#DCuniverse

[animusrox]

THE BATMAN (2022) dir. Matt Reeves THE PENGUIN (2024) 1x02 "Inside Man" dir. Craig Zobel

[dailyflicks]

We were gonna run the family together. But Berto was taken from me.

THE PENGUIN 1x02 "Inside Man"

[fawcetttweets]

The Cheese

Starting a new blog! I have never used twitter once in my life and I’m still figuring out this tweet making app but I think this could be fun! Ignore any weird inconsistencies please I’m trying. All usernames were made up on the spot I hope none of them are used by real people and if they are they weren’t intended to be.

Masterlist // Next

[riverspider]

Winter in Gotham. THE PENGUIN — 1.06 "Gold Summit"

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Omg the quality of it on Tumblr is terrible why does it look like that

[minyboy]

And I shall shed my light over dark evil, for the dark things cannot stand the light. The light of … THE GREEN LANTERN!

[crimsonkingart]

In the first Bruce and Dick are hiding from Alfie 😂😂 (the other are sketches)

[actionkiddy]

Supergirl (Kara)! I saw the recent Superman show and wanted to draw Kara~!

[teratron]

George Perez on the highest compliments he got for his Wonder Woman run.

[yanderejustforyou]

Hii can you please do Sofia Falcone being self conscious and nervous about her body scars but her girlfriend comforts her? Maybe worships each scar

Sofia stood in front of the mirror, her blouse halfway undone, revealing the intricate map of scars that decorated her torso. Each line was a testament to survival, a history written in flesh. Yet, tonight, they felt heavier, uglier. She traced one with her finger, a jagged line that curved along her ribcage, and frowned.

"You okay, Sofia?" Your voice cut through the silence like a gentle breeze, pulling her out of the swirling depths of her thoughts. The concern woven into your tone was palpable, hanging in the air between you.

Sofia froze in place, her fingers stilled mid-trace, hovering over the smooth surface of the table. “I’m fine,” she replied, but the weakness in her voice was unmistakable—a telltale sign that her bravado was crumbling.

As you stepped into the room, you noticed the way the light played off her reflection in the window, and a wave of worry washed over you. “No, you’re not,” you said softly yet firmly. You approached her, your heart aching at the sight of her, and you placed your hands lightly on her shoulders, offering a grounding presence. “Talk to me.”

Her jaw tightened, and she struggled to compose herself. “They’re hideous,” she admitted at last, her gaze still glued to the mirror, as if searching for something beyond just her reflection. “These scars—they make me look... broken.” The vulnerability in her words struck you hard, and you could see the darkness shadowing her light.

You frowned, instinctively turning her body to face you fully. “Sofia.” You said her name as if it were a precious gem, deserving of reverent treatment in the midst of utter chaos. As your hands moved down her arms, you felt the tension in her body, the way she seemed to be trying to shrink away from herself. “They’re not hideous. They’re a part of who you are—a part of what made you the incredible woman I love.”

Shaking her head, she tried to deflect the truth of your words. “It’s easy for you to say that. You don’t have to live with them.” The weight of her shame hung heavily in the air, an invisible barrier that separated her from the comfort she desperately needed.

Without a word, you guided her gently to sit on the edge of the bed, the soft fabric meeting the hazy cloud of her distress. Kneeling in front of her, you reached for the buttons of her blouse, meeting her gaze as you paused, asking for permission. “May I?”

Her breath hitched at the intimacy of the moment, yet she nodded, granting you access to the vulnerability bubbling beneath the surface.

With deliberate care, you began to undo the buttons one by one, revealing the scars she had kept hidden for far too long. As her shirt slipped off her shoulders, exposing the delicate contours of her skin, you let your fingertips brush over the marks etched across her body. Each scar told a story of battles fought and won, and you traced them with a gentleness that sent a shiver through her.

“See, Sofia?” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to one scar near her collarbone, your breath warm against her skin. “These aren’t flaws. They’re strength.” You followed with another kiss, this time to a scar that ran along her ribs. “They’re resilience.” Your lips hovered over a faint mark on her stomach. “They’re survival.”

Her hands moved instinctively to your shoulders, gripping you tightly—holding on as if you were her anchor in a stormy sea. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

Looking deep into her eyes, your heart swelled with love and fierce determination. “I want to. I want you to know how beautiful you are, every single part of you.” The sincerity behind your words hung in the air like a promise.

