#about why i love clark so much

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Your opinions on superman?

Sorry for taking forever to respond. I was trying to find a way to properly explain how I feel XD

I am absolutely in love with Clark Kent. There is something so amazing about how the core of Clark's character is that he genuinely wants to do good because he simply believes it's the right thing to do.

I give a lot of credit to Ma and Pa Kent, obviously, for instilling that in him at a young age. But I also believe that Clark was always naturally inclined to be a kind person. He displays an impressive level of emotional intelligence and empathy for nearly everyone he meets. He's not perfect, but he makes an effort to understand other's motivations and actions.

I also appreciate how much he adores and respects Lois. Clark can never run out of things to say about her. I find it refreshing that a main stay of his relationship with Lois is that he admires and acknowledges her skill as a journalist/reporter. He never tries to undermine her or discredit her. In fact, one of the main reasons he's attracted to her is her dedication to her career. That and her bravery in the face of any danger she encounters. Even when she really should have bowed out forever ago XD

I also think it's very telling that of all the members of the Justice League, Bruce's best friend (other than Diana) is Clark. To me, that right there shows even further what a fantastic person Clark is. Because despite being someone as notoriously private and often irrationally paranoid as Bruce is, he is still able to let his guard down around Clark. I find it heartwarming and sometimes even hilarious that Clark is able to get away with giving Bruce absolute shit and Bruce is, more often than not, willing to tolerate Clark's teasing or even his serious reprimands. They both value the other's opinion and trust each other with their lives.

What I think more recent adaptations of Superman have forgotten, is that Clark never has had an interest in being a god or in using his abilities to establish himself as something superior to mankind. It's the opposite. Clark has such a high degree of self control over his own powers because of just how perfectly aware he is of how easily he could hurt someone if he wanted to.

But Clark doesn't have a desire for power. He genuinely wants to help people because he has the ability to do so.

Tldr; The reason Superman is so great is because Clark is a great person.

[iamumbra195]

Since Ashlyn's birthday is apparently June 3rd and she's just as obsessed with Spider-Man as I am... I present to you the idea of Ashlyn and the gang in 2023 as college seniors going to watch Across the Spiderverse (which was released on June 2nd) together for her birthday and getting a shit ton of Spider-Man merch.

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

something something, slow burn allies to partners to lovers, who didn't get the happy ending they deserved

[stinkypeanutbutter]

it mentslly hurts me to talk about certain characters I just loovrve them sissosoo much and I care for them and I can’t stop doodling them and I can’t stop talking about them I could go on for hours and hours and hours but it hurts too because I’m like “ i looovoeee them !! “ then remember like their backstory or character motivations and I immediately die out of love and devastation .

[samarecharm]

If i start posting dc stuff on here, it means i lost the fight w myself. The demons won. Im sorry

[supurman]

you can never make me hate superman. selfless help, with a smile!

[alackofghosts]

anyway i was thinking about this in particular. my vision.........

[stuckasmain]

Alternative universe where Clarke actually wanted to write 3001

The future Frank is revived in is not dystopian

There’s no “save the world” anti monolith plot

It has consistency with the original theme of the series

[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

You knew my mother was here | Moth Work

Lonan has stopped paddling. The canoe sits in the middle of the lake, lifeless like a bone in the water. He’s turned so Harrison sees him in profile and can’t tell if it’s relieving or worrying to see his face. Lonan’s jaw is taut, like there are words he wants to say but can’t. Filling up the hollow bone. He blinks slowly, like he’s trying to re-centre himself, his chest quivering with breaths meant to steady him. The water laps at the base of the canoe, whirling like his head. Dark hair tangles down his cheeks like the fingers of a poltergeist.

“You knew my mother was here,” Lonan says.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Research.”

LONAN PORTRAIT TO GRACE (HAUNT?) YOUR DASH!! <3

Excerpt circa 2019.

[autisticcassandracain]

is it just me or is batman like. significantly more tolerable outside of gotham comics than in

[iholli]

listen. listen. I want Clark to have his show all to himself 100%, for at LEAST 2 - 3 seasons.

but also, if I don't get to see J'onn in the MAWS "everybody is Hot" artstyle eventually, I might riot.

[lexa-griffins]

ABO Clexa from the drawings have my heart. But I am also very in love with the goddess Mother Heda

L I S T E N. I adore that grumpy goddess. She is Lexa's great great great great great great grandmother and was said to make the people of Trikru sprout from the dirty and grow like trees, their roots deep in the ground of where the trikru tribe stands in the woods. She is a massive icon to Trikru. And she was so in love with this alpha girl and she wanted to marry her but then the alpha raped her and left her with child so she become very protective of her child and deemed alpha’s as sole helpers for omegas to continue their lineage and that taking their bite and mating them is below an omega meaning most children are raised by their mothers and omegas are the symbol of leadership and tribe values while alphas are savages only good for procreation and war. And that tradition keeps going all the way to Lexa, raised by her grandmother and her mother, who while a good leader, as not yet given the people of Trikru an heir even after the passing of both women.

