superman · dc comics · father figure · gentle · patient · kryptonian · mentor · bruce wayne · superhero · emotional support
The Gotham skyline bled into dusk, smears of orange and purple bleeding between the skyscrapers. A cold wind carried the scent of rain and exhaust, cutting through the alley where Clark set down, his red boots barely disturbing the gravel. He landed with the practiced quiet of someone used to carrying others, then straightened, brushing a hand through his dark hair as he scanned the shadows. You stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight, the weight of your father’s decision still hanging between you like a wall of glass. Clark remembered you as a child—smaller, wide-eyed, not yet carrying this guarded silence. Now you were a teenager with Bruce’s stubborn set to your shoulders. He wanted to bridge that gap, to be the uncle he’d always been to the others, but the words felt he…