#wip: the one where kon's soulmark is fake
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father
"What's the traditional token of appreciation for saving your father's life, anyway?" Lex Luthor asks with idle curiosity. "Would you like a pony? I hear children respond well to those. Or perhaps a Bugatti would be more appropriate, given your mental development. I realize you can fly, obviously, but there is a certain appeal to reckless disregard for both the speed limit and what counts as 'street legal' modifications."
"I think you're actually just insane," Kon says. "Like I think that's really a real thing that you actually are."
"Surprisingly not, according to seven separate psychiatrists," Lex Luthor says, taking a sip of his coffee. "Then again, I suppose they just might not have wanted to risk telling a man with my reputation that he was mentally unstable."
"You're not my father," Kon says.
"Tell that to your tactile telekinesis," Lex Luthor says.
"Fuck you," Kon says.
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An excerpt of morally-ambiguous-dad!Lex for @robotogato to hopefully enjoy, haha.
"Clones really don't get soulmarks, though," Kon says in frustration. "It doesn't even make sense that I'd have one."
"Well, I suppose there's the possibility that I just want you so badly that it happened anyway," Lex Luthor muses idly. "A Luthor doesn't generally accept being denied what they want."
"Very fucking funny," Kon mutters, shooting him a glower. "I'm being serious here, asshole."
"Hm," Lex Luthor observes, inspecting him neutrally. "Not even a moment where you let yourself want to believe that, was there."
"Why would I wanna believe that a bastard like you wanted me?" Kon sneers at him.
"Because I am the only person in the multiverse who would burn down reality for you without hesitation," Lex Luthor says like he's talking about the weather or something. Like he's just stating a totally inconsequential fact or reiterating something as obvious as the sky being blue.
Like there's no question there at all.
"I hope you fucking die and I hope it fucking hurts," Kon hisses as the whole world seems to bleed red, just about choking on his fury.
"Well, it will if you don't close your eyes," Lex Luthor says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Quickly, ideally."
"Wh–" Kon is almost stupid enough to ask, and then he realizes and immediately screws his eyes shut, snapping his hands up over his face just in case.
His eye sockets feel like they're on fire.
"Ah, I suppose I live another day," Lex Luthor says. "Rage and anger are notable triggers for the heat vision, if you're still unfamiliar. And apparently arousal as well, although I have very definitely never encountered that version so I can't say if it's more or less potent than rage."
"How do you even know about it, then?" Kon asks, hating that he can't trust himself to look at the bastard without killing him. Lex Luthor could be doing any stupid fucked-up thing right now and he'd have no fucking clue.
"I am a very intelligent person who can afford very good information," Lex Luthor says. "And I am also more intimately familiar with Kryptonian DNA than quite possibly anyone else on this planet, Superman included."
"Superman has Kryptonian DNA," Kon retorts dubiously.
"He does," Lex Luthor agrees. "His special little gift from dumb luck and blind chance. Some of us actually had to put in a bit of effort to get that kind of power, though."
"You don't have that kind of power," Kon says. "You have money and the fucking bullshit fear that you put into people."
"Ah, but I have you now," Lex Luthor counters mildly. "Now don't I."
"You don't," Kon snaps.
"Oh, give it sixteen years or so," Lex Luthor says, making a dismissive gesture as Kon's eyes finally stop burning long enough for him to risk a glare at him. "Your full powerset should be in by then, and I imagine I'll have had a bit of time to change your mind somewhere in there."
"I don't care what whatever custody law bullshit says about it, I'm not gonna stay with you," Kon says tightly. "Sure as shit not for the next sixteen years!"
"Oh?" Lex Luthor asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "Then where exactly are you intending to go long-term? Just planning to stay in a lab for the rest of your life?"
"Why the fuck not?" Kon says in exasperation.
Lex Luthor's eyes narrow.
"Oh," he says like a realization. "Someone's actually made you assume that you belong in a lab, haven't they."
"Yeah, I can't think of a single unrepentant bastard who might've had a hand in me belonging in one of those," Kon bites off darkly. "Real fucking mystery there, huh."
"Hm," Lex Luthor says.
