cherry valley forever
todays bird
we're not kids anymore.

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

No title available
Stranger Things

⁂

shark vs the universe
🪼
$LAYYYTER
styofa doing anything

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Keni
trying on a metaphor
Show & Tell
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

pixel skylines
Jules of Nature

JVL

blake kathryn

seen from United States

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@batsydoodle
A sketch of Absolute Superman/Batman I drew before got reposted by writer Scott Snyder on X — I'm so happy!
omegaverse kinda
Bruce Wayne standing in window and contemplating if country of America is guilty of war crimes.
DC #590 September 1988 colorized
What I finds funny is when someone asks Bruce to sacrifice his firstborn. Of course, Bruce would refuse, but he also doesn't know how to calculate. Dick is his eldest son, but he didn't adopt him first; he adopted Jason first. Does that make Jason his eldest son? But he adopted Cass, and Cass is older than Jason. Tim brought Bruce back to literally . And Damien is his blood son. Basically Bruce doesn't know what it means to have a firstborn
The witch and him end up sat down with a whiteboard trying to figure it out. The batkids are waiting outside to find out the answer before they bust in to incapacitate the witch.
If I were Jim Gordon and Batman were talking to me about how whole not killing the Joker thing I think I’d probably at least be like…well can you kung fu his legs in half or something dude. For me.
Just a reminder this happened
Creature feature
yeah
HOLY flexibility Batman!
Randomly uploading old Superbat drawings, every time I log into Tumblr it’s pure agony… and my PayPal got frozen too, 😫 I can’t even.
😋😋😋😋
Source of inspiration↓
clark kent who’s pretty inexperienced with men but really wants to explore his options—except he’s embarrassed about his naïveté and goes to the only person he knows won’t judge or make fun of him for help: bruce wayne.
now—is it a smart decision to start fucking your best friend, whom you've started to develop feelings for, under the guise of experimentation? absolutely not. but clark just has to get through it for a while so he can use his new skills on other men to get over bruce.
it's a sound plan. there's no way it could go wrong. at all.
———
and bruce—who hasn't had genuinely meaningful sex in forever and often uses it as a tool to maintain his reputation—agrees without protest. sure, clark is his friend who's trusting him, so bruce will definitely put more thought into how he approaches things to ensure comfort, but it's just another hookup to him. he genuinely has no romantic feelings for clark, which is why he sees no harm in helping him out.
and anyway, clark has been all mopey around the cave lately, sticking around bruce more often than not. bruce figures if he helps clark gain confidence in the bedroom, clark can go and find a partner, and then he won't be distant or sad on patrols anymore, or hang around the cave all the time when he thinks bruce doesn't notice how long he's been there for.
———
cue a horrifically complicated swirl of emotions on both ends, and by the time bruce is satisfied with clark's proficiency and confidence, clark knows with dreadful certainty that bruce has ruined him for anyone else. the mere idea of bringing another man to his apartment and smelling the wrong cologne or grasping a different hand has clark's skin crawling.
but he has no plausible reason to continue the arrangement he has with bruce. not without giving himself away, at least. and despite how gentle and kind and careful bruce has been with him, clark is almost positive that's how he treats everyone in bed; bruce is just that considerate.
which means there's absolutely no proof bruce reciprocates his feelings, and despite not wanting to, clark has to try and move on.
———
on the other side of things, bruce is slowly spiralling into madness.
the more they fuck—the more he sees clark panting beneath him, slick lips parted to let out the most obscene noises, eyes glossy with unshed tears, gripping at bruce as hard as bruce grips at him—the more bruce realizes how absolutely screwed he is.
he can't let clark go. he can't survive seeing clark happy and satisfied with another man when bruce knows what he feels like and sounds like and tastes like.
but clark came to him in a moment of extreme vulnerability and asked for his help. bruce would be a horrible kind of man if he took advantage of the trust clark put in him to handle things safely and amicably. he can't act on it. he won't.
———
it all comes to a head on a long, boring patrol.
they're perched together on a roof, gotham surprisingly silent beneath them. bruce asks clark if he's found anyone yet. he isn't sure if he's honestly curious or just interested in torturing himself.
clark shyly admits that no, he hasn't. nobody's felt right yet.
bruce ignores the spike of hope in his chest. he already resolved not to do anything. he can't go back now even if it has been a few months. he asks through a firm jaw what the "right" person might feel like.
"like you," clark says immediately, and bruce's head whips around so fast to meet his eye his neck cracks. clark slaps a palm over his mouth, his face darkening under the moonlight.
"like...me," bruce repeats, his eyes wide, heart pounding against his ribs.
"i shouldn't have said that," clark says in a rush. "i'm so sorry. please, just ignore me—" he lifts off the roof, drifting away. "i'll—i'll just go."
bruce wraps his fist up in clark's cape and yanks him back down before he even registers what he's doing. clark blinks at him with cautious eyes, sandwiched between bruce and the door leading to the top floor of the building, his chest heaving.
"tell me the truth," bruce begins, tilting his head downward, closer to clark's. "do you want someone like me, or do you want me?"
clark's eyes flicker between bruce's, clearly trying to gauge his intent. more than once, his gaze strays lower, to bruce's mouth.
bruce slides his free hand up clark's back, letting his fingers drag into the hair at the base of clark's skull. he feels clark shiver. "tell me the truth," bruce says again, tugging on the strands.
"just you," clark pants, wetting his mouth. he grips at bruce's cape and tugs him closer until they're flush. "only you."
bruce surges forward, crashing their mouths together in a desperate, relieving kiss. clark responds beautifully, opening his mouth and making those noises bruce has missed sorely.
they grapple on the rooftop, landing in a heap with bruce on top. they don't get far enough to need lube—just grinding hard against each other, filthy and wet and together.
it's different than any other night they've shared, and better for it.
📚Ask game for fanfiction readers📖
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Rec me something… [put in specific request here if you want]
Wildcard - ask your own question
batsy kiss
So it's already pretty commonplace to talk about how warm Clark is, that he radiates the warmth of the sun that powers him. Well, I have an addition to this take: Clark smells like the sun.
When you spend the day in the sun or get sunburnt, your skin actually smells different. It smells different for a while, too. I think that Clark, someone who spends as much time as possible in the sun, definitely has that smell.
It's faint, not noticeable until your nose is nearly against his skin, a warm, nutty smell, almost metallic. It mixes with the hints of freshness and ozone that cling to him from all his flying. Familiar yet so unique, something we've smelt on ourselves, but it's different on someone else.
Bruce, chronically indoors and nocturnal, is used to smells that are earthy and wet. He knows the smells of the cave, of the manor, of rotting trash in the back alleys of Gotham. The perfumes of a gala and his mother's roses in the garden. He knows the scent of joker gas and fear toxin and of blood.
When he first notices the smell of Clark's skin, something unfamiliar and warm, the smell of the sky and sun, he can't stop thinking about it. It's something unlike anything he's used to, warm and comforting. Sharp in a way that's new.
He relishes in every piece of clothing Clark leaves behind or that he steals borrows because that scent that is just so Clark lingers in the fabric. He can't get enough of it, and he can't figure it out. He can't find that smell anywhere else, in any soap or cologne. It's not Clark's soap(he checked), so that smell is just him. Purely Clark.
Clark doesn't ask why Bruce loves to nuzzle in his neck and just breathe him in, but he notices. He notices the stolen clothes and blankets that eventually return just to disappear again in an endless cycle. He doesn't mind because that earthy smell, something akin to petrichor or fresh silt from the bottom of a creek, hidden just beneath the smell of metal and leather, beneath the expensive cologne, has Clark doing the same thing in return.