let him hold it

happy valentines (clark is going to kill lois - it was her interview)

[literally started this two hours ago, my back is killing me, good night]

this tweet sent me into a blind fit of inspiration

: 3

I think, like, a month or two into Clark and Bruce's relationship, Clark will have a bad day, and want a hug. Bruce is all: 'hug? no sex? just hug?' and Clark nods.

So they hug, and at first it's all fine, but pretty soon Clark realises Bruce's heart is going roughly a million miles a second.

He tries to talk to him, but Bruce is being high key weird about it, avoiding eye contact, etc.

Until, the next day, Bruce wants another hug. And, it's still pretty obvious he's freaked out, but he wants the hug, so Clark complies. And there, while they're cuddling on the couch, Bruce admits the last person to hug him like this was his mum.

Proceed to emotional breakdown and more hugs.

its time for the Annual Superbat Redraw

Bruce is a gentleman and always lets Lois go first.

god gives his toughest battles (trying to ignore the inherent homoeroticism of your best friends pink robe exposing his collarbones) to his sleepiest soldiers (Clark Kent)

"Mr. Wayne... are you sure you should be walking on that leg?"

"Do you know why you're my favorite Kent? Because you don't ask stupid questions. Lets not ruin that."

a rare traditional drawing appears... some 1930's Leyendecker-adjacent World's Finest...

“...and people call you the sensitive one.”

It’s the comments for me

Well of course he doesn’t have a husband, they just died?

I'm cackling I need more

Ma Kent: So... you're looking after your "friend's" kid, hm?

Clark: It's not like that!

Ma Kent: Mm hm...

Clark: He just lost his husband, I...[a pause, realizing he could use this as an out for future set-up attempts] that is...my feelings aren't important.

[insert "fake" pining and continued miscommunication hijinks]

I just canNOT express how HARD I would read a 200k fic about this. ÒwÓ

please consider how fucking funny it would be if, once gotham collectively figures out that batman is bruce wayne’s secret boyfriend, people at parties keep trying to subtly tell bruce that it’s okay to be gay and he doesn’t have to keep bringing a different hot lady date to every public event.

like it’s fine, bruce. you don’t have to have to do this to yourself, buddy. it’s 2022 no one cares if you’re gay, dude, our last mayor had a husband before he got melted by mad scientist acid, you can stop standing there with a desperate smile while some barely legal supermodel hangs off your arm and tries to get you to look down her dress. maybe bring batman to the next event or something, he’s supposed to be a pretty nice guy when he’s not punching mentally ill clown fetishists. he could wear a little domino mask or something with his tux.

the only people who don’t think batman is bruce’s secret boyfriend are society wives, who insist on cornering bruce and and forcefully introducing him to their sons.

it’s agonizing for everyone.

Ok but

Consider

A world with this premise where superbat eventually happens and now everyone is convinced that Clark Kent is Batman

And all of Gotham has to wrestle with not only their darling prince dating some mild mannered dweeb from

But also their dark knight is some god damn aw shucks mild mannered DWEEB from

Bruclark Week Day 1: Identity Porn

There is so much noise.

Bruce is used to noise, mind you, but tonight is extreme. He knows logically that it’s because he’s been up for two days straight and he forgot about the charity event, which is why he’s so exhausted. That fact doesn’t stop him from blaming it on the socialites laughing and clinking their glasses loudly throughout the hall though. He does his best to smile through the throbbing in his temples and the ache in his right side. He should’ve dodged that last kick with ease, but as before mentioned – he’s been awake for two days.

Technically he could’ve opted out of most of the event; he’s Bruce Wayne, nobody would think twice if he’d fallen drunk on his ass – or into the arms of some pretty thing – half an hour into the night, but this is a charity event connected to his mother’s name. It’s for the children; it’s for the homeless kids, the ones in the overfilled orphanages. Bruce can’t not stay.

He smiles for the cameras, ignores how it makes his headache worse, and laughs just loud enough at the jokes he’s told, the comments he’s on the receiving end of. He winks at the staff, doesn’t check his watch despite wanting to, and he makes polite conversation with the elderly women, because they’re the only ones not looking at him like they want to eat him. Or maybe they do but they have the decency to wait until he’s out of earshot to talk about it.

