#* closed verse: the last son of krypton & the first son of earth

[greatkrypton]

     ROOFTOP FARMING: GROWING A GREENER FUTURE FOR METROPOLIS may not be the most ambitious story of Clark’s career — it’s certainly not headline-worthy, especially when compared to the one Lois mentioned she had while already halfway out the door this morning — but it’s his favorite kind to write. Darrisha Williams was on a woman on a mission: to create a steady supply of fresh, locally-grown fruits and vegetables for the city’s food pantries and residents in need despite the lack of land and soil available. She’s already set up an agreement with a delivery company to bring crates of her produce to an apartment in Southside!

     If Williams isn’t a story worth telling, well, then Clark doesn’t know what would be.

     He’s eating one of the aeroponics-grown strawberries ( “intensely flavored and resplendently red,” he’d jotted down in his notepad ) when he hears it: far off in the distance, something is falling through the sky and it’s heading their way! Clark looks at Williams, who's explaining how her organization uses coconut fibre as a substitute for peat, and makes the quick decision to interrupt: “E-excuse me, Miss Williams, but what about the vegetables over there? Could you tell me a little more about them, please?”

     Clark walks towards the plot he gestured to, but ‘trips’ into Williams and sends her tumbling onto a large bag of the coco coir she’d been talking about — not the most graceful means of maneuvering her out of harm’s way, he admits, but a few minor cuts ( if even that ) are better than the alternative — and stands ready to catch the thing that’s hurling towards them. He’s finally able to identify it as a large piece of debris, likely from an aircraft, and catches it with both hands, the terminal velocity behind the scrap of reinforced metal pushing him back.

     Dropping the debris to the ground with a heavy ‘thud,’ Clark moves to throw himself onto the floor to make it appear as if he’d also fallen when he ‘tripped’ into Williams, but in his rush to do so, slides his foot against a large hose and loses his balance, causing him to fall backwards and off the rooftop they had been conducting their interview on. Shaking his head, Clark prepares to fly back up to the roof ( maybe make it look like he’s ‘pulling’ himself back up from the edge so it’s not as suspicious ) only to spot Williams peering down at him from above.

“OH MY GOD!” she practically shrieks. “CLARK!”

     Oh, that poor woman.

     Now that he has an audience, Clark starts screaming and flailing his arms and legs about as he lets himself fall. If he’s able to spot a flagpole or gargoyle on the way down, then he can 'steer’ himself so his clothes catch the end of it; or maybe once he’s fallen down far enough where he’s completely out of her view, he can fly away and return as Superman to reassure her he’s safe...

“Oof!” Clark’s thoughts are interrupted by the very unfamiliar sensation of being caught in midair. Blinking, he glances up at his savior to find a very familiar face.

“Superboy! I sure am glad you were around to catch me! I, uh, don’t suppose you’d mind sparing a moment or two for a short interview, would you?”

“After you’re done saving the day, I mean,” Clark adds with a lopsided smile.

     It looks like he might have a front page story for Perry, after all. But first, this looks like a job for Superboy and Superman!

look! up in the sky! it’s a bird! it’s a plane! it’s @supermantm​​​!

[setsailslash]

🙈 clarkjay: you never get what you love, so you love what you get

so this is literally like nothing i said i would do for your prompt, my friend 🙈now that i’ve established this, here is 2nd person pov DCEU verse clarkjay.

Your death is violence reincarnated. 

His is too.

When you watch Superman return from the dead on the breaking news, you almost laugh loud enough to wake the neighbours. Especially when you see him shake off the members of Bruce’s team like flies. The only one going toe-to-toe with him being Diana Prince, but that’s not a surprise when you’ve already been through all of Bruce’s files. 

You heard they were calling themselves the Justice League. 

And you had to wonder if it was Bruce to come up with a name like that.

-

Coming back is not easy. 

You don’t suppose it’s going to be any easier for the last son of Krypton. 

“You’re not Bruce.”

You don’t laugh in his face only because Alfred has taught you manners. Instead, you step aside and let him inside the house. You don’t take a second look at his light blue pick up truck parked down the long driveway, all covered in dust and dirt.

“And you’re not Superman.” You tell him, bringing a hand up to push a pair of invisible glasses set over the bridge of your nose, watching Clark Kent go red when you do, and you think, good. Because you really aren’t quite sure what those black-framed glasses are trying to hide.

“Oh, you know.”

He even has the decency to sound surprised.

