#prison visits

[icouldshowyoumyscar]

It's the only way to survive, innit? Emmerdale | 02.10.2025

[leatafandom]

I Just Needed to Talk

Fandom/Ships/Characters: DCU (any verse) - Clark Kent & Lex Luthor, Clark Kent/Lois Lane

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 772

Warnings and Tags: pre break up, old friends, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, pre slash, prison visits, chess, communication, lex knows who superman is, Lois knows who superman is

Summary: Clark visits Lex in prison instead of going home.

Written for the @dc-hero-villain-fest for the prompt(s): "I know you better than anyone else."

Author Notes: Yesss more heroes and villains! This time a bit of a preslash situation.

Happy Reading! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog! ❤️

Read, I Just Needed to Talk, Rated Teen, in full below or on my Ao3.

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I Just Needed to Talk

“What are you really doing here, Clark?” Lex asked fingers toying with his pawn. “And don't say it's for chess, god knows you are horrible…”

The brunette frowned at the chessboard between them. He never won against Lex, but it really wasn't why he came here. Why did he come here today to talk to the other man? It didn't feel like his typical excuses for visiting. So often he came here in hopes of helping Lex find himself again, find the redemption he didn't seem to want. Clark couldn't give up on him, didn't want to give up on him. No matter how many times Lex had tried to kill him, the Kryptonian could only remember the days when they had been best friends.

Lex looked up to him leaning on his hand. “Is something the matter?” He asked, taking in the other's expression.

Clark frowned, eyes flickering up to the bald older man before returning back down to the board. “It's your turn Lex.” His voice was a mumble as he looked at the board knowing the other would put him in check soon enough.

“Oh, I'm well aware, Kent,” he sighed, watching him and lifting his finger from his piece. “I am also well aware that something is troubling you today. More than usual when you deem it fit to grace me with your presence.”

Clark frowned at the board, glaring at it as Lex sat back from it.

“Lex-”

“Come now, Clark. I am not playing if you won't talk,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Out with it. I know you better than anyone else, I know when you are holding something back. When something is bothering you."

Clark hated how true that was, how much Lex still knew him and how much he desperately wanted to talk to him. To talk to anyone about it, especially someone who could hope to understand what he meant. His eyes looked at Lex sighing at the interest he saw and the concern he found in blue eyes.

“I…” Clark shrugged, pushing up his glasses and rubbing a hand down his face. “I just needed to get away from the apartment. Lois…”

Lex's lips parted in understanding a small sound leaving him. “I take it that things have not been going well?” he ventured, finally moving a piece as Clark began to talk.

Clark rubbed his eyes, groaning, taken back to the days where he would go to Lex to talk about his relationships. “No,” he frowned thinking about. “It's going fine. Same as it always is, but,” he bit his lip it sounded so foolish.

“But?” Lex pressed as he watched Clark finger at his knight.

“But,” his head tilted to the side, “You know her, knew us before…” his hand waved to the prison they were sitting in and Lex released a hum. “Does she… does she love me —Clark, or…?” Clark winced at his own words, at the question and doubt in it. He sounded so childish to complain about something so small.

Lex watched him, studying the discomfort that radiated from the alien across from him. He frowned. It wasn't the first time he had wondered about it himself. “Ms. Lane has always enjoyed a good story far more than the one reporting it,” he answered diplomatically. “Perhaps it is something best raised with her.”

“I've tried, Lex, but she just… it's stupid isn't it?”

Lex took a breath before answering, pushing away his own complex feelings regarding Superman and Clark. “Far from it,” he dissuaded. “I often struggled living in the shadow of Superman, it's not a surprise you do as well,” he pushed out a sigh. “Just another thing we have in common, I suppose.”

Clark frowned at the board as Lex took his turn. “You think I should try to talk to her again?” He questioned, wishing that Lex would give him some other advice.

“Yes, Clark. Communication and honesty is key,” he said, looking at the other who seemed dismayed by his advice and the memories it dredged to the surface. Lex smiled, his point made. “If it is worth anything, I have always hated every part of you equally, farm boy. Check,” he added as he moved his bishop with a huff of a laugh.

Clark chuckled, taking in Lex's teasing grin. “Not always,” he reminded, returning the smile.

