superman ⋙ cape

(no subject)

If I hadn’t already done this, or gone though similar blackouts and re-awakenings, I might have been surprised. And maybe I was anyway, a little bit –– my heart was swelling with pride (and maybe a bit of guilt) and suddenly, there I was, waking up in Paradisa for the fourth time.

Each time, I ask fewer and fewer questions. I just fall into it, like I need to.

I realize, very quickly, that it’s been seven months for me, but only a day for them. Claire’s talking to me through the journal. I feel like commenting on how long it’s been, but I remember it’s almost nothing to her, or anyone, so I keep it back and just talk to her. We laugh about being strange, and when she talks about people writing books about me, I can’t help but smile. She isn’t being serious, but I realize she’s right.

People will come to me for books.

Last time I was here, I didn’t know about the Legion, or that I would be known in galaxies I’ve never heard of. Before I had been able to laugh it off –– Clark Kent is not a spandex-wearing, cape-donning, secret-identity superhero. I played into it, hoped I would be actually be the man they all seem to respect and admire so much, but the rest of me is skeptical. Can I really do that? I’ve had a big life, but Clark Kent as Superman?

Now, I feel a strange sort of pride in the idea that maybe, just maybe, it’s all going to happen. I’m on the cusp of becoming the thing that they keep talking about, the one I read about in the papers. It’s like puzzle pieces fitting together, one by one. Things are falling into place. The gap between who I am now and who I am destined to become is being bridged, very quickly.

After meeting with Alicia for a chat, Kon for some burgers and talk, and Ford for some news about Krypton, I go to my room and see Shelby, and dig out the articles Jaime gave me for Christmas.

I reread the articles like I’ve never read them before, and now I understand it: Lois Lane reporting on Superman, as his trusted mouthpiece.

It starts to feel iconic.
superman ⋙ super family

(no subject)

Clark felt like some sort of fugitive, traveling in secret.

He trudged through the grass, looking around him as if he was worried someone else would appear and see him. It was a ridiculous fear; he was far from the castle, out in the former Dead Zone. For miles and miles around, there was nothing but the buffalo, the long grass, and the night sky.

He was alone. It was no different from when he was with the cows back on the farm.

Clark let out a long breath, stopped where he was, and shucked off his jacket. He dropped it in the grass, and then crossed his arms to grab the hem of his t-shirt and lift it over his head, revealing a fitted blue uniform. The shield on his chest glinted in the light, the ‘S’ in relief.

His cape unfolded from under the shirt and fell loose, catching on the long grass. Clark dropped the t-shirt and unbuckled his belt as he kicked off his shoes, and then shucked off his jeans. Underneath were the blue tights and red briefs iconic to Superman.

Naturally, he let out a long sigh of concern for himself.

Was this crazy?

It most certainly was. But, he reasoned, it was okay to experiment.

And then he paused, feeling stupid.

“Can you really justify that kind of crazy?” he asked himself, aloud.

In response, one of the buffalos bellowed. Clark almost had to laugh, even as he piled his clothes up neatly and then kept tramping through the grass. Once he’d made it a few feet away from his clothes, he pushed off...

... and soared above it.

Up, up and away he drifted, soaring above the grasses and the herbs, until his street clothes were just a dark speck, and the clouds were starting to look like fog around him. Up there, where the moon was closer, things seemed brighter; he could see everything the light touched so clearly, save for the dark shadows where clouds blocked it.

The castle’s lights twinkled in the distance, and a bit below it was the sea of little lights that made up the town. Clark smiled to himself, putting his arms out to balance himself as he drifted down a bit to settle just below the cloud line. His cape fluttered up behind him, caught on the cool breeze, and he glanced over his shoulder at it, just to see what it was doing.

It was a strange sensation.

He’d been reluctant to fly for so many years, and even now, he had his moments where he hesitated to, but doing this, on his own time, with no pressure, was relaxing. Peer pressure from his future peers had pushed him to try, and Kara had pushed him to learn. There had been a lot of mental blocks, and he’d been coaxed to get over them and try until he got it right. After all, that’s how he mastered every ability.

Lo and behold, in month, he was flying.

For years now, he’d been fascinated by the wind they got with storms in Kansas, and the sheer power they had. He’d seen things move on the wind with an effortlessness he feared and envied, and while a greater part of him always feared leaving the ground like that would be a final step away from humanity, a tiny part was always curious about what it’d be like to have that power.

When he’d flown at eighteen, as Kal-El, he had never felt more comfortable with his power.

Here, he’d gotten used to flying. It was scary at first, but every time he did, he felt more in control. It was nothing but him, the sky, and the wind. Since the Dead Zone had opened up space further away from the castle where he could practice without risking being seen, he’d taken to going out more, when he could. He was learning to hover on the spot. Learning to move in directions that weren’t just straight lines.

Never before had he dressed up for the occasion, though. It was usually him and his jeans and t-shirts and jackets. Doing it in spandex for the first time was different, but it didn’t feel entirely wrong. Instead of having his pant legs whipping around and his jacket riding up his arms every time he dropped down or acting as wind resistance, he had a big old cape billowing around.

It was an oddly good feeling, to just feel the wind instead of your clothes whipping around. He got why it was nicer to fly in spandex. That started to make sense.

(That didn’t make it any better in public, though. He still didn’t think he’d ever get to the point where he’d wear spandex in front of people, whether he conceded on the cape or not.)

Clark let himself drift closer to the city and castle again, but was careful not to get too close. While he doubted anyone could see him at this time of night and height, he didn’t want to get too close, just in case. He could never tell what other air traffic was going to be around, and he was happier with his little night flights staying a secret for now.

Especially if he was wearing the suit.

Since talking to Oliver, things had changed –– mildly, but it was change all the same. Over the past few days he’d given it a lot of thought, and if he was back in his own world, he was comfortable with the idea that maybe things were going to be right. Destiny was going to manifest itself as he had been told.

He’d been so strung up on the idea that his future was ruined after what Chloe had told him about Doomsday, and that like Prime, he was destined for some alternate version of things with no Superman, no true Justice League, no heroism, just... the end of the world. He’d believed, for months, that he’d failed, and had exiled himself.

Knowing he was back on track was enough to make him feel like, maybe, he had a chance (and honour) of being the Superman the world needed.

Clark turned to look back out over the Dead Zone, the wind flipping his cape over his head. He rapidly dropped a few metres, startled, but when he brushed it aside, the smile clung to his face.

Maybe he had a good future, too.
superman ⋙ super family

(no subject)

Superman. You often see him flying around Metropolis, and while you never really get the chance to see him up close and personal because he’s almost always on the go, you know what he’s like. Confident, tall, built. He speaks with conviction, and he’s usually extremely friendly and bold. He’s instantly recognizable because of his bright red cape, blue tights, and wavy black hair. He has nothing to hide, and lives in the Fortress of Solitude, meaning he likely doesn’t have a secret identity like “normal” heroes do. In fact, very, very few people actually believe he has a secret identity.

So what reason do you have to believe that, in regular life, Superman is a clumsy, awkward guy who wears thick glasses, speaks softly, and never raises his voice? Clark Kent is meek, big but not particularly strong, and has poor posture. Maybe some people remember him from his articles, but no one knows his face. Even if they did, he’s boring and a bit socially impaired, as he has very few friends, and he’s such a forgettable person that, even on the off chance that out of seven billion people you realized they have similar facial structure, the idea that Superman would be an awkward recluse like Clark Kent is such an absurd, LAUGHABLE suggestion that if you presented it to other people, they would laugh at you until, from sheer embarrassment and dismay, you convinced yourself it wasn’t possible.