A/N: These began (a LONG time ago) as a sort of writing exercise to get me thinking through specific characters' points of view and were fun to do - just found them and thought I'd share in the hopes it'll motivate me to get writing and posting again! Hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think! In this first story, I delve into one of my favorite characters - Jonathan Kent!

Disclaimer: Dialogue from each of these are taken from specific episodes and were written by others; no copyright infringement is intended.

-S-

You stand there, straight and tall, not quite sure where or how to put your arms in the outlandish costume Martha came up with (and really, I should have known that whatever her 'artistic' mind produced would be this strange and colorful), and I can tell that you're scared and nervous and unsure. But still you stand there and ask me what I think.

You're always a little scared, always just that bit off-balance, a step behind everyone else. I know that's partly my fault, but you were mine, Clark, ours, and I couldn't risk that, couldn't ever let someone come and take you away from us. So, yeah, maybe I overdid the dissection bit and maybe I told you too many times to be careful about how much you let show in front of others, but I hope you know that I've always been proud of you.

Because you're standing here in our living room in a farm in Kansas (and much as I love it, I know that it's not exactly what most people would call desirable), and you're dressed in an outfit that very obviously makes you uncomfortable, and you're ready and waiting to put your life on the line.

And all to help others.

I know I haven't been the best dad there ever was. I know that I've made mistakes. But in this moment, looking there at you, I feel so incredibly proud. Of you—and a little bit of me. Because for all the mistakes I made, I did something right. Your sense of right and wrong, your strong integrity, they were yours, but I didn't stamp them out, didn't teach you to ignore them, and maybe I even helped you develop them a bit. And you're trying to help and you're selfless and good, and I know all parents think their own children are the best, but I'm pretty sure that I have more reason than most.

You were put in a tiny spaceship and shot away—from another planet or just from somewhere horrible and wrong on this planet. And we found you. Out of all the nights and all the roads, Martha and I were on the right road at the right time to find a tiny little infant who smiled up at us and curled his fingers around my thumb. Sometimes the chance of it all boggles my mind and leaves me standing motionless, trying to wrap my brain around it.

And other times, like now, I just feel my heart swell up with pure gratitude. Because you're my son—our son—and you're standing in a costume that will outshine those fancy lit stores in Metropolis, and you're looking at me all full of fear and hope and nervousness, and I know one way or another you're going to change the world.

So I smile and I even get out a laugh despite the terror squeezing my insides into shapes much like your mother's clay when she's done molding it, and I say, "That's my boy."

And you are.

-S-