“The Late Mr. Kent” Superman, the animated series s2.e22

after patrolling, unwinding in a diner somewhere ...

throw the man a bone batman geez

happy valentines (clark is going to kill lois - it was her interview)

[literally started this two hours ago, my back is killing me, good night]

DP x DC au where Conner gets hit by a magic spell from Klarion. Before anyone can figure out what it does, Superman makes Conner so mad he punches a hole- Not into a wall like he had planned, but right into a new dimension.

Meanwhile, Danny was ready to sleep for a full 8 hours for once, but was interrupted by a hole to another dimension opening up in his bedroom

[click for better quality because my computer is an ass]

FYYGGY!! Danny's face is perfect

A quick Superman I drew back in May. First of many. 

Save the ducks! 

大屌風必須有一下我們克拉克吧：D

true strength — batman secret files (2018) #1

(ID below cut!)

Thinking about selkies....Selkie Clark. Selkie kon.

Feeling uniquely nuts about this

you’re twelve years old and you break your father’s hand when he hi-fives you. the first thing you learn is that the smallest slip up can hurt the people you love. your (foster) father smiles and says it’s okay (it’s not). 

your parents are not your parents. the idyllic farming community that raised you is not your home. you’re a You-Don’t-Know-What from You-Don’t-Know-Where. all you know for sure is that you’re not human. 

so you can fly. so you can run fast. so you can lift cars. so what? why do you even have this power? what should you even do with it? 

your father said do what’s right, so that’s what you do. 

you stop a robbery. the man’s knife shatters against your skin and you see the same fear in his eyes that you saw in your father’s when you were twelve. you catch a falling child before it can hit the water. his mother looks at you like you’re a god. 

they love you, even though they don’t know you. the most powerful man in the world hates you because they love you. 

you wanted to write when you were younger. you wanted to tell stories that needed to be told. you never wanted to star in them. you never wanted super-geniuses and demi-goddesses looking to you for advice; like you have any idea how to handle threats to reality itself. you’re just a kid from smallville who’s trying to do the best he can with what he’s given. 

you try and get back to the farm as much as you can. it feels normal being back among the open wheat; where everyone smiles because you’re that nice Kent boy. 

when you were younger, you pretended to fly, hands out to your sides and running through the tall grass by the river. it doesn’t look as beautiful from on high; the details get lost and the colors of your hometown blur together from a mile above ground. 

the problem with flying is that it puts you so far above people you care about

“oh but Superman is such a boring c-“ shut up shut up shut up forever.

“...and people call you the sensitive one.”

It’s the comments for me

Well of course he doesn’t have a husband, they just died?

I'm cackling I need more

Ma Kent: So... you're looking after your "friend's" kid, hm?

Clark: It's not like that!

Ma Kent: Mm hm...

Clark: He just lost his husband, I...[a pause, realizing he could use this as an out for future set-up attempts] that is...my feelings aren't important.

[insert "fake" pining and continued miscommunication hijinks]

I just canNOT express how HARD I would read a 200k fic about this. ÒwÓ

Imagine being a young superhero and newly-minted member of the Justice League. You’ve got a monitor shift with Superman, who you know as an invincible alien demigod who lives at the North Pole. You’re nervous about spending time with him—what do you even have in common with him? What could you even talk about?

And then shortly into monitor duty he casually mentions

his

WIFE???

“I was driving my son to preschool this morning—“

ARE THERE PRESCHOOLS AT THE NORTH POLE, SUPERMAN?

AND WHY WERE YOU DRIVING, FLYING MAN?

You start the shift thinking that Superman is this inhuman messiah-like figure who watches humanity from on high and has no human connections and then you spend the next hour steadily getting more flabbergasted as he tells you about how his six-year-old headbutted him in the nuts this morning before school and invulnerable toddler plus invulnerable nuts means actual pain and you’re just like “what the FUUUUUU—“

At one point Batman wanders in all brooding and Superman perks up and goes, “hey Bruce! How was the Parent-Teacher Conference?”

