#clark must show no emotion
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
corinthianrm0 · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
the ass bulge
+ bonus
what happens in the locker room stays in the locker room
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
lunasfics · 1 year ago
Text
Found Family
Tumblr media
summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.
pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader
word count: 8.2k
preview
a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)
reblogs are appreciated!
Tumblr media
“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it? 
“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back. 
“Good. Nightwing?” 
“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent. 
“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for. 
“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom. 
“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.” 
Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”
“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.” 
Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”
He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read: 
Attempt 1: G6B24 
Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)
Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown) 
Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision
‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass. 
“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did. 
Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.
His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick. 
“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind. 
“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.
Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him. 
“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you. 
The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.
You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file. 
“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.
You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.
“Batman?” 
Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.
Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.” 
You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?” 
Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised. 
"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.
He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."
You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected. 
When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.
They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up. 
“Hello?” 
“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”
“What’s going o-”
He hung up. 
Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’” 
Damian covered his laugh with a cough.
You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on. 
Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.” 
Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave. 
Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.
Tumblr media
Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.
You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.
He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?” 
“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry. 
Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?” 
You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.” 
He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”
You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.
Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well. 
Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.” 
You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different. 
Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first. 
“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile. 
You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?
“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.” 
Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.” 
At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you? 
Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.
Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state. 
You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.
“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”  
Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.” 
You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile. 
“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.” 
“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.” 
Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.” 
“Wayne.” 
He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”
“Wayne.”
This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”
The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares. 
Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”
“No.” came their simultaneous response. 
Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.” 
Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…” 
Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper. 
Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”
Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”
Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”
You nodded, “I like it.” 
Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”
Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose. 
Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement. 
Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.” 
Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you. 
Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.” 
You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 
Tumblr media
You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain. 
“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.” 
“They’re fine…Thank you.”
He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.” 
You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change. 
You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over. 
Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner
You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you. 
You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase. 
Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first. 
Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.” 
“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.
He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.” 
You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own. 
“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.
His eyes widened, was that why you were there? 
“How?” 
All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first. 
“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.” 
Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”
“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.” 
Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.” 
Bruce simply gave a nod. 
Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all. 
Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.
Tumblr media
Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian. 
Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe. 
She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest. 
Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”
“Hi!”  he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you. 
“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.
Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”
You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”
“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.” 
Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?” 
He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”
“Sounds about right.” 
Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own. 
The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.
The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.
Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.” 
“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.  
The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her. 
“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.
“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.” 
You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey. 
Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.” 
You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.” 
Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.
Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front. 
“This better be good.” 
Tim mumbled, “Finally” 
“Miss me Timmy?” 
“Quite the contrary.”
The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away. 
His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce. 
“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.” 
Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.” 
“Holy shit, man.” 
“Jason, will you shut up?” 
“Never.” 
“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.” 
“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.” 
“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.” 
“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.” 
“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.” 
Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you. 
“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her. 
“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit. 
“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-” 
Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled. 
Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.” 
“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.” 
Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone. 
Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.” 
“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied. 
She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.” 
“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.” 
Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.” 
“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do. 
“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.
“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered. 
“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.” 
“I want time with her, Bruce.” 
“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.” 
Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer. 
Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?” 
You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”
She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”
You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”
Clark gave you a fond smile. 
Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless. 
The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face. 
“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.” 
You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away. 
It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?” 
You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.” 
He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”
“I suppose so.” 
“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.” 
“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–” 
“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news. 
Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him. 
A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated. 
You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done. 
Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.
Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.” 
You nodded, “Yes, please.” 
Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.” 
“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”
Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”
Cass nodded in agreement. 
“We’re just buying training clothes.” 
“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.” 
You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.” 
“See?”
Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”
Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site. 
Tumblr media
When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.
Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that. 
You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself. 
The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.
He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself. 
He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about. 
The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings. 
By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.
The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere. 
When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off. 
The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.
As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.” 
You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.” 
He nodded, walking away to change as well. 
You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill. 
“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”
You nodded.
“Let’s see it.” 
You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.
Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.
Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”
He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”
You nodded. Made sense. 
“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.” 
You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.
Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.” 
You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing. 
This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine. 
Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite. 
You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.
Tumblr media
The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.
He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit. 
And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying. 
“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction. 
You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.” 
You nodded, “How are we doing that?”
He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?” 
You nodded. 
“Okay… and…. Go!”
You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds. 
“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you. 
You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner. 
They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking. 
That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case. 
They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor. 
Tumblr media
The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother. 
Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in. 
Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there. 
You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.
Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough. 
Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.
Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled. 
You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.
Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.
Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.
True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances  where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.
Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal. 
You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.
Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it. 
You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.
Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’
Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine. 
Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.
These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.
These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.
And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.
You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow.  Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.
Tumblr media
Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)
6K notes · View notes
orchidniins · 4 months ago
Text
Finally Home | George Clarke
Tumblr media
Summary: Where George is finally home after a long 2 weeks on tour. Pairing: George Clarke x gn!Reader Warning: Fluff Word count: 950+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! How the writers block has been eating away at me this week. This ones short, but longer one coming out next Monday. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
George had been away for what felt like an eternity, though in reality, it had only been a couple of weeks. Had you gone to one of his and Max’s shows a few days ago? Yes. Did you still miss having him around? Absolutely.
You were maybe a little too excited for today. Despite having to work all day and missing the final Useless Hotline show in London, you were thrilled at the thought of having George back home tonight.
You were wrapped up in a soft blanket on your couch, a Netflix reality show playing on the TV as you tried to pass the time before George got home. The warmth of the blanket and the gentle glow of the TV lulled you into a relaxed state. The exhaustion from the day began to take its toll and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.
George had just returned from the after-party, and he couldn’t wait to see you, to sleep next to you in your own bed. Quietly, he stepped into your apartment, expecting to have you run into his arms, only to be met with a sight that made his heart melt. He placed his bags gently next to the door before walking towards you.
He found you, his partner, asleep on the couch. The low sound of the TV played softly in the background. You were cuddled up in a blanket, your features delicate and serene. He thought you looked incredibly beautiful, even more so in the soft, warm glow of the TV. Your hair framed your face perfectly, giving you an angelic appearance. You looked so peaceful in your slumber, so utterly beautiful, that he couldn’t help but smile.
George crouched down next to you, taking a moment to simply watch you. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and loving. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the light touch causing you to stir awake.
You blinked your eyes open, a bit groggy from sleep, and were met with the sight of George’s loving gaze. Your heart leapt with joy, and a sleepy smile spread across your face. "George," you whispered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up, feeling an overwhelming rush of happiness.
“Hey, love,” George whispered back, his voice filled with emotion. He couldn’t resist pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you tight. "I missed you so much."
You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck. "Missed me? I just saw you in Bristol like three days ago," you murmured, your laugh muffled but filled with love. "But I’m happy to have you back with me." You inhaled his scent, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you.
George pulled back slightly, smiling with a crinkle in his eyes, looking oh so handsome. “Well, I’m all yours now,” he said, his eyes sparkling with love. “You have all my attention.”
A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Good, because I’ve missed you too,” you said as you caressed his cheek.
George leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours. As he pulled away, he sat down on the couch next to you, and you two began talking, catching up on everything you had missed. You laughed as George recounted all the amusing and memorable moments from the tour, listening intently while cuddled up next to him, tucked under his arm, reveling in the warmth of his presence.
George sighed contentedly, "Nothing beats being back here with you."
"Aww, don't lie," you teased. "It must have been fun having all the ladies fawn over you at your shows."
George grinned, "I'm smart enough not to answer that... and even smarter to say I love you."
You laughed, "I love you too." He leaned in and placed a slow, tender kiss on your lips, and you leaned into it, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.
His gentle hands caressed your waist as you shuffled closer on his lap, straddling him. Your lips met in a kiss, starting off slow and tender. George lightly pecked you on the lips, murmuring how much he had missed it being just the two of you. You pressed yourself closer to him, earning a groan from the sudden movement.
He began to kiss down your neck, finding the spot he knew made your knees weak. You felt him smirk against your skin as you let out a soft gasps, his lips leaving sweet little nibbles. The sensation made you moan softly in his ear, which was enough to get him going.
His lips attached back on yours and the kiss grew heated, the passion between you intensifying. George suddenly felt like there was too much space between you, and he tugged you closer to him, his hands roaming under your shirt, the contact making you gasp into his mouth, the heat between you growing as you both became consumed with each other, lost in the burning touch.
Your hands roamed his body, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his back. Both of you poured all your emotions into that kiss, scared to pull away from each other. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging slightly, causing him to groan deeply.
George was the first to pull away. “I think we should move this to the bedroom,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his eyes dark with lust.
You nodded, breathless, and the two of you stood up, never breaking contact as you made your way to the bedroom. Neither of you wanted to be apart for any second longer.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊
236 notes · View notes
pluckyredhead · 3 months ago
Note
“I have larger thoughts about how DC has kind of written themselves into a hole with Jason and now he's stuck in this limbo that's unsatisfying to everyone which is why so many Jason fans are mad all the time, but that's for another ask.”
🤓 Do tell…
Okay, let's see if I can do this in less than a thousand words!
So Jason, at his core, represents a challenge to Bruce's ideology, right? Bruce's #1 rule is No Killing, and Jason's basic idea is: "That doesn't work. Some villains are bad enough that they have to be killed for the greater good." (There's something very funny about Jason, famously undead, thinking killing stops ANYONE in the DCU, but we'll leave that aside for now.) This is a really interesting ethical quandary to throw Bruce's way, and by having it voiced by his beloved son, his greatest failure, his second most profound tragedy, it becomes a deeply thorny emotional problem as well as an ethical problem. That's all great.
The problem is, DC can't allow Jason to be right, for two reasons:
Batman must always be right and must always win.
...I mean, come on. They can't actually publish a story advocating for a traumatized 19-year-old with assault weapons to be the arbiter of who lives and who dies, that's nonsense. I love Jason but really.
The problem with that is, Jason is a major recurring character.
UTRH works great in a vacuum. But if Jason is showing up in a comic every month, or even just a few times a year, this central conflict has to be addressed, and the options for doing that are limited:
Bruce and Jason fight and Jason wins. DC will never let this happen. (And what would "Jason wins" even look like, honestly? He's not going to kill Bruce.)
Bruce and Jason fight and Bruce wins. They've done this a bunch (sometimes with Dick in place of Bruce), but Jason fans don't want to see him repeatedly getting his ass kicked while being lectured, and frankly it doesn't make Bruce look great either.
Bruce allows Jason to kill people. This can't happen either; it would be wildly out of character for Bruce, not to mention literally everyone in the Batfamily. They are all canonically pretty opposed to murder.
Jason continues to operate however he wants, but outside of Bruce's reach/jurisdiction. As wretched as RHATO was, I actually think it was a smart decision to keep most of the action outside of Gotham, because then we can pretend Bruce doesn't know what Jason's up to, just like we pretend Clark couldn't super-hear everything in Gotham and save Bruce's ass every single night without breaking a sweat. The problem here is that it means Jason is unavailable for the kinds of casual team-ups and crossovers that fans of all stripes crave - plus, every time he comes back to Gotham, he and Bruce have to relitigate their entire relationship AGAIN.
Jason compromises and agrees to follow Bruce's rules in order to have a relationship with the Batfamily. This is basically where DC has landed, and I understand why they did, because it's the option that allows them to publish the most comics with Jason in them, which they want to do because he is an immensely popular character who makes them money. However, it leaves him in this awkward position where instead of being a tragic villain/badass antihero, he's just...the sassiest member of the family, while simultaneously always being available to be treated like shit because he's Bad. He gets punished without even the fun of doing the crime anymore.
So what's the solution? I don't know. Theoretically, DC could try to do what Marvel does with the Punisher. People always get mad when I say Jason is DC's Punisher, but he kills pretty much indiscriminately in UTRH and RHATO, for pretty much the same reasons. ("Dudebros think it looks cool.") And Marvel heroes inexplicably let Frank just kill however many people he wants unless they're appearing in a Punisher comic, at which point they go "Frank, you naughty boy, I shall stop you!" and then Frank kicks their ass and makes them look like an idiot. DC is never going to let Jason do that to Bruce, plus it would put a real damper on the Wayne family Thanksgiving dinner.
Alternately, they could make him a Nightwing villain. Dick has spent 40 years fighting inconclusively with Deathstroke; he's much better suited to go endless rounds with Jason without either of them Always Triumphantly Winning than Bruce is. I don't personally want this option because I just don't care that much about Dick, but it could be really interesting, though it would limit Jason to fewer appearances and primarily in Dick's book. (Jason would have made a superb Red Robin villain 15 years ago for similar reasons.)
My vote, I think, would be for a really good (god, if only), really thoughtful Jason series where he has reason to seriously reevaluate his philosophy towards crime - something that reshapes him into a character who can still challenge Bruce's entrenched ideas without being so diametrically opposed to them as to make him a villain. He needs to be close enough to Bruce's rules to appear in crossovers, but far enough and specific enough that he's not just Meaner Nightwing. Jason is a passionate character; DC needs to find a new way to let his passion work for him, because right now he doesn't have anything driving him, and it's satisfying no one.
(900 words, BOOM!)
206 notes · View notes
lexkent · 3 months ago
Text
clex fic rec part 1:
Identical Series by Lanning (400,450 words)
summary: Lex loses everything, and finds something better.
If He Would Fall by sabershadowkat (5,291 words)
summary: Lex realizes Clark will always catch him.
Most Regretted by Tallihensia (5,062 words)
summary: A meteor mutant shows Clark what he will most regret in his future. Will Clark learn from it?
Reconcilable Differences by astolat (38,799 words)
summary: Luthor Family Values.
Soothing out the Hurts by Tallihensia (4,977 words)
summary: If one learns to harm people, one must also learn to heal. Superman accidentally hurts Lex and decides he has to make up for it.
The Perfect Life by A_Fallen_Sister (9,042 words)
summary: A little Thanksgiving tale. Lex and Clark have been angst-free for years, but life is not entirely without problems.
To Legends by Tallihensia (655 words)
summary: A final toast to legends.
Ants And Other Higher Lifeforms by Dayspring (3,123 words)
summary: He really didn't want to come back as an ant.
Escape Velocity by Bagheera (7,119 words)
summary: What if the meteor rocks had given Lex super speed?
Two Halves by Dolimir (31,254 words)
summary: A 'what if' Lex found Clark before the Kents did story.
Lex and Clark: the New Adventures of Superman by arysteia (16,816 words)
summary: Evil-doers have seized control of the Daily Planet building. Can Clark save the day, rescue Lois, Perry and Jimmy, and reconcile with Lex, all without revealing his secret identity?
Of Gods and Men by Lenore (17,176 words)
summary: What does it mean to be great?
i think that possibly maybe i'm falling for you by Nicnac (3,058 words)
summary: After the incident with Duncan, Lex is quietly asked to transfer to a different school. Lionel decides to send him to Smallville High as punishment for his misconduct, and Lex is chosen as that year's Scarecrow. Luckily, he's saved by local college student and unofficial town hero, Clark Kent.
Sealed with a Kiss by laceymcbain (28,613 words)
summary: Pete: "We're standing in Lex's office with Lana serving coffee right outside and I'm waiting for you to kiss me so we can see if you poison me or not. That's weird, Clark--even by Smallville standards."
Not a Villain by Tallihensia (156,782 words)
summary: When Clark makes a discovery about Conner, honor forces him to tell Lex. Lex comes by to see for himself.
Dancing at The Purple Parrot by laceymcbain (17,965 words)
summary: Lex couldn’t believe it, but the man seemed to be blushing. An awkward stripper in plaid who was blushing. “Oh, no,” Lex murmured to himself. “Oh God, no.”
Fixing Things by Tallihensia (45,049 words)
summary: Lex Luthor is his father's fix-it man for failing companies. But when Lex unexpectedly comes across Clark Kent again, can he fix what went wrong between them eight years ago? And will Clark let him? Through the meteor mutants trying to kill them, Clark and Lex try to find their way again.
Someone To Watch Over Me by Dolimir (22,034 words)
summary: What if the government had stepped in and collected people affected by the meteors when Clark was still a toddler?
Lover's Choice by Tallihensia (3,383 words)
summary: Lex's old lover wants him back in her cold embrace. Clark doesn't want to let him go.
Catharsis by arysteia (4,285 words)
summary: Aristotle says that tragedy purges the negative emotions of the audience. Can angsty porn purge the negative emotions of the Smallville audience? Let's give it a shot. Lex finally calls Clark on a few things.
Devil's Deal by Bagheera (29,560 words)
summary: Lex sells his soul to the devil to bring his son back from the dead. Can Clark get it back for him? 
Cookie Dough & Candy Hearts by Dayspring (3,853 words)
summary: Lex, liquor, and Martha Kent make for an interesting Valentine's Day.
iHero by I I B N F (iibnf) (80,571 words)
summary: Bitten by a radioactive CD player, Lex gets super powers and just about everything he ever wanted, not that he'd ever admit he wanted what he gets.
Cooking Considered As One Of The Fine Arts by Caro (thestarsexist) (2,906 words)
summary: Sometimes part of being a good mother is knowing the best chocolate chip cookie recipe.
Manifest Destiny by Liviapenn (24,180 words)
summary: Giant robots and things exploding.
The Lost Soul by tasabian (4,975 words)
summary: When a malicious act of magic separates Clark's soul from his body, only one person realizes how to help him.
Run by Dayspring (31,667 words)
summary: "The castle blew up right after I dragged him from the shower. We've…we've been running ever since." 
The Reset by tasabian (4,764 words)
summary: An unexpected portal opening in Smallville causes Lex Luthor from 2002 to trade places with Lex Luthor from 2018. How will it change the timeline as we know it?
Purple by Dayspring (13,922 words)
summary: Martha doesn't need an advanced degree in Art to figure it out, but Jonathan might.
Shadows & Stone: Smallville Stories by laceymcbain (83,680 words)
summary: Lex's evening has scored particularly high on the Luthor Scale of Tragic Dates. When he confesses to Toby that he thinks he's destined to be alone, an eavesdropping Clark is determined to change his mind.
Pheromones by Tallihensia (4,009 words)
summary: Lex and Batman take on the Bee Queen. It doesn't quite end up the way they planned and Superman has to step in to save Lex.
Time and Chance by Dayspring (111,267 words)
summary: Lex is pregnant. Nobody's happy. This is an mpreg (male pregnancy story). But this isn't one of those funny, life-is-great mpregs. It's full of bad days and sad days and people being ordinary pain-in-the-butts.
A Mad Season by Dolimir (22,683 words)
summary: An AU look at what might have happened if all of Lex's Smallville memories had been erased when Lionel ordered electroshock therapy.
Golden by CJAndre, Noelle (28,676 words)
summary: Lex smirked at his wishful thinking, but he knew that whatever the situation, he could handle it.
Then, confronted with the sight in front of him, he realized that maybe he couldn't handle it at all.
Memoirs Of An Alien Who Fell To Earth by Dayspring (10,566 words)
summary: See the title. FUTUREFIC.
Feel free to message me if you'd like trigger warnings on any specific fic listed. There's some very dark content here and not all is tagged.
Also @clarklexlois has an excellent clex fic rec list with descriptions, and it's actually what got me into fanfic!💖
118 notes · View notes
frownyalfred · 11 months ago
Note
What if bruce had an abusive childhood ( i love thomas and martha but WHAT IF) and the batkids and clark just find out
I actually have lots of thoughts about this, anon. Not abusive in the sense of like, really overt hidden physical abuse, but the abusive-adjacent childhood of someone growing up into a ultra-wealthy family and all of the emotional distance and insane boundary crossing that happens in those kinds of situations.
Some initial thoughts (not that this is canon or even something I hc, but still pop up in my mind):
Distant parents (Bruce never saw them, except for when they were going to events together)
Bruce was raised by nannies and Alfred (first steps, diapers changed, fed and bathed, etc only by servants)
Strict behavioral expectations even in early childhood (language and music lessons, various etiquette courses for dinners, events, etc. Sitting still for long periods of time without moving or speaking)
Being ignored and/or referred to but not allowed to speak. Paraded out for events as a toy, essentially.
Missing out on childhood experiences like playing outside, getting dirty, playing with other children.
Being sent away from home at an early age to various boarding and preparatory schools, year-round.
The pathway to college, a job, a career was purchased for Bruce before he was even born, and there is no room to deviate from that path.
Punished for normal reactions (getting clothes dirty, making a mistake with cutlery, forgetting to ask permission for something)
Approval from his parents, when he does see them, is contingent upon how he performs for them while they are in public.
An absolute lack of almost any physical contact/affection.
If this was Bruce's childhood (I'm glad it wasn't in canon, it sounds awful) then his parents' deaths must be such a mindfuck. Because those memories are so tainted by his childhood upbringing, but at the same time -- were they good people? Beloved by the public? Was the show they put on in public convincing enough for people not to peek behind the curtain? Did Gotham society treat all ultra-wealthy children like this? Were the Waynes special because of their status?
