woe! hyperfixation be upon ye

🦇 PREORDERS OPEN! ☀️

You have been cordially invited to YOUR HEARTBEAT, MY SIGNAL! Preorders are now OPEN from June 8th to July 8th! A celebration of #superbat with over 70 pages of art and writing, along with merchandise!

PREORDER NOW: superbatfanbook.bigcartel.com

Check out our bundles below!

🦇 THE DETECTIVE ($15) ☀️

“Always the detective.”

Our digital tier includes: A PDF copy of the book and four icons

*This tier is not eligible for stretch goals 

🦇 THE BOYSCOUT ($25) ☀️

“Ever the boyscout.”

Our book tier includes: A PDF copy of the book, B5 Book, and four icons.

*This tier is not eligible for current stretch goals. 

🦇 LIKE HAND IN GLOVE ($35) ☀️

“We fit eachother, like hand in glove.”

Our half bundle includes:  A PDF copy of the book, B5 Book, four icons, polaroid, 2 photocards, sticker sheet, 2 diecut stickers, and die cut foil bookmark.

*This tier is eligible for the memo pad stretch goal. 

🦇 TRUSTED PARTNERS ($45) ☀️

“This is a love story.” / “This is a detective story.”

Our merch bundle includes: 2 A5 Prints, polaroid, 2 photocards, sticker sheet, 2 diecut stickers, 2 acrylic charms, and die cut foil bookmark.

*This tier is eligible for all stretch goals. It does NOT include a physical book or digital bundle.

🦇 WORLD’S FINEST ($60) ☀️

'I have a plan." / "Of course you do." 

Our full bundle includes: A PDF copy of the book, B5 Book, 2 A5 Prints, polaroid, 2 photocards, sticker sheet, 2 diecut stickers, 2 acrylic charms, and die cut foil bookmark.

Dick, turning to Clark with a puzzled look: “…that’s cool! isn’t that cool, Jay?”

Jason, not willing to play dumb like Dick: “Bruce likes planes though. That’s why he and Hal were talking ab—”

Dick, quickly: “Bruce likes a lot of things.”

Superbat fling. Or, well. Clark has a fling for Bruce. Bruce falls head over heels for Bruce. And, as flings are wont to do, they end.

Clark goes to Bruce when they were supposed to meet up, their hangouts that always ended up with significantly less clothes by the end of the night. Hangouts, because only Bruce considered them dates.

Clark sits down giddily next to Bruce and grabs his hands, a smile breaking out over his face. "I think Lois likes me!"

Bruce freezes. Clark keeps going, talking about how he hears her pulse pick up around him, hears her breathing change, and even yesterday had it confirmed by overhearing Jimmy tease Lois about it.

It's ironic in a painful way that Clark can understand the vital signs of the girl he likes to mean she likes him, but can't understand the ones of the man he's been fucking for months as his entire world comes crashing down.

Bruce smiles, and claps Clark on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you."

They spend the evening planning out how he'll ask out Lois. The clothes are still on when Clark leaves, and Bruce goes to dinner despondently. Dick looks up when he reaches the table, and frowns.

"Did you and Clark break up?" He asks, because he's torn into the room earlier to say hi to his favourite uncle, and as he often fantasised aloud, future step-father.

Bruce chuckles, shaking his head, but can't manage to muster a smile for his ward. "Turns out," he hums, "we were never together."

Lois says yes when Clark asks her out.

Bruce smiles and congratulates him.

Lois says yes when Clark asks her to marry him.

Bruce smiles and congratulates him.

Lois says yes when Clark asks if it's true.

Bruce smiles and congratulates him.

He sends them both flowers the first time. He offers to pay for the wedding the second. He hands over his card for baby shopping the third.

He never says anything about his feelings ever again. He's happy for them, and that is no lie. They are both his friends, and he loves them dearly. Simply, sometimes, not in the way he's supposed to.

