LASTEDSON;; An independent RP blog for Clark Kent / Superman of the DC universe. Inspiration taken from James Gunn's Superman (2025) & other sources. Adored by Pluto.
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Kiana Khansmith
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

@theartofmadeline
Keni

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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wallacepolsom
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Claire Keane
RMH

seen from United States

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@lastedson
LASTEDSON;; An independent RP blog for Clark Kent / Superman of the DC universe. Inspiration taken from James Gunn's Superman (2025) & other sources. Adored by Pluto.
[CARRD LINK]
my bad for disappearing. the new pokemon game dropped and I remembered how much I love sonboy former champion leon of swsh
@lastedson wolverine & clark kent
"Didn't anyone tell you spandex was outta style?" his eyes look over the man's spotless suit, and matted hair. "You're either real confident or ..." his eyes narrow, taking in the sight of what looks like a flag. "Patriotic." tasting the word, unimpressed above all. Either way, the job's done. And frankly, as far as he knew, only one of them had gotten the call to handle the locals. A bunch of guys low in the ranks of a neighboring syndicate. Turf wars, at best.
❝ It's not spandex. ❞
The look he casts down at himself is almost hurt. Out of style? Sure, he's not zooming through the skies with the latest designer clothing on his back, but that didn't mean his current outfit was bad! It was— It was iconic! Practical and comfortable and bright! It was made by his mother!
❝ Are you finished out here? With the... ❞
Maybe that came out a little snappier than intended. Clark tilts his head towards where the turf wars had been happening. Nothing that Superman needed to jump in and deal with, not when there were others already on top of the situation. He's here for an entirely different reason.
@onlyheartaches asked: “Examine!” The Batmobile / meme
You still remember the first time you saw it. Even your years of living in the heart of Metropolis hadn't prepared you for something like this.
The vehicle was black and sleek and amusingly named with the same Bat prefix as everything else here, but something about it had made you want to recoil. That single vehicle was likely worth more than everything on the farm combined, and such displays of wealth had a tendency to leave a sour taste in your mouth. It's not like you were jealous or anything. Quite the opposite! You have always taken great pride in your humble roots, your family comfortable but rarely living in excess. You were brought up on the importance of working for what you have, and took that message to heart just as Ma and Pa wanted you to.
But you're not so naïve that you're unaware of the connotations your country life has pinned on you. Smallville is seen as unremarkable even by other rural communities, a nothingburger of a town that couldn't even hold onto its title as the biggest corn producer in the state. It's not the sort of place people like to admit to being from, much less with as much open pride as you. Your time at Metropolis University had taught you that.
...You know the Bat's not that type. Even if he'd already picked up the subtle traces of your Ma's twang in your disguised accent—and, as you're not the type to underestimate, you can only assume that he has—he's said nothing about it. Certainly nothing to deserve being lumped in with the same kinds of people who'd elbow you in the ribs every time you passed a car, making cruel jibes about roadkill meals that made your eyes prickle with heat and your vision go red at the edges.
But even so. There's a large part of you that wants to refuse the transport, offer some half-hearted excuse about flight being faster and flee into the skies until even the light from his beacon can't reach you.
But the smaller, quieter, more sensible part of you reminds you that you're in Gotham. His city. Just as you have your rules for Metropolis, isn't it only fair to follow his direction and do as he does for as long as you're here?
And so you'd climbed in. Stiffly, perhaps, and treating it a more like an art museum filled with priceless, untouchable artefacts than a vehicle to be used, but you were at least sitting in it.
And while flight would have been faster, you had to admit that the journey was far more fun when you had someone to share it with. It helped with the strategy discussion, too, bouncing ideas off of each other until you'd found a plan you both agreed on.
At some point during the ride, you'd even gotten comfortable in your seat.
"Well, hey, if this is a mess, I must have a pretty clean roommate, right? Trust me, man, no biggie."
Kyle returns the handshake. "Was your flight okay? Mom drove me up. I bet she would have insisted on driving me even if we lived halfway across the globe, haha."
The notion sickens him.
"Did you bring anything from the farm?" Kyle asks, distracting himself from the uncomfortable train of thought. "Can I see?"
{ @lastedson }
❝ Yeah, it was... It was good. Faster than expected. ❞
Much faster. The change of topic is welcome, and Clark positively lights up as he starts rifling through a partially-unpacked bag.