How did Alfred feel about seeing this happen? Was there an awful feeling of relief when Martha and Thomas died, and he became Bruce's custodian? Maybe he snuck Bruce hugs over the years, here and there -- small cookies or permission to run outside once or twice.
Now, there are far fewer rules. But the damage from those rules is hard to undo, even at such a young age. And the first time Bruce asks him for a hug is the day that nearly breaks Alfred.
379 notes · View notes
ishallgivehimupforever · 3 months ago
Text
Here We go again Bellarke warriors, if you can hear me, it's been about 1680 days since I stopped caring (or so I thought)
I hadn't been to tumblr in years, before I decided to give the 100 a rewatch in June of this year, as I had given up somewhere around the start of season 5 (I remember hating the LONG ass timeskip teased at the end of S4, I guess some other media must have swallowed me during hiatus, and when I tried to give that season a chance I vividly remember 1) I couldn't see shit on my screen 2) I hated what the timeskip did to the established relationships) and so I dropped it for good, looking back I almost can't believe I could just...not finish it like that because let me tell you I did NOT fuck about Clarke and Bellamy, and Raven, and Monty, and probably some other characters back in 2015-2016. I think I maybe did not appreciate season 4 enough at the time it was airing (because I think binge-watching is very flattering for that season, watching it live I remember it was frustrating to watch the characters go on side quests in 4A) but now knowing what the character arcs are and where it was going makes it my second-favorite season. BUT, I digress, wow. This is meant to be a rambling, incohisive love letter to the compelling relationship between Bellamy and Clarke. I warn you, they truly do not fucking leave you as it turns out. I would go to the trenches for them back in my fandom days in 2015-17, and I realised, after binge-waching the show over 4 sleepless nights (seasons 1-6, which are the only seasons in existence, obviously)that I STILL just FUCKING CARE SO MUCH. I NEVER CARED ABOUT FICTIONAL CHARACTERS SO MUCH AS CARE FOR THESE TWO SEPARATELY, AND AS SOULMATES. Because let me tell you, Clarke and Bellamy, they fucking love each. Like actual, happens-only-in-romances LOVE. It is frankly INSANE how JRoth, K*m Shum and other managed to gaslight me over some of the bellarke scenes in S2-S3 as to make me think it's in my (and thousand's of fans') head WHEN IT IS SO FUCKING OBVIOUS FROM SCORE, EDITING CHOICES, LONGING LOOK SHOTS, HANDS SHOTS, LINES, AND FINALLY, ACTING AND DIRECTION THAT THESE TWO ARE LOVERS.
I have never, ever, before or since, followed two characters who were so compatible, so equal, so trusting in each other, so open with one another, so mindful of the other's emotions and needs, so so so made for each other, that it is no surprise to me that they are top 10 F/M pairing on AO3. Because Bellamy and Clarke would fall in love in every imaginable scenario, in every universe, across time. I am not usually that cheesy or cringy, but it is true. I could not put my finger on why they are my absolute favorite to read fanfic for and then it occurred to me. That as long as the hands of fate put these two in proximity of each other, it;s a done deal. That chemistry transcends the limits of a single tv show. The depth with how Clarke and Bellamy love each other honestly makes me pause for breath sometimes. It is not just the iconic, famous bellarke scenes, but also the quiet moments.
Like in 6x05 or 6x06 (cant remember) when Clarke's body was stolen by Josephine after her one-night stand with Cillian. (stay with me) Bellamy, unaware that Clarke isn't herself at that point, comes over to chat, he's clearly at least a bit jealous over her sleeping with Cillian, and yet he says "happiness looks good on you" with that wide, earnest smile. And just wow. How must he love her, to be so utterly happy for her own happiness that has in that instance nothing to do with him. so selfless. well, selfless is basically Bellamy's middle name.
Or how in season 4, after a lot of the characters and at times the narrative wanted to push this idea on Clarke that she is the sole leader of her people, gets right back on track to her co-leader dynamic with Bellamy, constantly checking with him, considering his input, and respecting choices that she herself would maybe not make (releasing the ensalved arkadians and grounders vs ensuring they get a machine necessary to generate water) but always understanding that these choices agree with his core values, and she loves him for it.
This post is way too long. I love Bellamy. I love Clarke. People often use the 'MY PARENTS" about ships on twitter, and you know what, in my case that's kinda true with bellarke. I met these characters when I was 15. I am 25 now, and with an adult perspective to my surprise I found their relationship even more profound then I remembered, and I was insanse about them already. They are truly THE power couple of all time. I miss the 100, If you wanna ramble about it together, feel welcome to send me ask, I'd love to have an excuse to share some of my (sometimes unpopular) opinions lol.
66 notes · View notes
mysterycitrus · 8 months ago
Note
thoughts on renegade? Not necessarily canon compliant but your take on the mantle
id say on a metatextual level renegade as a mantle is interesting because its thee first time dick takes a name that doesn’t already carry a legacy. robin is commemorative of his mother and nightwing was a gift from clark and batman is bruce’s personal mission, and depending on the canon the costumes he wears are also inspired by the suits he wore at haleys. it almost certainly wasn’t intentional on devin graysons part but i think it says a lot about how dick views his own identity and like…… the degree of loss he’d experienced up to this point. after losing his parents, he becomes robin. after losing robin, he becomes nightwing. after blockbuster, he becomes someone else.
my particular interpretation of his relationship with the robin mantle is like 99% hc at this point but i do think incorporating how bruce and dick grieve differently adds a lot of depth to both their relationship and them as characters individually. both of them honour their families through their actions and care for others, but dicks identity is inextricably tied to both his personal and private life. his metaphorical manor filled with family photos and pearls and memorials is a name that other people took on after him. he fundamentally lacks that same control that bruce has, but that transience is built into his character too. the circus cannot stay. the tent is never built in the same place. the show must go on.
i didn’t really enjoy renegade as a concept — primarily because of the…. erm….. inciting incidents that precipitated its existence — but in the decades since its release i really think the context for its creation has been totally lost. the same way that nightwing #93 has totally overshadowed the broader arc it happens to reside within, renegade as a point of reference for dicks character progression is pretty obtuse. the idea that dick physically sheds his familys legacy after this new loss in order to emotionally spiral and isolate himself from others is interesting. his relationship with rose is interesting. reading it with the knowledge that dick was supposed to die during infinite crisis just makes it sadder imo because there’s like…, also no real emotional catharsis for him. he just tries to stop being himself, almost like he can sense his own end.
124 notes · View notes
sexy-n-stressed · 11 months ago
Text
Deck the halls Pt. 2 (Conner Kent X Male Reader)
Not me editing out the parts where I said I would write smut in this part hehe. I was going too but after the LEGO scene I just couldn't it was too adorable.
Tumblr media
I'm writing this at a bus stop, which I will be stuck at for the next 20 minutes, and then stuck on a bus for another 35. I mean, why not write fanfiction while sitting next to a stranger and an old person. Enjoy hehe.
Quick update: the guy behind me is reading this over my shoulder so, uh, you enjoy too.
————————————————————
The words barely left Conner’s lips before you were nodding in a way that said you were a little too desperate. You were desperate though, so.
You struggled to keep yourself contained as you ascended the staircase behind the boy. What was about to happen? A tryst? A menage e tois? You barely knew what those words meant, especially not the French one. Why were you thinking those? Passing by doors to rooms you'd never been in, it was almost like a guessing game. Which room belonged to THE superman, and which room belonged to the equally as famous toilet.
Conner slowly opened the door to his room, most likely to avoid ripping it off of it's hinges. “This is the room the Kent’s let me- I mean, my room”
Conner’s room was practically empty, with only a bed and a small lamp on a desk across the room, and was rather small for both a kryptonian and a house of this scale. You couldn't help but think of Harry Potter and the closet. Speaking of closets.
Conner awkwardly stood there, trying to gauge the emotion on your face, like he was worried you wouldn't approve.
“I like it, seems cozy” Cramped and cozy were practically synonyms anyway, right?
He smiled, before rushing over to the bed, and reaching under it, pulling out a tub of LEGO’s. “Wanna play LEGO?”
You almost giggled, from the absurdity of the situation and the fact one of the most dangerous individuals on earth was playing with LEGO, but seeing the look on his face, you couldn't say no.
And that's how you and Conner wound up on the floor of his room playing LEGO, with you making structurally sound lego towers, and him smashing them down as a makeshift dinosaur or robot rampaged through the ‘city’. You had to admit, it was pretty fun. And he looked like he was having the time of his life.
“So, how long have you been living with the Kent’s” You asked warily, watching as Conner’s eyes looked up from the LEGO’s before snapping back down
“Um, a couple months now.” He looked nervous, like he was hiding something.
“Have they been treating you well?”
“Well, Ma is always nice to me, making sure I finish my plate and picking out church clothes.” His eyes drifted to the door, “But everyone else is still..”
You leaned forward, placing a hand on the boy who was seemingly much more complex then the angry brute you'd heard others whispering about.
“I'm… a clone. Of Clark.” Oh.
I mean, you guessed you could see the resemblance. The raven hair, the chiselled jawline, the intense musculature. But he seemed nothing like Clark. More… real, in a way. Clark seemed so above everything else, like he was a God and as much as he wanted to be human, he was just better. More perfect. Not that he did it on purpose. Maybe it was just your perception of him, knowing that he was Superman and all.
“Not just Clark though, Lex Luthor too. The rich guy and the supervillain trying to destroy Clark.” Conner clearly knew about the conflicting emotions Clark must have over him, with him being both a perversion of his genetic code and partly related to his biggest enemy.
“They all pretend they're ok with it, but they're not. I hear them talk about what to do with me, whether I should be trained or…” He trailed off, but you knew what he meant.
“Well, then they're stupid.” Conner cocked his head.
“If they don't see you for who you are, then screw them. You’re Conner. Not just a clone of Clark.” His expression showed he’d clearly never heard those words, even among the worlds so-called ‘virtuous heroes’.
Unable to find the words, Conner just leapt over and embraced you, crushing the LEGO city you both had created.
“You’re worth more than what others see you as Conner, don't forget that.”
137 notes · View notes
butmakeitgayblog · 5 months ago
Note
Based on what you said about how you think the end of the pike blockade would go down, how do you think Lexa would react to Clarke being injured/nearly killed by Pike?
Bear with me here because I'm sure there's a lot of people who thin it would go down differently lol
But to be honest, I think a lot more would happen than just a Pike vs Clarke showdown of sorts. I think in the scenario that I gave - Pike ultimately losing his shit and going after Clarke for "treason" - that would force the entirety of the remaining Skaikru to really face themselves and the future of who they want to be as a clan/a people.
Bluntly, I think it would cause a flashpoint civil war.
By that point enough people would fed up with the living conditions under the blockade, fed up with Pike and his guard's power plays, fed up with constantly being pitted against each other exactly as they had been in space and every day since reaching the ground. Every day is fear, every moment is struggle. Because now not only are they expelled from the coalition AND the lands around them AND confined to yet another prison with limited resources and freedoms just as they were in space, but they're also being told point blank 'even if you wish to leave and start over outside of us, you can't. You're stuck here whether you like it or not.'
And pair that up with what Clarke has done to help them (despite their, whew, overwhelming tendency to blame her for goddamn everything 😒), I think enough people would just be so fucking done with it that it would indeed evolve into the chaos of a civil war.
And I think the first pop of gunfire would have Lexa and her army throwing themselves into the action. Not because is Lexa is terrified (tho she is) and not because Lexa would do something as foolhardy as throw herself into a gunfight if she thought Clarke were in danger (ha ok lesbian we've seen that play out 😐). But rather because, this has been the inevitable outcome all along. Pike was always going to make sure of that.
I don't think it'd be a popular decision. I don't even think Lexa would outright command her army to fight. But with her warriors already hungry for battle, what I believe Lexa would do is present the situation as a choice to follow her into the fray or not. Simply put: to show allegiance to the coalition or not. I think she'd remind them that despite the blockade, Skaikru is still one of the coalition's clans. That, just as she had promised, those who were still loyal to her sovereignty and the 12 clans had been working from the inside to unseat the rebel murderers - the same ones who had cut down their own fellow in arms. That the already growing number of Skaikru prisoners of war/refugees were a testament to that struggle and the will of the people trapped under an unjust, tyrant leader, and how they were proof of those machinations currently at play beyond the walls of Arkadia. The proof that they had allies inside.
But also, such as with most any uprising and revolts against injustice, more often than not in this gruesome world, blood must be spilled. And that this moment was their time to collect what is due. In the name of their fallen brothers and sisters. In the name of the coalition, and everything they stand for.
(Basically an emotion filled and lowkey manipulative call to arms 👀)
So between the coalition loyalists and those simply hungry for 'blood must have blood' payment for those they'd lost to Skaikru and Pike, a fair descent amount of warriors would join the fight to besiege Arkadia. Between the might of the coalition breaching their gates and the war raging inside among each other, Pike and his supporters who haven't defected themselves would be divided and spread too thin to cover all their sides, and eventually they'd fall one by one. Until surrender wasn't even a choice. It was a forgone conclusion.
And it would be very bloody, and very quick.
Ultimately, I don't think Clarke would necessarily have needed Lexa to intervene per se, because it would surprisingly(?) still be Octavia who kills Pike. In this she wouldn't be killing him as revenge for Lincoln (well not entirely, he's not dead, just locked up and treated like shit), but rather to set in motion Skaikru's final symbolic fall to the ground. Because in that moment, with Pike's gun pressed to Clarke's head, still desperate and deluded that he can use her pull as leverage to grasp at control even as the sounds of war rage on around them, I think Octavia would realize that was the moment when she had to choose where her allegiance lies: earth or sky. Past or future. Coalition or chaos. Clarke or Pike (and by proxy, Bellamy).
And she'd choose Clarke.
And Lincoln. And Indra. And the anger for what her her brother had become. And her hatred of being boxed in yet again. And the realization that without Pike's death, there would be no moving forward to truly build a new life on the ground.
So with Pike dead, and the Skaikru ~rebels~ rounded up, and the 13th clan surrendering to the coalition, it would be a quite a politically messy situation to tidy up. To say the least. But after Lexa issues orders for the remaining Skaikru to be tended to by healers, and brought food and water (and maybe a lil booze from the encampments to help them wind down) in good faith of their loyalty and return to the coalition, Lexa would nonchalantly escort Clarke back her personal tent (that she had failed to mention in her notes) at the frontline... and do everything she could to not fall to absolute pieces as she personally tended to Clarke's wounds.
But oh. Oh, Clarke would feel the way her entire body was shaking...
42 notes · View notes
ultfreakme · 5 months ago
Text
Jay, Jon, and Anger: Meta on emotional expression and how it's defined by who you are.
Had a really fun discussion on the Supertruth server about JayJon, Superfam, and their relationship with anger. So kind of summarizing it all here.
If you've noticed during SOKE(and pretty much every Jon appearance during/after the SOKE era), Jon is rarely afraid to show his vulnerabilities. He cries, he seeks comfort, and he is kind of bad at hiding his fear and sadness. Meanwhile, Jay is rarely emotional. You can count on one hand how many times Jay has shown emotional vulnerability.
But what Jon has refused to show, and what Jay often shows with an amount of honesty, is anger. As my friend @bonitacita said; they're two side of the same coin, hiding the things the other shows.
Jon Kent: Anger is inhumanity
Jon rarely lets himself feel anger. He gets impulsive, he gets close to it, but he never lets it linger. He doesn't even allow himself to be fully angry with his internal thoughts, always attaching caveats and forcing himself to slow down.
Tumblr media
This is because Jon, first and foremost, is afraid of his powers and what he is. This has existed during his childhood and follows him till now, his fear and confusion about what he is and his place in the universe is what prompted him to take the trip with Jor-El. You can see the panic he feels when he's out of control in SOKE, and the tight leash he has on his powers. Jon's specialty isn't just lightning, it's precision. It's always been the strength he earned and honed for himself.
Tumblr media
Jon's fear of himself stems from former experience, where he has been seen as a threat, a weapon, or just an abomination by others (Damian, Savior Tim, Manchester Black, Eradicator). Kryptonians are powerful, they can flip the world if they want to, but Jon is emphasized as a worse threat than the others because of his half-human and half-kryptonian biology. Even among the Kryptonians, he's a bit of a freak. His powers are potentially greater than Clark's and he has been constantly told he is going to blow one day, or he will be used by others like a weapon if he isn't careful enough(Manchester Black, and now Waller).
Jon inspires fear by merely existing. It was a thing he had to tackle with constantly in SOKE, framed as dangerous and a rogue agent. This perception only gets worse with things like the Blue Earth movement. It's been hammered into him over and over again that he is 1) extremely powerful 2) dangerous 3)capable of inspiring great fear.
Hell he's even seen a future where he loses control and just blows up Metropolis.
Jon has also witnessed first-hand, painfully, what an angry 'Superman' can make people feel because most of his formative years was ruled by this guy:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
He also saw injustice!Clark, who let his personal emotions guide the way he did his superman-work and it led to INJUSTICE.
Anger= BAD. He suppresses his anger so much, it manifests as another freaking power. Right after these panels, Jon says "I feel it raging inside me, feel it taking hold, something I've been holding back"- And THIS is when the lightning comes out and he shouts out against Ultraman. This is Jon's biggest show of his rage (so far).
But in most instances, he pushes it down, that's his norm. He lets himself show his vulnerabilities because there is no danger attached to sadness or fear the way it is for anger. Tears are allowed because it's not going to make anyone fear him and he is given freedom to express there. But anger? Anger, he must control as tightly as his powers, no matter the cost because he cannot, and will not be the monster people keep wanting for him to be.
Jay Nakamura: Anger is power
Jay has never shown his emotions in a completely open manner. He always wears a mask to hide his vulnerabilities, using witty quips and sarcasm to get by. But most of all, he is angry. It's this silent, persistent anger he wields through the aforementioned sarcasm and dry humor.
He's jaded. Gamorra is a country that's been colonized for a large part of its history and he is one teenager against an international dictator and now, the US government. He comes off as a little callous, rude. His reporting on Bendix is often very pointed and sharp. He didn't really find a need to hope, the Superman brand of it, until Jon.
Tumblr media
Jay is angry, but unlike Jon, his anger means nothing to others.
Tumblr media
He doesn't have the power to take on his oppressors on his own, and he is very aware of this. Jay's plights, and the plights of his people, are simply not taken seriously on their own because without the power to back it up, Jay's rage cannot impact them.
This also becomes important because Jay's powers are honestly nothing to scoff at. He IS powerful in a way, he can stand his grounds against a kryptonian if he tried. But he is also a Gamorran, a guy from a country that's been exploited and controlled. Due to his identity as a Gamorran citizen, he will be looked down upon, questioned, labelled 'terrorist'. The world is primed to look down on him because of colonization, so the lack of acknowledgement of his struggles, his emotions and the power his anger can hold against people like Bendix and Waller, makes people dismiss Jay as a threat.
Jay does not have the inhibitions Jon does wrt power.
He's willing to get his hands a little dirty(he never admitted to exactly what he did with The Revolutionaries, but it was 100% shady, and he does not plan on apologizing for it). His anger is seen most prominently in SOKE when he's talking to Jon here:
Tumblr media
This is one of the few times we see Jay's cool smirk change into genuine emotion, into anger. Unlike Jon, he lets it be and uses it as a tool in creating The Truth. He uses it to convince Jon and also point out that Jon's overstepping Gamorrans by taking charge on a struggle that wasn't his to take control on.
Additionally, Jay has NEVER shed a single goddamn tear on-page. Jon has cried like 5 times but Jay? Nope. This is because while anger isn't even acknowledged when it comes from the oppressed speaking out against their mistreatment and discrimination, sadness and tears and showcase of vulnerability is an immediate weakness. It's something to exploit.
Jay's already the underdog, he cannot afford to be weak. He can't have vulnerabilities because if he dares show them, it will be used against him. Bendix did this by using Sara, now Waller is doing it again by killing Sara and threatening Jon to get Jay(and vice versa tbh). Anything other than cool stoicism and control is an opening for others to attack.
He'll allow for people to think of him as a threat, an asshole perhaps, a snarky bastard, because at least there is power in being seen as dangerous. The funniest part is people like Bendix or Luthor dismiss Jay's anger- Bendix didn't even realize his regime was being toppled by Jay until the final few issues. His anger IS powerful all on its own, but unacknowledged until a person with privilege like Jon comes in(he's white, he's Superman's son, he's considered an American citizen). Jay set up all the dominoes, Jon just gave a push.
The meaning of anger
Anger means different things for different people. For Jon it is decidedly bad, for Jay it is helpful, and the meaning of it is defined, in the end, by who you are and what you choose to do with it.
We can see why Jon and Jay use it in the ways they do over here, kinda succinctly summarized by Clark and Lobo:
Tumblr media
Clark has been raised to see anger as an ineffective form of expressing anything. He doesn't manage it, or deal with it. He pushes it down the way Jon does. It simmers on the surface for Clark, but he does not feel anything positive about experiencing it. Meanwhile Lobo, a Czarnian who lbr, has been treated poorly because he is Czarnian, says anger is something you should face. It's two people, without their worlds, discussing what anger means to them. One who has belonging, who fits into the perfect model of human privilege and currently has a proper support system and community. The other, a solo rider in space who looks and acts in ways considered crass, who does not have the support that Clark does.