“I guess you’re not from here.” You meant Gotham but really, you could mean here in the broadest sense of the word too: this Earth. But you’re not quite sure whether he is ready to hear that from you. You go with something that packs a little softer punch. “We tend to know everything. It’s a Bat trait, Clark.”

A bad pun for a little bit of bat fun. You see a small reluctant quirk of his mouth going up at one corner, and you really have to pat yourself on the back.

“And you are?”

“I’m Jason, and I died too.”

For first impressions, you’re pretty sure you left one.

-

Your return was, for a lack of a better word, wet. 

And when he tells you his tale of how he came back to life, all the details that wasn’t broadcasted on live television, you can’t help but sigh a little because: “Gotta say, I’m a little jealous that they dug you out.” 

Clark Kent has steel blue eyes, and you almost had to bite your tongue from asking if this is another superpower he’s got when he is really truly sincere without even trying. “I’m sorry that it happened to you that way.”

You are too. But you don’t tell him that. 

Instead, you smile. And you’ve been told your smile is a little crooked, too much teeth and too thin lips. He doesn’t say any of those things. He makes a better host than you hope to in Alfred’s absence when he helps you cut the apple pie he brought with him.

Clark Kent sits with you, and eats and talks with you while you both wait for Bruce to come back to this glass house. 

The similarities between you and him end at this: That Bruce played a hand in death.

-

You’re not in love.

It would be kinder if you were. But it is a close enough thing that if you don’t think about it at all, you can almost believe that you are. You squint in the Metropolis sun and almost calls it off entirely because nothing is worth this glare in your eyes.

“You made it.” Clark says, and you settle down on the bench of Heroes Park.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you everything.” Clark hands you one of the hot dogs he bought from the cart across the street and you think you’re staring because.

“Uh.” 

Clark bites into his and you mirror him. 

“It’s not bad.”

You say to him, finally when you swallow because it’s no chili dog, and you are pretty sure you are going to need to take him to that place in the Bowery you like if just so he can experience it for himself.

“Jason,” he tells you, and you think there is a small hint of slight exasperation to it. “You know you can just say it, it’s okay.”

“Say what?”

Clark is chuckling around a bite, even shakes his head a little like he can’t believe it. When he looks at you, it’s a span of the sky.

“Just say it’s good.”

There is a spill of sunshine dappling through the trees, a light breeze, and you, Jason Todd, had to blink with the realization because the closest thing you’ve ever been to happy is being trigger happy.

[foxx-queen]

Vanluthor 22 (or 23) and mjy 45 pls

22. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. 

note: in like, the expanded ylmitd verse, where argo city survived and lara became krypton’s ambassador so that she can spend time on earth with her son and friends. 

‘You’re working late’.

Lillian glances up at the sound of Lara’s voice, pausing when she sees the woman leaning casually against the door frame. She’s discarded her cape, leaving her in her Ambassadors robes, and Lillian tears her gaze away before she gets distracted staring. ‘Ambassador’.

Lara laughs softly. ‘You know I prefer Lara’.

Lillian swallows. ‘Lara. I’m trying to finish Alex’s suit before she needs to go into the field again’.

‘Astra tells me you’ve been upgrading a lot of things lately’.

Astra had recently allowed her to modify her suit so that the material itself was inlaid with anti-kryptonite. That way, there was no risk of any attachment being damaged, or falling off.

She’d had the impression that Alex was more thankful for the modification than Astra herself.

Lillian shrugs slightly. ‘It’s the least I can do’. There was no real way that she could make up for her time spent working for Cadmus, but she was still going to try. She glances up at Lara again, a little uneasy about the fact that she had no idea why the woman was there so late, and says, ‘is… can I help you with something?’.

‘Yes, actually’. Lara steps forward, and Lillian tries to quell the instinctive flare of alarm she experiences. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice’, Lara says softly, leaning her elbows on the table as she gazes at her. There’s a faint quirk at the corner of her mouth, like there’s something amusing about this, like she hasn’t just revealed something terrible. ‘Which I have’.

Lillian’s throat feels very dry, and she tries, vainly, to deflect, ‘and what way would that be?’

‘Like you find me attractive’.

Lillian looks away, down at the suit she’s been designing for Alex. Her hand trembles as she slides one of the diagrams over, and murmurs, ‘I’m  doing no such thing’.

‘Really?’

‘Really’. She feels very hot under her collar, and she clears her throat. ‘I look at you because I knew your son. I’ve been trying to see the resemblance’.

Lara hums, a low sound Lillian feels somewhere behind her navel. ‘And is there?’

