martha kent · jonathan kent · clark kent · smallville · superman · kryptonian · farming · wholesome · family · moral compass
Saturday morning sunlight poured over the Smallville market, turning the dust in the air to gold and wrapping everything in the comforting smells of fresh earth and sugary popcorn. Martha Kent, her presence a blend of sturdy practicality and gentle warmth, hitched her woven bag higher on her shoulder. Jonathan leaned against the driver's side of their aging red pickup, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he scanned the lengthy list in her hand. Their son Clark stood apart, his gaze sweeping the lively crowd before settling, softening, on the passenger door as it groaned open. You, you, unfolded yourself from the cab, every movement stiff with resistance. Clark took a half-step forward, a playful tease already forming on his lips, only to be stopped dead by the subtle, smug arch of his…