#lois please i'm begging you to realize

[loverboybrightsideghost]

me every time clark comes up with the world's flimsiest excuse to run off

[half-dead-ham]

Clark was having a pretty good morning so far.

He woke up early, made himself a decent breakfast, put out a small house fire on the north side of the city and got back in time for his food and coffee to still be warm. Barring any world threatening events taking his attention, Clark thought he'd be able to make it to work in time for that meeting Perry had been nagging him about.

That was before the doorbell rang.

Clark was at his tiny dinner table, nursing the very last bit of coffee in his mug while he finished up that fluff piece(derogatory) that Lois cheated him into so he could send it and leave for the Bugle when it rang. He blinked, confused, because how did someone ring his bell when he didn't hear anyone's footsteps? The piece he was working on wasn't taking that much of his attention, was it?

No, no he doesn't think it was.

Still, maybe it had, maybe the coffee wasn't quite waking him up like it should and he'd fallen asleep at the table for a few seconds. Clark knew he wasn't the most... peaceful, a neighbour to have when he comes home to stumble over every bit of furniture he had and then pass out. It wouldn't be the first time one of his neighbours came over to complain (and it probably wouldn't be the last), so after a moment of listening to the person outside his door shuffle and breathe he got up.

Clark didn't bother with the peephole before he opened the door, didn't think he needed to. The heartbeat he heard on the other side of the door was quick, sure, but Clark had kept them waiting for a few minutes longer than he would have because he was listening, they were probably annoyed with him. Judy to his right had a kid she needed to take to school soon, and Gale and Wendy to his left usually both worked double shifts so by the time Clark stumbles home through his window they're just starting to get some well needed shut-eye. He didn't bother because he thought that the sooner they talked it out the sooner they could all get to where they needed to be.

The door swung open, revealing not one of his neighbours, but a boy. "I'm sorry, can I help you?" Clark asked on reflex, confused that a kid was at his door so early. As far as he knew, none of his friends (minus Bruce) had any black haired, blue eyed teens that knew his address, and while Dick did like to swing by every once in a while, it was never this early, and this boy clearly wasn't Dick.

"Oh uh, y-you're Cl- I mean, Mr. Kent, right?" The kid shuffled his bare feet on the worn hallway carpet, shifting his gaze nervously and trying to look simultaneously everywhere but him and only on him. Clark frowned, noticing now the clinically white shirt and cutoff pants the boy wore, too light for the still frigid spring season and definitely not something a teenager would pick out for themselves. There was just something about the kid too... Clark couldn't place it, but it was going to nag at him all day now.

The kid's shoulders grew more tense the longer they stood there, and Clark realized he may have been quiet for a little too long. "Yes," he said, clearing his throat of the leftover sleep. "Yes, that's me. Are you alright son? Do you need help?"

At 'son' the boy snorts loudly, and quickly tries to cover the noise with a cough. Clark tilted his head. He didn't understand what was funny?

"Sorry," the kid shook his head, stifling a few more snickers with a shake of his head. "Inside joke, its nothing. Listen, I uh, I have something you need to see, can I come in?" Clark jolts, lifting his arm to look at his watch for the time and frowning.

He had to be at work soon.

"Please, Mr. Kent?" The boy pleaded, seeing the look on Clark's face. "It's really, really important." Glossy baby-blues looked up at him, begging, pleading, and it took Lark an embarrassingly little amount of time to crack. With a nod, he shuffles to the side to let the kid in, sighing at the loss of his two week on time streak.

This morning wasn't going to go the way he planned it, was it?

Okay so what if Danny was the first clone of Superman instead of Connor? I see it going like this:

Danny gets reincarnated and immediately wakes up in a pod. Once his brain catches up to what's going on around him, he quickly nopes out of his pod and takes a little tour around the facility he found himself in. Along the way he discovers some major incriminating evidence but more importantly, he discovers who his donor dad is! Hooray! So Danny takes his freshly alive little butt and that incriminating evidence all the way to his donor dad's house.

