etrayalogs | the high road's steady and steep, the low road's easy and deep (open)

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the high road's steady and steep, the low road's easy and deep (open)

WHO: Clark Kent/Superman + you (new & existing CR both welcome!)
WHEN: Post-mission 13, remainder of February
WHERE: All over Etraya
WHAT: Just a normal guy trying to get by in a multiversal bubble city

coming home

[The end of the mission leaves Clark a little off-kilter, a little sad. He hadn't thought much about it going into the trip, having been more concerned about Jon's emotions at the time, but spending a couple weeks on a planet doomed to die, unable to bring back even one refugee, save one life when so many others will be lost...yeah, he's having some feelings about it. He could shrug off a bullet to the head, but he feels tender, like new skin growing over a wound that's not yet healed. (Or so he's seen in other people.) Wallowing won't help, though; as the son of farmers, he hadn't had an excuse to do so growing up, even on his worst days full of teenaged angst. There was always something to do, and that usually helped. A job well done often made him feel a little better about whatever was bothering him. So now that they're back in Etraya, it's again time to do.]

shopping & cooking

[They'd done their best to use up leftovers before embarking on the trip to Mesa, so Clark goes on a big shopping trip now that they're home, stocking up on essentials and more than a few treats, going from the Bangsan Market to Kwik Trip (surprisingly good cheese and ice cream options) to Otto-Mart and beyond. And yeah, there's a lunch stop at Big Belly Burger, where he downs three cheeseburgers in full Superman regalia. Once all that's done, he goes on a meal-prep streak at home, followed by hours spent at NYX, making tasty snacks and pre-Valentine's Day treats for his friends and co-workers there. Who knew Superman liked to cook so much? Who knew he could get so good at it now that he's got actual time on his hands?]

library stop

[Nerd alert: Clark's got a big pile of books in his arms, and boy, they're heavy. It's been some time since he's had a chance to sit down and read, so why not now? Even if the books are...kind of out of date. That's okay, they're also clearly not from his world, so a library circa 2005 has plenty to offer. He wanders the stacks for a few hours, slowly adding to his collection to check out, occasionally floating to the highest shelves to see what's there. He also takes a look at the DVD collection, which has a lot of movie classics he remembers from his childhood. Maybe there's something he can share with Jon.]

Barcade

[Wow, he hasn't played an old school arcade game in ages. Has this place been here the whole time he has? Huh. It's just a whim, but he stops for a while and runs up a new high score on Pacman, because superhuman reflexes mean he absolutely whips ass at this game.

That's it. That's the prompt.]

out & about

[The rest of the month, Superman spends a lot of time out and about, visiting places like the Mall of America (wow, this places is practically the size of Smallville) to pick up some gifts for friends & family; Ramsey farm, just to see how things are going; the Louvre, because museums are cool; the liquor store, because he might not be able to get drunk, but he can pick up a bottle of wine for date night; and just flying around, enjoying the feeling of being untethered to the earth, ready to stop in and say hi or help anyone that might need a hand down below.]

[ooc; just going for a Superman-around-town open log, feel free to wild card me or PM me/hit me up at

effervescible if you have a thread idea that doesn't quite fit here!]

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( jon's been feeling... some sort of way since coming back from the mission. to think that all those creatures and all the inhabitants of that planet and so many more within that universe have been left to die... it bothers him. still. how could it not? even though it's not home — even though it's a universe separate from his own, a part of him aches for all those lives that will inevitably be lost and knowing there wasn't anything he could do about it. not as jon kent. not as superboy. inevitable, he'd been told, but he just couldn't accept that.

he's trying his best to not let himself dwell on it all with being back on etraya, and so he's flying his way back from a quick grocery run that's mostly snacks for an always growing half-kryptonian boy. ice cream, chips, cotton candy, gummies... there's a few bags of dried fruit so he can't get told it's all junk, but. his bags are pretty hefty with the snacks...

...snacks that also are for one super-pup who happens to be zipping his way through the air for jon. krypto bumps into jon, toppling him over some, and he nearly drops his bags before he straightens himself up. )

Geez, Krypto! Can you give me a second first?

