eyesonthesky

[eyesonthesky]

We need workable theories, people. Anything. Even stupid ideas are welcome.

#[ 🌪️ — MARK MARDON. guess you’ll never know what it really feels like to be a god ]

[eyesonthesky]

hisheroics​:

Jon blinked. He hadn’t expected such an adverse reaction and it left him momentarily stunned. Unfortunately for this man, he was best friends with Damian Wayne and had learned to roll with the punches. “You don’t do small talk? Me either.” Jon scoffed, playing it off as if he hadn’t annoyed the other at all with such a friendly gesture. “But theoretically if you did do small talk we could probably be friends. Or acquaintances at least.” Undeterred by the other’s short reply he grinned. “You remind me a lot of my best friend. Only you’re a lot nicer.” Jon chuckled before he knitted his brow, “He would have told me to shut up so he could eat in peace.” 

Glaring back, Mark took another large bite, filing his mouth to avoid talking to the chipper fellow. “I don’ do friends, Wannabe.” Words muffled once more as he finished his food, ditching his trash in the nearest bin. “Nobody wants to be around me, unless you thoroughly enjoy destruction and disaster. Though, I get a sinking feeling it’ll take a great amount of effort to get rid of you without showing my hand.”

#mark x jon #thread: jon kent (e-43) #hisheroics #[ honestly i'm LIVING for this unknowing good guy/bad guy convo lmao ]

[eyesonthesky]

anyaxthewolf​:

@eyesonthesky​

CLOSED

“Привет! I come bearing gifts!”

Letting herself into Mark’s warehouse unannounced was not an unexpected move on Anya’s part. She was inconsistent with her visits; sometimes lingering for several days mooching off of his resources and company. While sometimes he didn’t see her for weeks at a time despite inhabiting – and causing turmoil in – the same jurisdiction. The last time she’d imposed on him, she’d left several inches of hair and splatters of brown hair dye all over his bathroom. And now, she looked entirely different. As if she’d changed skins. Not to mention that she was exuding less of that openly dismal and tragically forlorn energy that had rested so heavily in her limbs. The origin of her despair remained unresolved, but Anya was taking steps to address it. Physical changes aside, what might have actually been cause for alarm was her attire. As she marched towards him – two plastic bags swinging from either hands – she offered no explanation for the blood-spattered, tye dye shirt she was adorning.

Anya dropped the bags onto the ground with a clank and gestured towards them with wiggling fingers. “There. Stolichnaya Vodka, one bottle of that is worth more than ten of your corner store booze” she explained, her lips curled into a sardonic sneer. It had been a few weeks since that conversation, but Anya always followed through on her promises. “No need to whine about it any longer. You’re welcome”. When her comments were received with silence, she tilted her head, her bottom lip curving in a pout. “What? You don’t want it? Why are you looking at me like that?” she dropped her gaze to the the blood soaked shirt before her eyes lit up in realization. 

“Oh, не беспoкойся об этом, it’s not my blood,” she assured him, believing his questioning stare was about the stains and not that the words ‘WHAT WOULD JESUS DO’ were embroidered across her tye-dyed chest.

“You’re in a suspiciously good mood, what gives?” Mark tilted his head to to look back at her, gawking at the oddly colored tie-dye shirt, splattered further with a dark crimson that was clearly a product of something she did. The distinct sound of full glass bottles was like music to his ears as he tore his gaze from the hideous shirt. “....Thanks? I usually go for quantity over quality, but this’ll do just fine.” He pulled the plastic down to reveal one of many bottles. “Worth more? I hope you stole these and didn’t actually cough up any cash,” Mark rose a brow in question, his eyes only connecting with Anya’s for a moment before her clothing drew his attention once more. 

“Nonono no, I want it. Don’t you dare take my booze again, Volkov. I was more than kind last time,” he replied in warning. “That shirt needs to be burned. Do you see what you’re wearing right now? It’s fugly, dude.”

#mark x anya #thread: anya volkov #anyaxthewolf

[eyesonthesky]

THE BUBBLE (2022) dir. Judd Apatow

#[ 🌪️ — MARK MARDON. guess you’ll never know what it really feels like to be a god ]

[eyesonthesky]

tammy-melinoe​:

She quirked a brow up at his words, shaking her head. “While I admit, you may be more than you appear, there’s no way you got out alone. I checked on your situation: high security and powers nullified to the point of physical pain.” Handing him her card, she fixed her coat around herself. “Y’know, I have a feeling you might need a friend soon,” she added. “Remember what I told you Stormbringer, I can be a ally or an enemy; your choice.”

x

There was that name again: Stormbringer. It had such a nice ring to it, yet he was stuck with Weather Wizard. Ramon forever cursed him with the cheesy nickname. 