❝ I didn't bring much, no. ❞ Unless you count the barn dust and stray strands of hay, that is. ❝ It turns out trucks and tractors are a little too big to fit in my luggage. ❞
❝ But Ma insisted I bring one of her recipe books, and I brought a photo of the last time some friends of mine came around. ❞ Given that they were all splitting up and spreading across the country, it had felt right to bring this little piece of them along with him. They'd even all taken the time to sign the back of it, leaving goodbye notes and well-wishes.
He holds it up for Kyle to see.
❝ There's Chloe, and Lana, and Pete there on the left. And that's our coop in the back, the one I told you about. ❞
Send “Examine!” and an item or person and I’ll write an RPG description of it/them.
For example, a stormtrooper mask: “A white mask with a black visor on the front. Putting it on, you realize that the visor isn’t even transparent. How are you expected to do anything competently like this?”
clark doesn't believe in fate. he thinks it's a nice idea, the universe having some secret system in place to maintain its balance and make sure the good in the world keeps prevailing over its evils, but in his mind it all falls apart the second he tries to fit villains into the picture
he doesn't want to believe that anyone could be born bad. they can be raised in a bad environment, they can make bad choices and allow themselves to be lead by hatred/anger/envy, but he trusts that at their core is still someone with the potential to change for the better
clark doesn't have to like them. there's definitely people he can't stand. but it takes a lot for him to completely lose faith in them
SMALLVILLE (2001 - 2010) S01E06: Hourglass
#he got him there
@fa1lmech asked: “I think your dog just stole my lunch.” / meme
❝ Krypto! Bad boy! ❞
The culprit himself is remorseless, only chewing faster as Clark makes a half-hearted grab for the stolen food. The superdog's tail is wagging hard, no doubt thrilled with his ill-gotten gains, leaving Clark to sigh like the disappointed (foster) parent he is.
He'd like to say Krypto's still in training. He'd like to make excuses for the behaviour, find any sort of justification that doesn't boil down to his cousin indulging bad habits in herself and her animal companions. But the reality is that it's just pure and simple mischief, the desire to push people's buttons and see how they respond.
(Clark can never stay mad. Not at Krypto.)
❝ I'm so sorry about that, sir. Is there anything we can do to make it up to you? ❞
❝ oh my god ! this is like … an A-list celebrity following your X account !! ❞
Cont. ~ X
Fortunately for Clark, Kyle isn't suspicious. They'd spoken over the phone prior to moving into their shared dorm, and Kyle's opinion of his roommate is already high based on those conversations. This just makes Clark even cooler in the Louisiana boy's eyes, as evident by Kyle's wide smile.
"Wow. That really is impressive, man, just like I said. Would've made unpacking a lot easier for me if I could do it one-handed like that. Ah, right. I was exploring the campus; Mom got me moved in yesterday."
He'd wanted to get her off of school grounds as quickly as possible.
"It's nice to meet you in person, Clark." He offers a hand. "Kyle."
{ @lastedson }
❝ Sorry about the mess; I just got here. My parents can't leave the farm for too long, so I made the journey up on my own. I flew in an hour or two ago. ❞
Literally, that is, though he'd apparently been far more careful with his flight than he had his strength displays. No one had seen him drop from the sky like a stone, suitcases in hand and ready to enter his new campus. The 'mess' he refers to is minimal — most things have already been packed neatly away, and those that aren't can be easily pushed aside for today.
He fumbles with the keys for a second, looking around for a table to place them on before just stuffing them back into his pocket and taking Kyle's hand in a firm grip.
❝ Kent— ah, Clark. It's a pleasure. ❞
@onlyheartaches asked: “That was impressive. How’d you manage it?” / meme
It's clear from his startled, deer-in-the-headlights look that he was very much not expecting Kyle to be here.
❝ Oh, uh— you mean the bed? ❞
The bed that Clark had been holding up one-handed with no apparent effort, high enough off of the ground for him to reach under and retrieve the keys that had slipped underneath it. He'd been careful up until this point to hide his powers and stay firmly within the limits he'd agreed with his parents, well aware that college was his last taste of normalcy before the full responsibility of his gifts hit, but evidently he'd gotten too comfortable.
(Careless.)
It was lucky it was only Kyle who'd spotted him. He, at least, didn't seem the gossiping type.
