Clark Joseph Kent

It is a remarkable dichotomy. In many ways, Clark is the most human of us all. Then... he shoots fire from the skies, and it is difficult not to think of him as a god. And how fortunate we all are that it does not occur to him. -Batman |indie superman|

[ridleydaisy]

[hashtagonlyingotham]

nightwing just shouted "i can hear you scowling" @ batman #onlyingotham

[unclefather]

you want a man with a strong jawline so you have a sturdy place to sit

[henry-cavill]

I’ve killed things from other worlds before.

[inkydandy]

I thought I was done with this unpacking scenario, but nope.

[cornfedangel-blog]

  independent clark kent

                           … aka SUPERMAN

[twcfaced-blog]

     He watched, cautious but obviously curious as Kent laid the files out on his coffee table, eye sharp and scrutinizing, lip peeling back over his teeth again at the mention of what they contained - but only briefly. His fingers itched, the urge to reach out and start reading immediate; he wanted to know, wanted to see what Arkham saw fit to tell the public they’d been doing to him. He’d had enough time to come to trust Doctor Leland - the woman had put his mind back together from scratch, he owed her that much - but anything prior to his final admittance two years ago was likely a confused amalgamation of bullshit, too many doctors who cared too little coming up with too many theories, none of them worthwhile. 

     “-Anything in there written by Joan Leland, Arthur McAllister, or Alana Bloom is reliable - I’ll tell you that right now. Anything else is likely to be horseshit. If you see Hugo Strange’s name, anything under it is garbage used to justify unabashed sadism.” He still hadn’t decided whether or not he trusted Clark, but he’d give him that for free: he’d never in all his time in the asylum been anything but vocal about his loathing for the corruption inherent in it. He’d hand out the names of the people whose word could actually be trusted like candy, if only because they were so few. 

     “I would, yes. I agreed to this because I can see the potential for it to be helpful to someone, but I want to know why you think so. Why you care.”

[cornfedangel-blog]

  “Thank you,” he muttered down his nose tucked into a pocket note he was scribbling into.

  He pushed his glasses up, they had slid in the flurry of hard-won paperwork.  Clark took a deep breath and quieted the world around them.  He heard what was in the room at present, and a second operation worked tirelessly to filter extraneous things out of doors and in others across the planet.  It was like calming anxiety, or swallowing too much sensory detail; something he had learned mostly from an insightful mother living back in Kansas.  At that moment Martha Kent was taking an apple pie out of the oven with a rerun of an old radio talk show on in the front room.

   “Second chances are too good to be true.  I’ve heard it a million times when the hero offers somebody making a ruckus in the big city another way out.  No one believes it, it hasn’t worked before as far as the general public know.

  “You’ve been documented.  There’s a paper trail.  Your journey can be traced back as far as anyone would want.  You’ve cut through and made the hard, honest way possible Mister Dent.  No short cuts from what I’ve read, not in your life.

  “If The Daily Planet prints this piece it will be shared to other papers electronically.  Once it’s online, no one can shut it down. This isn’t a story I want to write, this is pushing back at the idea that ‘people don’t change.’

  “I want to hear you tell your own story, as much as you care to tell.  I’ll record and take excerpts out for an introduction.  The recovery, and those willing to help-” he raised the tiny notebook with a grin, “Is the main piece, up until now.  I’ll have to edit to fit my line quota but nothing will be taken out of context- you can see to that.

  “I care, Mr. Dent, because where I come from folks help their neighbors.  Living in a City right on top of ‘em I seem to have a few more than I’m accustomed, I believe this might make it safer for them and everybody else.”

[wouldyousingalong]

America, you sweet, unfinished symphony You sent for me You let me make a difference A place where even orphan immigrants Can leave their fingerprints and rise up

[diegocalva]

[xuligun-deactivated20160626]

[amancanfly]

Clark Joseph Kent

[amancanfly]

I’m not usually a taker of selfies but I was out walking my faithful hound this evening and realised that I don’t give you guys selfies very often. I also wanted to show off the camera on my phone….and yes, I’m lying in the grass and also yes, I may have been hiding…..Kal makes for a terrible hiding partner. #HuaweiP9 #OO [Henry Cavill, 24th May 2016]

[amancanfly]

Henry Cavill at The Durrell Challenge and Fun Day in Jersey, May 2016. Images via HenryCavillNews. Photography by @itsacoffeeshop.

[poems-and-words]

[greelin]

“did it hurt?” “did what hurt?” “when you flew too close to the sun and were punished for your hubris?”

[cornfedangel-blog]

@defenestratio called for SUPERMAN

  There was a doctor in Gotham that sounded right.  She had not been there long, most professionals do not, the ones that do change.  That one he had followed a case that changed her before Gotham could.  The Doctor could be attributed to murder trials and other terrifying instances of human cruelty through association.  

  -And yet, she practiced still.  Clean of the charges against her and he could not quite imagine the horrors she must have witnessed to be close enough to be under suspicion.  She knew the darkness in the heart of humanity.  She might be able to understand enough.  

  Clark Kent in pressed slacks and a clean buttondown had ceased to exist in the days after General Zod and the rest of his small race came to Earth.  He barely managed to remember to clear the trash, Lois had caught him floating out of bed, his focus was shot.  When the strongest being on Earth was distracted, people inevitably got hurt.  He would not allow it to happen, not while he was still sane enough to recognize the problem.  Guilt crushed him like a lead weight, even flying felt burdened, and that was where he usually found a mental freedom from the stress of human life.

  Knocking on the door at an unreasonable hour in outlandish costume and blinking blearily, he did not feel like he dressed, the Superman ideal was so much to live up to.  If she could help-

  His thoughts spun the logic again, hoping to find a loophole in the idea of asking a stranger for anything.  He wasn’t the one to put the burden on any one man, Clark was the one that bore it.  Superman knocked three short raps and hoped he wasn’t waking Doctor Alana Bloom.

[thehulk]