I Think About This Alot But Every Moment In Jesus' Life, At Least As The Texts Present It, Isn't Necessarily

I DONT THINK IVE EVER LAUGJED THIS HARD THEY GOT THE OOMPA LOOMPA ARMY ON THE RESCUE

wait i'm actually nervous what

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

you and clark were sitting on the couch, the evening creeping in with its soft, quiet light. it had been a long day, but still, he was here, as he always seemed to be when the world slowed down. the two of you were talking, nothing too important. just the usual random banter that filled the space between moments. your cat had found her way into clark’s lap, curling up there like it was the most natural place in the world, and clark, the ever gentle soul, let her stay. it wasn’t until you noticed how still he was that you realized maybe the conversation had started to fade around him.

he blinked slowly, like he was fighting something, a yawn, maybe, or the weight of exhaustion that always seemed to find him when he wasn’t being superman. you caught the little tremble of his shoulders as he tried to keep his attention, but it was a losing battle. his voice dropped, becoming quieter, slower. you raised an eyebrow. “clark, you good?”

he mumbled something that didn’t quite form into words, a quiet hum of agreement or maybe just an attempt to stay awake. but his eyes were slipping closed now, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his grip on your cat loosened just enough to make the little furball shift, curling tighter against his chest.

you didn’t say anything else, just watched as his head slowly tilted to the side, his glasses slightly askew, and his breathing evening out in the softest rhythm. it wasn’t long before the words in his mouth stopped altogether, his body sinking deeper into the couch, his hand gently cradling your cat like she was a newborn. it was ridiculous and sweet all at once, and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips.

you stood up quietly, careful not to make any noise that might disturb him. the blanket on the back of the couch was soft, a faded blue color that had seen better days. you grabbed it, draping it over him gently, smoothing it down around his shoulders, making sure he was comfortable. your cat barely stirred in his arms, happy enough to let clark hold her like this.

it was funny, you thought, how different he was when he wasn’t in a cape or suit, when he wasn’t saving people or rushing off to the next disaster. here, in your living room, he was just clark. tired, quiet, messy haired clark who didn’t have to be perfect all the time.

you pulled the blanket up a little higher, tucking it around him with one last touch, just to make sure he stayed warm through the night. the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket was steady, peaceful. the only sounds in the room were the occasional soft snore from clark and the gentle purring of your cat.

you sat back down on the couch, curling up next to them both, your gaze drifting from clark’s peaceful face to the way the blanket gently shifted with each breath he took.

"It was quite snug on me, but it was fun to finally get to put it on—no doubt." ↳ GABE LANDESKOG EARNS THE BIG HAT | COL v. DAL (GAME 4) | 4.26.25

assorted superman doodle practice

crazy knights and wild went to overtime just to see who gets to lose to the avs later

nathan mackinnon actually isn't real he's apart of your imagination

(Last) Sunday supper 🐇

put your clothes back on were going to talk about how musicals are the best media to adapt books in cause its the only one that allows the characters to express their feelings and internal monologue as they do on page