Batman has a name? His name is Bruce? He goes to PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCES?

(Batman replies, in the most tired dad™️ voice you’ve ever heard, “Damian tried to stab his chemistry teacher again.”)

Apparently it is not a coincidence that JLA and PTA sound so similar.

Clark never felt pain until after he became Superman.

General Zod: (punches Clark in the face)

Superman: (now understanding the concept of pain) Oh- This sucks ass.

Ma Kent: it’s- well… it’s like feeling sad but in your body.

10YO Clark: That doesn’t make any sense.

(Flashforward)

Superman: (dodging a evil alien) 😲 ohhhhh that’s what she meant.

In all seriousness he should have the worst pain tolerance of the entire JL

Batman, with six broken bones, a cracked collarbone, and internal bleeding: I can still fight.

Superman, with one bruise: Tell Lois… that I love her

I can’t chose my favorite fjdjfjdjd

It’s been a while since anyone’s made the world this nervous. Black Adam.

Jon why would you call out your fathers not so platonic feelings about his coworker like this

This made me obsess until I wrote content. Embarrassing. Anyway I never read the DCU but I am a fan of Danny Phantom so-

There are…features…about Conner that don’t hold up to scrutiny. Things that don’t match either of his fathers, as disparate and unfeeling as they are to his general…existence.

For instance, Conner’s teeth are normal. Well, they’re usually normal. Usually. But when he can feel his upset like a knife in his ribs and everything in the world becomes so, so breakable, sometimes his teeth are an inch long and unusually thick, like fangs, and just as curved. He pokes at them in the mirror while his heart races, blood and anger pumping in his veins, and his eyes are green, green green.        

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Good morning, strangers who found this post. I went on a big ol’ binge last night so here’s s’more.

Part Two: Family Reunion

Conner can’t help but stare, because—

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Thank you for these tags they made me cackle so hard

Bruclark Week Day 1: Identity Porn

There is so much noise.

Bruce is used to noise, mind you, but tonight is extreme. He knows logically that it’s because he’s been up for two days straight and he forgot about the charity event, which is why he’s so exhausted. That fact doesn’t stop him from blaming it on the socialites laughing and clinking their glasses loudly throughout the hall though. He does his best to smile through the throbbing in his temples and the ache in his right side. He should’ve dodged that last kick with ease, but as before mentioned – he’s been awake for two days.

Technically he could’ve opted out of most of the event; he’s Bruce Wayne, nobody would think twice if he’d fallen drunk on his ass – or into the arms of some pretty thing – half an hour into the night, but this is a charity event connected to his mother’s name. It’s for the children; it’s for the homeless kids, the ones in the overfilled orphanages. Bruce can’t not stay.

He smiles for the cameras, ignores how it makes his headache worse, and laughs just loud enough at the jokes he’s told, the comments he’s on the receiving end of. He winks at the staff, doesn’t check his watch despite wanting to, and he makes polite conversation with the elderly women, because they’re the only ones not looking at him like they want to eat him. Or maybe they do but they have the decency to wait until he’s out of earshot to talk about it.

He answers question after question and his cheeks are starting to hurt from the fake smiling. He’d trade places with Dick in a heartbeat right now; clammy sewers, windy rooftops and chasing villains sounds like the easier option of the two. But alas, there has to be someone to do this part of the job as well and he wouldn’t wish it on Dick even on their worst days.

Bruce sighs as discreetly as he can and turns away from yet another mind-numbing conversation as soon as he gets the chance. He’s just about to break his rule – no looking at the clock, he’s supposed to look like he’s enjoying himself – when a voice calls for him.

“Mr. Wayne!”

Oh, thank God, someone with journalistic integrity. Bruce has only spoken to miss Lane a handful of times, and while she knows how to use her assets to get what she wants (Bruce respects her stubbornness), she is also incredibly book smart and empathetic. She’s one of the few reporters Bruce doesn’t actively mind talking to. He feels himself smile more genuinely as he turns towards the sound of her voice.

“Miss Lane,” he greets warmly.

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