the kids are all fight

intro --- long bio --- headcanons

( froy gutierrez. 21. he/they. demi-guy. ) are you a HERO ? something tells me that mud-stained untied converse, the glow of the stars at night, a well-worn farmhouse make you who you are, JONATHAN KENT. with the powers of KRYPTONIAN-HUMAN HYBRID PHYSIOLOGY, you’re sure to have an optimistic, insecure personality — and you definitely belong to UNAFFILIATED. were you listening to HEY LOOK MA, I MADE IT by PANIC! AT THE DISCO on your way to the subway? it suits you. we can’t wait to see what you do next! ( claire. 23. she/her. gmt. )

“ now , now , when do i ever show up without evidence ? “ he retorts as he pulls out his phone and navigates to his phone gallery , swiping up to last year’s and proudly showing it off to jon . “ it’s a hustle and it pays . i’m just sayin’ ! “ and while he’s mostly comically unaware of things , when is aware , the reaction is a bit more than it probably should be . “ sounds like there’s something behind that reply . are you .. tellin’ the truth ? “

                eyes  dart  to  jon  instinctively  ,  catching  his  questionable  toss  in  the  chair.  it  was  no  secret  that  damian  had  been  using  up  his  ‘  casa  de  el  ’  stay  points.  if  jon  had  been  dating  a  bat  -  kid  .  .  .  well  ,  maybe  he  was  the  wrong  person  to  ask  about  this.     ❝     you  think  i  don’t  know  that  ?  look  ,  we  gotta  clean  this  place  up  —  i’m  no  longer  solo  and  i  want  to  impress  tandy  ,  so  .  .  .  i  called  lo-lo.     ❞

damian wasn’t sure how to do any of this, really. even for all of the manga read, the animes watched that tended to fall into the romance and slice of life categories, they had absolutely no real idea how to go about this. putting such things into real life seemed far more complicated, especially whenever it came to jon. falling back onto something that he was comfortable with seemed the right thing to do with what damian had planned, which was why he was setting down his sketchbook, a page turned to a drawing that had been done of jon. it was detailed – one where the super appeared to be in the midst of laughter. an image that tended to always stay in their mind even when they weren’t together. 

“you can flip through, if you’d like.” there would be more sketches of jon. different poses, different paused moments that damian had drawn from a snapshot in their mind. 

@supcrson​

Jon didn’t know what they were. They wanted to say they didn’t know how to do this, but they also, to be totally honest, didn’t know what this was that they were doing. Damian Wayne, his best friend since they were children, who, he realized in retrospect, he’d been hopelessly in love with pretty much the entire time. The whole time he’d been gone, Jon had been picturing his face, thinking about how they’d left without a trace or a warning. Barely so much as a trace, then gone for years. Damian probably thought they’d abandoned him. And then they’d come back, and Damian had only lost Jon for a few weeks, and Jon had lost Damian for years.

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:  the  back  room  of  the  café  they  both  work  at  <3

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠:  @supcrson​

he’d  gotten  a  job  under  the  premise  that  he  needed  to  make  his  own  money,  forge  his  own  way  —  if  billy  was  no  longer  living  with  his  parents  in  the  kaplan  household,  the  least  he  could  do  to  foster  more  independence  was  earn  his  own  paycheck.  it  wasn’t  his  worst  idea  .  .  .  but  that  didn’t  mean  he  particularly  loved  it,  either.  loving  it  wasn’t  in  his  job  description  —  not  with  what  he’s  being  paid.  nevertheless,  he’s  efficient.  he  gets  his  work  done.  it’s  just  .  .  .  his  powers  may  be  the  only  reason  he  hasn’t  been  fired  yet.

so  there  billy  was,  preparing  for  closing,  —  wishing  stains  away  instead  of  washing  them,  summoning  drink  pitchers  from  too-high  shelves,  transmutating  his  sponge  into  a  dishrag  and  back  again  —  when,  unbeknownst  to  him,  his  co-worker  jonathan  walked  in.  it  wasn’t  until  billy  turned  to  head  back  to  the  café  that  he  saw  him,  eyes  going  wide  as  he  fumbled  to  take  his  headphones  off.  part-time  superhero,  part-time  barista  .  .  .  full-time  idiot.  “  uhhhh  .  .  .  so  on  a  scale  of  one  to  ten,  how  much  of  that  did  you  just  see  ?  ”

It wasn’t the worst job in the world. For a kid who’d spent the back half of his high school career in space and come back with no formal education or work experience, it was a pretty solid gig. It helped pay the rent, the free coffee was good, and Jon had made it the better part of a week on day-old pastries. While the customers could be some of New York’s finest, his coworkers were pretty alright. Still--Jon had wanted more. This wasn’t the way their life was supposed to go; this wasn’t where they were supposed to be right now. He should have been finishing up college, not making up for lost time and mopping up spilled lattes in the middle of the cafe, getting hit on by middle-aged women and insulted by teenage boys.