“Y’know, there is such thing as causing a short in the circuit,” Mark offered, knowing well he couldn’t faithfully lie his way out of this one. A silent shiver ran down his spine as the sense memory flashed across his body. The feeling of emptiness, disconnected from the atmosphere without his powers. It was a pain that could only attempt to be equated to nerve pain, but even then that couldn’t match exactly.  

Mark took her card, turning it over in his hands. “Maybe we can settle on acquaintances, hmm? We’ll see what happens. I’ll be in touch.” 

#mark x tammy #thread: tammy melinoe #tammy melinoe #[ i'm cool with that! sorry this took so long! #working on catching up & staying caught up ]

[eyesonthesky]

hisheroics​:

     Jon was so high above the city that is stretched out like a sea of twinkling lights before him. Thanks to his super hearing he could make out the sound of the bustling traffic beneath him. It was a peaceful night and Jon was appreciative of that. His father would have told him that nights like these were few and far between and should be savored. Jon frowned. If only his dad had actually been there in the flesh to remind him of that. He was all alone on an unfamiliar planet that had a Superman of its own. Clark would then remind the boy that his time was better spent and that pouting would do him no good. He was Superboy and he had no time to mope.       He perked up at the sound of trouble. Somewhere in the city, a mugging was taking place. Diving off of the building Jon descended into the night. He appeared before an old lady and her would-be attacker in a red and blue blur. Upon spotting the insignia on his chest the mugger ran, abandoning the purse which Jon politely returned. She was so grateful that she had even given him five dollars for his kind deed. Deciding to put that money to good use he stopped by a hot dog cart and ordered a quick bite to eat. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his costume but Jon had learned to embrace the stares. When people looked at him they saw the personification of hope. “You come for a hot dog, too?” He asked, smiling brightly at a stranger that had joined him at the stand. 

With a baseball cap pulled over his head and his hood thrown up over top his head, Mark only barely looked at the chipper fellow out of the corner of his eye. He dropped a few crumpled bills on the counter, just barely enough for two hot dogs. It took him a moment to realize the words were directed at him, seeing that it was just them at the stand. Mark took a hefty bite, mustard, ketchup and relish painted around the edges of his mouth. “Does it look like it?” Words muffled and short towards the S-wearing hero as he chewed his food.

“I don’t do small talk, pretty boy,” Mark said after he’d swallowed, wiping the corners of his mouth before licking the red and yellow condiments from his fingers. “So, was there somethin’ you needed?”

#mark x jon (e-43) #thread: jon kent (e-43) #hisheroics

[eyesonthesky]

dxctorfeelgood​:

⟡

Head tilted and lips thinned in thought, she pondered why he insisted on referring to her by her surname. Terminologies of endearment and their application to new acquaintances were lost on her, and all she could surmise was that he must have forgotten her name. Which, although it may have been insulting to others, had no effect on Ada. It was virtually impossible to offend her because inflections in tone and hidden intentions were not easily discernible to the geneticist. As a result, she took everything at face value until otherwise stated. “It’s Ada,” she corrected him, her voice holding no annoyance or snark. “And I lack the education necessary to properly tend to wounds; all I know is basic first aid safety” and techniques she picked up from occasionally watching Doctor Snow patch up the boys. 

Her countenance did change somewhat when he clanked the bottle on the table without using a coaster; her eye twitching slightly involuntarily. It’ll leave a ring. “Is this a habit of yours, getting near mortally wounded and then breaking and-” her sincere inquiry was cut short when the extent of his wound became apparent. Ada’s abdomen twisted as the aroma of iron and rust filled her nostrils. Immediately she felt her vision get hazy as she battled to maintain her balance.

Alright, fundamental knowledge of gunshot wounds. Her fondness for spending her evenings dissecting medical journals for fun ought to pay off. Don’t elevate the legs and perhaps resist fainting before you can apply pressure to the injury. She practiced a few rounds of box breathing; when he sought for assurance that she would assist him, Ada dared a glimpse at the injured metahuman. “Of course,” she promised him, her voice slightly monotone but she was sincere. Her modest little first aid kit had been getting a lot of usage the last few months. Concentrate on the task at hand and not on the blood, concentrate on the task at hand and not on the blood and the smell…she only got as far as tying a makeshift tourniquet around his injured arm before complexion went as pale and knew she was clocking out. Then nausea crept from her abdomen to her head as she teetered.

