The Batdoll
Another Gender bent Clark Kent fanart, with a little story to go with it.
It had started as a way to distract herself more than anything. So many things had been happening lately, so many articles to write, and so many people to save, so many people she couldn't . Clark needed something, anything, to take her mind off it all, off of them. TV didn't help much, too many times she'd turned it on only to see her own face staring back at her. So in a last ditch effort to distract herself Clark had decided to sew something. Ma loved to sew and had been determined to teach the craft to her only daughter as a young girl. Clark had ruined so many needles when she'd been learning, but her Ma had been stubborn and eventually Clark had learned.
She wasn't quite sure how she'd thought of it, the idea to make a doll of him. Clark had never actually met Batman but the stories she'd heard of him . . . well the idea of making a Batman doll made her too much not to do it. Making the doll had been the perfect distraction, just what she'd been hoping for, and even after she'd finished it, he had helped. Clark kept her Batdoll in the closet of her bedroom. Whenever she'd had a bad day she would take him out and giggle at the idea of the Big Bad Batman, who struck terror into the hearts of criminals everywhere, as a cut little plush toy.
And then she met Batman.
Bruce Wayne was probably the last person she'd ever expected to be Batman. If she thought about it though Clark realized it made sense; who else in Gothan could afford all of Batman's shiny toys. Despite their rocky start by the end of Batman's trip to Metropollis Clark had formed a sort of respect for the other hero. He was an ordinary man doing in incredible things, risking his live to protect others, and Clark respected him for that (even if she still didn't quite agree with his methods). The first time she'd pulled out her Batdoll after the meeting Clark had been beyond exhausted and without quite realizing it she'd fallen into bed hugging her doll. Somehow he never ended up back in her closet after that.
--
Bruce raised the soft item up to eye level slowly, not quite believing what he was seeing. Of its own accord an eyebrow raised, and an amused smirk tugged at his lips. "Clark?" he called out.
"Yeah?" she yelled back from the other room.
"Where did you get a Batman doll?" Who would actually make a doll of him? He scared people. Brucce could understand a Superwoman doll, but really who was crazy enough to make one of Batman? And why in the world Clark buy one? Silence was the only reply he got from the reporter so still holding the plushie he returned to the other room. Clark stood there stock still blushing madly. When she saw Bruce holding the doll her face turned an impossible shade of red.
Clark gave a nervous laugh before uttering " I can explain . . . ?"
(I kind of really want a Batman doll now . . . )
It had started as a way to distract herself more than anything. So many things had been happening lately, so many articles to write, and so many people to save, so many people she couldn't . Clark needed something, anything, to take her mind off it all, off of them. TV didn't help much, too many times she'd turned it on only to see her own face staring back at her. So in a last ditch effort to distract herself Clark had decided to sew something. Ma loved to sew and had been determined to teach the craft to her only daughter as a young girl. Clark had ruined so many needles when she'd been learning, but her Ma had been stubborn and eventually Clark had learned.
She wasn't quite sure how she'd thought of it, the idea to make a doll of him. Clark had never actually met Batman but the stories she'd heard of him . . . well the idea of making a Batman doll made her too much not to do it. Making the doll had been the perfect distraction, just what she'd been hoping for, and even after she'd finished it, he had helped. Clark kept her Batdoll in the closet of her bedroom. Whenever she'd had a bad day she would take him out and giggle at the idea of the Big Bad Batman, who struck terror into the hearts of criminals everywhere, as a cut little plush toy.
And then she met Batman.
Bruce Wayne was probably the last person she'd ever expected to be Batman. If she thought about it though Clark realized it made sense; who else in Gothan could afford all of Batman's shiny toys. Despite their rocky start by the end of Batman's trip to Metropollis Clark had formed a sort of respect for the other hero. He was an ordinary man doing in incredible things, risking his live to protect others, and Clark respected him for that (even if she still didn't quite agree with his methods). The first time she'd pulled out her Batdoll after the meeting Clark had been beyond exhausted and without quite realizing it she'd fallen into bed hugging her doll. Somehow he never ended up back in her closet after that.
--
Bruce raised the soft item up to eye level slowly, not quite believing what he was seeing. Of its own accord an eyebrow raised, and an amused smirk tugged at his lips. "Clark?" he called out.
"Yeah?" she yelled back from the other room.
"Where did you get a Batman doll?" Who would actually make a doll of him? He scared people. Brucce could understand a Superwoman doll, but really who was crazy enough to make one of Batman? And why in the world Clark buy one? Silence was the only reply he got from the reporter so still holding the plushie he returned to the other room. Clark stood there stock still blushing madly. When she saw Bruce holding the doll her face turned an impossible shade of red.
Clark gave a nervous laugh before uttering " I can explain . . . ?"
(I kind of really want a Batman doll now . . . )