(no subject)
*sigh* New 52 Superboy is so awful. But I refuse to give up on him, I feel like the Kon is love is still in there, somewhere.
So I try to draw him out with art. Like, if I tried to draw him in his new costume but Tom Grummet's style, would that help? If I tried to write little bits of meta-fic, would that help?
Grummet's style is haaaaaard.
Once upon a time, in another world and another life, he was created for a great purpose. He was the greatest hero on Earth reborn, cloned to replace the original after he died saving the world. And even if he was young and inexperienced, even if he didn’t have the fallen hero’s memories, even if he sometimes (most of the time) fell short of that ideal-he still knew who he was meant to be. He was more than just a set of fancy powers, more than a costume. He was more than the sum of his mistakes and flaws and failures. Because someday, when he was older and stronger and smarter and better, someday when he was good enough, he was going to be Superman. And that was awesome.
It wasn’t always awesome, of course. He had no idea how he could ever be good enough, especially after the first Superman came back and he actually met him and realized just how high the bar had been set. Sometimes the real Superman made him feel so small and stupid and weak and flawed that he couldn’t imagine ever being able to measure up, but he never stopped trying. It was the greatest, best thing he could ever aspire to, and he believed in it with all his heart and-yes-soul.
But that was another life. Everything he had been and believed in that life is still part of him, in so far as it’s still part of his potential, but the circumstances in this new life have not helped him realize that potential. In this life he was made to be a weapon, not a hero.
In this life, no one ever told him he could be Superman.
So I try to draw him out with art. Like, if I tried to draw him in his new costume but Tom Grummet's style, would that help? If I tried to write little bits of meta-fic, would that help?
Grummet's style is haaaaaard.
Once upon a time, in another world and another life, he was created for a great purpose. He was the greatest hero on Earth reborn, cloned to replace the original after he died saving the world. And even if he was young and inexperienced, even if he didn’t have the fallen hero’s memories, even if he sometimes (most of the time) fell short of that ideal-he still knew who he was meant to be. He was more than just a set of fancy powers, more than a costume. He was more than the sum of his mistakes and flaws and failures. Because someday, when he was older and stronger and smarter and better, someday when he was good enough, he was going to be Superman. And that was awesome.
It wasn’t always awesome, of course. He had no idea how he could ever be good enough, especially after the first Superman came back and he actually met him and realized just how high the bar had been set. Sometimes the real Superman made him feel so small and stupid and weak and flawed that he couldn’t imagine ever being able to measure up, but he never stopped trying. It was the greatest, best thing he could ever aspire to, and he believed in it with all his heart and-yes-soul.
But that was another life. Everything he had been and believed in that life is still part of him, in so far as it’s still part of his potential, but the circumstances in this new life have not helped him realize that potential. In this life he was made to be a weapon, not a hero.
In this life, no one ever told him he could be Superman.