“I know,” he replied smugly, looking up as she only barely towered above him. “No need for proper attendance, I just need enough to keep me from keeling over on my way home. ‘Sides, you ever sewn? Patched a sweater or pair of pants? It’s no more complicated than that.” Mark took yet another draw from the bottle, the liquid diminishing quickly as his intoxication level increased. “Yes on both accounts, but not often in the same night,” he answered genuinely, eyes flicking up to hers as her words were cut short, the silence between them growing more stale.

“Kish? You okay?” Mark’s face twisted in concern, the woman’s face taking on a somewhat green-white hue. He set the bottle on the table once more, focusing on her hands as she tied off the tourniquet. “Ada? Ada!” His worried voice called out, a small part hoping his voice would get a rise out of her. He slid to the front of his chair before his knee hit the floor, arms reaching out to catch her small frame before she hit the kitchen tile. 

The sudden movement caused pain to flare up in his injured arm once more, the meta biting the colorful curses back as his mind raced. “C’mon Kish. I’m the last person qualified to deal with situations like this. Please wake up, I’ll get out of your hair. If your roommate comes in, I think we’ll both be good as dead,” Mark couldn’t help but snicker, imagining anyone walking in on this sight would be humorous. Though, given his current state, and the fact that he was still actively on the run, he’d rather not have someone else knowing his whereabouts.

#mark x ada #thread: ada kish #dxctorfeelgood #tw: alcohol #tw: intoxication #tw: blood mention

[eyesonthesky]

anyaxthewolf​:

✘

Anya gradually shifted her attention to Mark’s agitated bellows, blinking languidly in unimpressed tolerance as he concluded his verbal outburst. Her mouth steadily curled downward into a deep frown resembling an offended pout. “Okay! черт вoзьми” she held her hands in resignation, her visage contorted in indignation, though somewhere deep inside she was fighting the urge to break into laughter at his outburst. He looked so ridiculous when he worked himself up that it was the most entertaining thing to behold – and cause. 

“I’ll buy you more liquor! I’ll buy you a whole shelf of liquor, I have some spare change” She muttered, unable to resist the temptation to counter once again with a reference to his cheap whiskey. It wasn’t true of course, Anya could hardly tell the difference between American alcohol. It all tasted the same to her and she couldn’t get drunk anyway. As long as it burned on the way down she was content. “Такой чертовски чувствительный, и он называет себя богом” she grumbled below her breath. So goddamn sensitive, and he calls himself a god. “There is no such thing as assassin school by the way, there is nothing educational about learning how to kill. Sit down” 

“Don’t be a grumpy super villain, it’s no fun. Have some macaroni” she stuffed her cheeks with a hefty spoonful before offering him the pot. “It’s really good” At the comment regarding the state of his hideout slash living abode she merely shrugged a shoulder, letting her gaze lazily roam what was in her immediate eyesight. She disagreed. Anya surprisingly favored the rundown warehouse, perhaps because she’d spent more time in it than her own mostly vacant apartment in the city. “If you don’t take some now I will put barbeque sauce and sriracha all over it, and you hate it” 

“Spare change,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “It’ll take a whole helluva lot more than spare change to make up for all the booze you’ve drank.” Mark continued to glare, arms crossed in front of him as Anya rattled off in her native tongue, only catching a few syllables here and there. “The plan was to get shitfaced, and now you’ve gone and ruined it,” Mark said, his voice just barely holding back a whine.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he huffed once more, taking the pot from her before dumping a heaping portion into a clean bowl. “You destroy the sanctity of mac ‘n cheese with your weird sauce combinations, ya know. If you want flavor, just rummage through the spices that are shoved in the cupboard. Red pepper flakes, garlic power, cayenne, salt... you can do so much better than barbeque and sriracha.” Mark fixed his own bowl up, salt, pepper, and garlic powder dusted over the top before stirring it and shoveling a large spoonful into his mouth.

“So what’s with the hair dye?” Mark asked with his mouth full before swallowing. “Trying to go incognito, or just trying out a new look? I don’t know if brunette suits you, to be frankly honest.”

#mark x anya #thread: anya volkov #anyaxthewolf

[eyesonthesky]

dxctorfeelgood​:

⟡

Ada awoke abruptly, not as a result of any noise or disturbance, but because her dream had concluded. She was able to recall every second of the moderately nightmare-inducing reverie, the misfortune of possessing flawless recollection. Her father was there, reaching for her with a desperate expression in his eyes and shouting something inaudible at her. She lacked the time to attempt deciphering his message by reading his lips in her haste to reach him. Her fingers moved forward, inches away from touching him, and then darkness. From asleep to awake in one heartbeat. As she investigated further into her father’s death and the circumstances surrounding his final project, her dreams were regularly plagued by her need for the truth personified. Ada had not yet decided how far she was ready to go in pursuit of that truth.