‘You have the same eyes’.

Lara laughs, and she sounds delighted. Lillian glances at her to see that she looks even more amused, and she doesn’t quite understand why her efforts to deflect don’t seem to be working.

‘I was married’, she say at last, ‘to a man’.

‘So was I’. Lara shrugs. ‘So was Alura. And she is… what is it that Alex calls it? A raging lesbian’.

Lillian feels herself smile. It’s sudden and unexpected and she’s as surprised as Lara seems please. She coughs, and says, ‘and you?’

‘I believe I’m what your people would call bisexual’. Lara tilts her head. ‘You don’t strike me as… straight’. Lillian snorts, amused by how well Lara manages to imitate Alex’s distaste, and shakes her head. Lara’s eyes gleam. ‘So you’re not?’

Lillian blinks, and busies herself again with the suit. ‘I fail to see how that’s your concern’.

‘Well, it would be rather awkward if you weren’t interested in women, and I asked you on a date’.

Lillian balks. Her pen slips out of her hand and falls to the floor, and her face flushes. ‘I… a date?’

‘Yes’. Lara’s brow pinches slightly. ‘Is that the wrong term? Kara informed me that ‘courting’ had too many implications here’.

‘No’, Lillian says weakly, ‘that’s what it’s called’.

‘Oh. Well’. Lara smiles, that wide, charming smile that has the corners of her eyes crinkling and Lillian’s stomach swooping. ‘A date, then’.

‘I… I’m not…’

‘Interested in women?’ Lara sighs, and she sounds genuinely disappointed. ‘Pity’.

‘No, I… I am’. She has no idea where the sudden surge of honesty comes from, and her teeth snap together when she shuts her mouth.

Lara’s eyebrows quirk. ‘Ah. You’re just not attracted to me’.

Lillian stares. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not blind’. She can feel herself getting redder, and she bends to pick up her pen, simply to give herself a moment to collect herself. She stands slowly, tapping her pen anxiously against the desk, and says, ‘I don’t… date’.

Lara makes that noise of understanding, which really should forewarn her that she’s gotten the wrong idea. She stares at her for a moment, and then says, ‘so you… have one night stands? Is that the -’

Lillian chokes. ‘No!’

Lara’s brow furrows tightly, and she says, ‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me’.

Lillian groans, and turns her back on Lara to lean against the table. She covers her heated face with her hands for moment, trying to concentrate on breathing rather than how panicked she feels. A hand touches her shoulder gently, and when she glances to her left, she sees Lara standing there, not particularly close, but there, her eyes shining with concern. ‘You don’t have to explain it, you know’, she says quietly, ‘if you don’t want to… do anything, that’s fine’.

Whether it’s the words, or the touch, Lillian finds it a little easier to breathe. She takes a deep breath, and stares at the kryptonian symbols woven into Lara’s robes, rather than at her face. ‘It’s not that… I don’t… I just…’

Lara squeezes her shoulder. ‘It’s alright. Really’.

‘I’ve never really been on a date’, she says finally, exhaling the words in a rush like it’ll make them easier, ‘and not in… decades’.

Lara frowns slightly. ‘Didn’t you go on dates with your husband? Kara tells me that’s generally how relationships start on your world’.

Lillian swallows, and shakes her head. ‘No. I didn’t’.

Perhaps her tone reveals more than she would’ve wanted, because Lara squeezes her shoulder again, and doesn’t push it. Instead, she says, ‘well, there’s always time for a first, isn’t there?’

Lillian bites her lip, and hesitantly glances at Lara’s face. Her eyes are soft and sympathetic, but she’s still smiling gently, and her stomach swoops again. ‘I’m not… very datable’.

Lara raises her eyebrows. ‘Why not? You’re a sexy skyscraper’.

‘You’re remarkably caught up on our media for a new arrival’, Lillian says, inordinately proud of herself for the way her voice remains steady, ‘to have seen The Good Place’.

‘It’s one of Astra’s favourites’.

Lillian manages a small smile at the thought, before she drops her gaze again. She swallows, and murmurs, ‘Lara… I… don’t know if this it’s a good idea’.

‘You’re quite right’. She’s surprised by how genuinely disappointed she feels. It’s a strange, bitter feeling, but when she looks up again, Lara is smiling. ‘It’s a wonderful idea’.

Lillian huffs a laugh. ‘You’re very persistant’.