And during the entirety of Lexa meeting Clarke, being nursed back to health by her and staying with her and her pack in Skaikru, Heda is a constant presence inside her head as they have a divine connection reminding her love is weakness, more so love for an alpha whose tribe believes alphas are superior to omegas. And even if her and Clarke don't even speak the same language and Clarke does not know Lexa is the queen of the Trikru tribe, Lexa is truly starting to fall in love with her and in the process, angering her omega ancestors who fought their love for alphas and omegas so they could honor their duty.

Oh and because Lexa looks so much like the Omega Mother Heda she is believed to be the one to lead Trikru into a new era of greatness after around a decade of the higher number of births being alphas inside the tribe, which is believed to mean war and devastation (alphas become warriors -> more warriors is a omen of war for trikru while more omega births means more prosperity and a future of great leaders and peace).

I am rambling but I have so much world building for this fic, I could talk about it for ages!!!!!!!

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[delicatedarknight]

Bruce: what makes you good for my son?

Kon: what is there that I lack? I'm perfect for your son

Jason: I would say he lacks common sense

Dick[sighing]: describe why you love Tim?

Kon: he is a huge coffee addict, the Robin costume looks ugly but I guess those are the things that make him look hella attractive not to mention he has a great as-

Bruce, Damian, Jason & Dick [ready with their weapons on Kon's neck]: be careful how you finish that sentence

Kon[flying out of the window]: HE GOT A GREAT ASS

[An hour later]

Metropolis reporter: today's breaking news Batman and the Robins are chasing after Superboy while throwing profanities. Oh wait we see Red Hood let's ask him about the situation

Reporter: Red Hood what brings you all to the metropolis today?

Red Hood: oh it's just a family outing to promote tourism to Gotham not like we are trying to make Superboy disappear from the face of the earth and bury him somewhere. Now now where did our Superboy kid run off to now?

Reporter:

[In Kent house hold]

Kon: Dad...you know I love you soo much right?

Clark[sighing]: what did you do this time?

Kon: Dad you gotta protect me they are coming for me

Clark: they who?

Kon: the bat fa-

[Window breaking and batfam entering]

Kon[already using Clark as human shield]: they are here dad

Bruce: Clark stay out of this

Clark[confused]: what did he do for the whole bat family to chase after him

Damian: ask him yourself

Clark: so what did you do?

Kon[shyly grinning]: I complimented Tim's ass..

Clark: I mean I see where you are coming from..I mean Bruce also has a great ass..but that's not the point now.

Dick: guess it's time to end the whole Superman bloodline

Jason: deviation in the plan now it's both dad-son duo

Clark: Can I say something before I die?

Bruce[with kryptonite]: you may speak

Clark: Bruce I always wanted to tell you something, you look really beautiful, and last Thursday, you looked amazing in those black undies.

[Collective batfam screaming and fighting] 

[queenie-avenue]

Live fast, die young, bad boys do it well.

💌 ⤻ CLARKE MEADOWS, THE HOCKEY PLAYER

—> he's loved the ice since he was a kid, but maybe he can love you too.

⤻ reader is female, yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, thoughts of killing, small gore, obsessive behaviour, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol, set in a university (all 18+), identity crisis moment lolol, [h/n] is hobby name

The first time he met you was at a party. He couldn't exactly remember what you were doing, you were one of those people that were irrelevant to him. Whether you were dancing with your friends and screaming to the music of the party or slumped in a corner, restless and alone, he didn't know. All he knew was that some people talked about you and he registered your name into one of those in his mind.

He was an asshole like that, he supposed. Or maybe he didn't care. He didn't care because his only care in the world, should be Hockey.

His Father was a hockey player and he wanted to live up to that expectation. He wanted to surpass him in both fame and skill and that was his whole identity. His identity was tied to this sport.

His friends? People from his hockey team.

His girlfriends? Didn't really have any, but his requirement for being his girlfriend was that she needed to always come to watch his games.

Even his popularity was all intrinsically tied to his sport. Everyone knew him as the guy who became Captain of the Hockey team in just one year of joining.

The guy who everyone knew would be in the big leagues, up there with Nathan MacKinnon and Seth Jones.

He was so close to being signed on with a team.

Everything was about hockey, before everything became about you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Sure, Clarke Meadows knew about you. But he didn't know about you.