Tears gathered in her eyes, pooling as she fought to maintain her composure, but you gently caught her chin, tilting her face back toward you with tender care. “You’re perfect to me, Sofia. Scars and all.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips, her defenses crumbling in that moment of honesty. “You make me feel like I could believe that,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion, each word a fragile bridge to her true self.

Standing, you pulled her into your arms, enveloping her in warmth and reassurance. “Then let me remind you every day, until you truly do.”

"Real love is a protector, a defender, a ride-or-die connection that stays with you for always and in all ways. It is raw and it will roar for you if required. It will stay with you in quietness and be your comfort."

Sofia melted against you, the barriers she had built around herself dissolving in the cocoon of your embrace. As she rested her head on your shoulder, she finally allowed the cascade of her vulnerability to wash over her. In your arms, the weight of the past faded into insignificance—she didn’t feel broken; she felt whole.

"In time those scars will be silver trails to a better future, a road map of survival and triumph, a story that can bring you pride and inspire."

"You are loved."

"I LOVE YOU"

Real love is truly the greatest blessing that heaven can bestow upon us. It is the kind of love that enriches your soul, inspires you to be your best self, and roots you in a sense of belonging. It transcends time and space, creating a bond that lasts beyond the ordinary.

So, embrace it!

[animusrox]

The Batman (2022) dir. Matt Reeves

[ballinandcantgetup452]

Terry McGinnis is the only person who can be the next Batman

I don't normally make hard statements like this. I typically hate it when somebody makes hard statements like this, but hear me out.

No prior Batfamily character can be the next Batman. I'll keep it brief and explain why going person by person (obvious headcanon warning)

Dick is definitely a likelier candidate than most. He can cover for Batman if the need ever arises. But I believe that Dick Grayson hates the idea of actually becoming Batman. He can play the role. He was a circus kid and he's got the heart of a theatre kid, he can play the role all day long. But he was the first. He arguably saw Batman at his natural worst. He and Alfred, anyways. I'm going to drop some OP lore to further elaborate. My dad's a pastor. He's a really good pastor. He's a good man, and he may be an ass, but that's because I know him as "dad". For YEARS, people would tell me that I was just like him, and for a long time, I wanted to be him. It's what boys do when their dad is at the very least decent. But, as I got older, I saw the tapestry and saw the flaws. I saw how tired being a pastor made my dad. I saw how much of his life being a pastor was taking up. I would never tell my dad to stop being a pastor, because that's him. That's his calling; and if he was anything else, then he'd be a soulless, husk of a man. But I've seen what being a pastor does to you, and I don't want that. I want to be better than that. Dick Grayson has seen what The Batman does to a person. He's seen Bruce do things that Dick would never do, and the idea of being the next Batman is something that got soured to him. And it definitely doesn't help that that's what a lot of people used to do to him. So yeah, traumadumping aside, Dick would never STAY Batman. Even if he doesn't know it.

I honestly think it's best if Jason stays as far away from the idea of The Batman legacy as possible. Jason's at the best possible spot right now. He's taken his trauma and has turned it into his empowerment. I don't care what Three Jokers says, that's dumb. Joker's an ass, we don't listen to him. ESPECIALLY if he's swapped out his gun for a crowbar and has a no-kill rule, Jason could be Red Hood until he's 90 and it'll be narratively fulfilling.

Tim is one I see get thrown around a lot. However, I believe that The Batman would absolutely DESTROY him and he would be too stubborn to acknowledge it. One common denominator I believe every Robin goes through is the realization of "oh wow, Bruce is not okay" and trying to be better than that. While I do believe that Tim went through that, I also believe that Tim is arrogant enough to believe that he's better than that. Even putting all of the "alternate Tim evil gun toting Batman" futures aside, I think that Tim is obsessive enough as is. Giving him the mantle of The Batman would cause him to obsess even more to be like Bruce thus causing ANOTHER evil gun toting alternate future Batman. Tim is best as Red Robin. An independent agent that can go well with ANY Batman to keep them on the straight and narrow.

Babs is best as Oracle. No I will not be elaborating. If you want her to be Batgirl, then say that she can Batgirl every once and a while but doing it stresses out the microchip in her back.

