metropolis*

Batman v Superman Dawn of Justice 2016

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Fearing the actions of a god-like Super Hero left unchecked, Gotham City’s own formidable, forceful vigilante takes on Metropolis’s most revered, modern-day savior, while the world wrestles with what sort of hero it really needs. And with Batman and Superman at war with one another, a new threat quickly arises, putting mankind in greater danger than it’s ever known before.

when you’re reading an academic text and all of a sudden the phrase “‘male trash’ in the Criterion” arrives to punch you in the face

from Queer London: Perils and Pleasures in the Sexual Metropolis, 1918-1957 by Matt Houlbrook

Superman #76 (February 1993)

FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND, Part 4! Also, METROPOLIS MAILBAG, Part 2! This is a sequel to the very special Holiday story from last year, which revealed that Superman spends every Christmas eve reading all the letters people from around the world send him. This year, Superman is too busy being dead (and never, ever, ever coming back) to maintain the tradition, so the Metropolis Post Office has to settle for, oh, every other DC superhero ever.

Yes, all thirteen of them. (Captain Marvel, Robin, Nightwing, Maxima and Dr. Light II are standing off-camera.)

Anyway, as with last year, the requests Superman gets range from heartbreaking stuff, like a terminal lady looking for her son, to frivolous proposals, like some people who want to go into business with him (and probably “get down to business” too, I guess). Wonder Woman reads a letter from a woman thanking Superman for saving her family – even though she lost her house in the process. Yes, it’s the single mother whose house was blown up by Doomsday in Superman #74. And despite being homeless in a half-destroyed city, she apparently sent the letter that same day, before Superman died. That’s the resilience of the human spirit for you.

Meanwhile, that woman’s son, Mitch, has traveled to Metropolis hoping to talk to someone who was close to Superman – he wants to apologize for calling Supes a lame-o on that issue where we met him. Mitch wanders aimlessly but does end up meeting Superman’s best friend: Bibbo, of course. (Jimmy Olsen tags along.)

As Mitch visits Superman’s grave and promises he’ll try to be a better person, we see that the other superheroes not only rebuilt his mom’s house, but reunited her with Mitch’s deadbeat dad (who suddenly feels a deep love for his family, which I’m sure has nothing to do with the dozen muscular superpeople standing nearby). It’s a [whatever the Kryptonian equivalent of Christmas was] miracle!

Plotline-Watch:

  • Mitch did become a better person (he got a haircut and stopped wearing backwards caps, for starters), but it’ll be a while before we see that. Especially with our current update schedule.
  • The first person Mitch tried talking to was Superman’s widow: Luane Larkin! Or whatever this random lady pretending she was married to Superman is called. Lois Lane ain’t buying it, for some reason. Don Sparrow says: “I like the star shaped sticker? tattoo? as visual clue that ‘Mrs. Superman’ is a phoney and a flake.”
  • Regarding the last panel above, Don also says: “Apparently Daddy Warbucks was pretty interested in hearing from Superman’s widow.” Wait, I think… I think that’s actually the ghost of Lex Luthor Sr!!!
  • After that, the distraught Lois goes to Clark Kent’s heartbreakingly empty apartment… which is not so empty anymore, since Ma and Pa Kent arrive moments later and hug her. It’s a very touching moment. Than Lana Lang shows up out of nowhere and sorta ruins it. Nice going, Lana.
  • The Kents and the LLs then talk about whether they should tell the world Clark was Superman. They end up deciding against it since, you know, they’d probably get murdered by supervillains like two seconds later.
  • Rebuilding Mitch’s family wasn’t all the not-Superman squad did: Guy Gardner helped the terminal lady find her son, Maxima brought bananas to a homeless shelter, and Nightwing gave a microwave to some kids.
  • The issue ends with Mitch and Jimmy leaving Superman’s tomb just as Ma, Pa, Lois and Lana arrive… and none of them notices that, right below them, someone is literally snatching Superman’s coffin. That someone turns out to be freaking Paul Westfield, director of Project Cadmus and major jerk. So that’s a big “TO BE CONTINUED!” right there.