( he probably smells the dog treats.

shaking his head at the eager floating dog who makes his way down towards the apartments, jon follows after him, heading for the balcony to land on... except he falters then mid-air. an extremely loud ringing ricocheting around within his head to the point that it hurts and he drops his bags and all its contents, clutching at his ears as he begins to descend from the air.

krypto starts barking and it makes it worse. as though he's there inside his head barking in his ears. )

Krypto, stop! Stop!

Edited 2026-02-11 22:54 (UTC)

[He's halfway across the city when he hears something...off. Most of the time, the noises of the block and the city and the world are automatically screened out, white noise, something Clark had to learn to maintain his sanity. But certain things always sneak through, because he wants them to or because he's attuned to them in some way; his own name, cries for help, indications that he's needed in some way.

This isn't either of those. It's just a voice, one he knows well, but it's discordant, distressed. Clark's gut knows the meaning faster than his head does and he takes off immediately, library DVDs tucked away in the crook of his arm, setting off a sonic boom over Etraya.]

Jon!

[He sees what he's here for a split second before he gets there. Jon's drifting, falling slowly. He won't touch the ground on his own; Clark is there, arms going around him, catching him.]

Jon, what's wrong?

( somehow, he knew. he knew he wouldn't hit the ground, even if it wouldn't hurt him. he knew his dad would be there for him the moment he cried out at krypto. because he's always there when he needs him. and he needs him now.

small hands cover his ears, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezes them shut tight and he lets out a soft cry as krypto keeps barking. )

Krypto, please stop. It hurts.

[Hurts? Clark glances at Krypto, briefly puzzled — he's not a great dog, but he would never hurt Jon. And then, just as fast, it hits him. Oh no.]

Shhh. Shhh, Krypto. Quiet down.

[The dog starts to settle, but that will only help so much. His own words are probably just as harmful as this point. He remembers what he'd said to Lois in WcDonald's, months ago — if he's like me, then this is around the age when my powers started showing up...when the hearing came in, it put me on the floor for two days.

He floats downward, toward the balcony door, holding Jon securely in his arms.]

Jon? It's going to be okay. We'll get through this, I promise.

( he hates how much this hurts.

strands of dark hair twist between small fingers that continue to clutch tightly at his ears. he keeps his eyes shut — chokes on his sobs as he tries to calm himself down but he just... can't. he's trying — trying to focus on something but everything is just bleeding together and he hates this so much. )

I don't know what— ( a hiccup ) what happened.

( his snacks are all over the floor outside the apartments, ice cream spilling onto the pavement. geez. )

[Snacks cleanup can wait. They didn't hit anyone, so it's fine. They'll get more snacks later.]

It's one of your powers, Jon. Your hearing is kicking in. Like mine.

[He's extending that sense right now. Lois' heartbeat isn't here, so it's just the two of them. Clark carries Jon inside and settles on the living room floor, rocking him slowly.]

It's going to be okay. I got through this, so can you.

( he tries not to but... he can't help it. sobs become harder as he begins to press the heels of his palms tightly against his ears in some attempt to block everything out. it doesn't work, of course. but he still keeps trying, tears falling from tightly shut eyes. )

I can't do this, dad. I'm not you.

Yes, you can. You're my son. I know you can.

[He holds Jon closer, stroking his hair.]

I know it's hard. I know it's everything. Pick one sound, Jon, and focus on that. Try to listen only to that sound.

( he's trying but it's like grasping for straws. there's just so many sounds flooding him, it's overwhelming ands he can barely hear himself think. why can't he turn this off? why can't he put it on mute? why can't everyone and everything just be so much more quieter?

he shakes his head, hands still covering his ears, and he tugs at his hair a little as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter. )

I can't, dad. I can't.

You can.

[What had worked for him, decades ago? He doesn't remember. He hadn't had anyone to guide him through it, so he'd just borne the pain and the overstimulation until he'd somehow found a way past it.

What works for him now? What does he listen to that soothes him when he's anxious?]

Listen to my heartbeat, Jon. Focus on that.