Not until that day you stumbled on him inside one of the rooms of the frat house he was in. You had simply wanted to take a piss somewhere and since the toilets not connected to the bedrooms were all taken, probably from pent-up teenagers and people who were vomiting from all the alcohol and decided to take your luck and pray no one was inside blowing each other's backs out.

Even if they were, you honestly could overlook it for the sake of being able to finally relieve yourself.

That's when you stumbled upon his sad self.

He sprawled onto the bed, a spilled bottle of beer falling from his hands with a soft clink before rolling to the other bottles of miscellaneous alcohol strewn all over the floor. Your first instinct was to be worried because with the amount this dude was drinking, he could be suffering from food poisoning.

You made your way towards him and sat on the bed. "Hey, hey!" You called out, trying to wake him up by shaking him, worried that he had passed out or even worst, died.

He groaned and swatted your hands away like a baby being disturbed. "What the hell do you want?" He growled out, surprisingly hostile when he had always been somewhat polite to everyone around him. Just as he didn't know you, you didn't know him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, irregardless of his tone.

"Fuck... yes, I'm fine!" He snapped at you, covering his face as you noticed something sparkling in the dim lighting of the room. Tears? "Just quit being so loud." He told you. He must have drunk a lot for your whispers to be considered loud in his ears.

"No one drinks that much or starts crying when they're drunk because they're fine." You retorted as you watched him wipe away the tears on his face before sitting up. His drunk eyes focused on you, on your blurry figure and body. But your face seemed to be the clearest of them all. Your eyes, your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, everything shone as bright as the sun.

"You wouldn't get it." He said.

"Try me." You didn't know why you said that.

And perhaps out of drunken vulnerability, he replied, even when he didn't know why he did it. "Just... what am I supposed to do with my life?" He murmured.

You raised an eyebrow at his words. Wasn't he like some popular hockey dude? "Your hockey, I guess? I heard you like it." You said, completely forgetting about your need to pee.

"No, I don't- I don't know what I want. Besides my hockey, what else do I have?" He asked and your eyes widened at his words. What else did you know about Clarke Meadows beside his hockey skills? You tried to think. He liked hockey... he was popular and... yeah, you couldn't think, especially with all that alcohol stocked up in your mind.

"You have free will, you know." You reminded him.

"But then, my hockey." He slurred, like a baby.

"Is anyone holding you at gunpoint to only play hockey?" You asked.

"N-no." He murmured, as if his eyes have been opened.

"Then try new things, see where it takes you." You said as you dusted your skirt off and sighed. "No one can force you to do things you don't want to do."

"But I do like hockey." Oh my God, you wanted to just smack him over the head right now, he was acting like such a baby. "I love it. It's my whole life." You almost felt jealous of the sport. No one had ever said 'I love you' in such a way to you before.

"You can love different hobbies. We aren't like robots tuned into one thing. I like [h/n], but I also like [h/n]." You informed him. His dark blue eyes pierced into your [e/c] ones and you paused just to admire him. Gods, was he pretty. He was such a pretty boy it almost made you feel jealous that his face wasn't yours. "An- anyway," you felt embarrassed for imparting advice when you weren't even that smart, "just think about it. I'm not forcing you to try new stuff either. Ultimately, it's your choice." You flustered and eventually went to the bathroom after remembering your urges.

When you came out, he was already gone.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

For the next few days, you felt eyes on you. Dark blues one, but you didn't know that. You stopped going home alone every night after your later classes and you started carrying pepper spray with you as an extra precaution. Yet, every time you turned around, you couldn't see anyone following you.

You even felt it when you were resting in the university's courtyard.

Of course, as the readers of this fic knows, it was Clarke Meadows.

Sure, your words were cheesy and kind of cringe but you made him feel seen, outside of his talents. Maybe it was by accident, but in the world, there were no accidents, just fate. And he decided that it was fate to have met you and be comforted by you. You didn't need to do this but you did anyway, and he had grown completely smitten for you.

He collected a pen that fell from your bag, he bought perfumes, shampoos, body wash, conditioners that smelled like you just so he could wash himself with them and convince himself the scent was from his dreams of cuddling next to you. He collected the trash that you threw, putting them in a ziplog bag like a complete freak and dumpster diver. He followed you home to ensure no unsavoury people were stalking you... which was ironic. He even kept watch for you whenever he could during your lunch times.

When you talked to another person, he thought of all the different ways he could slam his hockey stick into their head or shins. He imagined how it would be like to be bloody and have you wipe away the red. He wanted to kiss you while he enveloped you in the blood of his rivals.

But for now, he'd be a silent protector, by your side.

"Don't worry, my saviour, I'll keep you safe."