Sometimes (okay, basically all the time), being able to fly was awesome. It was particularly awesome on a day like today, all open blue skies and barely any wind to knock him off-course. It’s a bird! It’s a plane! someone had shouted a few blocks over, and Jon had laughed. No, they’d be disappointed. It wasn’t even Superman. It was still sick, though, being able to give the kid a wave and keep going, all red and blue and streaming cape and wind-swept hair. Yeah, sometimes, it felt good to be Superboy. It felt even better when the flight ended in a fire escape with a familiar scowling figure waiting on it. Without landing, without so much as grabbing the railing, Jon dipped down and leaned in to kiss them, then pulled back with a cocky grin.

They’d been apart too long, two superpowered ships in the night. One trip to space followed by another, completely normal family stuff. On Earth, it had been months; for Jon, it had been years. Up in the stars, he’d grown up without a father. There had been that awful, twisted version, but he wasn’t clark. He was just enough to trigger Jon’s memories, to wear them thin, until they worried they’d forget their father entirely. What did his voice sound like? What did his eyes do when he laughed? Were his glasses round or square? Every passing day had chipped him away a little bit more.

But they were back now, both of them. And, by Rao, Jon was going to see his dad. He needed a hug. They alighted on the fire escape, their cape billowing behind them, and slipped in through the unlocked window. It was tighter than anticipated, his shoulders broadened in the years they’d been apart. He wondered if Clark would still tower over him, if he’d still recognize him. Jon hoped, Jon prayed. It was all they had left.

         (  @reshieldedstart​  !  )  ‘  i’m  good  .   i’m  like  ,   so  good  .  ’   there’s  a  tremble  in  every  step  they  take  ,   cassie  has  to  hold  her  arms  out  to  make  sure  she  doesn’t  plop  over  just  like  that   (   she  can’t  even  walk  in  a  straight  line  ,   oops  )  ,   and  she  giggles  at  the  other  .    ‘  isn’t  this  fun ?  i  can  totally  like  ,   feel  the  spirits  around  us  .   they’re  totes  into  us  partying  out  here  with  them  .  ’    a  pause  ,   doe  eyes  blink  up  at  them  .    ‘  hey  ,   has  anyone  told  you  that  you’re  like  ,   supes  attractive ?  ’  

/ @reshieldedstart​ .

     “  this  looks  bad  .  .  .  “  teddy  steps  back  ,  hands  rising  up  in  the  air  and  a  look  of  shock  on  his  features  .  “  really  bad  .  but  .  .  .  “  another  pause  .  “  it’s  not  what  you  think  ,  i  swear  .  “  teddy  really  wasn’t  stealing  although  it  sure  did  look  like  it  .  and  the  look  of  guilt  on  his  features  didn’t  help  the  situation  at  all  .  “  i  was  actually  returning  it  .  “

꙳   🐣    𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑   .   .   .    @reshieldedstart​​   !

          ❛❛ that’s   because   it   is   a   shithole.   ❜❜   dick   reassured   with   a   bit   of   a   grin.   soft   yet   sad.   a   mix   of   feeling   that   slowly   became   a   permanent   fixture   on   dick’s   expression   ;   regardless   of   how   often   he   attempted   to   disguise   it.    ❛❛   but   it’s   my   shithole.   okay   ?   i   practically   grew   up   there.   ❜❜   he   swiped   past   a   few   images   on   his   camera   roll   —   one   with   hayley   ,   another   with   babs   ,   an   obligatory   found   family   photo   ,   and   then   finally   one   with   him   and   bruce.   dick   scoffed   and   promptly   locked   his   device   before   slipping   it   into   the   pocket   of   his   hoodie.   his   elbows   propped   on   on   the   railing   and   his   eyes   locked   onto   the   city   skyline.   the   new   york   lights   mimicking   daylight.   ❛❛   so   yeah   ,   this   place   beats   gotham   city.   you   win   that   round.   ❜❜   his   eyes   flickered   to   the   guest   beside   him.   ❛❛   okay.   my   turn.   ❜❜   he   tapped   his   chin   playfully.    ❛❛   would   you   rather   fight   a   dude   with   two   electrical   whips   on   a   race   track   or   a   maniacal   clown   in   an   abandoned   warehouse   ?    ❜❜

