirely different than dressing in finery and attending parties.

If she were honest, the dress part wasn’t so bad. In fact, the warrior was quite pleased with her gown for the evening. Gold, a few shades brighter than her own skin, and fitted as if it had been molten and poured down her curves. No, it was the crowd of strangers all seamlessly participating in customs beyond her knowledge that had Diana on edge. Plus, she hated the sensation of not excelling.

“My apologies then.” It did not escape her notice that she was not alone in appreciating her attire, or what it flattered anyway. “I must be thinking of someone else.” A lie. Diana had not mingled with socialites and forgotten them, but it was easier than explaining that there was an inexplicable familiar quality about the man standing before her.

Her own eyes flicked up and down in a less lascivious appraisal…outwardly. Oh, Diana certainly would have remembered meeting him too. She extended a hand outward in greeting.

“Diana. Though you appear to know who I am already”

[thrspidcr]

@bianfu

"Sometimes I forget you aren't super-abled." He said sitting down quietly. "Aunt May still says Mr. Trask was right about the Abled and Mutants." she even lumped Spiderman into that. "But, uh, she was around for the Great Flood during the war. a lot of people died cause a that." She held that fear in her heart since then.

"I don't want you trying to protect me like you are." he shook his head, " Mr. Wang... I can grow new lungs. You can't."

He sat the way he'd seen fathers on television sit when they were talking to their sons. he had no other model to go off of, "I-i-i don't know how long I'm gonna be stuck here. So you have to be here, too. Okay?"

[hexsrealityarchived2]

Lyric Starter Post ⤷ Always Accepting!

☽◯☾┄─ ❝ No flaws when you're pretending ❞

@bianfu || Evanescence-Everybody’s Fool ☽

[heirofdracula]

   And he’s standing there, arms calmly behind his back. Observing in silence. He didn’t need to speak or move even in this instance. All he did was watch and wait. Just his presence was enough in his mind. 

( @bianfu​ ) 

[babydxhl]

@bianfu | starter call.

"Almost nice like this, isn't it?" Gotham City, smeared through a mist of rain — beneath a rooftop alcove, it just barely grazes the curve of her cheek, settles crystalline on her eyelashes and hair. The usual pinpricks of light and neon signs are a blurry haze. Cold, always too cold; the kind that seeps in through coats and into the bones. "Like we're just hallucinating it."

She doesn't look up at the figure hulking in the dark beside her. Behind her back and with fingertips pressed to the brick, she feels her hands begin to go numb.

"You can't make me go back," she says after a moment, still staring out at the city, the black outline of the buildings just barely visible slicing through the sky. "I haven't done anything yet."

[heroheart]

@bianfu​.

She doesn’t see herself venture far from National City most of the time - mostly because the city has its own crew of Big, Bad And Uglies that keep her busy from dusk til dawn, and because every time she steps foot away from the skyline, she’s vowed that it’s a vacation and the DEO can handle it for the weekend.

Jeremiah and Eliza would take her and Alex away for the weekends, and they’d end up camping somewhere out west on the edge of nothing. They said it would be good for them to clear their heads, but the constant chirp of birds and the quiet skittle of squirrels cutting across the forest floor seemed to drive Kara crazy every time. Nature is too loud on Earth. Gotham is a different beast all together.

She hears it before she sees it, and a quick dart into an alleyway on instinct uncloaks the suit from under her shirt and she leaps out into the sky toward the source of the sound. (It sounds like a car alarm, and the skrrrrt of wheels followed by mass panic. She thinks she hears something about a plasma gun, but that could just be optimistic alien thinking.)

          “I don’t... wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything here, but, uh - need a hand? Hi.”

[lazarising]

@bianfu​ liked for a starter based on a song (”hounds of love” by kate bush)

It’s in the tree’s it’s coming. 

Dean’s feet pound against the unkempt, overgrown wilderness of Robinson Park. Twigs snap under his boots and branches scratch against his cheeks. Dean thinks to hide. He feels like a child again, running to safety so small against every threat. In some ways he still is; a coward.

“Help me, someone! Help me, please!” Nearly out of breath, no clue if the words he’s screaming are coming from his throat, or if they’re trapped in his own mind.