januariat



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  1. Public Bookmark 34

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    Clark, after two years, had finally outrun Bruce.

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    29 Apr 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 52

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    Clark stops in his tracks. 

    “That's not Bruce.”

    Barry turns to him. “What do you mean?”

    “I mean, that's not Bruce.” He takes a step back; his boots grip to the floor. That uneasy nausea burns higher in his throat. “His scars are—wrong.”

    Bruce was captured by aliens three months ago. On the League's rescue mission, Clark faces knowing Bruce's body far too well, and being separated from it for far too long.

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    29 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 48

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    Clark and Bruce spend a night out, having a bit of fun.

    “How about,” Bruce whispered, “you show me a good time, since you’re here and all.”

    “Is that what you need?” Clark murmured.

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    28 Apr 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 33

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    On a good day, Clark alone is more than enough for Bruce to deal with. When a wormhole spits out a another, older Clark from the future, Bruce is faced with twice as much Clark as he can normally handle.

    For Superbat Week 2025, Day 1: Time travel

    Superman raises an eyebrow, immediately catching onto Bruce’s train of thought even though he’s only expressed his suggestion in five stilted words. “Are you propositioning me?”

    “Us,” Clark corrects him, amused, though he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea, having gotten over his initial discomfort. Neither of them seem surprised at Bruce’s inclination to grasp an opportunity for adventure where he can find it. Especially the more intimate kind of adventure.

    “That depends,” Bruce says, letting his voice dip into a deeper register, fingers tightening around Clark’s wrist. “Are you up for it?”

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    27 Apr 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 22

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    It’s a strange thing, how far the mind will bend without breaking. How fear clings to the senses. A synthetic nightmare tailored to breed terror can bring even the strongest to their knees.

    (Clark gets a taste of fear toxin.)

    The knife glides smoothly into the third intercostal space. Clark watches it slice through muscle and pleura. The blade disappears before Clark can even register the wet sound of blood on metal, and the stench of iron suffuses the air, clinging to Clark’s nostrils. He can hear the slick trickle of blood leaking from capillaries, the halting beat of a heart struggling to pump.

    “Bruce,” Clark gasps. “Oh, God. Hold on.”

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    27 Apr 2026