Sighing, she pushed a weary hand through her hair and considered getting a glass of water before attempting to settle back into bed. But before the urge had fully developed, she heard a ruckus in her living room. Understandably alarmed, her eyes strained in the utter darkness, breathing rate beginning to hitch. She remained silent and calm, listening for any more movements. Another thud and her heart was pounding as if a hypodermic of adrenaline had been emptied into her carotid. She grabbed for the phone on her nightstand to contact the police, sucking in a breath, until a familiar voice called out to her.

Kish? You home?

Ada cinched the robe around her waist as she entered the hall warily, cautiously approaching the man who called himself the weather wizard. She watched him guzzle down the booze she’d been gifted with a neutral expression, relieved that he hadn’t broken anything. “As I believe I have already stated, I am not a medical doctor.” She was perplexed how he was here when they last time they had spoken he was being held at a supposedly maximum security prison. Despite this, he was right; she knew he would not harm her. Even just sampling the emotions circulating in the space between them, none of them appeared to be hostile in nature. There was only pain and discomfort. “And please keep your voice down or you’ll wake my roommate” the trident-wielding blonde who thankfully slept like the dead. “Where are you hurt?”

Mark fought the urge to sink to the floor, taking a lopsided seat at the table instead. While the booze dulled things, it wasn’t enough. The graze across his arm wasn’t treating him so well, and while he could try and use the supposed free clinic, the Weather Wizard wasn’t about to land himself back in jail. Ada’s voice caused him to raise his eyes to where she emerged, the smallest smile pulling at his features.

“Kish,” he said, almost fondly, as he took another deep pull from the bottle. “You say that, but you seem to do just fine in patching things like this up.” He set the bottle down on the table, watching for a brief moment as the amber liquid sloshed around. “A bullet —” Mark started, peeling his leather jacket off and letting out a hiss of pain as he lowered his arm back down. “grazed my arm, shallow enough to not have the bullet still hangin’ around, but deep enough to hurt like hell and bleed more than I would have liked.” His once light-colored sleeve had taken on a deep crimson hue, the material clinging to his skin. “There’s no way in hell I’m getting my arm out of this damn thing, so you might as well just cut it. It’s trash anyway.” Taking a beat, he reached over and lifted the bottle back to his lips with his good hand. “You will help me, right?”

#mark x ada #thread: ada kish #dxctorfeelgood #tw: blood

[eyesonthesky]

tammy-melinoe​:

Giving him a fake smile, she suppressed a chuckle at his usual antics. “Oh, you know, here and there. What I’d like to know is where you’ve been.” He was, admittedly, quite interesting to her. Powerful and yet so very painfully mortal. But he was powerless in that cage. So someone broke him out. She raised a brow at the thought. Interesting. “Speaking of cuffs, I wonder how you got out of that Hellhole anyways. Because you definitely didn’t do it alone.”

x

“Here and there,” he parroted with a shrug of his shoulder, not caring to disclose his whereabouts since he’d escaped Iron Heights. Mark had purposefully been laying low, only just recently pulling minor heists to keep the CCPD on their toes. “Who said that? There’s a whole hell of a lot of power under this pretty face, ya know. I could very well take out those guards, powers or not. ‘Sides, I don’t have friends.” While it wasn’t a complete lie, he wasn’t quite sure what to call his allies. “I work alone.”

#mark x tammy #thread: tammy melinoe #tammy melinoe #[ backdated ] #( apologies for this being late af! If you'd like to do something else ; i'm game! )

[eyesonthesky]

#[ 🌪️ — MARK MARDON. guess you’ll never know what it really feels like to be a god ]

[eyesonthesky]

viberamon​:

Cisco breathed heavily as he ran through the darkness. “MARK!” he groaned as he shielded himself from the fog that had started to form. “Wanna bet?!” Cisco yelled as he vibed up to the highest point. Spotting a figure in the distance, he fired a vibe blast. 

While he should have been paying closer attention, Mark was reveling in the fact that he’d cornered Cisco, even if only for a brief moment. Eyes focused on the floor where he saw the other enter, the air crackled with electricity as he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb and forefinger together, he was ready to electrify things. That is, until he was hit from behind, sending Mark flying forward, only just throwing his hands out, rapidly swirling air stopping him from smashing into the concrete. “Fucking hell, Ramon,” Mark groaned, adjusting his posture as he was lifted higher, bringing the thick fog with him. “I’ve gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in ya.”