But before that, Don Sparrow has more to say about this issue…

Keep reading

Why the fuck do the majority of the superheros live on the east coast? Gotham is in NJ, Avengers Tower is in New York, Metropolis in New York, the Xavier School for Higher Learning is located in New York. Thank god these stories arent in the same universe or else the East Coast and New York would cease to exist

The idea of the ‘colour bar’ carried with it all the associations which today we would attribute to the generalized notion of ‘institutional racism’, but with one exception. The colour bar was an unofficial institution of British colonialism, a conventionalized series of racist practices and decision-making which regulated and barred the participation and mobility of colonial subjects within the jurisdiction of British (imperial and national) civilian and military institutions. Yet unlike the idea of institutionalised racism, which is usually understood in Britain today as a racist-nationalist reaction to ‘non-white’ immigration associated with the post-Windrush era, the meaning of the colour bar referenced a longer British colonial history. It spoke to a proactive range of exclusionary and subordinating practices applied to people of colour, not only in the colonies but in the metropolis. By highlighting the colour bar in Britain as a problem within the overall context of British imperialism, Manchester 1945 pointed to the interior colonial formation of British society in which racism was becoming entrenched and detached from the exterior imperial project.
—  Diasporicity: Black Britain’s Post-Colonial Formations; Barnor Hesse

@irelandsmutantseancassidy ::; liked for a pre-transition starter –

Lex heard the splash as something landed in the pool behind the Luthor mansion in the heart of Metropolis.  He looked up from his book – a rereading of Lolita, because he’d turned to rereading it over and over since…

Well.  No thinking about that. 

Anyway, he looked up, tipping his heart-shaped sunglasses down to see clearly as a redhead, fully dressed, was floating in his pool.

“What the fuck?”

everytime i wear my “Lex Luthor for President: Make Metropolis Great Again” shirt I’m horrified ppl will look at it too quickly and assume I support Trump

sentence starters #47 part two

thanks for all the love guys❤️

p.s I just want you guys to know i wrote this entire thing and then tumblr deleted it so sorry if it seems rushed and short.️

part one: http://ohnopuddin.tumblr.com/post/148840098381/sentence-starters-47

characters: joker, reader, superman️

warnings: angry joker profanity guns yelling deaths, whoops clark kent, angry author bc tumblr deleted her original writing️

You couldn’t fathom the betrayal. You sped down roads of gotham trying to put as much distance between J and yourself. Your black ferrari scared pedestrians into rushing across the street.

A clap thunder boomed above sky opened up. Gods tears mixing in with your own in perfect doleful harmony. Your heart ached and your ears rang. Your migraine had multiplied and pain flooded your mind from all sides.

Your car sped across the bridge between cities, looking for some sort of safe haven. Metropolis had high pristine building and dirty streets. Not much different from Gotham in that way.

Your tears blinded your vision and your ferarri hydroplaned. In a panic, you jerked the steering wheel, only for the car to flip and crash into the pavement. The sound of metal scraping gravel rang in your ear and you could smell the blood and gasoline pooling under you.

You crawled out of the window in attempts to get away from the car that was destined to blow and cried out when your knees got cut with broken glass.

He saw you from across the street. He had just clocked out from work and was ready to head home. It all happened so fast. The crying girl with mascara running down her face and the flipping sports car. He didn’t know how to react. If he acted now, his cover may be blown.

Then he saw her crawl out of the flipped car and pull herself to her feet. No normal person could withstand that pain.️

He immediately ran to the other side of the road where you sat on the curb, watching your car go up in flames as you leaned against a mail box.

“Are you okay?” He voice broke you out of your thoughts filled with green hair and self pity and your eyes locked onto the blue irises in front of you.

You nodded and looked back to the car. Your bare feet were cut up and pruned from the mix of glass and pain puddles. But you didn’t care. The man was confused. Why were you so distraught? Who had hurt you?

“Do you need a ride to the hospital? Or home?” He asked, taking a seat on the wet curb next to you. You looked at the man beside you a shook your head, water droplets falling from your hair.