"When did you start calling Dad Uncle Clark?" Jon asks, floating in the air above Damian, looking at Dick.

Bruce's eldest shrugs. "When I was younger. Him, me, and B were a pretty tight-knit group, so he graduated to uncle status pretty quickly."

Bruce thinks that's the end of it, and smiles at the memories. Then his son opens his big mouth, and deconstructs all of Bruce's carefully maintained lies with a single sentence.

"I actually thought about calling him 'Dad,' too."

Bruce feels his blood run cold. His other children perk up, as does Clark, while Dick remains in a world of his own.

"You did?" Clark asks, and he can feel the Kryptonian's eyes on him, can feel that familiar probing gaze that means he's heard Bruce's vitals and is looking for the injury that caused it.

Dick hums, buried in his phone. "I mean, yeah. You acted like a dad anyway, and I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Until what?"

Bruce pleads the universe to make Dick stop talking.

"Until Bruce put his money where his mouth was. I mean, he—" Dick's mouth clamps closed, and Bruce sighs. Too little too late, universe.

Tension settles over the room like a weighted blanket, and Bruce feels all eyes on him. He does not look up from his book.

"Bruce what, Dick?" Clark says, and Dick rests his phone on his forehead, letting out a mortified groan.

"Nothing."

"You and Supes were a thing?" Steph asks.

"No."

"No."

"Ye— No. Shit."

"Dick?" Clark's voice is stern, and Bruce curses the universe. He's like a dog with a bone, Bruce doesn't stand a chance at getting out of this.

"Dick."

"Sorry, B."

"You're grounded."

"Yeahhhh that's fair." Dick ducks back behind his phone, and Bruce slides a bookmark between his pages before setting the novel aside.

He lifts his eyes to meet Clark's, and tips his chin up. Clark meets his gaze firmly, and studies him. "I'd like you to explain, Bruce."

"Don't play stupid, Clark. Dick has given you more than enough information to figure it out."

"You were in love with me."

"Yes."

"You wanted to marry me."

"Yes."

Jason whistles lowly, Tim stares at them with wide eyes, Kon looks like he's experiencing revelations, and Bruce can see Cass' worried gaze scanning his form.

"We've never dated!" Clark protests.

Even Jon winces at that.

Bruce swallows. "So it seems. But at the time, I believed we were. As did Dick, and Alfred. Diana too, naturally."

Clark rubs his hands over his face. Bruce's eyes catch on his wedding ring. "But we—"

"We spent most of our time together, you were all but co-parenting my child, and we ended up in bed together most nights," Bruce interrupts. "Forgive me the mistake, Clark, but you didn't exactly set clear boundaries between friendship and whatever it is you catagorised our relationship as."

"So you've just...stuck by my side as I married and made a family with another woman?"

batman is not exactly pleased, but he intimately knows the pain of losing everything that you hold dear, so he tolerates kal-el's clinginess and accomodates as best he can.

the justice league finds it hilarious. the sunny, smiling alien really dampens the whole scary, brooding, creature of the night effect batman has going on. but, since kal-el clearly isn't comfortable with anyone else in the league, batman has to look out for him. and he seems to have a crush on the dark knight. it's icing on the cake, really.

but then batman gets injured in battle and kal—with resurfacing memories of his destroyed home and dead family—goes absolutely insane. he dispatches the attackers with terrifying precision, barely restraining himself from killing all of them, if only because he knew batman would disapprove.

the league isn't laughing anymore when kal, with burning eyes and rubble caught in his suit, reaches for batman and earnestly asks if he's all right.

i do love the fics where clark discovers something abt himself seeing bruce in eyeliner or a skirt but…the alternative.

clark—who sees no shame in it, but has never tried it before—gets asked to accompany bruce on a mission undercover, and since bruce already has a disguise established, clark has to be the one to slip on a dress and put kohl around his eyes.