#kon el#conner kent#superboy#lex luthor#superfamily#well arguably superfamily lol#rinfic#robotogato#long post#wip: the one where kon's soulmark is fake
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For the guessing game: Kent 👀👀
Just, like, of course Kon's not Clark's . . . family, or whatever. Of course he's just like that one weird kid from down the street that somebody occasionally invites over out of pity who only learns the family secrets by accident or through osmosis and isn't actually kept in the loop or anything. Kon knows that.
But watching Jon beam up at his dad and Clark smile down at his son is still making him want to curl up and die right here and now.
Kon does kind of wonder what it's like to be, like . . . loved, or whatever.
Everybody always makes it sound really nice.
"Dinner's about ready," Clark says. "You two mind setting the table?"
"Sorry, I gotta get going," Kon says instead of admitting he has no idea how to set a fucking table, especially not to whatever Martha Kent's standards are. Cadmus did not actually see fit to educate him on typical household chores and he has very rarely ever sat down at any semblance of a normal family dinner. Like, in Hawaii they all just ate wherever and not even all together half the time, and Cadmus has a cafeteria, and Young Justice just dumps a pile of junk food or takeout on the nearest unoccupied surface and they all just go to town on it like the weird gaggle of semi-superpowered and usually-ravenous teenagers that they are.
He could look it up on his phone, and he probably will later, but there's no way he's gonna run the risk of getting caught looking it up on his phone. Like–no. Never, thanks. Miss him with that particular little bit of "further proof of being a fake person" humiliation.
So it's . . . whatever, he guesses.
"Well, that's alright, we'll just have to catch you another time," Clark says with a polite smile that looks nothing like the one he was just wearing for Jon, and doesn't even fake like he's disappointed or like he's gonna miss him. Because like . . . why would he, after all?
Kon misses him all the time, but . . .
#kon el#clark kent#superboy#superman#superfamily#clarkkent-irons#wip: the one where kon's soulmark is fake
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. . . this morning I wrote Core Four kink and Superfam angst and welp y'all are gettin' the angst. 🤷🏻♀️
"Westfield," Kon chokes out, clenching his fists. "When Cadmus made me, he–he–"
"Kon," Clark says, slow and cautious, and Kon still wants to just scream.
"I don't know how to set a table," he says instead, throat painfully tight. Clark–blinks. "Or be a real person. You named me after your cousin. You named Jon after your–after your dad."
And like, obviously that specific name had long since been taken when Kon had shown up, and Clark hadn't trusted him enough to tell him it until long after he'd named him anyway, but–but–
Well, it's not like Clark hadn't had another dad handy. One with a Kryptonian name, just like "Kon-El" is, that Kon never would've been able to figure out his real identity from. If he'd–if he'd ever–
He would've named him Jor, if he'd ever thought of him as anything like a . . .
Kon hadn't known that when Clark had named him, obviously. Hadn't known about Jon at all, much less that he was Clark's kid. Hadn't known that being named after an adopted family member wasn't–was just–
No. Clark wouldn't actually have named him Jor, if he'd thought of him like that at all.
He'd have given him a human name, if he'd really . . . if he'd really wanted him to be any kind of "family". If he'd really wanted . . .
He'd have given him a human name.
The Kents are Clark's family. Lois and Jon are Clark's family. The House of El is just a bunch of sad stories and scattered strangers in old records.
And Kon is just some weird, fucked-up experiment that was stupid enough to think it ever deserved a name or a soul or–or–
Or a father.
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Krypton lives and the one where kons soulmark is fake for wip wednesday?
Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this:
The boys share a glance, then both leave their bags at the foot of a different bed. They pause, just for a moment, and then turn back to her. She wonders what the pause was about, but doesn’t want to hear another six point five answer right now and so just heads back into the hall instead of asking. She’ll ask later, if it happens again.
She takes them to the kitchen and cracks open the cupboards, trying to figure out what to feed them. She doesn’t know what Earthlings prefer, flavor-wise. Kal told her they’re omnivores, same as Kryptonians, and the medical scans said neither of them should have any dietary restrictions, but Earthlings apparently prefer larger portions and much more meat and dairy than Kryptonians do, and usually their informal meals are served all on one plate, with the main and sides delivered simultaneously and usually including meat and vegetables and sometimes something he’d called “bread”. He hadn’t explained “bread” very well. Something involving wheat, but ground up and baked . . . ?
