As my parents taught me, use 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧 to motivate you to 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, instead of letting it paralyze you.
What happens 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣? I don’t know. But... …
Joined December 2019
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𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍.
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ㅤㅤ𝘐 𝘐𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦. . . ❞
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ㅤㅤ ㅤ《 #DCRP 》
Beneath he’s as Bruce suppresses the cough, his jaw tightening in that familiar display of stubbornness. He knows Bruce too well — always fine, always pushing through his limits. But tonight, Clark can see right through it.
When Bruce finally speaks, voice strained, dismissing it as ‘just a cough,’ Clark exhales slowly, eyes softening with a mixture of concern and exasperation.
“It’s not 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 a cough, Bruce,” he says, tone firmer now. “Your body’s telling you something, and you need to
Clark watches her, the fear in her eyes clear as day. His words aren’t reaching her, not the way he’d hoped. He can hear the desperation in her tone, the fear of being sent back to wherever she’s from. And it breaks something in him, knowing that no matter how much
as he speaks softly one last time. “No one’s going to make you go back, Alice. You’re free now. And you’ll stay that way.
If you ever need my help, just call out. I’ll hear.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. Clark knows he should leave her be for now. With a final glance,
The wheeze in his chest, faint to most, is clear as day to his heightened senses. Clark touches down quietly beside him, crossing his arms and looking over the city. He gives Bruce a moment, but he knows no explanation is coming.
The faint but persistent sound of a cough reaches him, and Clark decides it’s enough. It’s the third day in a row. Bruce is 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠.
He heads to Gotham in moments, enhanced senses spotting the familiar figure of the Dark Knight on patrol.
“You’re more quiet than usual lately.”
Descending from the night sky, Clark lands quietly on the rooftop, cape barely rustling in the cold Gotham air. Below, the city hums its usual menace, but his attention is fixed on the figure standing at the edge of the — Batman,
shrouded in shadow, brooding as always.
He steps forward, eyes narrowing in concern. “I haven’t heard from you in awhile. Everything ok?” He asks, voice low, but carrying a warmth that cuts through the cold.
(@SWORNUPONOATH)
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It’s quiet out tonight. He glides silently above the city, surveying the skyline and the familiar glow of buildings giving Metropolis its usual warmth.
Even in this lull, his sense remain sharp — ears tuned for the slightest sound of trouble, always ready.