#mark x cisco #thread: cisco ramon #viberamon #[ backdated ]

[eyesonthesky]

sorry I can’t hang out, I’ve got places to avoid and people to disappoint

#[ 🌪️ — MARK MARDON. guess you’ll never know what it really feels like to be a god ]

[eyesonthesky]

@tammy-melinoe​ asked:   “You’re as cuddly as a cactus. You’re as charming as an eel.”

“All I heard was cuddly and charming, so thanks,” Mark smirked, pulling his skull cap beanie down over his ears. “Haven’t seen you since I was cuffed to a table. Where’ve ya been?”

#mark x tammy #thread: tammy melinoe #tammy melinoe

[eyesonthesky]

anyaxthewolf​:

@eyesonthesky​

CLOSED

Of the plethora of useful knife skills she’d acquired over the years – of the bloody and violent variety – cutting hair was not one she claimed. As was evident by the misshapen, choppy, shaggy mane resting above her blank countenance. She studied her reflection with a strange mixture of curiosity and apathy, what remained of her once blonde tresses scattered at her feet in various clumps. The dingy sink was made infinity more messy as the dye trickled in streams towards the drain, staining the sides with hues of mahogany and umber. “Hmph”, accepting the impulsive visual change in her appearance she snatched the Marlboro tucked into the strap of her tank top and struggled with her weaker arm to light it. The nerve damage was getting worse, supposedly, which was becoming a inconvenience. Bringing the end to her cracked lips, she clamped onto the end with her teeth and cupped her good hand around its tip to shield the flame.

“I got hair dye in your sink” 

A statement rather than an apology, and a gross underestimate of the disarray she’d left in his bathroom. Anya raked a hand through her freshly chopped hair, squeezing the tip of her tongue around the cigarette as she inhaled another deadly cloud. She allowed it to take up residence in her chest, permitting the poisonous mist to settle in her bones and relax her spine before exhaling it in a tight spiral. Since Halloween, it had been an unremarkable few months, at least uneventful for a hired assassin. She’d taken the odd contract here and there, but didn’t enact them with her usual dramatically, violent flair. And when she wasn’t on a job or checking up on her waitress, she was dropping in on Mark unannounced. Usually to deplete his booze supply. Admittedly she’d been thrown for a loop learning that her dear Alicia was still alive, and subsequently she’d spiraled into another pit of melancholy. Except that she was unfamiliar with the notion of such a feeling, which left her even more befuddled. No matter what she did, she didn’t seem to feel anything else and it was so boring. She was just so bored.

“Also, you’re out of whiskey” she stretched her lips into a mocking grin as she settled into the space beside Mark. She’d yet to tell him about Alicia but her erratic behavior spoke volumes. Besides, she didn’t come to talk about that. “But honestly, it was shit quality so don’t mourn”

After just returning from his evening of pestering his favorite adversary, Mark rolled his eyes at Anya. With a scoff, he shook his head as he took in her new look. “Figures as much. Though, this place is a shithole, so I’m not bothered.” He planned on refurbishing much of the run-down warehouse before he was locked up, and now that he was out and staying under the radar, it was time to spruce the place up a bit, and perhaps even put in some more security measures other than his beefy goons that patrolled the perimeter from time to time.

“I don’t really have an eye for design. You think I could coerce one of those fancy pants interior designers into making the place look nice?” Taking a beat, it was almost as if one could see the gears turning in his mind as he realized how his plan could backfire. “We wouldn’t be able to let them go after they’re done, though. Too much of a risk to have this place raided. I suppose you could have your fun when I’m done with ‘em,” he added, a glint of wickedness in his eye as he met Anya’s once more.

“Fucking hell, Volkov. If you’re going to finish something, then replenish it. It’s common decency, or didn’t you learn that in fucking assassin school?” Mark spat, his mood turning on a dime at her nonchalant attitude toward his booze, of all things. “I’m not mourning the whiskey, I’m just pissed you don’t pay your part of it all. You eat my food, drink my booze, and bleed all over my shit. What, I’m just supposed to take it?”

#mark x anya #thread: anya volkov #anyaxthewolf

[eyesonthesky]

#[ 🌪️ — MARK MARDON. guess you’ll never know what it really feels like to be a god ] #( himbo mark at his peak ; lbr )

[eyesonthesky]

@viberamon​  || holiday fluff angst ~

“Ramoooooooon,” Mark sang out into the darkness, taunting the meta he considered his nemesis for so long. With the flick of his wrist, fog rolled in, concealing his location from Cisco. “Your good ol’ friend is back in action, just in time for the holidays. You wanna know the best part? You can’t do anything about it.”

#mark x cisco #thread: cisco ramon #viberamon