It's considered irrational if you express anything with screaming and anger. Any argument you put forth is dismissed because anger from the marginalized like POC, the queer community, etc., is seen as 'tantrums'. These emotions are not considered valid. But when anger comes from a place of power and privilege, it is taken seriously. Which is why people like Clark and Jon think of anger as a bad thing, while it comes from a need to control their power, it is also a matter of privilege. Their distress is taken seriously.
Meanwhile Jay was raging and shouting to the world for YEARS, but Bendix took notice only when Jon angrily barged into his office. Jay's genuine distress was not taken seriously because he isn't privileged enough, He has to present Gamorra's situation with an objective calm. Hell even he does so, even if he does everything to climb into some level of power, he gets dismissed the second his identity is seen
Tumblr media
To conclude:
For Jon, anger is what's going to make people see him as a monster. The world watches him with anticipation, always a little scared he's gonna lose control. He will suppress it, come what may.
For Jay, anger is one of the few things keeping him going. It means nothing to the people who look down on him, so who the fuck cares if he feels it? He'll use it.
33 notes · View notes
navree · 5 months ago
Note
Slade must have serious mommy issues because why is he immediately so hostile towards anyone who's close to Amanda Waller? He's so obsessed with being her number one.
His determination to be Waller's second in command to the point of genuine emotional investment in it is such a batshit choice, but honestly every choice they've made about literally Deathstroke the Terminator in this show is batshit, God bless.
There's so much to unpack about this dude that is entirely unintentional. The fact that he constantly, irreverently, answers any "who are you" question with "we're the good guys" when that's clearly Lane's interior justification, like he finds it funny. The fact that he appears to just have no respect for Lane at all even though he was the one in charge until very recently. And yeah, an attachment to Waller specifically in that he stays at her side and is immediately beefing with Lex for her attention (and apparently doesn't even have any reservations after she admitted in front of him that she deliberately let Livewire escape when that ended with him getting his eye fried out of his head). Hell, why the fuck is he even a part of Task Force X? Was Leslie right, was he originally in the regular military before he got recruited by Waller (or maybe Lane)? Why did he stay? What's his investment in trying to stop an alien invasion? He clearly doesn't have any ideological convictions like Lane and Waller do, and he's not that much older than Clark and co so he clearly wasn't around for Zero Day.
You have given me a 25 year old, clean shaven, white haired even tho he's only just old enough to rent a car on his own, golden eyed version of Deathstroke with the most insane characterization that has ever been given to that character, or honesty any character. Tell me more about him! What's his deal? I wanna know so much more about him, I want an entire issue of the tie-in comic devoted to him specifically. Hell, I've harped on this before, but is he even married yet? I hope he is, I really hope that this fucking guy has a wife and small children at home, I think that's the best thing they could ever do.
18 notes · View notes
isfjmel-phleg · 9 days ago
Text
You know that panel in the recent Superboy miniseries of Clark hugging Kon? That's an important panel. It depicts something that took literally thirty years to happen.
Because Clark, in his loving but complicated relationship with Kon, has a history of rather restrained (genuine! kind! but restrained) physical affection with him.
In the aftermath of Clark's return, when the particulars of Kon's background are addressed, the two of them go from Kon's struggling under a firm grip intended to keep him from getting violent to a cordial, businesslike handshake before Kon flies off on his solo adventures.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Adventures of Superman 1987 #506)
Most of their encounters for a while afterward are concentrated on work, but even when Clark shows up for a kindly pep talk now and then, he tends to keep his physical distance from Kon. His younger alternate-universe counterpart is more open, giving Kon an approving hand on the shoulder on their first encounter. It takes Kon's almost dying for the Clark of his world to bestow a comparable gesture. And note in the aftermath of Kon's illness, which left him unable to age, physical contact between them is focused on the S-shield, which represents the legacy that Kon must live up to. These two are friendly, but they're not close.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Superboy 1994 #8, 40, 41)
The warmth increases when Clark bestows Kon's name. As he compares Kon to the original Kryptonian Kon-El, he mirrors the hand-on-shoulder gesture between Jor-El and the original Kon-El that Kon experienced in a simulation he just went through. Clark will continue to use this gesture or a similar hand-holding one in moments of genuine affection for Kon. But there's still a bit of distance in it. He's literally keeping Kon at arm's length.
(And look! Similar gesture from younger alternate-universe Clark, as before.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Superboy 1994 #59, 60, 70, 62)
Similar kindly but distant gestures as Kon bonds with him as in his Clark persona. (Clark thinks that Kon thinks that this is a separate relationship with a different person--but unbeknownst to him, Kon has learned his secret identity.) Note the handshake that mirrors the one from Kon's send-off.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Superman 1987 #155)
When their ages are reversed during the Sins of Youth event, the bonding through hands on shoulders becomes more frequent and more reciprocal now that they feel more like peers. This doesn't last though. For the rest of Kon's YJ era, he and Clark don't really show any further physical affection, even in more emotionally fraught moments, like their shared grief in the aftermath of the Worlds at War event. When Clark finally intervenes in Kon's life and brings him to live with the Kents--accepting him into his human family, a very loving act--he does so while maintaining physical distance.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Sins of Youth: Superboy Sr. and Superman Jr. #1)
Kon is too much in awe of Clark to initiate physical affection himself. And Clark...is he trying to keep up the image of the kindly but remote ideal to look up to? Does he think he might embarrass this teenager by hugging him? Has he not fully worked through his reluctance to get close to this boy who was intended to be his replacement? Or perhaps something else? Hard to say.
But maybe the physical affection becomes more frequent and less distant in Kon's t-shirt era, now that Kon is living with Clark's parents and is considered part of the family?
Nope. Nothing changes. Hand-holding and shoulder-touching every now and then.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Teen Titans 2003 #1 / Action Comics #816, 817 / Superman 1987 #220)
When Kon is killed, Clark avoids the infamous Death of Supergirl body-carrying pose that Kon pictured him doing in a nightmare about his own death (on some level, is this an expression of Kon's wanting Clark to react to his loss with strong emotion, wanting that assurance that he is valued by the man he looks up to most?)...
Tumblr media
(Young Justice 1998 #35)
...and simply touches the shield on Kon's shirt, as he did long ago while reminding Kon of what he must live up to. It's a sincere expression of grief, but still restrained, especially compared to, say, Kon's friends' reaction to his death.
Tumblr media
(Infinite Crisis #7)
Kon's return from the dead is a joyous occasion that requires an especial outburst of affection, so...hands on both shoulders. Still at arm's length.
Tumblr media
(Final Crisis: Legion of Three Worlds #5)
And so it continues.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Adventure Comics 2009 #1)
I'm showing you all this to cement the established pattern, because Clark's physical affection with Kon in the present continuity has a noticeably different energy.
This is a familiar gesture, as Kon has returned to the continuity and everyone is trying to make sense of him.
Tumblr media
(Action Comics #1022)
But after the day is saved and Clark brings Kon back to the Kents' farm as an official reintegration into the family, there's a warmth in how he reaches out to Kon that's new. He still does the shoulder thing, but now he's even half-hugging him sometimes! On another occasion, he's affectionately ruffling Kon's hair like an older brother. There seems to have been a change in the relationship, or at least in Clark's expression of it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Action Comics #1028, 1047)
And it all culminates in this lovely moment after Kon returns to the family after running away in a moment of feeling alienated and unneeded. Clark hugs Kon close just as he would any other family member--his parents, his wife, his cousin, his sons (deliberate plural to include Chris!). Even after the hug is over, the affectionate contact goes on for the rest of the scene. Instead of keeping Kon at arm's length, it's like he can't let go of him lest he run off again.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Superboy: The Man of Tomorrow #6)
So why did this moment take thirty real-world years to happen? Perhaps it could be chalked up to the sensibilities of the turn of the millennium in how male characters could interact (did you know that none of the boys in YJ 1998 ever hug each other?), but at the same time it's not uncommon for young male heroes written during this time to be hugged by their male mentor/parental figures. There are a lot of Bart-Max hugs. Bart and Wally at least once. Bruce has been known to hug Tim. Even Ray's jerkface father hugs him. So this pattern with Clark and Kon stands out.
Kon's receiving this kind of physical affection from Clark is important for several reasons. It's a sign of familial acceptance. Of course Kon has been part of the family ever since he received his name or went to live with the Kents (however you want to look at it). Clark has considered Kon his brother for a very long time and cares about him a lot. Yet there has been a pattern of physical distance in how he relates to him. Willingness to embrace him like this is a way to reassure Kon that he is wanted, that he is loved, that he is as much a part of the family as anyone else. This has always been true, but for someone as tactile in nature as Kon, this gesture would be especially meaningful.
He hasn't grown up with a lot of healthy physical affection. I don't have time now to do a systematic search of his solo for precise evidence, but if I recall correctly, physical affection for him generally occurs in a romantic context only, not from family or guardians. This lack of positive touch might contribute to his eagerness for quick, passionate romance, but it also makes him vulnerable to those who exploit his desire for this connection for their own ends. Knockout is very physical with him. So is Tana. He's not really getting any positive, healthy physical affection to contrast with that of his abusers. But he needs it.
It's also a sign of personal closeness. For a long time Clark tends to be very private and reserved about himself around Kon, uncomfortable with any kind of vulnerability around his intended replacement--even while emphasizing to Kon that he trusts and values him. Clark has understandable reasons for holding back, but his being able to reach a point where he's comfortable enough to fully interact with Kon as a brother in ways that go beyond words marks an important development in their relationship.
8 notes · View notes
thiccpersonality · 1 month ago
Text
Forget Me Not
(Before you start reading: I must warn this is an extremely long fic, the word count coming in at 27,591 words. If you'd prefer to read it somewhere not on Tumblr, I posted it here on my AO3: My Story. However, if you enjoy reading fics as long as Pinocchio's lying nose, please enjoy! 💛)
Relationships:
Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne
Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth
Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth
Diana (Wonder Woman) & Alfred Pennyworth
Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne
Diana (Wonder Woman) & Bruce Wayne
Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne
Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne
Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Characters:
Alfred Pennyworth
Bruce Wayne
Clark Kent
Diana (Wonder Woman)
Dick Grayson
Jason Todd
Tim Drake (DCU)
Damian Wayne
Kate Kane (DCU)
Barbara Gordon
Stephanie Brown
Cassandra Cain
Ace the Bat-Hound (DCU)
Leslie Thompkins
Additional Tags:
Angst
Fluff and Angst
Fluff
Fluff and Humor
Family Fluff
Hurt/Comfort
Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Angst and Hurt/Comfort
Hurt
Emotional Hurt
Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Character Death
Death
Sickfic
Sick Character
Dementia
Old Age
Alfred Pennyworth is the Best
Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth
Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth
Good Parent Bruce Wayne
Bruce Wayne Loves Children
Bruce Wayne is Good With Kids
Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member
Alfred Pennyworth Needs a Hug
Bruce Needs a Hug
Everyone Needs A Hug
Hugs
Bruce Wayne Gets a Hug
Everyone Gets A Hug
It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better
Bittersweet Ending
Disease: a disorder of structure or function in a human, animal, or plant, especially one that has a known cause and a distinctive group of symptoms, signs, or anatomical changes.
Everyone should know why a disease would be a frightening ordeal to go through, it's something that usually spells death for the person or people who have it, it's like having a sickness but worse...almost as if the term itself is pre-warning those who are hearing of it that there is a high chance they will die. A disease is intimidating in many ways, there are some there is absolutely no cure for, some where you just have to hope and pray that the outcome won't be as bad as any other persons case that disease has gotten it's cold, suffocating tendrils on.
There is an uncertainty and fear that strikes through the heart of the victim or victims and their families when such news is relayed that a disease has taken root to the person, it plants an uncertainty in the soil of your heart like a little seed, quickly taking root and spreading anxiety and doubtfulness in the future to come for yourself or your loved one like a stubborn weed.
There are many kinds of diseases, but one that Bruce finds the most horrifying is the disease of one's mind, it can show up in multiple ways...he has seen it before: The psychopathy and delusions of the rogue gallery for one, the weariness and depression from the pain of one's life for another, something that can spread so quickly from one bad day that it changed their minds forever is something both fascinating and haunting. But the one disease of mind that scares Bruce the most are the ones that can remain unseen, most likely because the disease is being stubborn or perhaps it was too late?
All Bruce knows is that for him, his disease is death...or maybe it's the opposite way around?
Death always seemed to cling to Bruce as if he's it's only lifeline, which is absurd considering what death does, but sometimes that thought causes the man himself to wonder if death is just as tired of it's job as anyone else is? If it is just hoping to find someone who can cheat itself and prove that it's not a monster...at least not because it wants to be, but it has a job to do like anyone else, and sometimes there are people that have to do the dirty work, that have to take on a role that they know might make them hated beyond all reason.
Bruce should know that all too well, maybe that's why death clings to him like an insecure child seeking affirmation from an adult or loved one? Maybe it just sees him as a friend of sorts; it's confidant, someone who knows the ins and outs of how death operates and isn't scared by it or shies away from it, it knows he has come to terms with it and understands it...or has tried to.
That is one thing Bruce despises about himself; how he lies and tells himself that he's not afraid when deep down he's that eight-year-old boy in a bloody alleyway, the red clinging to his legs and hands like a second skin, the rain mixing with his tears as he sits alone and confused; his mind trying to process what just happened as his eyes frantically flutter between his mom and dad's now cold bodies.
So, yes, Bruce is well acquainted with death and disease, from too young an age one might add. He has seen sickness take ahold of his father's patients when younger and as stated before: he witnessed his parents death, and he has witnessed his own son Jason die alone and most likely scared. Bruce has seen death stretch out it's hand like an uncontrollable and incurable disease, hoping to claim another victim or reaching out as a cry for help...that he does not know, all he knows is that he is tired of death following him around like his own shadow, he is tired of it claiming the lives of everyone he loves without fail.
There have been moments where Bruce begged loudly for death to come for him instead, and it seems like whenever he has, it didn't work or moved on to someone else he knows as if it doesn't want to let him go, as if it's saying: "not you...not yet", trying it's hardest to keep the one person who is painfully familiar with it and who it recognizes just as much in return, though death may not quite realize just how much suffering it is putting it's "friend" through.
You see.
Bruce, just like death, has familiarized himself with the grandeur of delusion and the temporary peace or comfort it can bring. Thinking that if you can lie to yourself enough that everything and everyone is just fine, that you are fine and that you aren't slowly being driven insane by the back and forth death, as if you aren't slowly being eaten away by grief and sorrow...as if the people that you love and care for will continue to live another day because you think so, you've convinced yourself well enough because there was no other choice, it was either being delusional or you let the crushing weight of every death you've ever witnessed process in your mind and rip you apart like a dog with it's favorite chew toy.
Bruce had gotten so good at lying to himself that he believed one specific person would never die, at least not before he passed before that person: Alfred.
The tricky thing about grief and delusion is that they go hand in hand very well, sometimes peoples cause of grief is their delusions and for others their delusions are a cause of grief; two things Bruce has come to know very well.
Another thing is that they both can cause you to lie to yourself, sometimes very well, and when you have a grown man with repressed trauma, well, that is a dangerous cocktail for one to drink. Bruce deep down is that child in that alleyway...he never quite truly moved on from Thomas and Martha Wayne's deaths, that frightened little boy is still in him looking for someone to cling to, someone to lean on as a parental and mature adult figure...and who better than Alfred? The man has always been a shining star in Bruce's darkened world, something and someone to look forward to in his lowest moments, the man has always been so patient and put together whenever Bruce was at his worst that the boy was convinced Alfred had powers.
Ever since he could walk, Alfred was the person Bruce would follow to the earth and back again, and when the man stepped up after his parents died, that broken part of him clung to what was familiar and what he knew was something solid to lean on when the ground beneath him became sinking sand.
Because of that, Bruce never once thought of Alfred succumbing to any sort of disease, let alone death. He and death seemed to have a silent agreement on the other man: not Alfred, never Alfred...but it seems that it was only one of death's many tricks for Bruce. To make himself and his inner child hopeful that, if nothing else, at least he will always have Alfred by his side with his sharp mind and quick wit, always there to nag Bruce about his bad ways of living his life. He never thought the other would be one to fall to such sneaky tricks because, if nothing else, Alfred never has succumbed to such diseases of the mind or heart before.
But...
Bruce didn't realize how wrong he was until it was too late. Unaware that sometimes grief and heartbreak can sometimes take years to show in someone's heart or mind, clueless to the ways it festers like an unattended cut, causing worse of an injury than what you initially started out with. He didn't know that just like an unattended cut, that feelings can act just the same, building up overtime until it claims someone's life or leaves them with scars.
Or maybe he's just playing ignorant?
Bruce knows deep down that such things are true, but he is so used to lying to himself and pushing aside the truth of his feelings that sometimes he forgets to apply it to other people. He is sick and tired of dealing with death, especially when it comes to his family and friends, that he finds it easier to sacrifice his own life and well-being so that death never happens again in his family, not anymore.
But, death is one of the many things Bruce knows he doesn't have control over, especially not when he can't see it forming or coming. Not when it disguises itself so well that by the time you notice death take hold of someone, it's too late to do anything. Bruce thought that death and him had an understanding when it came to Alfred...but now he is left wondering if death found his situation hilarious or if it was left grieving just as he was.
And it all started slow and unassuming, like a thief in the night.
XXX
It was a surprisingly beautiful day in Gotham, the sun out to give a comforting amount of warmth while a cool breeze blows throughout the Wayne estate, the birds chirping happily in the trees as the bat-family sits outside to have a picnic together, Bruce smiling softly at all his family gathered together while soaking up the noise.
It's nice to be able to relax with his children and see them be young and free, even if it's just for a moment in time. Bruce appreciates his family for coming over as it's the anniversary of his parents death today...an occasion the man would usually choose to grieve alone with, the weather too bright and pleasant on such a sad morning, but Bruce finds himself not minding it today because it brought him his children. "Damian, how many times have I told you not to throw the water balloons below the belt?"
Bruce raises his brow at his youngest child over his shades while sipping at his lemonade, holding back his amused smirk at the boy turning to frown at him.
"I don't know? Probably one hundred and one times since we've come out to play. But I do not see the issue with it, father, in this war, anything is possible." Damian smirks at his dad in a way that has Bruce slightly concerned for his other children, but the moment is ruined by the boy sputtering as a balloon pop's against his head. "What miserable lowlife dared to hit me-" Damian shouts as he's pelted three times in the back with water balloons-"Cut it out you cretin! I swear on my grandfather's name that when I find who did that-" Bruce does his best to hold back his laughter when Tim and Steph interrupt the boy with more balloons to his face.
Conversation long forgotten at this point, Bruce just relaxes into his chair with a genuine smile as he watches Damian chase after the two teens, his heart growing warm when the boy chooses to tug Jason onto his team with the claim that despite the others mental and emotional setbacks, he proves to be well trained and physically capable.
Surprisingly, the older boy only pinches at Damian's face in retaliation before picking the boy up and running after their newfound "enemies" with the other on his shoulder. Bruce feels that fondness in his heart mix with the cold and familiar touch of grief and sadness at imagining his parents being here to witness this, from imagining if this would be the kinds of things he did with his own parents on sunny days. Bruce loosens his tense body and slowly allows himself to feel some of that pain, he must be having a rare good day, because any other time of day he would choose to focus on one or the other, but never both.
At the thought of his parents though, Bruce turns his head to look around for Alfred and frowns when he sees that the man hasn't come back outside yet, is the other just busy with housework or is he grieving too?
Bruce paused at the thought and looks back and forth between his laughing family and the sliding back door thoughtfully, he doesn't want to intrude on Alfred if the man is grieving in his own way, he actually isn't sure if he's ever seen the man cry properly at Thomas and Martha dying...but then again, he also isn't sure the nature of their relationship with each other and if they were even close. It does bother Bruce a bit to think that maybe Alfred and his parents weren't friends and that maybe they just stayed professional with each other, just because the man was willing to befriend the Wayne's child, it doesn't exactly mean he was willing to be friends with his employers.
Bruce makes his decision and stands up from his seat, shouting to his kids about how he'll be right back and chuckling as he's completely ignored by all of them.
Bruce slides open the door and inhales deeply at the scent coming from the kitchen, his feet automatically taking him to the source of the smell, a small smile tugging at his lips when he sees his dad in a Robin themed apron: "Alfred! Why are you still baking in here? You said that you'd be joining us outside soon and this doesn't look like soon."