“I don’t have a home. Not anymore.” You closed your eyes and a few stray tears tracked down your face mixed with the cold rain.

“Well, you shouldn’t stay out in the rain all night.” He stood up and offered you a hand. “You can come stay at my place. I promise I’m not a psycho path.”️

You smiled at him softly before grabbing his hand and allowing him to pull you up. “Yeah I know crazy personally, and you don’t fit the bill.”

He smiled at you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t force a convincing smile. “I’m Clark, by the way.”

•••

He paced around the trashed house. His green hair was disheveled and tangled due to him running his fingers through it so many times.

Why did everything hurt? His head was pounding and all his muscles felt like they were set on fire. Picture frames were thrown across rooms and shattered against walls. Plates and glasses found themselves in pieces on the hardwood floor.

He didn’t know what to do. Why did this hurt so badly. Harley had left him many time before but it never hurt like it did when you left him. Why was that?️

With Harley, he had found her perfectly innocent and sweet. And to keep her to himself he had to drag her down. Drag her all the way down to his lever of crazy.

With you, he never had to trick you. You had liked him the way he was, crazy and all. You brought him up to your level most of the time. You kept him from the brink of explosion.

He walked passed a cracked mirror in the hallway and stopped. He took in how broken down and messy he looked. And he realized why it hurt so bad. He had fallen in love with you. Somewhere in this crazy thing called life you managed to steal his cold heart. And he was scared he may never get it back.

Hot, salty, fat tears tore down his pale face and he clenched his fingers at his sides. He was determined to get you back. Even if it meant dragging you down to his level.

You were his queen. And God forbid he rule his kingdom without his queen.

•••

The chipped paint on his apartment door gathered in small piled and you waited patiently for him to open the door.

“Now, it’s not much, but it’s warm and I have a pull out bed-” he started nervously, worried that his abode would not be enough to please you. ️

“I’m sure it’s fine, really.” You offered a small smile and he sighed in defeat and opened the door.

The living room was small and cozy. With a nice television and a comfortable looking couch. The only problem was the hideous shade of orange on the walls. ️

Clark quickly walked down the hall into another room and you sat awkwardly, unsure of what to do. When he returned, he had a pair of sweatpants and a tank top in his hands.“Uh- here you go. You can change in the bathroom down the hall.” He pointed to the door with a golden handle and you nodded your head.

The bathroom was small and cramped. You stripped off your clothes and started at your reflection in the mirror. You looked dead. Your makeup had run down your face in a river of black and your hair was a tangled mess.

When you came out of the bathroom, you felt much better. Warm clothes and a clean face to make you feel a little relieved from the pain of the past hours events. You walked into the living room and saw Clark sitting on the couch, with two cups of tea and a blanket.

You took a seat next to him, sinking into the cushion, and accepted the mug handed to you. “I guess I should say thank you.” You sighed rubbing your hands on the warm porcelain mug.

He smiled gently and shook his head. “No it’s fine, really. It’s what any decent person would have done.“

“You know, with the shit day i’ve had, the last thing I expected was to be sharing a room with Superman.” You winked and brought the hot liquid to your lips, watching his reaction of shock.

“How- how did you?” He stumbled over his ️words. Not quiet sure how to react.

“Your eyes. Your eyes give it away.” You shrugged and looked at his tense demeanor. “Don’t worry though, your secret’s safe with me.” You looked down into the tea and sighed sadly. “I ain’t got anyone to tell anyways.”

“Why- why were you crying in the car like that?” He asked nervously, the question eating away at him.

You hesitated, a sudden pain shooting through your veins. You debated on telling him. Could you even trust him? Did he know who you really were? He saw your hesitation and immediately went to apologize before you cut him off. “I came home from work today, to see my boyfriend in bed with his ex.”

“Oh.” The words passed through his lips with a hint of anger. How could someone do that? Especially to someone as beautiful as you?

“Yep.” You sighed, and placed the empty mug on the coffee table.

“Well he’s a loser then. Anyone who would leave someone as beautiful as you has to be.”