( can he really do that? is it really that simple? well, no. it's not. how can he even find his father's heartbeat in a sea of noise like this? he sobs more — presses his cheek to his father's chest, and he... tries. tries to pick out the soothing, strong, steady beat of his father's heart so close to him.

it takes him a little — squirms a little there in his father's arms as if it might help him hideaway from all the noise, but. slowly, he begins to trudge his way through the thick soup of noise he's found himself in and he finds his father's heartbeat there amongst everything and everyone else barreling down on him. he curls himself into his father, hands still over his ears and, gently, begins to open his eyes. )

I hear it, dad. I hear your heartbeat...

[It takes time. That's not surprising, but Clark wishes he could do this for Jon instead of waiting as he tries himself. Or maybe not — doing things for Jon won't really help him in the long run. But god, does he wish he could, just this one.

His heartbeat is a little faster than usual, but it starts to slow when Jon speaks again, his anxiety easing.]

Keep listening to it, for as long as you need. Let the rest of the world's noise recede like a wave.

[He'll be here throughout, running his hand over Jon's back, trying to be a comforting presence.]

( he tries his hardest to focus only on his father's heartbeat, cheek still pressed there to the man's chest, and he lets his hand fall away from his ear there to instead hold his father's arm. blue eyes gently stare across the room, half-lidded, a couple more hiccups to come as he just remains there in his father's embrace. it's comforting. it's familiar. it's something that makes him feel safe which is exactly what he needs right now.

eyes shine with tears that slow in their sliding down his cheeks and his hand covering his other ear gently loosen their grip of the strands of dark hair caught between them. his breathing becomes a little easier, despite the hiccups, and he keeps staring across the room as the sound of his father's heartbeat slowly becomes the only thing he can hear. )

[They could stay here for hours. Days, even. As long as Jon needs.]

I remember how hard it is, Jon. It was the same for me.

[The overwhelming voices of millions of people. Whisper-quiet sounds turned into rolling thunder.]

It will get easier. I promise.

[He rocks him back and forth a little, like he can imagine doing when Jon was a baby, if he had been there.]

( he latches onto the sound of his father's heartbeat even as he keeps his other hand there on his ear. )

When, dad?

( because what happens if he stops listening to his father's heartbeat? will a rush of noise bombard him all over again? his hand there on his father's arm gently curls into a small fist then. not because he's angry. but because he's anxious. )

How am I supposed to sleep? Do you think I'll need noise canceling headphones?

( would those even help as he slept? )

No, I don't think you will.

[Because they'd do absolutely no good. He'd hear right through them — is what he's absolutely not going to say.]

Screening things out will feel more normal with practice. Automatic. I can't promise it won't get overwhelming again, but as long as you have something to listen for, you'll be able to make it go away. Like a guiding star.

how long will that take?

( how long did it take for his father to be able to do that? even as he asks that, he looks up to his father with sad, pleading eyes, hoping he has an answer for him. )

[Clark wishes so much that he had an answer for him.]

I don't know for sure, but it took me a couple of days to turn it down the first time. So you're already doing better.

( he looks down when his father gives him that answer — tries to not look disappointed but... it's difficult. )

I'm scared to stop listening to your heartbeat.

Then don't.

[It's not as simple as that. But also, it is.]

I'm not going anywhere right now. But with your super hearing kicking in, you'll be able to hear me from anywhere. Or anything else you'd want to use to ground you.

( he's more or less curled himself up there in his father's embrace — seemingly refuses to leave out of concern the world of etraya around him might suddenly attack his hearing. while trying to focus on his father's heartbeat, he also tries to focus on something else so as not to upset himself any further. )

I dropped my snacks...

( well. another disappointment to face. )

[Clark is seated solidly, settled, in absolutely no hurry to move.]

It's okay. They didn't land on anyone, I saw. If you want to take a nap later, I'll get some non-smashed replacements for you.

[Jon might not want a nap now, but he knows how exhausting a sudden attack of super-hearing can be. He's going to guess it might happen anyway, eventually.]

( looking down, he frowns. )

I'm sorry. For my door and my room and this.

( he's just been having a rough few weeks it seems. )

Jon. This one is not your fault.

[He's not upset about the door, either, but that at least is something the two of them can work on. And they will.]

If anything, I'm sorry I couldn't give you only the good parts of having powers.