Alfred raises his brow at the mock scolding tone Bruce is taking with him, "Don't you dare try that with me, sir. I am providing everyone with dessert for later, sustenance if you may, at least I am not hunched over this counter and forgetting to feed myself." Bruce responds with a small gasp at the slightly judgmental look he receives from the other man, taking a seat at the counter and stealing a taste of the cream cheese frosting Alfred is whipping up, giving an innocent grin when the other attempts hitting his hand for it. "And no one would believe me if I told them that you act like a child."
Alfred softens when looking back up at Bruce and seeing the man looking comfortable and happy, considering the day it is, he expected the man to be worse for wear like any other time, but this version of his son is always welcomed and if he willfully ignores the man sneaking in another scoop of cream...well, that's only his and Bruce's business.
"Not believe you, Alfred? I think your talking poppycock now. Whoever wouldn't believe you is mad I say."
Bruce watches Alfred move around the kitchen in search of something, his smile widening at the not so subtle twitch of Alfred's lips from his words, though the Wayne heir grows confused when his longtime friend stops in the middle of the floor confused. "Alfred? Is everything okay?" Bruce watches closely as the man turns to give him a reassuring smirk, the older man lifting a hand to tap at his head. "Oh, you know how it is with age, my dear boy. My old noggin' doesn't work quite like it used to, seems I am forgetful today." Alfred's obviously playful comment causes a pang of fear to shoot through Bruce's heart, the simple mention of anything being wrong with his dad on a day where he's remembering his late parents isn't helping to quell his sudden worry.
"Don't say that! You are fine, Alfred. You are fine."
Alfred looks at Bruce confused for just a moment before his shoulders slump at realizing the issue, his gunmetal blue eyes carefully observing the worry in those icy eyes and the young man's suddenly tense posture.
Alfred sighs softly and reaches forward to grab Bruce's hand in his own, "I apologize for my comment. I didn't mean to come off as insensitive or intentionally trying to worry you Bruce...I promise I am fine. Just a bit...foggy today upstairs is all-" his thumb comfortingly strokes across Bruce's hand, an action that is so familiar to the younger that it automatically causes him to relax-"I suppose that you aren't the only one who struggles on this day." Bruce pauses for a moment in thought before he takes the time to look at Alfred properly and feels a pang of sadness hit him at the grief in the man's eyes...it's something he almost never sees from the man, at least not this openly.
Bruce sucks in a sharp breath of air at truly being able to see just how tired and grief stricken the older man looks, his other hand lifting to rest on top of Alfred's, his thumb mimicking the comforting gesture for the other just as the man did for him. "I'm sorry, Alfie...I wondered about if you missed them as I do, but I never wanted to ask because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." Alfred blinks away the mist from his eyes and releases a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding, clearing his throat before speaking. "You being concerned for my well being could never bother me, sir. Now, what do you say you help me in the kitchen for today and we finish making this Bavarian Torte together?"
Bruce's eyes widen and water slightly at the name of the dessert, "You mean...the chocolate one? That was one of mom's favorite desserts." 
Alfred smiles bittersweetly at the old memories of the Wayne matriarch sneaking into the kitchen to steal the whipped icing and extra slices of cake without any remorse, remembering how she would sometimes use underhanded tricks such as sending a toddling, pudgy faced Bruce in to ask for the cake, all while cackling behind the corner like a maniac-because much like herself-it was impossible to deny the young boy anything.
"Exactly the chocolate one. I thought it might be nice to eat something familiar to remember them by...I know how much you miss them and if I'm overstepping a bound-" Alfred grunts as he's crushed into a tight hug, his arms reaching out to squeeze Bruce back as the man whispers in his ear.
"It's perfect Alfred, thank you. I'd love to help."
XXX
Bruce thought the moment of forgetfulness was unusual for Alfred, but even the best of the best have their off days once in awhile. Though he wishes he would have payed attention to the amount of grief on the butler's face when he confessed Thomas and Martha's deaths hit him hard as well, maybe if he did things wouldn't have spiraled as quickly as they did? I mean, that's if it was caused partly by untreated grief and sorrow.
Bruce wishes he would have held onto that concern long afterwards, but he trusted that child in himself telling him that Alfred is alright, telling him to trust the unwavering and impenetrable force that is Alfred Pennyworth.
That desperation to not want to even think or ponder on the thought that something could truly be wrong with Alfred seemed to overshadow the moments where something was off. It especially didn't help that each question and concerned remark was met by a steadfast reassurance that everything was fine and that Alfred was as right as rain, and maybe Bruce was being immature for so quickly being placated by the firm words and grounding tone? But Bruce was always prone to listening to Alfred when he got in such a mood, his usual iron-willed stubbornness would seem to fade into nothing whenever the man would stand tall and chase away his worries, just like when he was but a frightened child desperate for comfort yet too scared to reach out and claim such a thing for himself. Alfred remaining patient and calm despite Bruce's weariness and temperament.
Sometimes...sometimes Bruce thinks he was being selfish when it came to Alfred, he wonders about what kind of child he is to ignore his own concerns and the warning signs death gave to him in favor of being comforted by words he wanted to hear. Words of assurance and a promise that everything was fine, even when it always wasn't.
Bruce hates when his family tells him that there was nothing much he could have done, that things happened so quickly for even a doctor like Leslie to be able to aid Alfred. Bruce finds it easier to blame things on himself, he finds it easier to chalk things up to being his fault like most peoples deaths are.
Ultimately though, Bruce never thought that disease of someone's mind could spread so quickly under his and the family's noses.
XXX
Alfred is trying to cook breakfast for his family but he can't figure out where he placed the tongs, he can't grab the bacon from the pan if he doesn't have the proper utensils to do so. The older man sighs in frustration and rubs at his temples, he doesn't know why, but he has been misplacing things lately or becoming forgetful and it irks him to no end...he knows that his health is fine, but he would rather not be subject to bouts of forgetfulness at what feels like the most random of times.
While Alfred is searching through the same drawers he looked through fifty times already, one of his grandchildren sneak up behind him and startle him by asking what's wrong.
Alfred jumps and quickly turns around, a displeased frown gracing his face when Tim just giggles happily at getting a rare one up on the usually aware butler. "One of these days you children are going to give this old man a heart attack. But if you must know what's wrong, I seemed to have lost the tongs, and I would hate to let you all's bacon burn because I can't find them." Tim perks up at hearing his breakfast could be ruined and nods his head, gently moving Alfred to the side so he can take a look himself. "You sure Jason hasn't started taking our stuff again? I know he's been coming to the Manor a lot more...but he sometimes slips utensils out to use in his own apartment."
Alfred crosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, "I hope not. He knows good and well that he can ask Bruce for help and he'll buy the boy almost anything."
A drowsy voice comes from the kitchen entrance, "Where would the fun be if I asked? I hafta fulfill that little street rat in me somehow." Tim rolls his eyes at Jason's groggy response, the boy standing up straight and frowning at how the tongs have seemingly disappeared out of nowhere. "Yeah...well, did the street rat in you steal the tongs? Alfred needs them or else the bacon will burn...and we don't want the bacon to burn."
Jason smacks his lips and shrugs his shoulders, "Nope! I don't know where they are or where they ran off to, maybe our home is turning into the castle from Beauty and The Beast? Next the grandfather clock will start talking and Alfred's feather duster will have a French accent. Just use a fork for now, maybe the tongs will turn up soon." Tim shuts the drawer he was looking through and opens the one with their table utensils and pulls out a fork for Alfred to use, his gaze suspicious as he looks Jason's way. "Mhm...by 'turn up soon' do you mean you have to go get them from your apartment and rush them back here so you won't get in trouble?"
Before Jason can respond, Damian walks in with the tongs in his small hands, unconsciously clicking them together as he enters the kitchen.
"I found these in father's bathroom today. Why were they in there in the first place?" Damian continues to click the two claws together as he looks around at everyone for an answer.
Alfred feels confusion at what Damian said...he knows the boy would have no reason to lie, but there would also be no reason for him to place the tongs in Bruce's room. It must have been Bruce's dog, Ace, that did it, that must be it. Despite the dog being well trained, it still acts like a dog and that means chewing at stuff from time to time or even running off with household stuff.
"Maybe it was Ace yesterday? I saw him in the kitchen with me before heading upstairs to bed, and I do believe I stopped by Bruce's bathroom to clean it up one more time and Ace followed me then as well." Alfred extends his hand to retrieve the tongs and nods at Damian in thanks, smiling when the boy calls Ace to him and fake scolds the dog for taking his utensils. The dog just tilts it's head in confusion, it did no such thing last night, it witnessed Alfred carrying the tongs with him and leaving them in it's master's bathroom after leaving...but it knows that the humans won't understand it, so it takes the scolding bravely and gently nudges it's nose into Damian's neck.
Jason is now sitting at the countertop, his cheek resting against his hand as he yawns. "Why were you in dad's bathroom? I'm pretty sure you have your own."
Damian giggles at the cold dog nose tickling his neck before he realizes he's being addressed and clears his throat. "Why not be in father's bathroom? It is the largest one and the best one after all, and as the one true Wayne heir, I deserve the best." Jason rolls his eyes and watches as Damian climbs into the seat next to him, a humored look in his eyes when realizing that if his baby brother didn't have fancy hop-y ninja skills, he would be struggling into the tall chair because of his height.
"Okay shortcake, sure. You positive you didn't use B's bathroom because you were already in his room? I don't know...maybe because you slept in his bed last night like the child you are."
Jason was only joking, but the pink coloring Damian's face causes the older to snort in amusement at how easy it is to tease the other. Though Jason is now having to defend himself from Damian's fists trying to strike him in his side, "Don't be mad at me because I unknowingly guessed correctly. I'm definitely not judging you for sleeping in his bed, he has a really nice bed, and I'm pretty sure if I still had the time to...I would have slept in Bruce's bed as much as I could before dying."
Damian pauses his attempted murder and frowns up at the older boy, pulling away his fist in favor of crossing his arms and leaning on the counter. "That's...tragic. Does father know of this predicament of yours? You sound as though you think about it a lot and I'm sure father has as well."
"I know of his predicament now and I am never bothered if any of my children want to climb into my bed." Bruce walks into the kitchen with bed head, somehow making it look like a fashion statement rather than a hot mess, carefully ruffling Jason's head as he passes by him and hiding his pleased smile at being able to embarrass his second eldest with his hand. "Now that we've come to a conclusion on Jason's dilemma. I see we are having bacon and eggs for breakfast. Will mine have cheese like usual, Alfred?"
The older man sets the last of the bacon on the tray, his eyebrows furrowing at how forgetful he is being lately, he didn't even prepare the ingredients for the eggs. 
"Could someone pull out the eggs, cheese and vegetables for me? I'm afraid I was so focused on finding the tongs that I neglected to pull out the eggs and other ingredients. Will anyone be having an omelette?" Richard appears out of what seems like nowhere, excitedly shouting about how he'll get the items and help Alfred beat the eggs, the kind offer immediately being met with complaints from the rest of his siblings. "That's no fair! Pretty sure you got to help Alfred yesterday with breakfast too. I'm gonna crack the eggs and mix them!" Tim loudly exclaims while standing up and reaching for the fridge handle, Richard's hand bumping into his as they start a mini shoving match with each other.
Alfred sighs at the morning already starting off so loudly, "If it is of concern to anyone...I also need a mixing bowl. It seems I've forgotten where I placed them last."
Bruce watches on amused as his second eldest and baby son hop out of their seats and rush to search for the mixing bowls, laughter escaping him when Jason asks Damian why he's trying to search the cabinets when he's so tiny. Bruce looks to Alfred and laughs harder seeing the man's facial expression, leaning forward to speak to the older so that he's heard over the chaos. "Now you've caused more of a ruckus then before. It was a good try though."
Alfred raises a brow, "Nice try?"
"Yes. Acting like you didn't know where the bowls are in the hopes that it would distract Tim instead, but now you have another argument on your hands." Bruce leans into his palm with a smirk, his confusion growing as Alfred smirks a bit awkwardly, as though he was being serious about not knowing where the bowls are but is attempting at acting like he knows what's going on. "Of course, sir. This old man has his own tactics to deploy...though I suppose I should rethink my plans, they seem to not work with the children."
Bruce blinks away the confusion in his eyes, he feels like he should ask Alfred what's wrong, his mind going back to his parents anniversary night and how forgetful the other seemed then too...but he had said that everything was fine with him. Maybe it's just him overthinking things again? Bruce has plenty of those moments where his mind has gotten him in trouble with family and friends alike because his paranoia got in the way of his trust. So, if Alfred claims he is fine...then he is, who would know his health better than the man himself? Definitely not Bruce, he doesn't think he would exactly count as the healthiest role model or example on health, not really.
Plus, Alfred is probably just trying to trick Bruce with the confusion too. His butler is a surprisingly good actor, sometimes even better than Bruce himself, so it's probably just all an act.
Bruce snaps out of his thoughts when he sees Damian clinging onto a large metal bowl that Jason is holding onto, the younger dangling in the air as his brother attempts to shake him off of the bowl. "Move it, pipsqueak! I grabbed this bowl first and you know it! Your fancy ninja skills don't beat height, I grabbed this before you jumped up and attacked me for it." Damian glares at Jason and tilts his head back so that he's looking at his dad, "Father! Tell Todd to release the bowl into my hands! I had it first and he won't let it go!"
Bruce opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by Richard making a distressed sound, he turns his head quickly in worry as to what could be the issue only to see his eldest only lost a round of rock, paper, scissors to Tim.
"No! Best two out of three?" 
Tim clutches onto the cheese and vegetables while narrowing his eyes at Richard, "You mean best two out of ten? We've played nine times already and you've lost most of them." Richard eyes the ingredients dubiously, slowly inching towards the smaller boy with his arms out, as though he's trying to disarm a startled puppy rather than his littlest brother. "Look, you cheated me, m'kay? I think Cass has been teaching you her tricks...she is unnaturally good at rock, paper, scissors." 
Tim rolls his eyes and keeps his hold tight on the stuff in his arms, "It's not Cass' fault you make bets with her and end up losing your money. Why would you even make bets with the one person trained since birth to read body language? You're just an idiot."
Richard gasps at the words and playfully lunges for the fridge, loudly exclaiming to Tim that if he's getting the cheese and vegetables then he'll retrieve the egg carton.
Bruce's cheeks hurt from smiling so much, his humored gaze turning to glance at Alfred to see how he's dealing with the banter and turning to something concerned at seeing how lost the man looks while standing there, but he doesn't have time to think about it as Damian screeches for him again.
"Father! Tell Todd to release the bowl from his evil clutches! I demand it!"
"Is it so hard for you to not speak in ancient? Why don't you speak like a normal kid-ow! The Hell!? Dad, get Damian off of me, he's starting to bite again! Don't make me punt you into the wall, gremlin!" Bruce sucks in a deep breath and rubs his temples, it started off amusing, but now it's quickly becoming a headache with all this shouting.
However, he has to be a dad, and because of this responsibility and honor (a tiring honor) he stands up to soothe his childrens tempers with the promise of Alfred's bacon, his concern for his own dad temporarily forgotten.
XXX
Bruce should have known that it's the little foxes that spoil the vine, but he was either too busy dealing with other people's issues or too busy being in denial that he didn't want to notice the signs of something being wrong. Anytime he did ask, it was always met with similar answers and responses, even on days where Alfred seemed to get visibly upset with him about the constant questioning, he would ignore that little voice telling him that Alfred's anger seemed wrong in favor of moving on and returning to "normal".
One of the most worrying moments for Bruce was when other people started to notice it too, especially Clark and Diana, it was a long couple months stuck in space working on a peace treaty between two different planets...Bruce hadn't even wanted to leave at the time, his concern for Alfred's growing confusion and seemingly depleting mental state was enough reason for him to not want to go.
But, with Superman and Wonder Woman tag teaming him and nudging him along with the prospect of the two planets possible war effecting earth, that was more reason to leave his dad behind in order to make sure his loved ones won't be hurt. Not before asking Damian to keep an eye on Alfred until he returns.
Bruce never expected to be gone for five months...of course he was glad that the peace treaty was successful, but he never wanted to be gone for so long from his family, especially when all his worries came crashing down on him the moment the League headed back to the Watchtower. His thoughts immediately rushing to how Alfred and the kids are, if his dad has gotten any worse or if the memory issues truly were just a cause of overwhelming grief from past memories undealt with properly.
He remembers Clark and Diana mentioning how hungry they were when they finally landed, but both were too tired (both more mentally and emotionally than physically) to even make something themselves. Of course with that response-and the two flashing puppy eyes his way-Bruce acquiesced with a sigh and invited them to his home, too exhausted himself to properly roll his eyes when the two managed wide smiles, as if they haven't been alone with him for a year.
XXX
Bruce blinks away the dizziness from the Zeta-Tube light, he should have taken the time to prepare himself for the sudden feeling of vamping one place to another, especially with the slight fuzzy feeling in your brain that the Zeta Tube gives Leaguers...at least humans like Bruce anyway.
A feeling of peace and contentment runs throughout the vigilante at finally being home, that queazy feeling of homesick he's been secretly dealing with for a year now finally dispersing at the squeak of the bats above his head and the soft whirring of his machines. Bruce's eyes unconsciously keep drifting to the entrance of the cave as he changes out of his suit, becoming curious as to why Alfred hasn't come down to the Cave yet. Usually when Bruce doesn't notify anyone that he's back from a mission, Alfred is always the first person waiting for him or the first to know he's back anyway, always ready with a change of clothes and quickly analyzing him for any injuries or hint that something is wrong. 
Bruce realizes that Alfred won't be coming down on his own, so he quickly changes out of his Batsuit and heads upstairs to grab some clothes for Diana and Clark, turning to raise a curious brow at them when they attempt to follow him like two stray dogs.
"And what do you two think you are doing?"
Bruce is thinking of every training technique on self-control that he can to stop himself from laughing at the kicked puppy look Kal gives him and the deer in headlights look Diana wears. The Kryptonian has his foot frozen midair on the first step, "But...I thought you invited us over for a late dinner? Don't tell me you were joking about that? I was looking forward to that sandwich." Diana elbows Clark in the side for his comment, her sapphire blue eyes narrowing disapprovingly on how the man is more worried about food.
"I think what he means to say is that we thought the invitation was a serious one. And that we hope we didn't cross some sort of boundary? Especially when remembering you haven't seen your family in months...you must desire to see them right away, and we hope our presence isn't intruding upon that desire." Bruce has to look away at the overly sincere way the Amazonian is looking at him, and from the slow realization of Diana's words sinking into Clark's brain and causing him to (somehow) look more pitiful than before. "Gosh, B! Di is right, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that...I was selfish to spend more time with you and eat a good sandwich."
Bruce's shoulders shake lightly as he finally breaks, he slowly turns to face his friends with a rare genuine smile on his face, the two freezing in place from the-no doubt exhausted-but genuinely happy laughter their friend is making.
"You two...it isn't about misunderstood jokes or interrupting my family time. I meant it when I asked you both to join me for dinner, I was just leaving to go get you both some clothes...you should know Alfred's rule about the suits in the home by heart now. That's all." Bruce rubs at his cheeks after speaking, it always hurts when he smiles too much, he doesn't know how since his children make him smile all the time, so he should be used to it by now. Luckily though, the answer seems to have satisfied both Diana and Clark's curiosity and worry, the two nodding their heads and preparing to say something but are quickly interrupted by the Grandfather Clock sliding open to reveal a sleepy looking Damian and Tim standing at the entrance.
"Father, you're finally back..." The younger boy rubs at his eyes and blinks rapidly, stifling a yawn as he speaks.
Tim seems to take Damian's cue as he yawns instead, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he does so, his posture looking exhausted beyond all belief but relieved at seeing Bruce again. "Hey, dad. Hi auntie Di and uncle C, we were hoping it was you this time, B. We brought you some extra clothes as the cave alerted us there was three people."  Bruce smiles at Tim fondly as the boy walks down the steps, the amusement growing in him once again when Damian huffs, pouts and rolls his eyes at whatever it was the his older brother said.
"I for one am beyond grateful that it's father this time around. If Todd brought his ragtag band of paupers over one more time to purposely grate on my nerves, I was actually going to murder one of them." Damian remains stubborn on his statement despite the look his dad turns to give him for saying he would murder people, "What? And don't get me started on Grayson, father! He was inviting people over for sleepovers every single night! Why does one man need so many feminine counterparts to hang around? They all-" Tim interrupts with a teasing look on his face and in his eyes 
"They all pampered him and babied him despite his threats to cut them down to size. Don't act like you didn't enjoy the skin care treatments, it's nothing you wouldn't do with dad-" the teen leans over to whisper purposefully loud to Bruce-"which is exactly why he allowed it to happen despite the constant protests. He was reminded of you whenever they treated his skin."
Bruce somehow manages to smiles even wider yet softer at the statement, his exhausted eyes shining with an overwhelming amount of emotions at realizing how much he's missed this; how much he's missed his family. The man quickly walks the rest of the way up the steps to pick up his baby son, cutting off the threats he knew Damian was going to shout at Tim, "Well...I am here now. There will be no more missing me as I can do our skin care together again, sadly not tonight, I'm too... exhausted. I have to make us sandwiches and get to bed before Alfred notices I'm still up and scolds me."
