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Justice League of America

Volume: 1 #42

Metamorpho Says NO

Writers: Gardner Fox

Pencils: Mike Sekowsky

Inks: Bernard Sachs

Covers: Mike Sekowsky, Murphy Anderson

Featuring: Atom (Ray Palmer), Batman (Bruce Wayne), Flash (Barry Allen), Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), Metamorpho (Rex Mason), Superman


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the way my brain works is, I was looking at some DCU stuff and decided there and then that Daniel Sharman could work as my fancast for Hal Jordan.

he’s not exactly how I imagine the character (I tend to picture him older simply because I see him vis-a-vis younger Lanterns or overgrown sidekicks, but in truth Sharman is in his mid thirties and there is time!), although I think he could pull it off. no, this is almost solely because if he went for a role where he’s clean-shaven again, I would so be here for it.

(no, seriously, why is it that when I’m ott aesthetically into a guy -something that happens once in a blue moon, approximately-, it’s immediately ruined by them gaining worrying amounts of hyper defined muscle mass and/or ridiculous facial hair. why isn’t the universe catering to my shallowness)

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There was nowhere else on Earth like Smallville. Or, for that matter, off of it.

Of course, little but the high holidays and complete disaster seemed to bring him back here these days. Sometimes he had to wonder whether regular adults felt the same as him, living so far from the places they’d grown up in. That aching wonder at being able to come home, with the overlapping whisper of a sense that that home couldn’t last forever.

Disaster made Clark Kent more introspective than Christmas, it turned out.

Bruce, who had stripped down to the suit baselayer with a pair of Clark’s sweatpants pulled over top, was leaning against the railing of the porch. He appeared to be watching the sunrise, though Clark suspected that was a front for him staring into the middle distance lost in thought. Clark would swear part of the reason the man kept the lenses in his cowl down during League meetings was to disguise the difference between his absent thinking expression and the force of his focus.

“How’s he doing?” Clark asked, voice kept low. Ma and Pa would be up soon anyway, but after the late night they’d caused it was the least he could do.

“Lantern is fine,” Bruce replied. His only tell was a tightening of his knuckles on the railing, there and then gone.

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