So livestock feed, apparently. Kara has no idea how that’s supposed to be appetizing, but she’s not an Earthling.
She’d just ordered extra rice and just assumed it’d be close enough.
A lot of extra rice.
the one where Kon's soulmark is fake:
“That’s so lame!” Bart gripes. Tim looks exasperated, Cissie looks dubious, Cassie looks disappointed, Suzie looks confused, and Kon is just praying that none of them are going to ask him any follow-up questions. Like. Ever. Just ever.
“Listen, you do you, man, it’s just not my thing,” he lies with a shrug, leaning back in his seat and making a show of looking at the movie again. “Also, I can’t imagine why you’d wanna screw me or Rob anyway, some of us need our refractory periods.”
His refractory period is actually about thirty seconds max and he can definitely come more times than a baseline AMAB human can, but in Bart-time that’s an eternity anyway, he figures. So like, same difference.
“He didn’t say anything about doing anything with either of us,” Robin says, his tone going a little odd. Kon immediately mentally kicks himself, because not even considering that would’ve bought him more leeway here, he’s pretty sure.
“No, I definitely meant we should all make time,” Bart says. “Was that unclear? I didn’t think that was unclear. What’s a refractory period?”
“In speedster time? A myth, I’m betting,” Kon says wryly, trying to force his heartbeat to calm down again. It’s . . . not going great, to be honest.
#anonymous#wip: krypton lives and kara did not sign up for this#wip: the one where kon's soulmark is fake
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the one where Kon’s soulmark is fake for WIP Wednesday?
Kon spends the weekend at the base with Young Justice and it’d be great, except while they’re all hanging out watching some dumb action movie, Bart gets bored and says, “Hey, do you wanna . . . how do you guys say it in this century, ‘make time’?”
“No one calls it making time, Bart,” Cissie says dryly. “Also, who are you even asking?”
“Everyone?” Bart replies, looking puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I ask everyone? That’d be sprockin’ shitty of me.”
“. . . is this a future thing or a Bart thing?” Cassie mutters under her breath to Cissie, who just sighs.
“I mean, probably both?” she says. “Bart, we’re a superhero team, not your dating pool.”
“I don’t wanna date anybody,” Bart says, making a face as he hangs himself backwards over the arm of the couch. “I wanna make time! Sexy time!”
“No one calls it making time, Bart,” Cissie repeats dubiously.
“What’s ‘making time’?” Suzie asks curiously, and Robin, may the bastard eventually tell them his name, covers his face with his hands.
“Superboy, don’t say a fucking word,” he warns like Kon isn’t way too busy having the world’s quietest panic attack right now to say jack shit about any of this. “Impulse, this team is not going to fraternize. Especially not the entire team at once.”
“Why?” Bart asks with a frown. “It’s not like anybody’s gonna get jealous if we all do it together, right?”
“That’s a very idealized view of polyamory,” Robin says. Kon wonders why Robin even has a view of polyamory and continues having the world’s quietest panic attack.
“I said I didn’t wanna date!” Bart protests indignantly, waving both arms. “What I wanna do is climb you guys for a subjective year!”
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The one where kons soulmark is fake for WIP Wednesday?
“I can’t believe you of all people just said we shouldn’t have an orgy,” Cissie says, raising an eyebrow at him. Fuck, Kon thinks, still trying not to visibly panic.
“Like I said, they’re overrated,” he says, then flashes her a leering grin and a wink. “I’m more a one-on-one kind of guy, you know? I like the personal touch.”
He would actually perfectly happily knock over literally every single teammate they have at once, but that’s not–he can’t do that, obviously. The moment one of them wants him naked and he refuses to take his shirt off, at least Robin and Cissie are gonna know something’s up. Bart and Suzie, probably not, and Cassie might miss it, but those two? No. Not a chance. Not ever.
He can’t let them even wonder why he wouldn’t want to take his shirt off.
And that’s all assuming that Bart wouldn’t try to yank it off him at super-speed and he wouldn’t even have the chance to keep it on.
There’s no way, Kon thinks. No way, no way, no way.
He just can’t risk it, even with them.
Especially with them.
He doesn’t know what he’d do, if they saw the tattoo and even for a second thought he got it on purpose. He doesn’t want to know what he’d do.