Bruce looks away from Damian too soon, hiking the boy up on his hip and securing his hold on him so the boy's chin is resting on his shoulder, not noticing the way his youngest son's face twists into something odd at the mention of Alfred.
Diana and Clark quickly finish changing and look at each other confused for the odd look Damian gave, as well as Tim's reaction to it, the older boy narrowing his eyes suddenly at the other in warning...as if he's telling the younger to control himself and not say whatever he's thinking, at least not tonight.
Curiouser and curiouser is when Tim notices the older heroes staring and quickly switches to a small, tired smile, the movement so precise and quick that both Diana and Clark thought they imagined it. However, the disgruntled look Damian gives Tim is enough to reassure the two that what they saw was real, the heroes following closely behind Bruce as they head to the kitchen and wonder silently what could be up with Alfred.
------
Bruce lazily chews on his sandwich, his eyes feeling heavy as he eats, the side to side motion of chewing oddly helping him to relax more on the stool, his chest pressing into Damian's back more as his body continues to slump down. At this rate, he'll fall to sleep at the kitchen counter with his child trapped on his lap rather than in his bed, so, with a quick clear of his throat, Bruce's slightly scratchy voice starts up a conversation. "How has everyone been doing while I was away? How has Alfred been? I bet he's been relieved not having to watch over me for these past few months, huh?"
He tried to go for something silly, cause that's a thing he's been attempting to pick up lately, and not his usual dry humor either. But with the micro expression Damian just made and the very miniscule tension in Tim's shoulders at his comment, he either wasn't very funny or something is going on with Alfred, or someone else in the family.
Bruce definitely would believe that he just isn't that funny, but these expressions and tensing isn't the normal 'dad you're embarrassing' type of looks or body language, it's the 'uh oh! Dad just mentioned something that we didn't want to speak about ever or right now.' And while Bruce may be exhausted from the month long trip in space, dealing with interplanetary peace making and/or keeping, on top of handling a rowdy group (the younger ones) of Justice Leaguers along with the severe jet lag one gets after traveling in space, he is still a dad and father first and foremost on top of being Batman.
Bruce hates how his first instinct is to panic and immediately turn to Diana and Clark to somehow blame or fuss at them for insisting he should go. But, he knows he shouldn't cause unnecessary fights and arguments, plus, he doesn't know exactly what happened or if anything happened at all...so there is absolutely no need to panic...right? 
The longer Bruce sits in silence to think of a response, the more he starts to panic at the thought that maybe after being away for so long his family is feeling awkward around him, and that thought makes him feel way more paranoid and obsessive so he tries to think of something more reasonable. What is more reasonable you ask? Immediately imaging one of his kids dying while he's away-and nope! Absolutely not that thought- "Can you or I just say something about it already? You're causing father to spiral." Bruce blinks away the concern in his eyes to look questioningly at Damian for his stern tone, Diana and Clark also pause their eating to look between the two boys.
"Tim...I think that whatever is going on that you need to share it. Clark and I both saw the look you gave Damian when he made that face." 
Tim sighs tiredly and rests his head in his hands when Bruce immediately asks him about, "what look", he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking. "You're right, aunty Di. I just-it's just...Alfred has been acting...off I guess one could say?"  The teen looks down in guilt when seeing his dad's worried look, "You see...this is exactly why I thought we should wait to tell him this in the morning. You're getting stressed when you already look exhausted enough as is."
Bruce shakes his head, ignoring the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing on his eyelids in favor of addressing what Tim said. 
"What do you mean by off, Tim? Has he gotten worse when I was away?"
Tim looks up quickly at what Bruce just said, confusion shining in his eyes as he tilted his head, "Worse? What does that mean?" Damian stops his chewing on one of Bruce's (stolen) chips, looking up to his father, expressing his puzzlement in his big green eyes alone. "Timothy is right, father...what do you mean by worse? Did something happen to Pennyworth before you left?"
Clark and Diana silently worry when they see Bruce look guilty for a second before controlling his expression, they know that whatever is going on must be serious enough as it's causing him this much distress, but they are hoping that their friend won't choose to shut down and keep things to himself as he tends to do when extremely worried. "Bruce, if there was something that happened to Alfred a couple months ago before you left, why didn't you tell everyone? Is...is that why you were so insistent on staying here instead of leaving Earth?" Clark looks worried as he asks, he feels guilty at the thought of forcing his friend away from his father figure when the man may have needed him most.
Bruce sighs, the remainder of his sandwich and chips long forgotten, the worry and uncertainty replacing the feeling of hunger in his stomach. "Nothing happened-" he pauses at the looks he receives from everyone at the table, huffing in irritation at their doubt-"I promise that nothing happened. At least not that I've seen...I don't even think there's anything truly wrong, Alfred said he's fine, just been a little forgetful and such lately...but he expects to get better, he does." Bruce does his best not to outwardly shrink into himself at the desperation in his tone, as if he's trying to convince himself that everything is okay and is going to be okay because Alfred said so.
Damian frowns worriedly, making eye contact with Tim and having a silent conversation, nodding slightly before hugging and kissing Bruce goodnight before sliding out of his lap. Tim hops down from his own stool and smiles reassuringly at Bruce, deciding that him and Damian can badger their dad in the morning about it; for now though, they'll leave it to Diana and Clark. "G'night, dad. Make sure to get some rest soon or else Alfred will be mad at you, night uncle Clark and aunty Di." Bruce watches his children leave, a frown tugging on his lips and the worry building at the thought of him having made his kids mad. His arms automatically come up so he can cross them, internally telling himself that it isn't a gesture of self-comfort, but that he just feels like crossing them-which apparently that's not what it looks like-as his two friends look at him in concern. "Bruce, what-"
"I...made them mad?"
Diana softens at the anxious note in Bruce's voice and shakes her head, "No. They weren't mad, that isn't why they left. And even if it was...why sound so confused about it?"
Bruce automatically digs his nails into his arms to calm himself before remembering to let up, he feels irritated when realizing Clark must have heard it as the man's eyes drift look at his hands. "Because I never know when I make someone mad, I never know what I do wrong. I think-I think Alfred's issue is my fault." The abruptness in which Bruce switched to blaming himself cause the two superheroes to freeze in place, their tired minds trying to process what it is that their friend just said before it sinks in and Clark jumps in to quickly reassure the other man.
"How can anything going on now be your fault, B? I thought you said nothing even happened?"
A frustrated grunt escapes Bruce's lips, "I said that it's nothing that I have been able to see. But I'm pretty sure whatever is happening with him is my fault! Alfred is...I don't know? He's becoming more-"
"Master Bruce, when did you return home? The systems didn't alert me that you arrived, nor did any of the children. I have been wondering where you've been and no one ever had an answer." Alfred stands at the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, something fond warming Bruce's insides at hearing something familiar come out of the butler's mouth, though he doubts no one never told the older man of his whereabouts. Which, that thought causes Bruce to grow worried again.
"Tim and Damian just came down, Al. They told me at some point that you were upstairs resting so we thought not to bother you."
Bruce tries to keep his careful check over of Alfred subtle as he carefully eyes the man and his face, noting that nothing looks too out of place physically wise, which is good! The healthy appearance kind of eases the prickly tingle of anxiety in Bruce's gut.
Alfred doesn't pay attention to or notice his son's analyzing as he doesn't scold Bruce for his fretting and instead softens his stance and eyes the unfinished food on Bruce's plate. "Too tired to finish your food? Understandable. You look absolutely atrocious, sir, if I may say so? I have never seen such circles under your eyes before in my life! Was tonight that bad?" Bruce rolls his eyes at Alfred's comment, curiosity taking over his thoughts as he wonders exactly what Alfred means by, "tonight." He desires to ask the man what that means to him...but he is afraid that maybe he won't get the answer he's looking for, luckily enough, Diana must see he wants to ask the other that, so she takes over. Her tone friendly and warm.
"Good morning, Alfred. It's always lovely to see you. What do you mean by tonight?" 
Alfred nods politely at Diana but freezes for a moment, he isn't blind, he can see the way Bruce slumps ever so slightly in his seat when the woman asks her question. Now he feels unsure about what tonight means as well, so, he tries to play it off by asking a question of his own. 
"You know, tonight. What do you think tonight means?"
Diana manages to keep her smile on her face, the response is unusual for the Brit as he is always so straightforward in his responses, but she can work with this. "I think tonight means the mission we went on to space, we made a peace treaty between two different planets. Of course, you knew that though, Alfred." The three heroes wait in anticipation for the man's comment, but are baffled when Alfred looks momentarily surprised before fixing his face to look as if he recalls something, though Bruce finds himself bothered at the curtness of the man's response, "Yes. The space mission, of course."
What did Bruce do? Did Alfred not want him to actually go on the mission? Bruce knows that the older man can often be straightforward and to the point...but he never sounds so abrupt and-and upset, this is for sure Alfred's angry tone, Bruce should know, the man has had to take it to him many times.
Diana looks apologetic when Bruce looks at her, he softens as he knows the woman didn't do it on purpose, she was just doing what Bruce wanted and took the consequences of that came with asking Alfred the question. "Alfred, is everything okay? You never let me know that you didn't want me to leave on the mission, you never really ask me to stay because you know the importance of the work I do." Alfred remains silent, though Bruce grows more perplexed at the exasperated expression Alfred has on his face. Luckily enough, Diana and Clark sense the older man's growing frustration and-like the angels they are-leave their friend alone to talk to his dad alone, the Kryptonian and Amazonian reassuring Alfred they remember where the spare rooms are when he moves to guide them.
As soon as the two heroes leave and Alfred is left alone with Bruce, the older man takes the chance to state exactly what it is that's bothering him.
"How am I to let you know that I would or would not want you to depart if you never told me in the first place, sir? I have been asking the boys where you've been for days now and I could never find you, but it turns out you went off world without even a word to me." Alfred turns to glare at Bruce in a disappointed way, but instead finds his irritation at the fact his son never told him he was leaving, turning into irritation at the perturbed look on the other's face. "What exactly is that look for? Surely you aren't trying to feel guilty now when it's already happened? I have told you about-" 
"It's been more than a few days, Alfie. I have been off world for a whole year. I told you that I'd be leaving and even tried to stay behind, but you, Clark and Diana insisted that I go along to help. As soon as you found out I was trying to stay in Gotham, you insisted the change of scenery might do wonders for me, even if it's from another planet..." Bruce trails off and searches Alfred's face for any sign that he may remember even an inkling of the conversation they had, his heart sinks a bit more when the man looks disbelieving. "Don't you remember? You stated that me visiting another planet wouldn't be any different than living in Gotham since everyone here might as well be considered their own special alien race."
The silence is awkward for both Bruce and Alfred, with the former wanting to ask so many questions about his dad and what's been going on with him lately but stopping himself as Alfred looks like he'll fall over if he has to try remembering anything, and the latter feeling embarrassed at not remembering any of this. 
Alfred stands up straight and quickly takes Bruce's plate to the sink to distract himself from his own internal worry and confusion, "Of course. I just thought that I'd have a bit of a laugh teasing you when you came back, you should join your friends upstairs, Bruce, you need your rest." Bruce's brows furrow at the obvious dismissal, maybe not necessarily in the butler's tone, but his body language shows that he is done with the conversation and that it's just a joke as he said it was. But Bruce knows it's more than that...it has to be, why would Alfred suddenly forget these things now? He wishes that he could blame it on the other just being tired, but that doesn't seem like it at all.
"Alfred...it's okay if you don't remember, I just-"
Alfred huffs and scrubs at the dishes harder, "All is well, Bruce-" his tone is cold and clipped when speaking-"I am telling you to go to bed now, you need the rest after the long day you've had. I am fine, thank you."
Bruce stares at Alfred's back for a bit too long but decides an argument with the other isn't the best option right now, he just silently slides out his seat with a whispered, "goodnight," and heads up the stairs. Bruce feels stupid for feeling like a scolded toddler, but while he has definitely been on the receiving end of Alfred's short tone, never has the man used it for a topic that wasn't that serious when you think about it hard enough, and what exactly does the other man mean when saying a long day? Does he mean literally just the day Bruce had traveling back to earth or is Alfred already forgetting that the other mentioned it's been exactly three hundred sixty five days since seeing each other?
Bruce enters his room with a sigh at seeing his two friends sitting on his bed, he doesn't enjoy the concern on their faces either.
"What's wrong with Alfred?"
Clark quietly hisses Diana's name at the blunt question, the woman frowning at the look her Kryptonian friend is giving her. "What? What is the issue with asking what we all are thinking?" Clark sighs and drags his hand down his face, "Nothing inherently. But, you could try showing a little more...tact when such issues arise. You know we appreciate your honesty, but season your words with a little grace, please."
Diana exhales loudly but nods in agreement, "I understand. I'm sorry, Bruce...I know the question must be inappropriate considering the situation at hand."
Bruce leans back against the door, fully shutting it with a quiet 'click' sound as he looks up towards the ceiling in thought. "No, Diana is right to ask that question. I was going to say to you both before Alfred interrupted that he's been more forgetful as of late, I was afraid to leave him because I wanted to personally keep an eye on him and see if things were getting worse or if they'd return back to normal. Now I'm wondering if me leaving off world only made the issue worse?"
Clark shakes his head, "I don't think that's how this works, B. If this is something that's been happening before today or even a few months back when you told Alfred...then I am pretty sure he would have reached this point either way, with or without your being here. Since we are on the topic of Alfred being...different than usual, anyone notice how he had absolutely no idea what tonight meant?" Diana crosses her arms with a nod, "Yes. I was just thinking about that...he deflected by asking me a question and then answered based off of what I said, I've never seen him do that before in all the years I've interacted with that man."
At Bruce's prolonged silence, Clark and Diana turn to look at him, the two glancing at each other sympathetically towards their friend and his obvious distress. Diana sighs softly and gently calls the younger man's name, "Bruce, what are you planning on doing? Your sons noticed that something was amiss, we noticed it, and obviously you do too...the look in your eyes and the way you speak about Alfred is proof enough that you feel something's up."
Bruce squeezes his eyes shut tight at Diana's words, "He says that he's fine."
"But do you believe that?" Diana questions honestly, but not without gentleness, "Despite your stubborn nature and what feels like a know-it-all attitude at times. That's something I appreciate about you is your judgment and ability to sense when something is wrong...usually you are so quick to admit to us how right you are, yet now you avoid what it seems you already know, why? My friend, I think whatever you are telling yourself to do; do it. I know not only would it help you be at ease, but it could help Alfred as well." Bruce slumps against the door more in defeat and exhaustion, he feels like someone is playing a cruel joke on him, it feels like someone is twisting a knife deep into his heart with all the worry weighing on it.
But Diana is right, especially when it comes to matters of the heart and the truth within, so despite wanting to fight the two on it, all he can do is look at them tiredly and nod.
XXX
Bruce remembers how weighed down his body felt, not just by the exhaustion from the off world mission, but from the stress that decided to overwhelm him as soon as he returned back on earth. He remembers telling his family the next morning what had been going on, he hated to see the concern on each of his childrens faces and the uncertainty in their tones as they bombarded him with questions, but he knows that despite any personal feelings on the matter...his being honest was appreciated by the family.
And it all started with a phone call.
XXX
Richard loves being called by his family, even if two and a half out of one billion of them act like they don't like calling him, why do Jason and Damian have to be so tsundere about it? He loves receiving calls from Alfred to let him know that there's a warm plate saved for him, and he especially loves when Bruce calls him; even more so, Richard treasures the moments where his dad just calls to simply hear his voice and check on his well-being. Though Richard also adores when he catches Bruce trying to call him when busy and he's not, picking up the phone with a wide smirk at the awkward silence his dad stews in, trying to make excuses as to why he's calling (he's that half to the two others).
But, sometimes not every call that the eldest receives is always one that makes him happy, like now, Richard was just trying to enjoy a day out with some of his siblings when his phone rang. He picks it up quickly as it's Bruce and calls from him are either entertaining or something to be concerned about...sadly it's the latter today.
"I told you the kids would be just fine with me, B. We've only been out for..."
Stephanie responds from behind the curtain she's trying out clothes in, "Seven hours. We left early today to get some shopping done, remember?"
Richard's eyes widen and he looks at the phone's time curiously before laughing and gesturing to his siblings, "Wow! Yeah, uh...seven hours, we've only been gone that long. No wonder why you guys were hounding me for food-" the eldest goes silent at Bruce's immediate questioning interrogating on if he's fed his siblings yet, Stephanie must know what's happening as she pokes her head out from the curtain with an amused smirk-"Yeah...yeah, I've remembered to feed them actual food."
Jason pushes himself off the wall and towards Richard so he can speak into his phone, "No he didn't. The first place he dragged us to when entering the mall was some candy store, we all got something from there and ate that, then we all got distracted by other things so we never ate real food. M'pretty sure Tim has fainted from the lack of nourishment-ack!" The older teen grunts as his face is pushed away and smirks at his older brother trying to excuse himself, "Wha-no! Of course Tim didn't actually faint, dad. They are all being dramatic about it...though I confess that maybe I did kind of let food slip my mind-anyways! I want to hear what you called about! Do you need us to pick something up?"
Richard waits patiently as Bruce takes time to say whatever it is he wants to say, he's learned not to assume the worst is happening as sometimes the other man just calls because he loves him and other times it's that he doesn't know if it's okay to just say it, so patience is something that's much needed during this short time.
However, while waiting, he glances over at Tim and Damian who are trying on fancy glasses together, his smile growing fond when the younger allows Tim to pick him up so he can see his reflection in the display cases mirror. The frantic waving of someone's arms from the corner of his eye catch Richard's attention, so he looks towards Stephanie who immediately starts posing in her new outfit for him, his eyes taking in the Y2K look she's been going for recently and decides that the style fits her...though she's someone who is constantly changing her aesthetic, so he wonders how long this will last.
His attention hones back in on Bruce when the man softly clears his throat, "There has been something that has been on my mind lately and I have decided-through Diana and Clark's unwanted but...appreciated input-that I should share it with the family as well, ah...minus Alfred."
Richard stops smiling at hearing that and furrows his brows, "Uncle C and Aunty Di actually...they actually agreed that you should have this conversation with us instead of Alfred? What's going on?" At the curious looks and protests he receives from his younger siblings at wondering what's going on, Richard waves his hand at them to quiet the group down, listening as his dad sighs tiredly and responds in a tone that implies whatever the topic is about has been thought about without breaks. He wouldn't be surprised if Bruce lost sleep turning the thoughts over in his head, "They did...it's something that I have been noticing with Alfred for awhile now, so that's why he can't be here for the conversation. Tim and Damian know what the concerns are...we somewhat brought the issue up last night when I came home. I'm sure they'd be willing to fill you all in if you ask. I love you, Dicky Bird."
Richard didn't even realize how tense his body was until his shoulders dropped at the other saying he loves him, his smile turns more relaxed and he softly responds back. "I love you too, dad. We'll be there as quickly as possible...and I'll try not to break traffic rules along the way." As soon as he hangs up and pockets his phone, Richard is bombarded with questions from the family. The man looks between his siblings before settling on Damian and Tim, "Dad said that you two would know what the conversation would be about. Apparently last night you two mentioned an issue with Alfred? B apparently wants to talk to us about it today as it's been a concern he's had for a bit now."
Tim sighs in relief, he was worried something really horrible was happening with Bruce.
"Yeah, me and Damian noticed Alfred acting kind of weird while dad was away. I tried to mention it yesterday to him but he kind of freaked out about it, so I thought it'd be best to let him have a breather from our interrogation and let Aunty Di and Uncle Clark handle it...which they apparently did."
Richard's brows pinch together in worry for whatever could be wrong with Alfred, and with a small sigh, rounds his family up so they can leave for home.
------
Richard is just about trampled under his younger siblings feet with the way they all push at him and trip over one another trying to get inside, he tries calming them down and asking them to wait or try knocking on the door instead, but all he gets for his efforts is someone stepping very harshly on his foot...which he doesn't know if it that was done on accident or on purpose.
Luckily enough, Richard's slightly overdramatic pained cries are answered as the door is swung open to reveal an overly entertained Kate looking at all of them humorously, her brow raised in question. "Where's the fire? You all look like you're crushing poor little Dickie to death, you okay?" The redhead smiles at the chorus of apologies uttered to her instead of Richard, her smile growing at the eldest siblings offended scoff of protest, "You see the way I get treated by my dearly beloved siblings? At least you had the decency to ask of my well-being, and I'm surprisingly just fine after such an ordeal."
Kate chuckles and watches as the Wayne children form a line and calmly walk in the house instead, her eyes giving away the amusement she feels from Richard's words.
"Hm...maybe it's because you didn't feed them? You know how they get when they're hungry."