He answers question after question and his cheeks are starting to hurt from the fake smiling. He’d trade places with Dick in a heartbeat right now; clammy sewers, windy rooftops and chasing villains sounds like the easier option of the two. But alas, there has to be someone to do this part of the job as well and he wouldn’t wish it on Dick even on their worst days.

Bruce sighs as discreetly as he can and turns away from yet another mind-numbing conversation as soon as he gets the chance. He’s just about to break his rule – no looking at the clock, he’s supposed to look like he’s enjoying himself – when a voice calls for him.

“Mr. Wayne!”

Oh, thank God, someone with journalistic integrity. Bruce has only spoken to miss Lane a handful of times, and while she knows how to use her assets to get what she wants (Bruce respects her stubbornness), she is also incredibly book smart and empathetic. She’s one of the few reporters Bruce doesn’t actively mind talking to. He feels himself smile more genuinely as he turns towards the sound of her voice.

“Miss Lane,” he greets warmly.

Keep reading

yes. yes. yes.

god it took me AGES but it’s finally done. Happy Batman Day!

 [SOURCE]

OUGHHH.... ok. Ok. I wasnt expecting some classic superbat homoerotic tension in the Batman 127 preview but.

via

I’m just gonna throw these preview sketch panels down here @superbatdisasterblog and I are working on a thing…

It’ll be a bit till they’re both done, but they’re gonna be 😏🌶🔥

I will follow up @pinto-bordeaux ‘s comic teaser with a sneak preview of the fic (below the cut because there’s a hint of spice).

Just WAIT until you all see the full comic ya’ll are gonna lose your minds.

Superbat: Rainy Days

Clark feels like hell. His body is aching in places he didn’t even know it was possible to ache. Granted, Superman doesn’t come home with aching joints most days so it’s not something he’s an expert in but today isn’t most days. Today is another one of those days where Clark wonders where the hell Lex keeps getting kryptonite from. At this point he’s suspecting that he produces it himself, but Bruce has assured him that Lex doesn’t have the technology to do so. Clark trusts Bruce’s word, especially when it comes to kryptonite. He’s the leading expert on it, and while that might’ve made Clark nervous when they first met, now he’s just grateful he has someone in his corner who cares enough about him to learn everything there is to know about the crystal.

Clark knows he should’ve called the League or even just Wally or Bruce, someone close by who isn’t deadly allergic (Wally’s phrasing) to the glowing green rock Luthor has been wielding around like a madman tonight. It turned out alright though, no casualties, and while Lex isn’t in captivity, he’s on the run. For now that’s all Clark can be grateful for as he moves around his apartment slowly. He barely made it back to his place what with the small crystals still embedded in his back. The pouring rain didn’t help either, making it even harder to fly. He was hit in the back - the back! Luthor is getting more unhinged with every battle - with a large piece but managed to pull most of it out. Key words: most.

He feels weak as he roams around in his kitchen for his favorite mug. It’s the one his Ma got him for his twentieth birthday, the one that says “I deserve a medal but all I got was this mug”, or well. It used to say that, now most of the writing is gone (medal and mug is still mostly visible as both words were painted in large glittery blue letters) but the mug is still his favorite. There’s a soft scraping sound and he tilts his head to the side to focus on the sound. The rain pouring down outside is making it hard to hear anything and it doesn’t help that his powers are muted with the kryptonite still in his skin. He shrugs - instantly regretting it as the movement of his back has the small shards move around - and goes about making his coffee. It’s probably nothing. He knows he wasn’t followed. Weakened or not, he would never risk exposing his identity.

As he adds a few spoons of sugar to his coffee, the sound returns. Louder this time. Like hinges protesting under the weight of something. Clark puts his mug down silently and walks to his bedroom. He peeks inside, trying to figure out where the noise comes from. He may not have been followed but he does have a few acquaintances who like to drop by his bedroom window every now and then. Mostly it’s one or more of the bat kids or their dad looking for information, but they usually have the decency to call first or at least knock on the glass before sliding it open.

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