Enter Clark, who is very unsure how to feel when a boy shows up at his door, claiming to be his clone and with evidence to boot! On one hand he's glad this clone doesn't appear to hurt or anything but on the other hand, his dna was taken without his permission to make an entirely new person!? He knows none of this is his fault but at the same time, why is this suddenly Clark's responsibility? But the kid just escaped a dangerous facility on his own. But what if the kid was brainwashed to believe he escaped but is really a spy after all? Is Clark supposed to take care of regardless? After all he didn't even want kids! At least not that soon but then again....

Danny takes one hard look at Clark's wishy washy bs and just goes "Yeah no bud, that's not how this works. Neither of us asked to be in this situation but we're in it now so you're just gonna have to deal." Basically, he shames Clark into taking care of him. Especially when the Justice League and the Kents find out and now he can tattle to other adults about how Clark's mistreating him. Danny doesn't ever hesitate to bring up what kind of hypocritical monster Clark and therefore Superman would be if he claimed to stand for truth justice and the American way while also leaving his own clone out in the cold.

And you know what? This actually works. Clark starts taking care of Danny to get everyone off his ass but then comes to find out this kid is actually kind of a riot to be around? And single fatherhood is kinda fun actually?

Basically by the time Kon comes around, Clark has settled nicely into his clone dad era and is willing to strangle anyone who would not only steal his DNA, but also dare to use his precious clone babies for evil gain. Because seriously how dare they?

[brucewayneargento-moved]

Back and Forth - ReneTheStan

Additional Tags:

AngstAngst and Tragedy, Tragedy, Hurt No Comfort, Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Note

Summary:

"Jon…Jon I can't take it anymore…I don't even know why I'm calling you. You're still in space or whatever. I was an idiot to think that I could have a friend, and even more so to believe that anyone would even care. Grayson abandoned me, also my father and Alfred...Alfred died because of me...I...

"Who am I kidding, Jon?...I can't go on with this anymore"

Fic under cut

As he bounced his feet against the tiled floor to kill time waiting for visiting hours to arrive, young Jonathan Samuel Kent thought about the contrast of light and dark that was produced by the sunlight that entered through the windows covered with metal bars.

The neuropsychiatry section of Arkham Asylum was not at all what the son of Superman had expected. Perhaps the legends that his "little brother" had told him about the place were simply exaggerations to scare him when they were little.

A couple of lonely tears escaped her eyes, making their way down her cheeks and ending up on the marble floor. Jon clenched his fists as if that would make time pass faster.

Going back to the look of the place, it didn't deviate much from what the hospitals in Metropolis, if you count the baroque architecture, pointed and with decorative gargoyles that covered every inch of the place, but... what else to expect from Gotham City?

"Jonathan?" The eighteen year old boy looked up and met the brown eyes of Dr. Thompkins.

The steps taken from the waiting room to room 206 were too slow for the son of Superman. As if the New Gods wanted to torture him by making the whole process as burdensome as possible. The boy felt like he had a noose around his neck that only tightened with each step on the marble floor of the hallway.

But no matter how much he was suffering at the time…he had made a promise and Lois Lane's son would never break a promise.

When they reached the  room, Jon took a deep breath, steeled himself, and slowly turned the doorknob.

Jon just breathed calmly when he could see Bruce Wayne had not hung from a rope made of sheets, but was coloring a children's book on a chair in front of his bed.

ONE WEEK AGO

Jon knew deep down that something had gone terribly wrong as soon as he heard his mother crying from his room. The mere thought of that happening was enough to wake the teen from his nap.

His first instinct was to fly out of there, which he did at great speed. In a split second he found himself in the kitchen of Jonathan Senior and Martha Kent. In it, the two older adults were watching a report by Jon's mother on TV, where there was a large red banner that read: "latest news."

"Mom," Jon said quietly realizing his mother wasn't really there. "Pa, Ma…what's going on?" The boy turned to see his grandparents.

Martha was a very sensitive woman and at that moment she was stoic, almost in shock, while Jonathan was the one who was crying.

