SUPERMAN.

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗍𝗈𝗇.

[kryptonien]

independent writing blog blog for superman (clark kent) from dc comics.      written by v,   she/her,   21+.

                                      i.  CARRD.         ii.  PINTEREST.

[kryptonien]

nobody asked but i'm working on a meta post to explain why my clark is a retelling of new 52 superman; i wanted to at least melt the ice a little bit and explain myself so people don't develop assumptions. the new 52 sucked, i think we all can agree on that, but i'm one of the rare people that really appreciated the attempt to modernize superman and if i'm being honest, it's my favorite modern take. anything that reheats byrne's nachos or basically the entire tone of the 1980s is uninspired to me and also feels incredibly dated, and i find that people should give n52 supes (probably more specifically grant morrison's supes) a little more grace. my post will clearly detail my reasoning for favoring this characterization, and will outline specifics for why i felt this version of superman was the best modern way to approach his core character attributes. but yk. wanted to get this out of the way first. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[lostkrypton]

i’m here to stand up for people when they can’t stand up for themselves.

[suncaptor]

linked tree (includes options to donate to Ghanaian projects)

petition to show support

[kryptonien]

sir can you please put on some pants.

[kryptonien]

rereading some old titles so i can refresh my memory on some things and ah... i miss when he was treated like a menace to society

[kryptonien]

clark really shouldn't be surprised by any of this, honestly. superpowers and supervillains that tag along with them tend to lend more often to the intergalactic and interdimensional than he would like, so it's becoming more of a frequent occurrence than a strange one — but what surprises him now isn't being transported out of his apartment on a sunday morning with taglines to write, it's being caught in the intricacies of unconscious transportation while pointedly not, as he'd succinctly put it, on the clock. he feels the frame of his glasses slip a little down the bridge of his nose as he looks around, attempting to gain some bearings on his current predicament.

❛ i really don't wanna do the whole we're not in kansas anymore thing, but ... really, where the heck am i ? ❜ he scoffs, raising the glasses off his face to wipe a smear he caught while assessing the environment, though it's simply a force of habit rather than a necessary action. he takes another sweep of the area to ensure he missed nothing when his eyes latch into a figure in the distance, and he sharply inhales. they're shadowed in twilight and a particular note of green; this doesn't bother him, but does give way to significant alarm given this fact is highly unusual. depositing the glasses back on his face, he starts to make his way over; perhaps the figure didn't think he could see them from such a significant distance at first, but they stop moving and stare right at him as he begins to shrink the distance between them.

@fabala ♡'d. (i had the biggest shit-eating grin while typing this)

[nightorne]

    ☽ ◯ ☾, something clear and merciless, like glass or a scream〈 or the first morning of an unwanted resurrection 〉a highly selective and private blog for shadowheart jenevelle hallowleaf from baldur's gate 3 / not fandom affiliated * ( headcanon & alternate universe heavy blessed by corazón

[kryptonien]

clark's smile is a beaming crown of ivory when he ducks under the doorway to the cafe, almost timid in the way his lips curl around it when his gaze lands on his companion. it's always a pleasure for him to see old friends, enough to settle his stomach; there are concerns bouncing around in his head due to the cryptic phone call that catalyzed this meeting, but clark shoves them down into the recesses of his consciousness to collect his bearings as he moves to sit across from tintin. ❛ hi. ❜ he greets, waving a hand before grabbing the back of the chair. it makes a grating sound as it scratches along the floor and he winces, depositing his messenger bag onto the empty space of the table as he plops unceremoniously into the seat.

❛ i have to admit, i'm a little nervous. ❜ his hands clasp and settle atop the table that separates them in an effort to keep them occupied. he's not necessarily nervous for himself, it's always extended to other people instead, but it's difficult to voice that fact out loud without divulging some rather significant personal details. it's also hard to say as much without sounding patronizing. he separates his hands to lift one to his face, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. ❛ you were short over the phone... is everything alright? ❜

@atleur ♡'d. (IT'S TIME IT'S FINALLY TIME)

[kryptonien]

the glitz and glamour of decadent ballrooms and bubbly affluence isn't something that disarms clark so much at this point, but he still makes it a regular habit of stuffing himself into a stifling corner away from the action; it's by design of course, in order to allow him to stay under the radar as he makes his observations, though the only ones who could ever bother to tell are the ones that are operating under the same practice. he finds himself in one of those corners, to the right of a barely-picked desert table. the champaign tower to his left, however, is almost non-existent with only half of the bottom tier still standing. he notes, with a particular pang of dissatisfaction, that he probably won't be gleaning any more information from listening in on the crowd tonight — that is until the large double-doors across the room swing open, revealing the apparent lavish host of tonight's festivities. clark makes quick work of the distance (if he cheated using his super speed, that's between him and the powers that may be), clearing his throat to effectively grab attention, which he aptly receives along with a smile. if anyone is going to give clark the information he's been looking for, it's probably going to be him. ❛ mister stark, ❜ he slips into the comfortability of pleasantry with the ease of a guy who must always be in his element, and he extends a hand before him, ❛ clark kent. pleasure to meet you. ❜

@reactir ♡'d.