he goes to lois for help, because something about the idea of asking bruce makes him stall, a tight heat rising in his chest. lois helps him find a dress that exposes his strong arms and pushes his chest up and in, creating the illusion of breasts. it hugs his waist just so, curving over the top of his ass before flowing outward for a looser fit at his legs.

clark is surprised by how much he likes it. the way the fabric molds to his body, the way it makes his chest look even before lois adds contour between his pecs, the way it flutters at his ankles as he walks—it's all so new, and the feeling it gives him is indescribable.

some part of him itches to know what bruce might think, seeing clark dressed like this.

he has to leave lois' place before they try out makeup, too hot in the face and overwhelmed to commit to something more.

when he gets home, he stands in front of his mirror and smooths his hands down his body, watching with wide, fascinated eyes, as the dress shifts and bunches beneath his palm. he can't stop himself from pretending it's bruce's hands on him, bruce cupping the curve of his pecs, bruce sliding a hand down clark's thigh and then back up, dragging the dresses hem with him to expose the smooth, delicate skin of clark's leg. bruce holding him, surrounding him. bruce gripping him, hard and possessive, the dress skirt gathered in one hand as his other slips between clark's legs and— and—

clark barely manages not to ruin the dress. he wipes down the mirror with shame colouring his face, but he can't quite make himself take the dress off as he cimbs into bed.

the makeup trial with lois has pretty much the same result. clark removes the dress before sleeping, this time, taking care to hang it well and avoid wrinkles. he's grown attached.

and then it's time to show bruce. there's no avoiding it, now—they have to get used to each other in different personas the day before so they aren't surprised in the middle of the operation. it's sound logic. clark can't argue with it, but he also can't get his face to cool once the dress hangs off his frame. the makeup doesn't hide as much as he'd like it to, and soon bruce is calling for him, asking if he needs help, god, and clark just needs to get this over with—

---

bruce thought nothing of it, asking clark to play a part for him. it was a routine operation, one he'd done with clark many times before, the only thing truly different was the preparation, and clark had assured bruce he had it handled. bruce had no reason to argue, and had focused instead on gathering information about their suspects and building contingency plans should things go awry.

he hadn't thought to plan for this.

"this", of course, being clark kent in a frankly stunning dress, his eyes rimmed with dark liner, lips painted a shiny cherry red, cheeks dark with a flush that’s actively spreading down to his full chest as he avoids bruce's eye.

bruce stands there, and freezes. clark is beautiful—a fact bruce has always known and tried to ignore, but now he can't. there's no way he can look at clark with his pouted lips and bright eyes and dimples and not acknowledge the beauty in front of him for what it is.

bruce is screwed. he knows this with absolute certainty, even before his mind starts conjuring up images of clark's lipstick smudged onto his cheek, his eyeliner running. ideas of the way clark would look in bruce's bed, his skirt shoved up to pool at his waist as bruce— as he—

bruce doesn't see any telltale seam from an undergarment. is clark even wearing any?

before bruce can deduce further, clark asks, shyly, if he looks okay. bruce says yes, and the husk of his tone is all kinds of damning, but the blush on clark's cheeks must be clouding his brain, because he doesn't comment on it.

bruce manages, somehow, to reel in his consuming desire with a white-knuckled grip, going over the details of the operation with clark's fucking cleavage over his shoulder. christ.

if the mission weren't time sensitive, bruce would have tried to bury his face in it the moment clark leaned in. as it stands, bruce is stuck in a hell of his own making, and cannot justify abandoning his months-long investigation for his own selfish desire.

he breathes. he lets clark go. he ignores the shape in his pants when he comes back from patrol that night thinking of skirts and eyeliner and lipstick and clark.

---

(they finish the mission successfully, except for a small tear on one of clark's dress sleeves that has it hanging off his shoulder. clark seems genuinely distraught, pulling the sleeve up over and over again with a pout as it slips while they walk back to their stashed car.

World's Finest Comics #285