&

“Yeah, yeah. And how’d that turn out for you?” He’d never been fond of Gotham. It had been the family farm with its wide clear skies and shitty satellite internet, and, for a little while, it had been Metropolis and its gleaming glass towers and golden sunsets. Jon belonged in the sunlight and the open air; Gotham was grim and damp and claustrophobic, a place only a family like the Waynes could survive. They’d only spent time there on Official Business (which usually meant visiting Damian in an honest-to-god actual real mansion). New York wasn’t Hamilton, or even Metropolis, but it wasn’t Gotham, either. It was somewhere in between. Something he could work with. Jon leaned over Dick’s shoulder, watching him scroll through his pictures. “Wait, no, go back,” they said. “Please tell me that was a picture of you all wearing matching Christmas sweaters.”

Adam stared at the swarms of people that currently occupied the sidewalks of New York. Stars above, there were a fuckton of people in this city, especially by Adam’s cornfed, desolate farming planet standards. It would be a lot of people by anyone’s standards, he guessed. Maybe not the most populous city on Earth, but it certainly felt that way as Adam was jostled back and forth, by people who couldn’t feign politeness long enough to not shoulder past anyone who didn’t keep up with their fast-paced lifestyle. If he had it his way, he’d be back in Iowa, or Alaska, or any of those square states in the Midwest, content to never see another person for the rest of his natural-born life. But duty calls, and specifically called him to the Xavier institute, in search of answers. It was, in his mind, extending an olive branch. He would let the X-Men know he was in the city, and that he was a mutant, and would be on retainer for any calls, but did not want to be anywhere near the top of that list. This was his middle-ground, between completely blowing them off after they helped him, and flat out joining the team. The only issue was, Adam’s aversion to technology (he could be tracked too easily) made him have no idea where anything was. He spotted someone standing off to the side of the street, and shouldered his way through the crowd.

“Do you know where the Xavier school is?” He asked quickly. “Huge fuckin’ mansion, with mutants and stuff?”

@reshieldedstart​

&

It wasn’t that he’d never been to a city before--it wasn’t even than he’d never lived in a city before. Metropolis wasn’t small by any standards, but New York felt bigger. Louder. Grimier. Jon had never seen rats this big or this fond of taking full-sized human meals down to the subway. And New York definitely wasn’t the farm--there were no wide open skies, quiet summer nights blinding in starlight, no empty fields, no gentle lumbering of trucks and tractors down dirt roads. All those years out in space, and all they’d wanted was to go back there. To go home. He’d had days, maybe weeks, not nearly enough time to make up for what he’d lost, and now he was here. (Yeah, yeah, you could say that home wasn’t a place, it was people, but that didn’t quite kick the pang in their gut when they remembered how much they missed it.) At least they’d gotten something like oriented now; they could get around without a constant panicked look at Google Maps, which was more adjusted than this guy looked.

“  uh  —  i don’t think that’s just family drama  ,  dude  ,  ”  tim says  ,  looking away from the library shelf in order to properly focus on the guy he’s talking to  .  “  family drama is like  .  your aunt won’t talk to your mum ‘cause she got her a really ugly sweater for christmas  .  that kind of stuff  .  ”  he is  ,  regrettably  ,  speaking from experience  .  “  anyway  ,  this little shit  —  her name’s yo-yo  ,  by the way  —  she flew through a portal  ,  and naturally i had to follow her  ,  and  …  now i’m stuck here  .  ”

              *  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑   &   𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍   .   .   .    𝘧𝘵   !    @reshieldedstart​  .

              ❝     bro  .  .  .  i  don’t  even  know  what  a  boyfriend  does.  how  am  i  supposed  to  be  one  ?  especially  a  GOOD  ONE  !    ❞

🍍  :    how comfortable is my muse in their body? how do they feel about their height,  weight,  strength,  and body type?  how important is being attractive to them?  

This is complicated, and a little bit loaded for Jon. Fundamentally, he’s fine with how he looks! They’re built to hell and stupidly symmetrical, and have been able to use their big blue eyes and winning smile to get out of just about anything. He wouldn’t mind being a little taller, but such is life.

However: Jon also spent several years trapped in space, and they got back to Earth grown up, with little to no idea what they’d come to look like. He doesn’t see himself as a stranger, exactly, but it’s still jarring--it’s easy to not notice yourself aging day by day, but seeing years in one go? That’s not right. Their face is their face, and they’re fine with it, same as they’ve always been, but there’s some disconnect there. Although he lived every year he aged, the context was all wrong, and he’s relearning how to live in his body here and now. He’s also managed a scar on his cheek that looks pretty badass, but, to be totally honest, he can’t remember where it came from.