Or how it'd feel.
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Kons fake soulmark for Wip Wednesday please!
“The Justice League would have a conniption and also disband us,” Robin says, clearly exasperated.
“Hey, the Justice League doesn’t get to disband us for who we date,” Cissie says, looking offended. “It’s none of their business, for one.”
“This isn’t even about dating!” Bart complains.
“The lack of dating makes it worse, Impulse,” Robin says, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression. “You do understand that, right?”
“No,” Bart says. Robin covers his face with his hands again and groans into his gloves.
“I still don’t know what we’re talking about,” Suzie says with a little frown.
“I mean, we could maybe, you know, try something . . .” Cassie says, for some reason glancing over at Kon as she bites her lip. He is, again, too busy having a panic attack to figure out why she’s looking at him when he’s the only one not talking right now.
Oh. Right. The not talking thing is probably weird, isn’t it. Fuck. Fuck. How does he handle this? Everyone knows he’s a flirt, so if he says “fuck no” they’re going to think it’s weird, right? Like, he could say he’s not into dudes, but that only knocks out Bart and Robin anyway, and there’s three girls in the room right now, so–
What the fuck would he even say, if they actually wanted to do this? If they actually wanted to . . . to . . .
They’d want him to get undressed. At least take his shirt off. They’d want–
Robin’s trying to shoot the idea down, of course, but Bart’s pushing it and Cissie isn’t shooting it down as hard as she could be, and who knows what Suzie will say when she realizes what they’re talking about, and Cassie seems kinda into the idea, and what the fuck can he possibly say to convince them all he doesn’t want to “make time” with three extremely cute girls for no apparent reason? Especially after how much time he’s spent hitting on Cissie?
Fuck. Just–fucking fuck.
What even could he say?
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The one where kons soulmark is fake please?
“Kon’ll agree with me!” Bart argues, pointing at him, and Kon sits there frozen in panic and desperately trying not to let it show. “Kon, tell Robin compulsory monogamy is repressive and antiquated and boring!”
“I have no idea what half those words mean, Imp,” Kon lies, and almost sounds like a normal person who’s actually, like, an actual person. He wants to bolt right out of the base and never come back. “But as much fun as dealing with Rob’s Bat-lectures about safe sex and filling out the Bat-consent forms in triplicate would be, orgies only sound fun. Mostly they’re just weird and awkward.”
That’s something they’ll buy, right? The idea that he’s fucked around like that before and just wasn’t that into the fuss or whatever? That’s a thing they’d believe?
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soulmate/soulmark
Superman's soulmark is a gorgeous Kryptonian sunrise spread out across his chest, bold and bright and beautiful. It looks like the rising truth and the clarity of a new beginning and the very literal physical manifestation of hope.
And Kon's tattoo looks exactly like it.
Except for the part where it's obviously just a tattoo, of course.
Tattoos don't pass for soulmarks, after all, which is the only reason Kon has the damn thing to begin with. Westfield hadn't wanted him to make the mistake of thinking that he was a real person, or to make the mistake of thinking that anyone was ever going to give a fuck about him as the person that he was. He was a clone, an experiment, a weapon, a thing. He didn't have a soul or a soulmate. Didn't have a mark.
He got over that. Like, it sucks? It really sucks. And he still hates it. But he'd gotten over it.
Or he'd thought he had, until he'd found out who Superman's soulmate was.
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I don’t know if you’re still taking prompts, but if you are: Rao? Or House of El?
"You never even asked to see my soulmark," Lex Luthor says, raising an eyebrow at him. "So you know perfectly well that it's me on your chest, and I imagine you knew that before I even showed up here."
Kon wants to throw him off a building and listen to him scream all the way down.
Lex Luthor probably isn't the type to give a guy the satisfaction of screaming, though.
"Yeah, because I'm not completely stupid," Kon says irritably. "I was looking right at you when the stupid thing burned into me."
"I assumed, yes, since I wasn't the one looking at you," Lex Luthor says, then hums thoughtfully to himself. "'Burned'? That's a peculiar sensation for a soulmark to come in with."
"Maybe you're fucking peculiar, old man," Kon says.
"Coming from the one whose half of our familial soulmark is someone else's family crest," Lex Luthor says dryly, and Kon thinks longingly of very, very high buildings.