❝ It's— you know. Growing up on a farm makes you strong. All the equipment, and— and animals. It's a lot of physical labour! ❞
☎️ YOU'VE REACHED DAILY PLANET'S MAGGIE STERLING! please leave your name, number, and story after the beep. for emergencies, meta human battles, or weekly alien invasion, you can reach me at ——— CLICK. #metrocast is an independent, and private iteration of an original character from the detective comics universe [ INTERTWINED WITH THE SUPER FAM ]. main verse based in james gunn's superman film.
student enrollment got hands, so I'm too tired to be here today. but !!!! it's friday tomorrow.... and because of the bank holiday I have a long weekend..........
@onlyheartaches's Magneto asked: “I think your dog just stole my lunch.”
There's the thudthudthud of a happily wagging tail just behind him.
❝ I'm— That's yours? I'm so sorry! ❞
Clark, to give him his dues, at least has the decency to look embarrassed. While the idea of chasing Krypto down does cross his mind, by the time the stolen lunch has been flown through the air, shaken about, and bounced up and down in time with the dog's excitable jumps, it will barely be edible, and certainly not anything appetising. And that's without mentioning the potential damage their antics could cause. Even if he were to try and grab it back, Krypto would simply go shooting off, heedless of whatever may be in his path.
...It's best to let him keep it.
❝ I'll be sure to have a chat with him later. But please, let me replace what he stole. It's the least I can do! ❞
" many thanks for the help, superman! " another day, another trap escaped, another attempt at kidnapping or killing him avoided; and the man named scott free walks away...scot-free! this time, though, got a little close for comfort, even for the god of freedom himself. how lucky he had been--and he always seemed to be!--that the superman was there to lend a helping hand. the escape artist's hands moved the clench the fabric of his own fabric mask, pulling it off to breathe.
how odd it was, sometimes, to be a performer and a hero at the same time; for many to know both the often too-fantastical to believe was true performer, the man, and the new god. he remembered a time where there was an attempt to hide it all, to separate secret identity and the mask. nobody knew where he or his wife came from, simply living on earth as if the firepits of apokolips were not his norm just minimal years prior. it's when he looks at someone like superman--clark kent--that he has to wonder if he would ever combine the identities. they weren't too different, not at the concept. still, scott wouldn't push that topic, it really wasn't his place to. people were free to live how they made--scott should be the first to support it.
" --i don't suppose you might want to stop by for dinner! i dragged you out pretty late! there aren't too many places open right now, let alone serving dinner-style meals beyond one or two fast food places. "
...of which scott really questioned why the people of earth would allow themselves to consume so willingly. it felt like those nutrient blocks from granny's orphanage, ones that existed to take their brain and melt it to serve one purpose. sure it wasn't for darkseid, but--...well he wasn't completely sure about that, godfrey was still running amuck after all, all mister miracle knew was that he would never let his daughter eat that, just in case, just in case-
" i'm sure barda won't mind the extra company! i certainly don't. "
@lastedson // starter call
❝ Scott, please. You didn't drag me anywhere; I'm always happy to help. ❞
All the same, Clark had to admit that Scott had a certain habit for getting himself into the most peculiar of situations. Each trap seemed stranger and more intricate the last, though thankfully all of them had yet to succeed in their purpose. And hopefully would continue to fail, so long as they kept tackling these things as a team. Two heads were better than one, after all, especially when facing odd contraptions made by people with even odder imaginations!
Scott always made it fun, though. It didn't always feel fun in the moment—there'd been a fair few times it had been nothing short of terrifying, in fact—but none of them were unpleasant memories to look back on. It was... amazing, to watch him work. The amazing Mister Miracle was the very embodiment of an unstoppable force, pushing tirelessly against immoveable objects until somehow, some way, he made them move. Where Clark would have moved onto plan B, Scott simply remained locked onto plan A, doing all he could to race them full-force into his solution.
It always worked, too. Like a wish came true. Like some kind of... miracle...
Oh. So that's where the name comes from!
It would be nice to spend some more time with him. The idea of spending tonight holed up somewhere, eating fast food alone, wasn't one he found particularly appealing, anyway. Especially not when compared to an offer like this!
❝ Only if you're sure. I wouldn't want to impose on anyone, least of all your Barda. ❞