Steph is best as Spoiler. She backdoored her way into the Batfamily by being competent enough as Spoiler. I honestly wish that she could be like Batwoman and establish herself as Batfamily adjacent and have her own supporting cast and such. If she does have one, then I'm sorry. Cassie is kind of a blind spot.

Sadly, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, and Harper Row are even bigger blindspots of mine. From what I've seen of them, I can't think of any reasons they couldn't be Batman. However, I can't think of any reasons why they especially should be Batman.

Damian Wayne is my personal vote for becoming the next Batman out of everybody pre established. Not for any birthright reasons. That's dumb. Admittedly, DCeased really turned me on to the idea. I think that the idea of Damian being the child raised by Bruce that turned out the best is a really good idea. In retrospect, I guess the idea of birthright is technically why I'm choosing Damian. BUT, understand I'm doing it with the caveat that Damian is fully developed as a person and as a character. That is the END of his arc.

HOWEVER, Terry McGinnis takes the cake for me in terms of Batman successor. This is going off of the idea that he isn't a Bruce clone. I don't know how canon we've made that, but canon is relative, so I'm saying it's not for the sake of argument. Terry is an outsider. He has no baggage with the idea of The Batman. He's just a guy working through some grief with The Batman being used as a vehicle. He doesn't know any of the Bruceisms. He never had to explain to his friends that his dad is crazy and he's sorry he made contingency plans for all of them. Terry McGinnis gets to make Batman his own. And, luckily, he gets to have a fully realized Bruce to guide him along the way. I also think that it opens so much more story potential. It's essentially a soft reboot for The Batman as an idea. Everybody else can be out doing their own thing. But I think this works in the same way that Miguel O'Hara can ALSO be Spider-Man. I believe that every intimate Batfamily member would follow Bruce's footsteps by making Batman an UNHEALTHY obsession. Terry would be different, he'd lead the pack by turning The Batman into something HEALTHY.

Or maybe I don't read enough comics and all my interpretations are super surface level. Let me know. I'm willing to be wrong.

[fawcetttweets]

Todays Foresight

Masterlist // First // Next

[layla-lobelia]

Chapter 1 : The Sun

Word Count: Approximately 1,162 words. Summary: The story begins with a nine-year-old Clark Kent watching as new neighbors, the Johnson family, move into the farmhouse next door.

The Kansas sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the golden fields surrounding the Kent farm. Nine-year-old Clark Kent sat on the porch steps, his legs swinging back and forth as he watched the dust trail behind the moving truck rolling down the narrow dirt road. The truck creaked to a stop beside the neighboring farmhouse, a place that had been empty for as long as Clark could remember.

Clark tugged at the edge of his flannel shirt, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. New neighbors weren’t exactly common in Smallville, and the idea of meeting someone new made his heart race a little. He glanced back at the screen door behind him, where his mom, Martha Kent—or Ma Kent as everyone in town called her—was finishing up in the kitchen.

“You ready to meet the new folks?” Ma asked as she stepped out, carrying a large apple pie wrapped in a checkered cloth. Her smile was bright, but she had a keen way of noticing when Clark was uneasy.

“Yeah, I guess,” Clark replied, his voice a little higher than usual. He wasn’t scared exactly, but he couldn’t help feeling a little jittery.

Ma laughed softly and set the pie down for a moment, kneeling beside him. “They’re just people, Clark. Probably nervous, just like you are. But what’s the best way to meet new folks?”

Clark rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help grinning. “With kindness,” he said, parroting what Ma had told him a hundred times before.

“That’s right.” She ruffled his hair gently. “Now come on. Let’s give ‘em a proper Smallville welcome.”

Clark hopped off the porch, his boots kicking up little puffs of dirt as he and his mother made their way across the field that separated their farm from the neighbors’. He could see two men unloading furniture from the truck, lifting a couch and a couple of boxes toward the house. A woman stood nearby, shading her eyes with one hand as she surveyed the work. As Ma and Clark approached, the woman turned toward them and smiled.

“Hello there!” Ma Kent called out cheerfully, waving with her free hand.

The woman wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to greet them. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, and her brown skin glowed in the sunlight. She looked warm and welcoming, the kind of person who could put anyone at ease with just a smile.

“Well, hello!” she said, her voice bright and full of energy. “You must be the Kents! I’m Flora Johnson. We’ve heard so many good things about you already.”