[the-real-jason-todd-not-dead]

FYI if you don't know there is a boycott against DC right now. DC hasn't had a mainline ongoing comic run for a black character in 1201 days. As a big DC fan this is unacceptable. Please pirate their comics, movies, shows etc

[dailydccomics]

Superman by Ben Oliver

[kryptonien]

❝ it's only a short step from there to calling yourself a crusader, or something equally dubious. too many powerful people make these silly declarations — then it's all holy quests, or sacred destiny … that's generally when the trouble starts. [ a private, selective blog for a comic-based rendition of clark kent from dc comics. this portrayal is mostly a retelling of new 52 superman. written by v, she/her, 21+. carrd. ]

[kryptonien]

the kind of magic she sustains is the kind that could easily subdue him. her show is a brilliant reminder of that fact, not smoke and mirrors but actual spells and manipulation of reality to conjure whatever she desires; this, he knows, just because he's had the luxury to experience it as an ally and not have it be directed to him. his cape sways as he walks towards her in the cramped dressing room, the light blanketing the walls and the props coming from the string of lights that curve around her vanity. ❛ sorry, zee. i didn't bring any flowers. ❜ his smile is sheepish, as if the shyness will make up for that self-admitted transgression. he's here because she had the thought to send him tickets, after all. ❛ i did watch the whole thing, though ! from start to finish. you were incredible, but then again, you always are. ... is my flattery scoring any points ? ❜

she fixes him with a raised brow, and he holds up his hands in mock surrender as though that levels out his audacity. ❛ i'm not here on any official league business, this is ... personal. thanks for the tickets, by the way. ❜

he takes out a piece of red fabric, not dissimilar to the one that drapes his shoulders. clark isn't entirely sure how the assumed incantation is supposed to work, or whether or not this tether will be sufficient, but he hopes it's a good start. his expression is uncharacteristically solemn, gaze hollowed out as he stares at the offering held out to her for her to take. ❛ i need your help to locate someone. i think your magic will probably do just the trick. ❜

@veilmotel ♡'d for zatanna. (HIIIII.)

[kryptonien]

she, a nebulous weaving of sensibility, takes up the space in front of him in a way he has only somewhat experienced once before — deep within the recesses of his consciousness where another sorceress has once made herself known. he doesn't have the nerve to compare the two beyond that though, but the recognition, the latching onto the feeling of profundity he had then weighs itself into his bones now as the vibrant blue of his stare meets her own. he has to focus his hearing on the sound of her breath as it puffs between them to drown out the rest of the dreadful noise that's suspended above the air around them, willing himself not to lurch at the overwhelming cacophony of it; it's in preparation for what's to come, surely.

clark wonders briefly how she manages to remain so calm with the amount of energy that lingers within her. he can barely sense it, but what he notes is particularly strong — stronger than what he could fathom — and this must be what makes her most equipped for the task at hand, what had her be recommended to him.

❛ i, uh — ( how eloquent. ) yeah, yes. i think i'm ready. are you ? ❜

@nexusbeing ♡'d. (hi.)

[kryptonien]

his tongue is splitting in his mouth. his fingers close in on his palms, nails digging into the skin as he sharply exhales through his nose; she doesn't share the same concern it seems, doesn't have the same amount of alarm that he does, and this would give him significant pause if not for the urgency. there's something to be said about how precariously familiar this scenario is beginning to feel, the image of a black cowl and a complimentary scowl taking root in his thoughts as his gaze bores into hers; he doesn't want this to be another meaningless clash of creeds, another bought of disagreement on obligations and duties and other sanctimonious nonsense. he needs her out of the building, and he needs her out now.

the ticking of the bomb a few stories below their feet grows exponentially louder against the shell of his ear, and if he can't convince her to move, he's going to have to make her. ❛ look, you — can you just leave, please ? i don't want to argue with you about what you think you can handle, we don't have time for that. no one else is in here but us and it's too dangerous for you to still be here. ❜

@vivrez ♡'d. (hehe.)

[kryptonien]

i have 2 followers and a dream but like this if u want me to pull something out of my butt for u