The older man nodded, reluctant to remember the memories of friendship and near romance that was now bathed in distrust and hurt feelings.

“No," he sighed softly, looking back to the board. "No, not always,” he admitted in a hushed whisper.

[icouldshowyoumyscar]

It means the world that you're here. Emmerdale | 02.10.2025

[no-mere-mortals]

Does anybody know what the general rules for a prison visit are? Would it be possible for me to show up with photos of my dog and ask to talk to whoever has gone longest without a visitor and just generally try to bring some amount of joy to someone’s life for a few minutes?

Also, if I do decide to visit, what are some things I’d need to be aware of (either for my own physical/emotional wellbeing or for that of the prisoner)?

[nappynewz]

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[sonniquick]

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[sonniquick]

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[xperfectlite]

Visiting a Federal Penitentiary So, first of all, I'm not at all a stranger to the prison system. My biological father has been in and out, as has my sister's dad, who I see as my actual dad. As I pulled up to the prison, they interviewed me through an intercom, gathering my details so they could be ready to help as I went inside. I hesitantly walked into the main building, not sure if I was supposed to be there. The woman at the desk collected my keys and all my ID, giving me a paper in return that I had to fill out with all my information. I couldn't help but feel like I was doing everything wrong, but the woman was doing her best to make me calm down as well as maintain her professional and quick process. As the other visitors and I were ready to enter into the prison, an officer walked with us. We entered locked door after locked door, me doing my best to understand how it all worked in case I ever got the chance to come back. I don't remember the types of facilities I've been in, federal or state. I've had visits at phone banks, visits at round tables in big open rooms, visits where you can touch, visits where you can't. In the prison that my dad currently occupies, all there is is banks of seats, like an airport or a waiting room. I sat right next to families of four who were trying to stay within their cramped spaces. I wanted to give them space, so I sat at the very end, trying to fold into myself. It was a very long wait. I sat acrossed from a squared off play room, watching small children play with blocks and books and cars. I wanted to cry. That had once been me, oblivious to why I was here, spending my time with toys instead of my family. A mother came to collect her boy while he screamed about how he didn't want to see his father. I didn't know how to feel or react as I caught her eyes. I gave a very forced smile and looked away, insanely worried I was being too weird, if I looked judgmental. I couldn't help but notice how pale I was. Like a torn piece of paper stuck in a pile of gravel, where colors mixed in every shade of the earth. I stuck out like crazy. Not to mention that it was obvious it was my first time visiting a prison on my own. I was completely removed from my comfort zone, as I wasn't even in my home state. I felt vulnerable and scared. As the time passed, I started to worry that my dad wasn't even coming. It had been ten minutes, alone in a room of over thirty people, then fifteen, and twenty. Finally, I heard movement on the opposite side of the heavy metal door separating the prison from the visitation room. I watched anxiously and my dad walked out, making the butterflies in my stomach beat around harder. I stood out of excitement and he smiled and nodded, telling me to wait as he walked away. I deflated, falling back into the chair. I knew all he was doing was checking in, but I had spent so much time alone, I just wanted someone to show that I wasn't a complete stranger in this place. As he came back, we hugged tightly. I didn't want to let go. It had been eleven years. I had so much to say that couldn't have been written in the letters we shared, but it all flew out of my brain. We sat in our conjoined chairs, talking away. He asked about my sister, my mother, my grandparents. We talked about memories and dreams. I told him I had been diagnosed with depression and I could tell he understood. He had never been the best at English, but he expressed his emotions as good as possible. Prison seemed to be doing okay for him. He was attending classes to be better at English, and he had actually gained weight. As we wrapped up our visit, a fellow inmate had taken pictures for us. I got them nearly two and a half months later. It was so surreal. I had only ever had my picture taken with my biological father, where I was up to his waist. With my dad, we were the same height. Both of us had misty eyes, knowing that this would probably be our last time together. After pictures, I went back to the officer alone and he took me out. I stood outside, processing the entire thing as I waited for the guard tower to evaluate me. I collected all my belongings and left, unsure of how satisfied I truly was. The entire way back to the conference I was attending, I processed the situation. When I returned to my friends, one asked me all the questions about topics that I should have spoken about. °˖✧◝( ツ )◜✧˖° Anyway, that was it. That was my visit.