“And we’ve been lookin’ forward to meeting you,” Ma Kent replied, offering the pie with both hands. “We brought a little something—hope you all like apple pie.”

Flora’s eyes lit up as she accepted the pie. “Apple pie? Oh, this is just perfect! Thank you so much, Martha.” She handed Ma Kent a large glass jar filled with amber-colored honey. “My husband and I keep bees, so here’s a little something from our hive. You’ll never find better honey.”

Clark stood quietly by Ma’s side, his eyes flicking between the two women. He wasn’t sure when he was supposed to speak, and he felt like he was too big to hide behind Ma’s skirt but too shy to just stand there.

Flora seemed to notice Clark for the first time, her eyes softening as she bent down slightly to his level. “And who’s this handsome young man?”

“This is my son, Clark,” Ma Kent said with a proud smile. “Clark, say hello to Mrs. Johnson.”

Clark’s ears burned red as he mumbled, “Hello, ma’am,” keeping his eyes on the ground.

Flora chuckled softly. “A little shy, huh? Don’t worry, my daughter’s the same way. She’s around your age, but she’s probably hiding out in the barn right now. She’s not too thrilled about moving.”

Ma Kent gave Clark a gentle nudge. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself, Clark? I’m sure she’d love to meet someone her own age.”

Clark hesitated for a moment, but the idea of meeting someone new tugged at him, curiosity outweighing his nerves. “Okay,” he said, giving his mom a quick nod before walking toward the barn, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

As he rounded the side of the barn, he spotted a girl standing on the other side of a wooden fence. Her curly black hair, tied back with a red scarf, bounced as she tried to scramble over the fence. Her overalls, covered in tiny embroidered flowers, were dirt-smudged, and her face was scrunched up in concentration as she pulled herself up, one foot barely managing to hook over the top rail.

Clark watched for a moment, biting back a laugh, before stepping closer. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

The girl startled, her grip slipping as she dropped back down to the ground with a soft thud. She spun around, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I’m tryin’ to leave,” she muttered, wiping her hands on her overalls as she glared at him. “What’s it to you?”

Clark blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Leave? But… you just got here.”

Layla frowned and crossed her arms. “I don’t like it here. What if the people here are mean? I don’t know anyone, and I don’t wanna be here.”

Clark tilted his head, thinking for a second before he stepped a little closer. “I’m not mean. And you know me now.”

The girl huffed but didn’t say anything, her stubbornness starting to crack a little.

“I’ll be your friend,” Clark said simply, his voice full of warmth. “That way, you don’t have to worry about not knowin’ anyone. I’m Clark, by the way.”

Layla’s frown slowly melted into something softer as she stared at him. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m Layla,” she said quietly, kicking at the dirt with her boot. “You really wanna be my friend?”

Clark shrugged like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Why not? We’re neighbors, right? And I don’t got many friends either.”

Layla’s eyes widened a little, as if she couldn’t quite believe he meant it. She glanced back at the fence for a moment, then at Clark. Finally, she gave a small, hesitant smile. “You don’t seem like a bad neighbor.”

Clark smiled back, feeling a sense of relief and happiness spread through him. “And you don’t seem so bad yourself.”

Layla took a step forward, a little more confident now. “So… what do you do around here? Is there anything fun?”

Clark thought for a moment, then grinned. “Well, there’s a creek just down the hill. We can catch frogs and stuff. And sometimes Pa lets me drive the tractor. It’s pretty cool.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “You can drive a tractor?”

Clark puffed out his chest a little. “Yup! Well, mostly just steer it. But it’s still fun.”

Layla giggled, the sound light and free. “Alright, that sounds kinda fun. Maybe this place won’t be so bad after all.”

Clark beamed, glad that he had managed to cheer her up. “Come on, I’ll show you the creek. It’s not far.”

Layla hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Okay, but you better not trick me.”

“I won’t!” Clark said with a laugh, already turning to lead the way. “Promise.”

As they walked back toward the barn, Layla glanced over at Clark, a small smile playing on her lips. Maybe this new place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[minyboy]

Kinsley Wood is dressed up as a creature of the night, Raven.

[crimsonkingart]

So I drawing again Dick like a nymph and Bruce like a dark knight🦇💙