Richard shuts the door and pauses for a moment to process his cousin's words, giving her a playful glare at the reminder of his forgetfulness. "Yeah, yeah, not like themselves. Should've fed them a Snickers I guess?" Kate snorts at the comment and leads the kids to the family room, reassuring Jason that Bruce has food waiting for them when the teen gives a longing look to the kitchen, geeze...Bruce's kids really did get their theatrics from him.
At the site of beautifully prepared sandwiches on the coffee table, Jason and the rest of his siblings dash forward-and with Bruce's guidance-figure out which plate belongs to who. Kate shares an amused look with her younger cousin before clapping her hands together to get the rowdy groups attention, "Okay guys! Let's not forget why we are here in the first place. Bruce called us here for what sounds like a very important reason, and I'm curious as to what could be so serious that Alfred isn't allowed in on it." At the reminder of why they were called here, the children quickly turn their now apprehensive looks onto their dad, Jason speaking around a mouthful of food.
"Why...w're we c'lled? W's wr'ng?"
Bruce does his best not to squirm under the attention...he's had to act as if he's way braver than he feels before for goodness sakes! So what's the difference now?
"I am sure Tim and Damian shared what they have witnessed with Alfred along the way home-"
Stephanie interrupts, her response candid, "Actually, they were quite tight-lipped about the information. Anytime we'd asked we were met with silence or the same response being: 'we think it's dad's right to let you know himself, sorry.' They did at least tell us at the mall that Alfred was acting really weird...though that's nothing new as that's basically what you told us."
Bruce can't help the warmth in his heart at Damian and Tim's thoughtfulness, though the longer he thinks about it, he doesn't know whether to stay thankful of their choice or to feel slightly overwhelmed at having to explain everything himself to his family. One thing Bruce is consistently thankful for right now is his childrens-specifically Stephanie's-ability to break the tension by being straightforward and even sarcastic while sounding so conversational, though he can see her tone isn't appreciated by his youngest child, so before a fight can break out between Damian and Stephanie, Bruce clears his throat.
"Thank you for that bit of information, Steph, now I know exactly what I have to tell you all to fill you in on the problem." Cass tilts her head in question and Barbara says the unasked question out loud, "And what exactly is that?"
Bruce sighs tiredly and attempts his best comforting smile: "Everything."
------
"And now I'm even more-" Bruce waves his hand-"you know, at having everyone point it out. I knew I should have listened to myself before but I was so confident in Alfred that I believed everything he told me...or at least I wanted to, now it's my fault that this is getting worse. I should have just listened to myself in the first place and took him to see Leslie, but I hoped to respect his wish of not seeing a doctor and now he has to pay for my carelessness."
Everyone remains silent at the troublesome news, all trying to process the words in their own way and figure out what to say...if there's anything to say at all.
"You can't blame yourself, dad...we probably would have done a similar thing if it were us. I mean, it's Alfred, if he says he's fine then that's the way it usually goes...and I don't think anyone in this house would ever expect something like this from him, that's never really a thought that never occurs is how he could be sick-" the sound of leather squeaking causes Richard to pause with a frown on his face at the way Bruce's knuckles turn white from how hard he's gripping the arms of the chair he sits in, obviously his dad is still in denial about whatever is going on with Alfred. Maybe the actual issue comes from not being in denial about it and admitting to himself deep down what he knows to be true? Maybe if he lets his dad know he's not alone in feeling lost then things will be fine-"Dad...you aren't-"
Bruce cuts his eldest off and looks around at everyone's empty plates, "Does anyone need more food? Jason? I saw you looking around for more earlier."
Jason jumps slightly at his name being called suddenly, his frown deepening at Bruce's attempts at distracting himself while he shares a concerned look with Richard. "Dad, it's okay for now, just sit back. You already prepared a lot for us and I'm sure most of us are full now, so just relax-" Bruce's hands clench open and closed at the word relax, he's perfectly relaxed, okay? He doesn't look unrelaxed, in fact, he thinks he's being too overly relaxed at such a topic being discussed. I mean, who asks someone if they want more food if they aren't relaxed?
"Relaxed? I am relaxed and I'm fine. I just need--I want--someone needs food! Please, someone needs food."
Bruce hates the looks he receives from his children and cousin, why are they looking at him like that? He doesn't need sympathy right now, he's fine, he's perfectly fine. Why can't they see that?
Bruce almost leaves the room, half afraid he'll flip over the table and break the glass plates in his distress anger...yeah, anger, it's much easier to tell himself that it's all because of anger instead of the crushing anxiety eating away at his mind. Luckily, before he can get up and leave his problems behind, Damian stands up holding his plate, looking to his father with big green eyes. "I could always use another sandwich...please? Pennyworth has taught you well in the art of sandwich making, father, it tastes delicious."
Hearing that someone needs him-needs his help-is enough to snap Bruce back into reality and out of the cloud of despair that was quickly weighing on him.
With a nod, Bruce guides his youngest into the kitchen to prepare the boy as many sandwiches as he wishes, not paying attention to the looks Damian shares with the rest of the family before they are out of sight. Neither does he pay attention to his son as he hops up to sit on the counter and watch as his father meticulously prepares too many sandwiches for one person alone, the older doesn't see the concern clouding Damian's eyes as the once neat sandwich making becomes sloppier with the increasing shakiness of his dad's hands.
"This looks familiar."
Bruce curses softly as he messes up yet another sandwich and tosses the bread to the side, "What...what looks familiar?"
Damian kicks his legs idly and shrugs, "You and the constant hand movements. Did you know that Alfred does the same thing when he's worried? The whole time you were on that mission and he didn't know where you were, he did something with his hands, whether that was cleaning or folding clothes or trying to cook something." Bruce tenses at hearing Alfred's name and accidentally messes up another sandwich by crushing it in his hands, his heart racing at why his son is choosing to do this to him. "Damian." He says the name like a warning, something slightly desperate in his tone for the boy to just stay quiet as he fixes his food, but the other just hums and continues on.
"I suppose it makes sense. You were raised by Alfred after all...so I'm sure that you learned plenty of little habits like that from him over the years of him raising you up. He also tends to make much more than nece-" Damian doesn't even flinch when Bruce slams his messy hands on the counter just a touch too forcefully, neither does he back down when his father finally looks to him in anger, his tone shaky and voice tight as he speaks. "Stop! Just stop! What is the point of all this!?"
Damian finds the courage to speak after searching his father's eyes and seeing the uncertainty within the icy orbs, "Because you seem to be running away from the fact that the man who raised you is unwell! You seem to be hiding the fact that the man who became your dad is showing worrying signs in his health behind anger! You are uncertain of the outcome, father, and I'm trying to understand why you run from that fact? I...I was uncertain when I came here for the first time, at getting to be around and see the man who is my father, who I was told stories about from a young age. I hid it behind anger too and acted out because I was uncertain of the outcome...and you always, always proved my fears wrong. Now that I've gotten to know you, I would-I would be terrified to lose you."
Damian keeps his stance tall despite the tears gathering in his eyes and the sadness creeping into his heart at what his father must be going through.
Bruce tries so desperately to hold onto the anger he's easily crafted and cultivated over the years in response to situations where he's scared to show how he really feels, but he can feel the cracks in his mask growing bigger at Damian's words, he understands what the boy is saying to him...but does he want to admit it now? In an attempt to hold onto that anger, Bruce tries to say Damian's name angrily again, his voice sounding less harsh this time and more raw; vulnerable.
"Damian."
"Father."
Bruce's eyebrows pinch together at the confidence in the way his son says his name, "...Damian." He tries it again.
"Dad."
Bruce's breath hitches at the shakiness in Damian's tone the second time around, he is still trying to fight the overwhelming emotions, so he tries it one more time. "D-Damian."
This time there's a pause, Damian's voice matching the vulnerability in his father's tone as he says, "Daddy."
Bruce finally looks back up at Damian, not even realizing his head was hanging so low, and his heart finally cracks at seeing the same uncertainty he feels in his youngest child's eyes. He never took the time to think of what Damian could be going through...at what all his family could be going through, and it's with that realization that Bruce finally allows the dam to break and all his emotions come pouring out in one desperate cry.
"I'm sorry, Damian-baby, come here."
Bruce ignores the mess on his hands and pulls his son in close, holding his baby close to his heart as the child shakes from the force of his cries.
Bruce turns to look at the entrance of the kitchen when hearing his family shuffle in the doorway, standing still; unsure. Unsure as to if they are allowed to join in on the moment, and his answer to them is extending his right arm to them in invitation, the cries getting louder as all of them slam into him and release their worries in a mess of unintelligible babbling. He sucks in a deep breath to try and control himself for what he wants to say, "I-I know you all knew this already...but I'm...I'm scared. I'm absolutely t-terrified at the thought of Alfred-of my dad dying, of forgetting me and us-of everything! I'm scared of it all because he felt like my structure after everything collapsed from under me and around me, and I'm so sorry t-that I forgot how you all must feel. Please forgive me."
Bruce's kids just hug onto him tighter and simultaneously tell him that they love him, they tell him not to worry about it and that they understand. He feels overwhelmed at how...good and healthy his kids have turned out despite the mess that he is, his eyes water in a mix of the sadness and affection he feels towards his children, his icy blue's meeting Kate's as she fondly watches all of them from the entrance.
At the look Bruce gives her, Kate smiles as best she can, though she can tell how wobbly it is from the way her lips tremble. She waits patiently as her younger cousin's children get the comfort they need from him and each other, watches as Stephanie takes Damian from Bruce's arms and hugs tightly onto him instead, opening her arms up to the man when everyone moves away from him and finally sheds her tears at the way Bruce runs into her arms and wraps his own around her. All she can imagine in this moment is that eight-year-old desperately clinging onto her the moment she arrived back in Gotham for her aunt and uncle's funeral, her hand rising to cradle her cousin's head against her shoulder the way she did all those years ago when he sought her arms for comfort.
"I'm scared too, B. He helped me a lot when my parents died...and I can't imagine losing him either. But you, you were raised by him, and I know how scary this must be, you never quite liked the unknown."
Bruce squeezes Kate and cries into her neck instead, his hands gripping onto her shirt tightly. "He's my second dad...I don't want to lose him in any way. I-I know assuming he'll die isn't exactly r-right...but does such a quick change in health ever spell out good things?" Kate stays silent at the question, from personal experience, her side of the family has always had issues with health, especially at the later points in life...and nine times out of ten the word it spelled out was death, so she can't exactly say to Bruce that Alfred won't die. Granted that's just for her family history, they don't really know much about Alfred's family line, but that's just fine, she doesn't think that Bruce would accept any attempts to soothe him with carefully crafted words.
Instead, Kate just squeezes onto her cousin tighter and cradles his head against her neck, as if she can hide him from the reality of his fears for a moment in time.
XXX
Everything seemed to have shifted during that moment, both for the better and the worst, Bruce was thankful for that moment as it was a chance for him to remember that the situation was more than just him...it was about everyone that Alfred knows and loves. He remembers being thankful to his children for their understanding and consideration in a moment where he acted out of fear, anger and stress, he was appreciative of their maturity in a moment where he himself didn't feel mature.
Bruce felt like that moment helped him grow even closer to his children in a time of vulnerability, was thankful for the kids thoughtfulness to also openly show him how scared the news made them, but Bruce also dreaded the thought of dealing with Alfred afterwards. The older man has never liked going to a hospital, and to be honest, Bruce didn't even remember seeing the other needing to be taken in for any sort of sickness...not from any past memories anyway, Alfred was always just so...healthy, and not once did Bruce ever remember seeing him otherwise, so maybe that's another reason why this whole situation made him overwhelmed with anxiety? Bruce has never seen his dad in a state where he became the recipient of caretaking, it was always the opposite for Alfred.
Bruce recalls the way the rest of the days events went, the family continued on as normal when Alfred returned home from his impromptu shopping trip with Clark and Diana, he remembers the feeling of peace and warmth he felt that night in his bedroom with all his children surrounding him, but he also remembers the worry warring with the feeling of contentment in his mind.
But the one thing Bruce recollects to this day is the moment he got Alfred to agree to a visit to Leslie's office, it was a couple weeks after the other man kept getting everyone's names wrong all of a sudden, Bruce remembers practically begging his dad to get a check up and feeling relief sink into his bones when Alfred (begrudgingly) agreed to it.
XXX
"Things should be right quick, Al. Leslie just wanted to do a checkup, especially since the kids had theirs done lately, we thought you should get one too."  The latter part is definitely a lie...but Bruce doesn't know what else to say to the man who can sniff out his lies a mile away, so maybe if he uses his grandkids as an excuse then Alfred won't prod as much?
Bruce checks his watch for what feels like the millionth time already-and surprisingly enough-Alfred picks up on the nervous gesture and looks at his son critically before sighing at whatever it is he sees on the younger one's face and gently covering the watch with his hand. "I assure you that whatever it is you're nervous about should absolutely be of no concern to you. I adore you, sir, but sometimes you do have the habit of over exaggerating things, just calm down and sit still with me."
It is my concern when you keep forgetting things you used to know goes unsaid, even though Bruce is thinking it and desperately wants to say that to Alfred, he knows the other will just keep denying that he's not forgetting things...though sometimes he sees-what feels like-a moment of clarity in the man's eyes whenever he musters up the courage to say something to Alfred, it's like the man would grow nervous himself and be in denial about it, not because he was confused, but because he knew exactly what was going on and didn't want to acknowledge it himself. And Bruce really wants to say something after Alfred's attempted reassurances, but the familiar feeling of the other's thumb brushing side to side on his hand causes his lips to clamp shut from the feeling of comfort that washes over him.
So, Bruce obediently sits still with Alfred while the other gently brushed his thumb across the other's hand.
The duo wait for only a few more seconds-but it feels like hours to Bruce-until Leslie calls Alfred's name. "Alfred Pennyworth, it's been awhile since I've seen you. You look good per usual."
Bruce tries not to roll his eyes when Alfred gives him a pointed look for the woman's comment, "Thank you. Not everyone here seems to share that opinion, but yours is much appreciated as it's the right one to have." Leslie gives a chuckle at the words and gives Bruce a once-over, noticing the stress in the man's stance alone, "Yes. But can you blame him? You've done so much for him, Alfred, one of those things being fretting over his lack of self-care and concern for himself, though I hear there is a role reversal here as he is now claiming you aren't being as concerned for your well-being."
Alfred hums and waves his hand, "He's imagining stuff cause he doesn't get enough sleep. I have told Bruce time and time again that one day it would have negative effects on him, and now it seems that hour has come as he claims I'm forgetting things I know for a fact I know. Maybe you should be checking his head instead?" Leslie chuckles yet again and gestures for Alfred to head into the examination room first. "Well, I will definitely be the one making sure that any claims being made are false or not. It would be foolish of me as a doctor to wave off the concerns of one of my best-worst patients, especially considering who he is."
Bruce opens his mouth to protest against the best-worst patient comment, but the door closes before he can complain to Leslie that any fight he's put up was for a good reason...even if he knows deep down that it actually wasn't.
Instead, Bruce sighs as the anxious thoughts come back at the silence surrounding him now, every good and negative scenario playing around in his head about what today's diagnosis could be...if there is anything at all, choosing to wrap his arms around himself in a hug and settle back into the chair as he focuses on those worrisome thoughts.
------
The crushing weight in Bruce's chest as well as the lightweight, almost dreamy, feeling the rest of his body is giving him is about to make him scream at the top of his lungs. He doesn't know how long it's been since he's anxiously patiently been waiting for Leslie and Alfred to return, he remembers seeing them awhile ago when the two left to run a few CT scans-which absolutely drove Bruce's distress up a few thousand notches-but Leslie just gave him a look that asked him if he trusted her...which obviously the answer was yes, so he bowed his head and settled back in his chair to wait until Leslie was done with whatever she wanted to do.
But who knows how long ago that was? Bruce stopped looking at his watch as he figured the amount of times he was looking at it was unhealthy, now he is left to his own biting thoughts and the feeling of being in a dream as every nightmarish scenario flashes through his mind.
He doesn't even know why he's overreacting...Leslie talked to him about running a couple scans on Alfred's brain to see if there were any changes to it, so it's not like the woman is surprising him with something unknown and unexpected, they talked extensively about the way things would go, will go, and even how it could possibly go. Bruce knows that the older woman mentioned every possible scenario-not only cause she's a great doctor-but for his sake...he knows how she knows his habits, down to his obsessive need to know every possible outcome if he can, and thankfully Leslie kindly fed him everything he wanted and more...so why?
Bruce hates feeling like a scared child who is waiting for someone-anyone-to comfort him, to give him what he needs because he doesn't feel like he can even process what that is-
"Thank you for your patience, Alfred. You are definitely much more patient than Bruce during checkups."
Bruce snaps out of his thoughts to give a playfully hurt look towards the woman, "I'm very hurt by that, doctor. The way you say that makes me think you have favorite patients around here...and I'm pretty sure that has to be against one of your many rules as a doctor." Leslie turns to Bruce with a smile on her lips from his comment, her own witty retort dying in her throat at seeing how pale the younger looks when she finally is able to eye him properly, with a soft sigh she gently utters, "Oh Bruce-" before giving the other a comforting look and handing Alfred over to an assistant of her's to be looked after so her and Bruce can speak about the older man's condition without any problems.
Bruce feels trepidation when Leslie carefully nods her head to the room where Alfred just got his checkup in, even though the other remains calm and relaxed, he still feels like whatever he'll hear will be something he doesn't like...something he's scared of.
"Leslie..."
The woman quickly looks up at Bruce from the sound of her name being whispered, her usually sharp gaze softens at the uncertainty written over the other's face, her hands automatically reaching out to grab Bruce's clammy hands in her warm one's so she can warm them up. "I haven't even said anything yet, Bruce. Just breathe with me." 
This whole moment feels all too familiar for both Bruce and Leslie, the last time the doctor remembers holding the other in such a way was the night her best friend and his wife died...she remembers the pain of having to look over her own friend's body, as well as the overwhelming sadness she felt when Bruce dropped by with that still small hope that maybe she saved at least one of his parents. She remembers holding onto his hands in the exact same way because he was already starting to panic at the mere thought of what she could say, even if somewhere deep down he knew they were dead, it didn't mean that he wanted to hear it be confirmed, especially by someone who feels like his Aunt.
Leslie feels Bruce squeeze onto her hands tightly, her mind going back to hands that felt so much smaller and dirty with blood and grime from Crime Alley, her heart aching as she watches the much older Bruce go through the same process he did years ago of taking a deep calming breath in and out.
She hates being the one to give out bad news...especially to Bruce, but she knows that it's a part of her work.
When Bruce opens his eyes and stares at Leslie with a much more clear-eyed look, the woman gives a small smile to show how proud she is before shedding her role as concerned Aunt and putting back on her professional doctor one. "Bruce, I know we talked over the phone about all the possibilities of this visit, and even some things we could do to see what's going on with Alfred's brain-" the man nods and swallows nervously, his hands tightening their grip on the woman's own at the prickle of fear that touches his heart at the words-"You were all for doing anything we could to see what's going on, including the CT scans. And...there is nothing showing up on them."
Bruce slumps with relief and releases a loud breath he didn't even know he was holding, his gaze growing confused as to why Alfred is being so forgetful. "I don't get it...if nothing is showing up, why is Alfred having trouble remembering things he used to know and forgetting to do things he did before? I know...I know we talked about it possibly being Alzheimer's or Dementia, but it should show up, shouldn't it?" Leslie takes a deep breath to prepare herself for what she has to say, "That's not the way it works, Bruce. If it's in its early stages then it won't show up on the scans, though I do find it peculiar as it does sound as though Alfred's mind is forgetting things rapidly, but, we shouldn't immediately cross out Alzheimer's or Dementia just because of a couple failed scans."
Bruce doesn't know if he feels better or worse from the news...if anything, he kind of feels numb right now.
"I-...what do you think it sounds like?"
Leslie frowns at the question, shaking her head, maybe because she knows Bruce so well she's holding back...and maybe she's being a little selfish? But she's sick and tired of being the bearer of bad news, especially to a man like Bruce who seems to only know tragedy, however, at the desperate look in the man's eyes, she just sighs softly and concedes to the prodding look. "I think it sounds like dementia for right now, which is more like an umbrella term for more specific conditions that effect someone's memory or thinking skills. To be honest with you Bruce, it could end up being anything...especially since Alfred has served in the military, right? That much you do know about his past, he could have brain trauma that I don't know about."
Bruce pauses at the thought and carefully pulls away from Leslie's warm hands, stepping away when the woman reaches out for him as he does so, "What am I supposed to do then? I can't treat a problem that's not even showing up and I can't find a cure for something that doesn't have one."
Leslie pulls back her hands and holds them to her chest, gripping them tight so she doesn't attempt to reach out for Bruce again, she should handle this one step at a time...just like when he was eight. "Bruce, look at me-" she waits patiently for the man to look at her, her gaze unwavering and tone firm as she reassures the younger. "None of this is your fault, do you hear me? I know what you're thinking and I think you should stop thinking it right now. You don't have to do anything, because the harsh truth is: there isn't anything you can do for Alfred but be there for him. You can also leave it to me and my team to try and figure out the issue and if there is one, especially that can be seen-in fact, it doesn't even have to be me who helps Alfred...say the word and I'll get you the best Doctors I trust to try and work this thing out."
