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lastsonofkrypton:

OPEN STARTER

Clark sat in a fallow field and watched the sun come up. He was shirtless and barefooted, since he’d left his room almost without thinking and flown here. The snow melted as it clung to his skin. It had been another dream. His family were calling to him, and he’d tried to go to them, only to remember he wasn’t even on the right continent. Instead, he sat in a field and beat the earth, leaving holes that he would have to fix later and howling with a sort of despair. His mother had been screaming his name. He hadn’t so much as spoken to them in months, because they said it was too dangerous. He was alone, far away from anywhere that had ever been a home to him, surrounded by people he had betrayed and disappointed, and still recovering from the first time he’d done what he was absolutely sure was the right thing in years. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. He wanted to go home. He wanted someone to tell him it was going to be okay, that he didn’t need to carry the world on his shoulders right now. That he could let his guilt and shame go. But that wasn’t how it worked.

Standing up, he brushed the dirt off his hands and started shoving the earth back into place. At least no one had seen him. But he’d spoken too soon. Hearing a heartbeat, he turned. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Lois heard the thunderous sounds and knew immediately what it was. Or who it was, rather. There weren’t many people who could play the earth like a drum like that. She had been leaning against her car, driving home from following an investigation, and she had even heard him through the car windows rolled up against the chill night air. Lois pulled over, pulling her gloves out of the pocket of her coat as she stepped out of the car, tugging them over her frail human hands that couldn’t tear up the earth quite so easily. She followed the noise with careful footsteps, picking her way over the snow and broken pieces of long-dead corn.

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t wake me,” she said. “I was just driving.” She tilted her head, looking up at him with a little frown on her face. “What’s going on, Clark?”

#c: clark

kryptonianpunch:

Open Starter!

She must look strange, back ramrod straight on the hard bench, head cocked to the side as she tried to sort through the usual assortment of sounds until she found exactly the right one. It was almost like unraveling a tangled ball of yarn until she reached a usable end - the first layer was easy enough, all the chatter easily discarded (especially when she didn’t even speak the language) but beneath it was yet more chaos and annoyance had started to fray her once careful concentration (it shouldn’t be this hard, finding one single Kryptonian). She had at least remembered the sunglasses this time, hiding closed eyes, but apparently this did less to deter unwanted interruptions and at a taptap, a too-close question pierced through all her hard work until everything came back.

Kara raised her chin, eyes opening to the sight of a woman holding a thick winter jacket and travel cup, a steady billow of steam rising out the top. Both were extended in her direction and Kara blinked. Her gaze rose higher, passing over the crowd of bundled-up humans, the distant white blanket of snow, and finally taking in the traitorous blue sky, all that lovely sunshine. Damn.

Temperature.

She always forgot to check the stupid temperature.

So there she was, still dressed for the beach and staring blankly at the woman who merely nodded encouragingly, words Kara didn’t understand coming out of her mouth at a furious pace. But she sounded worried, concerned, and Kara was surprised to feel her lips quirk upwards.

And then, just like that, the vibrations ripped through her. Something familiar. Kara was on her feet faster than the woman could blink (oops), gently (always so gently with humans) taking the offered gifts. She tried again, to smile, but it must have been a fluke, the earlier one, because she couldn’t quite get her mouth to repeat the movement. “Thank you,” she tried instead and then Kara was off before the woman could respond, shrugging the jacket on and rejoining the crowd, letting the sea of people swallow her until she could zip off, letting the single note carry her and whooshing to a stop behind the source, fingers reaching out with intent to trap the other’s wrist.

Lois often wandered around the city, the better to catch what was going on. She had her hands in the pocket of her coat, shoulders hunched against the cold. She was lost in thought, eyes combing the surrounding crowds in case anything jumped out at her, when someone grabbed her wrist. She didn’t jump or scream, but her heart jumped as she turned around, her free hand going into her pocket where she kept pepper spray. She almost laughed when she saw who it was. The pepper spray would be useless, for one thing.

“Kara, hi,” she said, pulling her hand out of her pocket as she looked up at her. Kara’s skin was so hot it burned against her own, but she was used to that. “You okay?” she said, tilting her head as she looked up at the familiar face.