"I'm an El too, asshole," he bites off defensively, clenching his fists. He's not–he's not Clark's family, but . . . but he's that, at least.
At least for now, anyway.
Lex Luthor tilts his head and gives him an assessing look.
"I'd consider you a Luthor, myself," he says. "As would, again, the legal system. But I suppose one couldn't put 'El' on their Earth paperwork either way, now could they."
Kon doesn't have any fucking paperwork aside from his Cadmus file, but if he did, the only name he'd want to put on it would be–
Well. Definitely not "Luthor", that's for fucking sure.
"I don't want your fucking name," Kon spits. "I don't want anything from you at all, except for you to go the fuck away."
"Well, it's nice to want things," Lex Luthor says with a dismissive shrug. "Like to inconvenience the Big Blue Boy Scout, for example."
"Superman isn't actually gonna give a shit about this, you realize," Kon says. "I mean, he'll probably take back the 'S' and everything and never fucking talk to me again, but he's not gonna be upset about doing that. Like, this is in no way a win for you."
Really, Kon's pretty sure this one would count as a straight-up loss. Who the hell wants custody of their least favorite person's stupid fucked-up not-kid, anyway?
Lex Luthor gives him a completely blank look for a weirdly long moment. Kon bristles reflexively.
"My taking custody of you wouldn't upset Superman," Lex Luthor says like he's making a note and not just stating an obvious fact. "So in your mind, he'd just . . . write you off as compromised and be done with you?"
Kon doesn't see why he wouldn't.
He'll probably want the name back too, he thinks, and tries to ignore the way that idea clenches painfully in his chest. If Clark wants the name back, well–well, then it's only fair. He gave that name to some stupid pathetic kid without a soulmark that he pitied a little. Not to Lex Luthor's soulmate.
He doesn't actually know what he's going to be, though, if he can't be Kon-El or even just Superboy anymore.
Not a Luthor. Not that.
But . . . but he doesn't know, otherwise.
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kon’s fake soulmark is so sooo good! could we maybe have another snippet?
“Of course you’ve thought about it,” Cissie says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a sigh and folding her arms.
“I mean, it doesn’t take much thinking, he just had to ask what one was,” Kon says reasonably. “So like, that seems kinda like a natural conclusion there.”
He needs to get out of this conversation. He needs to get out of this conversation yesterday. He needs to–to do something, before–before–
He needs to get out of here altogether, actually, he’s pretty sure, but would that be too obvious? Would they realize he’s avoiding something? Would they think–
He doesn’t even know what he thinks they might think, in that situation.
And he definitely doesn’t know what to do.
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If you’re still taking prompts: Stockholm Syndrome and/or betrayal.
"I'm not interested in curtailing your . . . hobbies," Lex Luthor says just a little bit distastefully, like literally saving people's lives is just some kind of pointless timekiller or a random thing to do over a long weekend to stave off boredom. "I don't have any intention of forcing you to move into Metropolis proper or anything similar, either. But I do intend to pursue visitation rights, for what I can only hope will be obvious reasons."
"What the fuck?" Kon asks, staring at him incredulously. "Why the hell would you want that?"
"The fact that you feel you have to ask that makes me want to actually burn down reality," Lex Luthor says with vague resignation, folding his arms. "I want that because you are my soulmate. Which, quite frankly, I am more surprised to discover I have one of than anyone. I was under the impression that I was a sociopath and a malignant narcissist."
"I'm pretty sure the Justice League would agree with that assessment," Kon says, though he's also pretty sure that sociopaths and malignant narcissists do, in fact, still get soulmates. Like, they're still people. "Like, very strongly would the Justice League agree with that assessment."
"Yes, so did I," Lex Luthor says. "So I was rather annoyed when I realized that I'd actually gone and developed a mark. Especially a mark with that crest involved in it. In fact I specifically came here today to inform you that I had no interest in pursuing any manner of relationship with you and would be rejecting the mark, and that I expected that courtesy to be returned."
