#clayfcrmed

[americanalien-a-blog]

@clayfcrmed

         a hand reaching out for blue fabric — a soft touch signalizing that she was HERE ( and that she listened ). it was one of these evenings. sure. being DIFFERENT wasn’t as easy as many people thought, wasn’t that glamorous and heroic. how could it even ? the ongoing fight between good and bad took its toll, a heavy BURDEN on shoulders that carried the weight of a whole planet. being different was a gift, but it was also a lonely experience that was hard to be shared with others. ❝  can i help you, clark ?  ❞, the dark haired spoke with a silent voice. after all she has found COMPANY and FRIENDSHIP outside of themysciria, others she belonged to. a family. helping and being there was the least thing diana could do, especially in a vulnerable moment. a step closer to the taller, the warrior felt the warmth spreading in her body, the CERTAINTY that this man would always be protected by her ( even if he was the strongest creature walking this earth ). ❝ i’m here no  — matter if you can’t feel yourself. i do. you did great, while saving so many lifes. you don’t need to be assailed by doubts. ❞ 

“To be honest with you, having powers... having these gifts can be a blessing, but also a curse.” Clark felt his voice bubbling from his throat, hoarse and low. “To show everybody I’m like them, I have to work twice so they can accept me as friendly figure, and still... they look at me as if I’m special. I’m not, Diana... I’m Clark Kent, I was raised in Smallville, I lived my whole life as a human. And yet, I don’t feel like I belong to them...” He took a deep sigh, averting his blue eyes. “But I don’t feel like a Kryptonian either. I wear my family crest as a way to make me feel better about the place I came from. However, even though I have knowledge of my planet, I know their language and culture... I never lived that. So it’s like I’m a fake-Kryptonian. Kara knows how Krypton was... I don’t even remember it. I’m not human enough, and I’m not Kryptonian enough. I feel... lonely.”

[trevorse-blog1]

There was no way to record any amount of time that he’d been ... here.

When he had first woken up, the lights that pulsed around him had been beautiful. Ethereal, and unlike anything he had ever seen. Soft pastels in pink and vivid violet had pulled across what he could only think of as a horizon, stretching as far as he could look. There wasn’t much else, other than black and the occasional, swirling blues.

With nothing to encompass his time, Steve would often watch their play. Sometimes, they would bled into strange creatures. They would move past him without touching, though would always offer him passing glances. They would shy away when he would reach out to touch, and would often not come back for a long, long sense of time when he tried.

He learned quickly not to do that any longer.

Orbs would also come and go. They would dance around him, taunting him with warmth that radiated from their energies, and while he never felt any different negative nor positive temperature, he found himself craving what they had. 

And then one spoke.

Lonely, are we? it asked, swaying in front of his nose, colors shifting from a pale, milky white to a soft blue that reminded him of the skies he used to own. Steve stared it down, feeling the pinch of his brow so starkly, the saddened pull of his mouth, the discomfort of his skin from staying so still. 

It swung around to his left, and his neck jerked to follow it.

I can fix that, it had no gender he could define it as, and it felt almost playful. I can take that awaaaaay.

“How?” His voice was quiet, and roughened - both from disuse. He couldn’t remember speaking since he’d been there, and there was no way to truly narrow down time. The concept was lost, and he felt it reelingly. “What could you do?” 

The orb did not offer anything more. It hovered momentarily, then blinked out. Steve startled, reaching out, finding himself on the cusp of a shout: “No!”

But it never came, because Diana was suddenly there, suspended, confused -- real?

“Diana?”

[ofjoker]

@clayfcrmed

♦ “Hee hee hee he ha ha ha haaaaa. Well! If it isn’t ol’ Helen of Troy herself! Wonders! How ya doin’?!”

The pale man spat the final words of his greeting with a certain venom to the raven-haired woman. His usually styled, emerald hair was a mess, already dislodged by the force of of his attacker’s punch. He’d been knocked to the ground, and was bleeding just a tad; not anywhere near enough to count him out of a fight, if there was one to be had. “You know, I was thinking about you the other day, doll-face. And viola! Here you are.” His grin steadily crept back onto his face as he pulled himself back to his feet, beating off the dust from his pinstriped, purple trousers. “Typically, one would think this is a time to ask why you just cleaned my clock, but, hell! You’re a guest, here in Gotham City and it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Let’s play a game! Checkers? Poker? No! Truth or Dare!” The Joker nodded at his own suggestion, dawdling a gloved hand against his sore jaw for a moment. “If I pick dare, will you still use the lasso o’truth on me? HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

[richcrdgrcyson-blog]

@clayfcrmed liked for a starter

     Dick looked up from the car, dropping the hood so that it clanged loudly, metal against metal making his teeth jar. The woman approaching him wasn’t familiar as such but somehow it felt as though he knew her. He looked over her dark hair and symmetrical features and with his mouth in a small o shape, eyes wide he stuttered to find the words that he wanted to use.

“You’re just as Bruce Described you, hell you look like you stepped out of magazine.”

     He’d been told that her beauty surpassed the majority of human beings on this earth, but that wasn’t the only thought that came to his head. If She was here... something must have been very wrong.