( he knows but... he still feels the need to apologize. maybe it's just how he is. with his heck's and gosh's that he throws around, too. just wanting to be a good kid. you know, when his ears don't feel like they're bleeding from all the noise. )

I don't want to worry mom.

( because he feels she might be with this coming up now, too. )

[He should probably give her a heads up, because she needs to know and because they should probably plan to keep things quiet at home for a bit, even if small sounds are the same as big ones right now.]

It's our job to worry about you. I'm pretty sure all parents have to sign something about that when they get handed the baby.

( well. he can't argue with that, he figures. he just feels bad. making her— making them both worry.

swallowing, he presses his face into his father's chest a little more and catches sight of krypto nearby. a frown on his lips, he reaches out with his hand towards the super pup, watching as he making his way over, tail wagging. )

I'm sorry I yelled at you, Krypto. We're still friends, right?

( and the lick he's given on his fingers is the first thing to bring a small little smile to his face since this started. )

[Krypto has been surprisingly calm and quiet, like he recognizes that something serious is happening and now is not playtime. Is he capable of that? Huh. Maybe he is.]

I think you're still best friends.

[And he pretty much has to give Krypto a pat himself, heartfelt and sincere. It's a first.]

( the smile he wears gently fades as he comes to the realization that this is all very much a thing happening and he looks back up to his father then, fingers gentle in the way they scratch the top of krypto's head. )

Do you have trouble sleeping? I mean... do you sometimes hear everything when you sleep?

Not exactly.

[He thinks for a moment on how to word this.]

Hearing the world doesn't keep me up. It's more...knowing that I can hear everything if I let myself, and thinking that maybe I should do that because what if I miss the sound of someone in trouble? What if they need Superman's help more than I need a few hours of rest?

( that makes sense, he figures, and he leans himself there against his father, long legs tucked under him some to the point where he pulls a leg out to stretch it a little, head still resting against that chest with the steady, strong heartbeat he clings to. )

Is it difficult? Knowing you can hear but forcing yourself not to?

Sometimes it is.

[He shifts a little, not trying to move away but giving Jon room to sit how it's most comfortable for him.]

There were times I overdid it...put off rest and food and everything else in my life to look for the next way I could help. And I don't regret any of the good I did those days, but it also taught me that focusing only on Superman things can mess up other parts of my life. Everyone needs to find a balance, no matter what they're capable of.

( with his legs not all tangled up, he drapes them across his father's lap, that one hand still holding to his arm as a means of keeping him grounded there within his father's protective embrace. )

You mean mom?

( his balance. maybe. )

I actually had to figure this out before your mom.

[He definitely has to keep maintaining that balance now that he knows her, of course.]

Being an unreliable flake actually got me dumped by a couple of ladies before your mom and I started seeing each other. That's not what pushed me to find a balance, but it didn't hurt.

( he makes a bit of a face at the thought of dating and all. not that there's anything wrong with that... sort of... but he just has no interest in that. maybe never will! which, with that train of thought, he sighs. )

I'm never going to get married. ( a beat. ) Well. Maybe to that ice cream I had before I dropped it.

( he was really looking forward to strawberry shortcake crumble. )

[Clark is not going to laugh at that face. On the outside he's not, anyway.]

Don't think you can marry a dessert, buddy.

[He ruffles his hair.]

At least, it'd be a short marriage.

( the ruffle brings a quiet smile to his face, his father's heartbeat the soothing strength he needs to keep himself grounded. tipping his head up some, his smile turns to something a little more.. hopeful? maybe a little despite the trepidation within it. )

What happens when I stop listening to your heartbeat? Will all the noise come back?

I'm not sure.

[Even if it doesn't, there's always the chance it could come back later. He has complete faith that Jon will get a handle on this, but learning isn't always linear.]

You could try now. I'll still be right here if you need to focus in again.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

[Dwayne may be fucking onto something about the acoustics in this giant-ass mall. something to ponder later. when Pending is not yelling in abject fury.

some stuff makes a loud amount of crashing. Pending roars another expletive, but it's less rage and more dismay.

more stuff crashes.

fuck is growled and panted and hissed at a more reasonable volume, and the half-orc can be found in a staggering slouch against the counter of a legally distinct Pottery Barn that is more just broken shit than pottery at this point.

when he becomes aware of some body filling in space nearby, he lifts his head, eyes wide and face wet. they look simultaneously part cornered animal, red-handed cookie thief, and despondent lost tourist.

one side of their mouth twitches.]