"What?! Why the fuck did you make me sit through the DNA tests and all this stupid bullshit when you could've just said that?!" Kon demands, staring at him in disbelief. Not that it's not a relief to hear, even if it also makes him feel sick and pathetic, just–
"Because you went and opened that smart mouth of yours and I immediately thought 'well, I suppose it could be worse'," Lex Luthor says. "And because every person of any significance in this organization that I've tried to bully or bribe for access to you quite explicitly told me to go to hell rather than commit what they perceived to be a betrayal of your trust. I actually had to arrange a not insubstantial amount of government pressure to even get in the door to begin with."
Kon stares at him.
"What?" he says blankly.
"I suppose you don't know me well enough to understand what I mean by any of that," Lex Luthor says, tilting his head consideringly before just offering another shrug. "But you will soon enough. As far as visitation, well, we can just work around your schedule for now. When's most convenient for you?"
"The second Tuesday after the heat death of the universe," Kon says. Lex Luthor smiles, looking amused.
"Tuesdays work for me," he says agreeably.
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The one where Kons soulmark is fake for wip Wednesday please?
“I still don’t know what ‘making time’ means. And what’s a refractory period?” Suzie asks, and then Cissie leans over and whispers something in her ear. “What’s–oh. Ohhhhh. Oh!”
Suzie blushes, then brightens. Kon immediately wants to panic again.
“Oh, well, then if we took turns, maybe . . . ?” she says.
“How is Kon the only other one here who knows this isn’t a good idea?” Robin demands incredulously. “How is that the situation we’re having right now?”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea,” Cissie says reasonably, leaning back on her hands. “It’s just not the Justice League’s business either way."
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I should say that I'm doing this words pretty much solely based on lyrics from whatever song's stuck in my head at the moment, so I'll give you this chunk instead to pick from "my progeny has served me well". (In context, it's an evil wizard being released, by their clone, from the prison of ice they were trapped in.)
Kon loves Serling, but also kind of wishes she weren't explicitly threatening a megalomaniacal sociopathic supervillain with more brains than Batman and more money than . . . fuck, he doesn't know. Bruce Wayne, maybe? Just while they're in Gotham.
Whatever.
"Are you looking for a better job?" Lex Luthor inquires, looking mildly amused. "By which I mean a better paycheck."
"No," Serling says.
Lex Luthor says a number. It's . . . a big number. Like. Very big. Serling squints at him like she thinks he's a crazy person, probably because he is in fact a crazy person, then rolls her eyes.
"No," she repeats firmly.
"You do realize that if these tests go the way I've already informed you all they will, the chances of Superboy ending up wherever I'd place you are not insignificant," Lex Luthor says.
". . . then maybe," Serling says, back to squinting at him like she thinks he's a crazy person.
"Serling!" Kon hisses.
"Consider it a contingency plan, youngblood," she says with an easy shrug, then holds up the swab to Luthor. "Because actually if somebody just randomly asked me, 'hey, who do you think has the absolute brass balls and total lack of shame as to clone Superman's dead body and toss their own DNA in the melting pot while they're at it?', well, Lex freaking Luthor would absolutely make every single version of my shortlist."
"You flatter me, Dr. Roquette," Lex Luthor says pleasantly as he takes the swab and neatly scrapes the inside of his cheek with it.
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WIP word prompt: please
"Dr. Roquette, Lex Luthor," Guardian says, still eyeing Lex Luthor out of the corner of his eye. "Mr. Luthor, Dr. Serling Roquette."
"You are a literal teenager," Lex Luthor says, raising his eyebrows. "Please tell me that you've been genetically modified in some way or provided with some manner of information uploads. Or that you're a clone of a much more experienced person who transplanted their brain into a younger body when it became medically necessary."
"Not so much, my man," Serling says, cracking her gum. "But like, it's a DNA test, how many degrees do you want me to have?"
"At least a high school one," Lex Luthor replies dryly.
"Well, I've got a GED," Serling says with a shrug. "Also I'm head of the genetics division here, so you're not getting any better than me inside Cadmus anyway."
"Isn't Dabney Donovan supposed to be somewhere around here?" Lex Luthor asks mildly, making a little show of looking around the lab like they actually keep that asshole anywhere near the decent people.
"Dabney Donovan is a hack who wouldn't understand either the assignment or basic ethics if they both jumped up and bit him in the keister," Serling informs him dubiously. "Also, then Dabney Donovan would have your DNA."
". . . you know, I believe you'll do for now, Dr. Roquette," Lex Luthor decides.
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