Bruce feels the tears gathering in his eyes, he hates being told there's nothing for him to do...he knows that, that's why it hurts so much. It seems that whenever he's told he can't do something for someone, it's because something bad has or will happen.
"I don't-Leslie I...I don't want to just sit there. You know what happened the last time I sat still? My parents died-" Leslie's eyes widen and she swoops in to quickly dry Bruce's teary eyes, her own hazel one's watering in sadness. "Which wasn't your fault, Bruce. It wasn't your fault then and whatever is going on with Alfred isn't your fault now. I promise you that it's not your fault, just-just be there for him like you're doing now...it is helping more than you could ever know, just like Alfred did for you when what happened to your parents happened."
Bruce hugs onto Leslie, sniffling into her coat and shaking his head as he whispers, "But it was-is my fault! You tell me to do nothing, but doing nothing is exactly what got them killed in the first place...maybe I'm not doing enough? Maybe I need to do more and Alfred will-" Leslie pulls away from the hug slightly to look at Bruce, "He'll what? What do you think will happen if you 'do more'? Will Alfred's problem suddenly go away? Will he miraculously be healed? Tell me, Bruce, where do you plan to start anyway? What exactly will you be doing for him?"
Bruce's hands fist at the lab coat in distress, his eyebrows pinching together as he desperately tries to think of an answer, his mouth opening and closing as though he's a fish out of water and his lower lip wobbling as it does when he's trying not to cry.
"I-..."
Leslie runs her hand across Bruce's head in comfort, her slightly stern gaze softening at realizing what he's trying to say. "It's okay, Bruce...I promise it'll be okay."
Bruce lets the tears fall as he confesses, "I don't know! I don't know what I'd do and I hate it. I just want to help, Leslie...I just want to help." Leslie hugs onto the younger and takes the full weight of her nephew against her, unbothered by his heavy weight nor his size, "You are helping him. I know you don't see it now, but you are, you are doing so much for him despite how much Alfred doesn't want it. We both know that whether his mind is fully intact or not, that he'd still be disgruntled about the whole thing, yes?"
At the slow nod against her neck, Leslie sighs softly, grateful that Bruce doesn't feel like arguing against her claims right now...she doesn't know if she could handle arguing right now anyway, because the thought of one of her closest friend's slowly losing himself; losing his memories, does worry her too. She's come to bond with Alfred over the years, and it all started with Bruce, how they both cared for him and were concerned with his health-both mental and physical-after witnessing his parents murder, it seemed after that, their friendship only continued to blossom as they realized they enjoyed similar stuff. Bonded over their shared love of Bruce Wayne.
The wetness on her collarbone brings Leslie back to attention, her heart aching for Bruce and how he must feel right now, because while the scans showed nothing...it doesn't mean that nothing is wrong with Alfred, and she knows that until there is an actual diagnosis she can give to him, Bruce will be imagining every worse case scenario until then.
"Be still with me, Bruce, just be still and quiet."
Bruce sighs into Leslie's shoulder, "I didn't even say anything-hey!" A flick to his head cuts him off, he tries to sound upset-tries mustering up some sort of indignation in his tone, but it comes out quiet like a whisper. "You aren't saying anything out loud, Bruce, but I can practically hear your head screaming at you. Don't-...it's great to have plans for the future, but remember to live in the present...no matter how much it may suck." Leslie slumps further in relief when Bruce squeezes her just a bit tighter, she never knows how saying things like that will go over with him, but the small, breathy chuckle breathed against her neck for her honesty makes her smile and squeeze onto the younger.
Despite her own worry's, Bruce's present laughter and comfort is all she needs to believe everything will work out just fine.
------
Alfred stands a bit taller when Leslie and Bruce exit the examination room, his forehead crinkling in worry at his son's red eyes and exhausted appearance overall, what could have possibly made him look that way? The older man feels somewhat soothed when Leslie's eyes meet his; strong and assured as the corners crinkle with her small smile, the doctor whispering to Bruce and Alfred how she'll be in touch before sending the two on their way.
Alfred follows Bruce out to their car, resting his hand gently on the crook of the other's arm when they are finally alone, "Master Bruce."
Nothing.
"Master Bruce?"
Alfred sighs softly when the other doesn't answer, his lips twitching into an amused smile when the younger comes to as soon as he tries grabbing the car keys.
"I told you I can drive, Alfred."
Bruce turns to glare at Alfred, his face immediately softening at the tenderness in the man's gaze. "Alfred? Are you-what's wrong?" The older man looks down at his outstretched hand reaching for the keys now clenched tightly in Bruce's own, his shoulders shaking lightly at the soft laugh that escapes his lips. "I just remembered how you were the exact same way when you were younger-" at Bruce's questioning look, Alfred smiles more and sighs-"Anytime you asked to do something for me, you would inevitably pause in doing it and become territorial over your task when I came to do it myself."
Bruce quickly glances down at his balled up fist when Alfred softly taps it, looking back up to see the other looking nostalgic.
"You would clench onto whatever it was I came to retrieve from you just like this, never letting go and demanding you could do it because you promised." Bruce tries to hold back his embarrassed blush when Alfred looks back up at him, knowing he must have failed as the gunmetal colored orbs glance from cheek-to-cheek fondly. 
Instead, he clears his throat and nods his head softly. "Well...it's still true. I can do it and will do it because I said I could, and nothing could ever change that...and I mean nothing."
Alfred is taken aback by the sudden intensity in Bruce's tone, his head tilted the tiniest bit in curiosity, he isn't sure if this is Bruce's way of distracting him from the blush or something else entirely. He's guessing it must be whatever happened inside of the hospital, which is why he hums softly in question. "What exactly is nothing to you, Bruce? I am all for leaving myself in your care for the drive back home, but if you are going to be spacing out like you're an astronaut, then I must ask for the keys."
The weight that seems to be an ever present feeling in Bruce's chest feels lighter at Alfred's little joke, his nose scrunching up as he tries not smile.
"C'mon, Al. I'm trying to be serious right now...I'm not supposed to smile-what? What is it now?"
Alfred doesn't know if he's ever smiled this much, but he's glad that his attempts to get Bruce to smile worked, there's always been...something about the younger smiling that brings him a peace and joy that's unexplainable. "That sounds familiar, sir. I believe that's something you always said to me as well, always tried to copy my stern looks when you could-I daresay you were trying to be me."
Bruce relaxes into his seat while nodding his head in agreement, "I was trying to be you. You were my friend as well as my role model...I thought you were fascinating; like those stoic, tough guy characters I would see in my comics and cartoons. It was like a dream coming true for me when I was old enough to realize that you were here to stay as well as my Butler, you know? I remember bragging to other kids that they didn't have an Alfred in their lives."
Alfred raises a brow, "You bragged that they didn't have an Alfred? Not a Butler who just happens to be named Alfred?"
Bruce sits in thought for a moment, just now realizing how silly it is to brag to someone else-essentially-about someone's name and the person themselves, not their job or position they hold.
"Well...yes? Yeah, I did, okay? I don't regret it though, I made everyone jealous over that...I knew it wouldn't take long for them to realize how cool you were like I did." Bruce turns to stare at Alfred again, finding the man hasn't yet looked away, he really is trying hard not to laugh...but they've kind of gotten off topic and Bruce really can't handle the happiness on Alfred's face, nor can he ignore any longer the laughter bubbling up in his chest. Of course, he cracks first with a light chuckle, just now realizing-by the look on Alfred's face-that he was planning to make him laugh from the beginning.
Alfred smiles proudly and glances down at the hand holding onto the keys, noticing that the appendage is no longer balled up, but loose and relaxed: mission accomplished then.
Even though Alfred didn't get an answer to his inner question as to why Bruce was so distressed, he thinks that this result is much better, and that whatever is going on, can wait to be addressed another day. For now, he just pats Bruce's hand comfortingly and buckle's himself in, "There's a good lad. Now that I can trust you to not cause an accident, you may begin driving us back home so I can prepare our lunch."
Bruce starts up the car after buckling himself in, his smile remaining as he responds in a way that's all too commonplace for him. "Yes, Alfred."
XXX
Everything since the hospital visit became a blur for Bruce, he tried to take Leslie's reassurance and instructions to heart-and sometimes, sometimes he felt as though it was easier to handle some days. Feeling as though the overwhelming feeling of dread was nothing but a mere whisper in the back of his mind on the good days...but the bad days, the bad days just only seemed to dig deep into Bruce's mind that there's nothing he can do for Alfred, that no matter how much the other forgets and even asks questions about what's going on, that there's nothing he can say that could truly soothe the others deteriorating mind.
And now...
Now Bruce has to stop being the Batman so often to take care of Alfred, which isn't necessarily an issue he supposes...Alfred did always want him to retire or take a break.
Bruce just never imagined the reason would be because his dad is unwell.
And-
.
..
...
....
He's afraid.
Afraid of being forgotten...I mean, isn't that a type of death in and of itself? Bruce's heart clenches in sadness whenever Alfred gets his name wrong or mixes his childrens names up, nothing about it is...normal, not in the regular ways someone could forget a name. Bruce can see by the look on Alfred's face that he sometimes genuinely doesn't recognize who it is he's talking to; Barbara could be Kate because they are both redheads, or Richard-Jason, all because they have black hair and blue eyes...nevermind the completely different voices and builds, something that Alfred no longer pays attention to.
Bruce just...he doesn't want to be forgotten; who does? Especially by someone you love and cherish with all your heart.
He just worries about what Alfred's future may look like-and if he's being completely honest with himself for one second; he wonders what his future would look like without Alfred, without his dad here to guide him and knock some sense into him.
Alfred's memory seems to be getting worse day by day, which Bruce didn't know could even be possible, but the man seems to be declining in health every few months. He remembers a hard conversation he had with Leslie over the phone one late night, the woman told him that Dementia and Alzheimer's can lead to death--something he knew that she knew he knew that, he used to visit sick patients with his father when younger after all, and some of those patients had such issues.
But, not once did Bruce ever think that anyone in his family would be one of those patients someday. He feels ill prepared for all this despite living with this harsh reality for about a couple years now, he feels as though he failed Alfred and his family in someway.
Isn't he supposed to be the man with a plan?
And now with Alfred's rapidly declining health, Bruce is just worried that it means his death is all that much closer. How long will his family have with Alfred? How long will he have with Alfred? Bruce sighs loudly and rubs his temples to relieve the pressure, he knows that thinking such things aren't doing any good for him...but someone has to think of the future, right? Someone has to be willing to admit the tough things happening?
Even at your family's expense? They are here for you, Bruce. They are here for Alfred, and yet you constantly bring up his death when it hasn't happened or isn't happening now.
Bruce huffs at his own thoughts...he knows how reasonable that thought is, but at the same time, he just wants to prepare his family for the inevitable...even if they have experience with deaths dealings. He just...doesn't know how or why they continue to live their lives as of nothing is going wrong, it's kind of--Bruce blinks his way out of his thoughts at his phone buzzing, the simmering frustration built inside of him flaring up at what the text says.
Jay-Bird: Clark and Diana are coming over. Is that okay?'
Why didn't they just call me instead?
Bruce narrows his eyes at the text bubbles going in and out. Is Jason trying to find an excuse for them? He doesn't need baby-sitters. He's doing just fine at home with Alfred on his own, he doesn't need people constantly being around him...watching him, giving him pitiful looks-he's fine.
Jay-Bird: They weren't sure if you were busy, didn't wanna bother you just in case. They stopped by to hang out with us before asking if it's fine to head to the Manor, is it okay?
Bruce grits his teeth together. He wants to say no, but at the same time...he...wants their companionship. It's just that he doesn't need them to pity him or feel they have to watch over him all the time...Bruce can't even recall just how many times the two have visited lately, they just always make time for him, maybe cause they feel they need to keep an eye on him?
Bruce isn't blind...he sees the way his friends look at him-sees the way his children stare at him too-not understanding their concern for him. He's fine.
Bruce shakes his head to clear his mind, he wonders what would happen if he says no. They would respect his wishes no doubt...unless they were absolutely convinced they needed to come by that is, but he knows his kids would ask him about it when they come home. So, the only option is to reassure Jason that he is alright by allowing them to come over, just to show the other that he's okay.
It's okay.
Bruce bites his lip while waiting for a response...what if Jason is asking questions about why he took so long? He doesn't want his kids to be burdened by him when there's nothing going on, he just took a little time to respond is all.
The ping of his phone makes Bruce jump in his seat, his eyes choosing to water at the simple texts left for him.
Jay-Bird: 'kay dad. 
Jay-Bird: Love u
I love you too, Jason.
He has never replied so quickly before to something in his life, but despite his own inner turmoil, one thing he's sure about is how much he loves his kids.
Bruce puts his phone down and rubs at his face, he feels like he's experiencing emotional whiplash lately, one second he's angry at himself or something his family did and then the next second the anger is gone. At least he'll be calm enough to tolerate Diana and Clark's presence...he just hopes that seeing them won't rile up the irritation again.
Bruce tries not to sigh too loudly at hearing two pairs of feet shifting around outside of his office, he doesn't want the two to think he's bothered by anything, so he settles for rolling his eyes and quickly rising out of his seat and heading for his closed door, opening it and raising a brow at the two supers when whatever silent conversation they were having is abruptly cut off by his sudden appearance. The sigh he was trying not to release escaping him anyway at the guilty looks on his two friends faces, "What's with the looks? And why are you both standing outside my office like two guilty children?"
"Why do we have to be two guilty children?" Clark frowns down at Bruce, feeling relieved at seeing the scowl turning into something lighter; something amused.
"I heard you shuffling your feet out here...it's what my kids do when they are guilty of something. I've tried to correct little tells like that in them, but they do it more in this house than outside it...unless it's a really bad situation."
Diana smiles kindly, "That's good. It means they act that way cause this house is a home to them, they feel comfortable, though I'm sure you know that already." Her ocean blue eyes carefully take over Bruce's form, noticing how haggard the younger man looks...she could ask him about how he's doing right now and risk upsetting him? Or, she could ask him more about his kids and give him a chance to unwind a bit?
It's obvious which one is her choice.
"Surely all of your kids don't do the same exact things, right?"
Bruce is either too tired to notice Diana's thoughtful distraction or is choosing to ignore it, either way, he doesn't bother putting up much of a fight when the Amazonian links their arms together and leads them slowly to his bedroom and out on his balcony to relax.
"No, they don't always do the same things. They only shuffle their feet when I can't see them, they must think I can't hear them, but I can. Richard tend to play with the back of his hair, there's this one spot that's particularly wavy and textured and I guess the feeling of it soothes him? He's done that since he was a child." Bruce smiles at the memories of a nine-year-old Richard being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and immediately reaching up and back to fiddle with that once piece of hair. "And Jason, he tends to ball his fists up...I wouldn't doubt that it's because of anger sometimes, but I think his nails digging into his skin grounds him, even when he isn't upset. It's another thing I've tried to help him not do, he hurts himself that way, you know?"
Diana hums softly and nods, resting her chin on both her hands and looking at Bruce as if he's sharing the world's greatest secrets with her.
"Then Tim...he does a lot of stuff actually. But he tends to be a lip biter or tap his index finger against stuff when he's stressed out or lying to me, the only way to get him to stop gnawing at his lip sometimes is to gently grab his face in my hands and remind him to stop. I think he does that so his thoughts don't spill out of his mouth, but I hope he's able to stop thinking I or anyone else don't care to hear his thoughts."
Bruce pauses at the steaming cup of chamomile tea held out to him, his hope rising with the thought of it being Alfred who prepared the tea, but immediately taking notice how smooth the hands are and realizing it's just Clark.
"Thanks..."
The painful heat of the cup feels oddly nice against Bruce's hands, his instincts are telling him to pull his hands away from the painful warmth, but another part of him feels weirdly at peace from the pain. He doesn't wish to make his friends worry though...so he sets the cup down on the table to let it cool before he holds the cup or drinks from it. Clark settles down in the seat next to Bruce after handing Diana her own cup, "What about the rest of your kids? Barbara, Steph, Cass, Damian? What about your cousin? Does she do anything in particular too?"
Bruce nods, once again being distracted by the topic at hand.
"Steph tends to lick her lips a lot, she often uses the excuse that she has dry lips, but I can tell when it's not dry lips. Barbara tends to swallow excessively, something that couldn't be as noticeable to some people, but I'm half convinced she gets a spit overload when attempting to lie. You should have seen her when she was a teenager, it was almost hilarious how easy it was to see her lie, though she's definitely gotten better over the years...something I don't know whether to be proud about or bothered by." Bruce pauses to take a careful sip at his tea, humming at the immediate relieved sensation in his mouth and throat, he didn't realize how thirsty he was until now.
"Cass is an exceptional liar, so is Damian. For Cass though, sometimes I think the only reason I can tell she lies is because somewhere inside herself, she doesn't desire to lie to me, so she purposely gives me signs that she is in the hopes I'll realize and correct her for doing so. I think it was because of her upbringing, certain things she does-even the normal things-she sometimes feels the need to hide it or lie about it out of shame for desiring such things, but then she feels guilty about lying and gives me cues to let me know she's not being honest. She shifts her eyes a lot since speech can be hard for her, or she picks at her nails."
Clark hasn't taken a sip of his drink yet and neither has Diana, the two are too invested in Bruce's gentle voice talking about his children.
"Then Damian, he's such a good boy, he is actually one of the most honest surprisingly. Even when I first met him, if he wanted to take on a mission on his own; he'd tell me, sometimes he'd angrily let me know in advance that he'll try to sneak out, something that he knew I knew...and yet he usually managed to escape me anyway. Over the years though, he's learned to trust me, and just like Cass, he's a good person and doesn't desire to lie to me, especially since I'm his father. But, he also tends to not make eye contact, something that's developed from his time over here, and his lower lip tends to jut out into a pout...something I did when I was small too apparently, anyway, he'll probably grow out of it just as I did."
Clark and Diana quickly look at each other, which one of them is going to tell Bruce he still pouts despite being a grown man?
The two decide against it and allow Bruce to finish, "And my cousin Kate? To be honest, I give out advice when she needs it and that's about it. Maybe it's because she's older than me and also not one of my kids exactly-"
Diana tilts her head, "Exactly?"
Bruce nods, "Exactly. She acts like the kids sometimes...but at the end of the day she insists I don't hover around her or scold her as much as she's not my kid-"
Clark smirks and interrupts with a small snort, "Not exactly that is."
Bruce finds himself smiling at the comment and nodding again in agreement, "Not exactly. However, she's still family and we still look out for each other, if anything, sometimes I think she hovers around me just as much as the kids or Alfred do when she can...she says it's 'older cousin duties' or some crap like that. But, I'd say the tell I remember the most that she still does today is get a little too angry and defensive when you say she's lying, I keep trying to tell her she'd be a near perfect liar if she could get rid of that temper...or the red hair."
Diana chuckles and finally sips at her warm tea, "What does the red hair have to do with her temper?"
Bruce stares at the older woman as if she grew another arm, "Are you serious? We all know having red hair or being short is the cause of fiery tempers in people."
Diana, sweet, sweet, Diana still doesn't understand a lot of regular human jokes or comments and looks completely baffled at the information. The woman making Bruce curious as some sort of understanding shines in her eyes, "Oh! I see. Is that why you and Damian are so angry all the time? Well, maybe not all the time, but you both get easily angered."
Bruce narrows his eyes at Clark for his laughter, his lower lip unknowingly jutting out into the inherited pout. 
"No! Damian is short, but I'm not. I'm tall."
"Says every short person." Clark continues sipping at his tea after whispering to Diana, quickly having to put the glass down after Bruce chucks a pillow at his face.
"You know what, Clark!?"
Said man just laughs louder and holds Bruce's gaze with his own amused one, "I do. And it's that you're short." Clark smirks victoriously when Bruce just huffs and settles back into is seat, his midnight blue eyes drift over to Diana to see her reaction, smiling more when the woman just shakes her head fondly, hiding her smile behind her cup at Bruce turning his glare onto her instead.
It grows silent between the three...but it's a nice kind of silence, even in spite of Bruce's grumbling. The man relishing in the comfort his friends presence bring him, closing his eyes as the wind gently blows and gently caresses his cheek, it's...nice, relaxing in a way Bruce feels he hasn't felt in awhile. He almost doesn't know if he should be thankful for this moment of reprieve or feel guilty, especially when Alfred is getting wor--
"Your kids seem to be doing well."
Bruce opens his eyes and keeps them trained on the foggy sky, humming in response to Diana's whispered admission: "I hope so. How were they tonight? How's everything going?"
"Don't start worrying now, Bruce. Things are well as I said, not just with your kids, but with Gotham...at least for tonight it is. They were all gathered near your favorite gargoyle tonight eating some snacks that you made for them apparently." Bruce's gaze drifts away from the night sky and back down to Diana, looking offended by the disbelief in the other's tone at the thought of him cooking anything. "I grew up with a man who handmade food and was always in the kitchen if he wasn't tidying up my house  AND I trained with a group of monks for who knows how many years in the mountains? Of course I learned how to cook for myself."