Wh. What. What...

[Clark winces when he hears the shout/scream/shoutscream. It's not that it hurts, it's not that powerful, but it sort of sounds like it should. Must be the excellent acoustics in this mostly-empty mall.

He follows the ensuing sounds to their source, because he kind of has to. Call it morbid curiosity, or maybe the innate instinct of an investigative journalism. He's just got to know what the heck is happening.]

Hi.

[He raises a hand in greeting.]

You okay, buddy?

[Pending gawks for a prolonged beat until he remembers that breathing is a mandatory thing you gotta do. he huffs shakily, scrubbing at his eyes.

mumbling:] Wait. Fuckin'... wait. Wait...

[as he mumbles, he pushes off the counter and stares around the scattered crockery at his feet and beyond, crouching and feeling around before picking up his earpiece and, while making a distasteful face, putting it back in his ear.

he stays squatting, head bowed.]

Say it again.

[He waits, because. Well, why not, he is technically the intruding party here. Clark doesn't especially approve of retail vandalism, but it's not like there are any employees or shopkeepers to bother, so.]

I was just checking to see if you're okay. I was shopping nearby, and heard — you sounded a little stressed.

...

[Fuckin' place is how fuckin' big and all...what, forty people? gotta be in the area at all goddamn times? Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck everything.

part of him wants to pick up shit and just start throwing at this niceguy. part of him wants said niceguy to rip his head off for him and spike it through a wall. to, y'know. not feel anymore. maybe science out that whole dying thing! ha! something of value! ha ha ha!!]

Stressed. [ha. ha. ha.] Sure.

[slowly, he straightens back out, dull gaze down at the floor.]

It don't matter. The mess. If that's the problem. It don't matter.

Seems like it mattered to you. Making it did, I mean.

[He's not completely clueless. The mess in intense, so he doubts it was just a casual way to pass the time.]

I'm not here to — I don't know, scold you. That'd be pretty rude.

[And I'd beat your fucking ass for it, Knife thinks automatically. Pending just shrugs, avoiding eye contact in favor of checking his clothes for any tears or his arms for any sign of blood. even pissed to high heaven, he can't let himself bleed in front of other people.]

Wouldn't change nothing neither. [Nothing fucking does!

while peeking under a wrist bandage:] How many days...you stuck here for.

[Ah.]

Give it about a month and it'll be around two hundred.

[It seems so long and so short at the same time.]

How long has it been for you?

[ He's out of coffee.

He's been out of coffee three days now and it was really starting to get to him. The variety in Kwik-Trip is limited, but he can make do with whatever instant blends are available. He'd have to if he's going to keep up his routine.

For once, he's out and about as Bruce Wayne, the suit tucked away in a safehouse. It's easier to navigate Etraya this way. So far he's managed to avoid anyone else in the store right up until he remembers his fridge needs restocking. Unlike the efficiency of the Kents, Bruce let his leftovers spoil. So he hasn't had much to eat besides a few granola bars. He slips by Clark near the cheese and reaches for sliced turkey. Not exactly the picture of health, but it would do for protein for now. He glances at Clark while he makes a selection and then offers him a Bright Smile™. ]

Nice to see you again, Mr. Kent.

[Bruce Wayne is Batman. Bruce Wayne is Batman, and it's just so obvious now, and not just because the younger one had essentially confirmed what Lois had figured out. The smile is so clearly a cover, a fake. (Not that he's enough of a jerk to think that Bruce/Batman never has a reason to smile, but running into a familiar face at the Kwik Trip probably isn't one.) Clark feels kind of silly for not working it out himself without the x-ray vision.

He smiles back anyway, because he's not going to be rude just because he feels silly.]

Nice to see you, Mr. Wayne. Shopping at a convenience store must be a quaint experience for you.

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the high road's steady and steep, the low road's easy and deep (open)

when the world becomes too much.

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mall

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cw slight suicidal ideation

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Shopping

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