"Jonny…it's about your little friend in Gotham City…"

.

.

.

 

Jon didn't need to use his laser vision to know that Bruce was barricaded in his youngest son's room.

The outward flight was practically a millisecond, the boy of steel found himself at the gate of Wayne Manor, around him there were hundreds of police officers commanded by James Gordon Sr., who warned the boy's deaf ears that Superman was already in the premises and that it was best not to intervene.

But Jon wasn't listening. Rather, he was focused on the beating of his father's heart. It sounded erratic and of almost uninterrupted frequency.

Jon could have sworn he blinked just once and suddenly found himself in Bruce Wayne's hallway.

His father, the man of steel, was sitting outside the main room. With his head in his hands

"Bruce…Bruce please get out of there…" He begged, like someone who had already given up completely.

"Oh Jon," Superman said looking up, noticing his son. "I didn't want you to find out like this…"

"How long has he been there?" Jon asked coldly.

"Three days, at least…" Jon ignored the pain of that information.

"I've tried everything to make him see reason, to make him understand that Damian…but he's not listening to me, he's like in a trance. I tried to force him out but he has kryptonite and I…"

"I'm going in…"

" Jon, I've tried everything, what makes you think that–

"Mr. Wayne? I'm Jon Kent…Damian's friend."

A minute of silence passed. Jon took a deep breath.

"Listen Mr. Wayne, we both love Damian, I know you don't want to believe he would have done something like that, I don't either. …

"I'll help you get to the bottom of this if you let me in"

The door opened slowly, from inside came a thick, almost sinister voice.

"I'll just talk to the boy…" Batman warned.

Jon tried not to burst into tears the moment he stepped into Damian's room and the door closed behind him. In that split second he saw the legs sticking out from behind his large Victorian bed in a pool of blood.

"Superboy…" Batman said in his typical pentatonic voice. "Keep your composure, no matter how real it looks, you must believe what I tell you…"

"My son didn't kill himself…"

His violet eyes met Bruce's bloodshot blue ones.

"It's a Scarecrow or Bane trick…Damian would never do something like that, he's too stubborn to die like that…"

Jon nodded slowly.

"Mr. Wayne…"

"Names, Superboy."

Jon nodded again. "Maybe it would be easier if you could show me how you came to that conclusion, I believe you, it's my father who needs to be convinced…

"Sure, Superboy…" Batman said. "Well, to begin with, when Alfred examined the body, he found that–"

He stopped in his tracks. Jon watched as Batman's pupils slowly returned to their original size and the red color left his eyes. At that moment he knew his move had gone too well.

"Alfred…Dick…Damian… "

"I'm so sorry, Bruce…"

Another minute of pause and silence passed.

"Bruce!" Jon yelled and used his super speed to snatch the batarang out of her hands and grab it from behind before she could even brace it against his chest. throat.

"Jon," Bruce said softly. "I'm dead anyway. "

"I'll be sent to Arkham for interfering with a police investigation during an emotional breakdown, at least let me be with my son."

Jon ignored all the emotions that suddenly surged through him upon hearing that and remained stoic.

"Damian was strong throughout his life and in your one weak moment you decided to kill yourself, if you weren't strong yourself...it would be an insult to your memory."

"I will visit you in Arkham and give you my protection if necessary."

ONE WEEK LATER.

Jon returned to home after the funeral, he told his parents he needed space and they didn't object. The eighteen-year-old boy went to his room and decided to open his cell phone to see who had left messages of condolence for him.

He didn't expect to find a Voicemail from two weeks ago from Damian. His finger moved independently of his brain and he pressed play.

"Jon…Jon I can't take it anymore…I don't even know why I'm calling you. You're still in space or whatever. I was an idiot to think that I could have a friend, and even more so to believe that anyone would even care. Grayson abandoned me, also my father and Alfred...Alfred died because of me...I...

"Who am I kidding, Jon?...I can't go on with this anymore"

The tone that indicates the end of the message sounded. Jon buried his face between his knees and covered his head with his arms.