You blushed at his words. You had only ever been called beautiful by J before. It was refreshing to have someone new say it. “That’s the thing though. He’s not a loser. He’s successful in what he does and I mean I guess I should have seen it coming. Him and his ex were practically made for each other.” The last words escaped your mouth bitterly and left a taste in your mouth. “Now, I have no idea what to do. I can’t go back. I guess I just have to start over.”

Clark sighed at your worrisome thoughts. He didn’t want so much stress on you. It wasn’t right. “Well, you can stay here as long as you’d like.”️

You smiled at him and held up your finger. “On one condition.”

He laughed lightly and rolled his eyes.“Oh so you’re making demands now?”

“You let me paint this room a different color. I mean really, its terrible.” You laughed and for the first time forgetting the ache in your heart.

“Deal.”

Months of living in Metropolis had gone by. You had gotten yourself a job at a local law firm as a secretary. It wasn’t exactly fun, but help you pay the bills with Clark.

Clark had become your best friend. Two days after he took you in he had painted the walls a nice shade of blue, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than the orange.

If you said you hadn’t thought about the green-haired fiend, you be lying. He ran through you thoughts all hours of the day and it pained you. You knew you would never allow yourself to go back to him. It would go against everything you stood for.

Another day had rolled by and you were headed out the law firm’s glass doors, going to meet Clark for lunch like you did everyday. The streets were more crowded than usual as you tried to push your way to the small café across the street, waving to Clark through the window with a smile.

Thats when you head the loud bangs of a machine gun. Your heart plummeted as you crouched down with all the other scared citizens. You weren’t scared. You were terrified. Terrified because you knew he had come for you.

“(Y/N), my kitten! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” J’s loud voice boomed through the streets and you clenched your fist, not wanted to show yourself. “Playing hard to get, huh? Alright.” You heard a gun go off and a loud scream from a citizen. You knew he had shot someone.️

You sprang up and walked on shaky legs to the middle of the street where he could see you. You saw the dead old woman sprawled out next to the jeep his goons drove and you took a step back out of shock. Your eyes moved to the café window to find Clark gone. You sighed in relief because you knew he was never going to let you be taken.

“Do you know how long it took me to find you? I’ve been searching far and wide, only to find out you’ve just been across the bridge!” He laughed loudly and hopped out of the jeep, smoothing out his hair and walking forward with open arms. “I’ve missed ya baby.”

You shook your head and ignored the throbbing pain in your heart and glassy eyes. You saw his eyes flicked above you before Superman landed in front of you like a protective wall. “Oh spandex, back off would ya? I’m trying to get my baby back here.” Joker growled agitated at your protector.

Clark turned around and whispered to you. “Really? That’s your ex?”

“Oops.” You smiled sheepishly and moved farther behind him.

️ ️

Superman turned to face the villain and crossed his arms. “She doesn’t want you. Go back to Gotham. This is your only warning.” ️

J loaded his pistol and waved it around. “I’m not leaving without her.” He glared at Superman and scoffed. “Why do you care so much anyways?” ️

Though you couldn’t see Clark’s face, he must of done something, because J got really mad. He began walking forward at a fast pace and pointed his gun at him. “You fucking love her.” ️

Your heart seemed to stop as you looked at the muscled back of the man protecting you. He loved you? How? Your thoughts crashed as multiple gun shots went off and hit Clark, falling into the pavement. “You’re not allowed to have her! I love her!” ️

You swear your ears must have been deceiving you. He loved you now all of a sudden? After all the shit he pulled on you. You stepped out in front of Clark and stared J down.

“You fucking dare come marching in guns blazing and try to tell me you love me? After all the shit you pulled? No, fuck you. I hate you, remember?” ️

Joker’s usual smile dropped, and so did his gun. He looked in your eyes for any sense of regret but only found anger. Maybe he really did loose you. ️

The sound of police sirens echoed through the street and J just continued to look at you in disbelief. It wasn’t until his goons shook him out of it that he crawled into the jeep. His blue eyes met yours once before he whispered “I’m sorry, Doll.” ️

part three: http://ohnopuddin.tumblr.com/post/148961613946/sentence-starters-47-part-3

Originally posted by papermagazine

Originally posted by vrdantt