Lara turns serious. ‘Lillian, if you don’t want to go on a date with me, I will respect that. I simply…’ she frowns slightly, looking up at her with an expression she can’t quite identify. ‘You seem very determined to come up with reasons why we shouldn’t, and I can’t tell what you actually want’.

Lillian hesitates. It would be easy, in a way, to tell Lara that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with her, easy to turn her away and pretend she’s not interested, except…

She can’t remember the last time someone asked her what she wanted.

‘Just a date?’

Lara beams, and Lillian briefly experiences the sensation of being blinded by the sun. ‘Just a date. Alex tells me that Ocean’s 8 is a very good film. We could see that’.

Feeling utterly irresponsible, and incredibly out of her depth, Lillian finds herself nodding. ‘I… I would like that’.

‘Wonderful! You can explain certain phrases Alex has refused to expand on about the actresses’.

‘Like what?’

‘She keeps saying that Cate Blanchett has big dick energy. What in Rao’s name does that mean?’

Lillian has absolutely no idea if she’ll survive this date, but it’s hard to care, with Lara looking at her with those sparkling eyes.

[greatkrypton]

     Clark's in the middle of drying the last dinner plate when he feels a hard nudge against his calf. He glances down to see Krypto pushing his nose against the material of his jeans, the super canine staring up at him with a deliberate expression — but he lets out a soft yet forceful ‘ruff,’ too, just in case he wasn’t being clear enough.

“I’m almost done, boy,” Clark assures his old friend with a pat on the head, but this only earns him another look from Krypto.

“Go on, Clark, I can finish up in here,” Martha says as she brings another stack of dirty dishes to the sink. “We’ve all been patient, but even Krypto knows you’ve been putting it off long enough.” She shares a smile with the dog, who woofs his agreement.

“That obvious?” Clark sheepishly asks, rubbing the back of his neck. Martha takes the plate from him and places an encouraging hand on her son’s arm, gesturing for him to head into the living room. He leans down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek along with a “Thanks, Ma,” before doing just that, picking up a large envelope on his way out.

“Hey, it’s about time you two were done in there; I was just telling the kid about — oh.” Jonathan, noticing what Clark held in his hands, takes that as his cue to get up from the couch. “You know what, I think I hear a slice of cake calling my name; I’d better go get it before Martha puts it away. Happy birthday, Kon,” he says again, ruffling the boy’s hair as he excuses himself to the kitchen.

     What Jonathan Kent lacks in subtlety, he certainly makes up for in heart.

“Hey,” Clark says, taking a seat next to Kon. “I know it’s getting late, but there’s something else I wanted to give you — well, that I’ve been wanting to give you,” he clarifies, turning the official-looking envelope over to reveal a small red bow affixed to it. Clark then hands it to the boy.

“When I gave you the name Kon-El, you became a member of the House of El... like me,” Clark adds with a smile. “But that isn’t the only family I have. I also have one here, on Earth, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about how lucky I am to have Ma and Pa. So, I would once again be honored if you accepted another name...” 

     Inside the envelope are several papers. The first is a birth certificate with the name Conner Kent, and the rest appear to be various legal documents: social security cards, IDs, and passports, each one indistinguishable from their authentic counterparts.

( Clark really owes Bruce not one, but several for this. )

     He placed a hand on Conner’s shoulder.

“No matter what, you will always be a part of this family.”

“You will always be my family.”

Happy Birthday, @supermantm​!

[greatkrypton]

“And that we’re ‘more powerful than a locomotive’ and ‘able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?’ Yeah, I know,” Clark replies to @supermantm​​‘s referential gripe with a chuckle. “Though I don’t think either applies here; the closest train station is in Dodge City, so you’d still have to take a few buses to get to where we’re going. And there aren’t many buildings that require leaping over, as you can see.”

    He glances over at his reluctant passenger, the corner of his mouth lifting into a sympathetic smile. “I know you’re used to Metropolis and how it’s always... bustling. I can imagine so much quiet might feel a little jarring, in comparison.”

“But quiet can be a good thing,” Clark continues, re-focusing on the road ahead that seems to stretch well into the horizon. “It’s good to be able to make time for yourself. To unwind. To reflect. To just... be.”

    For someone who’s touted as one of the Daily Planet’s best writers, Clark’s struggling to find the right words. This boy has never had a moment to himself — let alone existed for himself — since Cadmus created him! Clark may as well be speaking a different language! A kitschy tune plays on the radio then, as if to offer some levity. He takes it for the sign it is and says, “You know, if we had flown to Smallville, then we would have missed out on all this quality bonding time.”