Diana throws her hands up at Bruce's defensive tone.
"What's with the tone? All I said is that you made snacks for your kids. I didn't know you made snacks."
Bruce raises his brow, "You emphasized the 'you' when you said it. What, Diana? Do I not look like a man who can make snacks for his kids? Is that what you think, that I'd let my babies starve?"
Diana looks increasingly more amused the more the shorter speakers to her, "No. You wouldn't let anyone starve, not even your worst enemy. I just...didn't know you baked or cooked anything, you've never done it in front of me or Clark before, plus the fact you always have Alfred cook or prep meals...so isn't the logical conclusion that-"
"That I'd let my children starve?"
Diana lets out a giggle at Bruce's dramatics and covers her mouth with her hand to try and dampen her smile.
"No-" she laughs out the word-"I just...you don't look like you'd cook. There, I said it. Is that a crime to say?"
Bruce shakes his head, "Is it because I'm Batman?"
Diana throws her head back with a loud laugh at her friend's conclusion of the matter, her eyes sparkling with adoration for Bruce when she looks back at him. "Isn't everything because you're Batman? But, no. That isn't why. I just didn't think you'd cook because of how often you don't cook, especially when me or Clark are around, you usually take us out to restaurants. Isn't that right, Clark? I'm not alone in thinking he never cooks."
The man looks between Bruce and Diana, his apologetic gaze landing on Bruce.
"I didn't know you cooked either-" Clark chuckles at Bruce's eye roll-"To be fair...I don't think anyone you know inside or outside of the cowl thinks you cook. There are bets in the League and this topic is one of them, seems we owe some people some money, Di."
Diana nods her head in agreement and turns back to Bruce, feeling pleased at how much relaxed he looks now, the fake irritation on his face settling into something serene.
Bruce sighs softly and smirks the tiniest bit, "I understand why people wouldn't think I cook. But I do and I'm very good at it-" a pause-"Though what I don't understand is how we got off topic talking about my kids and there well-being. I don't know how I mange to hold a conversation with you two, feel like we change topic every two seconds." Bruce looks between Clark and Diana, "But, to answer: the type of snacks were cookies. I made three different kinds for them to eat: chocolate chip, peanut butter, and snickerdoodle."
Clark licks his lips and looks at Bruce hopefully.
"Is there any chance that we'll be able to taste your famous cookies?"
"How are my cookies 'famous' when you didn't even know I baked in the first place?" Bruce looks questioningly at Clark and shakes his head. "And sorry, but you won't be able to taste them tonight because my kids took them all. If I didn't pack everything away for them to take, they would have hounded me about it and bugged me until I caved and gave them all the cookies."
Bruce looks back up to the sky and softly hums.
"Topic change again...but I...appreciate you both for coming to check in on me, even when it grates on my nerves sometimes. And for not asking me how I was doing even though I knew how much you wanted to."
Diana and Clark look slightly guilty at having been found out, but they expect nothing less from the World's Greatest Detective.
"I'm not sure I would have answered anyway if one of you asked...I probably would have brought up...my kids...instead." Bruce trails off and looks to Diana in surprise at realizing why she brought up his children in the first place, the woman smiling tenderly at the man and simply nodding her head at him, knowing exactly what he's thinking.
Bruce finds himself relaxing more into his seat, ignoring the tears gathering in his eyes at the thoughtfulness of his friends and family, his mind automatically going back to Alfred and all the ways he's been there for Bruce in his time of need and desperation. He really wished that he could do more for Alfred, but he knows he can't, he knows that all he can do is reluctantly follow Leslie's advice and simply stay with his dad...no matter how much it sucks to watch the man forget. 
Bruce looks down into the remaining tea in his cup, the painful heat from before now a cool sensation in his hands.
"I..."
Diana and Clark immediately look to Bruce at the slight tremble in his voice, both noticing the way his thumb caresses the glass nervously, taking in the way his eyebrows pinch together in thought of what he wants to say. Their friend has never been the best with words, at least when he thinks hard about it that is, but they know whatever Bruce desires to say must be something he's been thinking for a long time, he only ever gets this hesitant when he plans to be really vulnerable.
They know they could urge him on...but in this moment, it's best to let Bruce get himself together as best he can.
.
..
...
....
.....
......
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Bruce clears his throat, letting Clark and Diana know he's ready now.
"I hate doing nothing. I've already had this conversation with Leslie before in passing-when we first visited the doctor to get Alfred checked out. And I...hate not being able to have a solution, cause to me, having a plan is a sign of structure, and if you don't have one then bad things usually happen-" a shrug-" at least in my life that's what it means. If I have....something-anything, to keep my mind focused on, then I won't be consumed with my thoughts o-or the worry." Bruce frowns and taps his finger on the teacup, "Though I think I fail at that. I end up burdening the people I don't want to burden in the first place, all because I'm sc-" at that, he cuts himself off, his throat tightening up as realization sets in.
Of course...
He's scared.
That's not anything that should be too surprising, especially as he confessed he was scared to Damian awhile ago.
But hearing those words almost slip out of his own mouth in a moment he's thinking relatively clearly, in a moment of peace and stillness with two people he trusts with his life, it hits different.
A gentle hand on his shoulder causes Bruce to look up into the eyes of Clark, the man's smile proud but wobbly as he squeezes his shoulder softly. "You're scared, Bruce. And I hope you know that it's okay to be...I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now, but I know it must be difficult." Bruce waits for the familiar feelings of bitterness and anger to rise up at Clark's gentle words, but it never comes, instead, he feels his eyes warm with the familiar presence of tears and allows them to fall. "I-It's nothing new. I told Damian how scared I was what feels like not too long ago, Clark, so I don't know why I'm-"
Clark waits patiently as Bruce searches for what to say, his heart warming at his best friend leaning his cheek against his hand, seeking out comfort.
"I don't know why it feels...so much in my chest right now."
Clark smiles bittersweetly, his large hand gently wiping Bruce's tears. "That's love, B. You love Alfred a great deal, maybe what's happening is just reminding you of how much you do, that's why it hurts." Something settles in Bruce's chest as Clark says that--acknowledgement perhaps--of his feelings and why he hurts as much as he does recently.
He doesn't bother responding verbally, he just nods and allows more tears to fall, accepting his best friends comfort as Diana closes in on his left side and wraps him in a warm hug.
XXX
It's a week after Bruce had that little heart-to-heart with Clark and Diana, he found himself trying to adjust to the reality of his feelings and why they are so strong, which is why he suggested having a picnic with his family. I mean, what better way to cope than surround yourself with people who love you?
Bruce, however, found himself taking a little detour to his parents graves, having to reassure his children a thousand times that he'll be just fine before slipping off to clear his mind before lunch. Now he's standing at his parents tombstones, staring at the stones as if they offended him-but they haven't-he just is in deep thought about what to say first. "Mom, dad...I...know that I haven't visited lately, but there's so much that's been happening these past few months and year, I sometimes feel as if I'm not even aware for most of it. It...feels as though I'm watching everything through a third person point of view, but I've been trying my hardest to come to terms with everything that's happened and is happening."
Bruce swallows around the lump in his throat, God, he's tired of crying.
A soft breeze blows, carrying the scent of roses from the garden nearby in the air, the wind gently caressing Bruce's face in the same way a mother strokes her child's face.
"You may be wondering what everything is-" a heavy sigh-"I don't think I fully know what everything is right now, but Alfred might be really sick...and I mean really sick, not the kind that one just bounces back from, but the kind where it has you get worse until the inevitable happens." Bruce kneels down between Martha and Thomas, his hands resting on the cold stone for comfort, "I think I've been thinking too much about Alfred-you know? And I know it's not healthy, but I'm tired mom, I'm weary dad. I wish-" Bruce's voice trembles-"I wish that you both were here to help me. You two seemed to always know what to do then, and I know you would know what to do now, cause I-I don't."
Bruce bends his head to rest on his mother's stone while his hand rests on Thomas's, his tears dripping down onto his mother's rock.
"I'm lost and confused, some days I think Alfred might be less confused than me. Which is saying a lot as he's the one suffering with memory loss, but I guess-I guess I'm still that frightened eight-year-old who doesn't know what to do next." Bruce sniffles, his hands trembling and shoulders shaking as he breaks down in front of his parents, "I-I don't w-want my family to die anymore. I don't think my heart c-could take anymore darkness, I just need...Alfred, I need Alfred to get by. I can't lose another dad, I just can't!"
The words are a plea as he says them. Bruce doesn't care if he looks desperate or childish kneeling at his parents grave, he isn't concerned about whether or not he sounds immature begging for his parents guidance-for their love.
He's very much the desperate child that he feels like.
Bruce only has one more parent left, and for Alfred to meet such a fate as the one he's getting fills the man with rage, sadness, despair and uneasiness in a way Bruce didn't even think was possible...not anymore than usual anyway.
The wind blows again, stronger this time, as though it's trying to dry his tears quicker. Bruce squints at the random ray of sunlight that pokes through Gotham's dreary sky and warms his face, he doesn't know whether to be angry or laugh at this cruel joke; when he said he couldn't take anymore darkness, he didn't mean literally. However, the wind carries a different scent this time; forget-me-nots, causing a memory Bruce thought he forgot to come back-
------
"Master Bruce, would you please slow down and be patient." Alfred sighs at the boy and his enthusiasm, though he finds himself humored at the fact the child is so much like his mother when it comes to hobbies she enjoys. "At least allow for me to put on your sunhat lest you go outside and burn." It's as though ice was poured down the four-year-old's back with the way he stiffens up, a worried frown gracing the young boy's face as he turns to look up at his friend.
"Burn? I don't wanna burn, Alfie! Why would the sun do that? We're friends."
Alfred smiles fondly down at his young master, unable to resist squishing the pudgy cheeks as finishes tying the hat strings underneath the child's chin.
"Oh? But you are friends, young sir. The sun doesn't wish to burn you, you know? But your skin doesn't react well to the sunrays for too long, which is why your friend wants you to take the measures to protect yourself from it." Bruce puffs his cheeks out further at Alfred's cheek squishing, his irritation replaced by worry at knowing the sun doesn't mean to hurt him but does. "Then why don't I not wear anything? Wouldn't Mr. Sun feel bad knowing that I'm 'specting to be hurt by him?"
Alfred grabs the gardening tools, freezing for just a moment at Bruce's logic before humming in thought.
"I understand where you are coming from, Master Bruce, but Mr. Sun doesn't feel bad. He knows and understands that everyone is different, which is why he's fine with you wearing your sun hat, he knows that your skin reacts to him differently than someone else who has darker skin. Now, while darker skinned people can still get sunburned, Mr. Sun understands that you're most likely to get burnt easiest because of your light complexion,." Alfred holds out his hand for Bruce to take as he leads the boy outside and to the flower garden, the child looking thoughtful as he processes Alfred's words.
"So...Mr. Sun really won't be mad at me then?"
Alfred smiles down at Bruce, giving him an enamored look, chuckling and shaking his head.  "No, I can assure you that he won't be mad at you. In fact, you've made our friend in the sky very happy by putting on your hat-he says it's very lovely by the way."
Bruce smiles happily and shouts his gratitude to the sun for its compliment, letting go of Alfred's hand when they enter his mother's private garden, rushing over to the roses-as he usually does-to sniff at them. "You think we can pick mommy some roses, Alfie? She likes roses, and this one is very pretty like mama is." His chunky hand gently pats the flower he just sniffed, the butler eyeing the flower approvingly at how full the petals seem to be, his young ward seems to have a natural eye for the best flowers to pick. "I think that flower is absolutely perfect for your mother. Do you want to help me cut it off?"
Bruce nods his head enthusiastically, extending his hands out obediently when Alfred pulls out his gardening gloves, his little brows once again furrowing in worry. "And you're really sure Mrs. Rose doesn't mind us taking her away from her friends?"
Alfred kneels next to Bruce with an amused smile on his lips, it's always the same question from the young boy whenever they come out to pluck or prune the flowers. "I assure you that she doesn't mind. It's not like we take flowers everyday from this garden, and when we do take them away, we are using them for a reason. In fact, our darling friend here is okay with us using her as a gift or decoration." He smiles and holds the boy's small hands around the flower shear, waiting patiently for Bruce to continue this tradition by asking another question, humor bubbling up in his chest as the child does exactly as expected. "You said that about Mr. Sun too! How do you know all that?"
Alfred knocks his head against Bruce's gently, leaning closer into the boy as though he has a secret to share, even though he'll reply with the same response he tells the child every other time he asks this question.
"It's because I can speak to nature-" he finally allows his chuckle to escape at Bruce's shocked gasp, nodding his head to confirm what the young boy is thinking-"It's true, sir! I really can. That's how I know they don't mind us doing these things to them. Mrs. Rose here actually symbolizes passion and love, so to not use her as a sign or gift of the very thing she's made for is like a crime. We must honor her both in life and in death by showing love."
Bruce looks thoughtful before nodding his head, "And to honor her is by giving her to someone out of love."
Alfred nods, "Exactly that. So, I do hope you'll pluck her with me? She's been growing her beautiful petal dress out just for this moment, Bruce, she knew you'd want to gift her to your mother." With all concerns cleared from Bruce's mind, he has a new determination and finally allows Alfred to guide him to the stem of the flower to cut it, an excited shout escaping him when the flower is in his hands. "It's so pretty, Alfie. I think mommy will like it like I did-" Bruce smiles proudly up at Alfred, his gloved hand caressing the rose petals-"Her dress is fluffy too. Maybe you can make mama's favorite food and I can give Mrs. Rose to her?"
Alfred softens at the boy's innocent request, humming in response. "As you wish, Master Bruce. I would be delighted to cook Mrs. Wayne's favorite food." 
Bruce shouts excitedly and gently places his friend into his little basket, whispering his thanks for her hard work growing while "tucking" the flower in. Alfred watches on adoringly before looking over the garden for what plants he needs to propagate before starting on his task, listening out for Bruce as the boy helps water the flowers while talking to them.
Bruce is whispering something to a flower when his attention is caught at seeing a small cluster of pretty blue-purple flowers, a curious sound rising up in his throat at the small things seemingly hiding in a slightly shaded little nook of the garden. Hopping over to the flowers and smiling down at them, he holds out his miniature watering can and tilts it down so the water can rain down on the hideaways. "Why are you hiding? Everyone needs a drink too, including you friends. May I know why you are all alone? You don't have other flower friends to keep you company?"
He crouches into a squat and leans towards the flowers, tongue poking out as he strains his hearing to hopefully hear the voices that Alfred seems to, a small frown appearing when he hears nothing.
"You don't have to be scared. I'm helping Alfie garden, I bet you guys love him, huh? He says that he can hear you speak to him...and I hope that one day I can too." Bruce pauses to listen to the voices and sighs when there's still nothing, he wants to feel frustrated...but he needs to be patient and gentle, they might be scared. "It's fine if you don't wanna speak to me. I hope you all enjoyed the water? If I didn't see you over here, you wouldn't have gotten any! And I don't wanna 'magine what would happen if you never got your sippy's. I'm Bruce Thomas Wayne, I wonder who you are? I've never seen you here before."
Looking closer at the flowers, Bruce feels a bit more relieved to see that they don't seem to grow alone, in fact, they are all pretty piled together in little clumps. So at least they aren't completely alone over here...though they have less friends than his mommy's rose bushes.
"Forget-me-nots, young sir."
Bruce jumps and turns to look at Alfred who is kneeling next to him, the man looking at the tiny plants with a smile.
"Forget-me-nots? I don't 'member planting these here with you or mommy, Alfie." Bruce tilts his head and looks back at the flowers quickly when realizing his phrasing could make them think they aren't welcomed, "Which is fine! There's always room in our garden for more flower friends! But it is more polite to let us know you'll be arriving so we can prepare in advance for your stay."
Alfred sits on the plush grass with a small grunt, leaning onto his hand as the boy reassures the flowers with a small smirk.
"Yes, forget-me-nots. They grow in many kinds of places, but they tend to thrive in moist soils really. Maybe this year's rain brought in a new flower friend? Your mother and I didn't grow these this year, though I think it adds a nice color amongst the red's and pinks your mother tends to gravitate towards, hm? All hidden away in this little nook, they are glad you found them, sir, they were getting thirsty." Alfred smiles wider at Bruce puffing his chest out in pride, giving the younger his undivided attention as soon as the boy turns towards him with a curious look on his face.
"What do these forget-me-nots mean, Alfie? You said that roses mean passion and love, and I 'member you telling me that mommy's Dahlias mean...per-se-ver-ance and stuff, but what do these mean?"
Alfred nods in praise for Bruce sounding the larger words out. "Good job, Master Bruce. And forget-me-nots are a symbol of a few different things as most flowers are: devotion, royalty, true love-but I love these two meanings; remembrance and eternal love. You see, young Master, these flowers are a symbol that you will never forget your loved ones and treasure each and every moment and memory you've spent or shared with them, even when they are gone." He watches as Bruce's eyes shine with wonder at the meaning, following the boy's movements as he gently touches the small flowers and smiles pleased. "Then these flowers must have appeared for me and you, Alfie. They want us to 'member each other forever and ever no matter what."
Alfred didn't mean to let the surprise show on his face as Bruce gently picks a small cluster of the forget-me-nots, turns towards him, and hands him the mini bouquet with a wide smile on his face.
"I'll 'member you and the flowers forever, Alfie. Will you do it too? We can't forget as long as they are here."
Alfred blinks rapidly as his surprised mind processes the young boy's words, gently grabbing the small flowers from the chubby hand while he nods gently. "Of course I will, young sir. I'll never forget you as long as these flowers exist, I promise." He places the small bouquet in his chest pocket, plucking his own bundle and handing it over to Bruce as an official binding of their promise to one another, the four-year-old quickly accepting the gift and cradling it to his chest while glancing back to Alfred with big, hope-filled eyes. "You really promise?"
With a nod and a soft chuckle, Alfred bumps his head gently against Bruce's for the second time that day, uncaring that their sun hats have been knocked backwards.
"You have my word, Bruce. You have my word."
------
Blinking his way out of the memory, Bruce sits in silence to think about everything. He doesn't know if he feels better exactly? But, there is something warm growing in his heart, maybe something more bittersweet? 
With a tired sigh, Bruce slumps further against Martha Wayne's headstone. "Mom...dad...I think-I think I broke our promise-" He doesn't care of the sob that forces it's way out of his throat, he's tired and emotionally full yet drained at the same time, he just wants to cry-"I...I forgot about the forget-me-nots--I forgot about Alfred when I promised him I wouldn't. He's not even gone a-and I broke our promise by forgetting the memories."
Bruce closes his eyes as the wind blows, doing his best to listen to nature...who knows? Maybe this time it will answer him like he hoped as a child.
"Bruce? Is everything alright?"
Alfred's concerned voice startles Bruce, the younger turning quickly to face the older man with wide blue eyes, the concern in him growing at seeing how his dad is alone. "Am I--Alfred! What are you doing alone? Where are the kids?" At Alfred raising his hand, the younger freezes in place, sitting halfway up on his knees while holding onto his mom's stone for support. "I am not a child that has to be watched, thank you very much! And the kids are just fine, no need to get your knickers in a twist about it."
Alfred sighs at seeing the shameful look on his boy's face, walking forward until he's next to Bruce and lowering himself next to him with a loud groan, chuckling as his bones pop and creak.
"I'm not as young as I used to be, hm?" At his son's silence, Alfred frowns. He admits it...he's scared, he feels...different, and not in a good way. Everyday feels as if he's in a haze, as though he is just a wanderer with nowhere to go or no idea where they are at, but, he still has eyes and can see the childrens faces whenever he says something in particular; he can see Bruce's pain whenever the man is staring right at him. "It's okay, Bruce. You're okay."
Bruce's breath hitches at those words, his brows pinching together on distress of the statement.
"It's not okay..."
The response was so quiet that Alfred almost didn't hear it, but after processing what was just said causes the older man to frown. "And why are things not okay? As far as I'm concerned, you are still breathing and so are the kids, if that isn't okay-." Bruce shakes his head, "It's not okay! It's not! Life is stupid and unfair! You shouldn't be-..."  Alfred raises his brow at the immediate tapering off, ignoring how his heart is racing as his child mentions this...thing that they both know and are aware of that's been happening with him lately. "I shouldn't be what? I...don't know what's happening, Bruce, and I don't know what to do." 
Bruce gasps and finally makes eye contact with the older man at his hesitant confession, feeling guilt and shame at the uncertainty in those gunmetal blue eyes.
Of course Alfred has no idea what's going on...Bruce hasn't even told the other he might have dementia yet. 
Bruce rests a hand on Alfred's aged one, waiting for the apology to come out of his mouth only to remain silent, the lump coming back full force in his throat when seeing the small clump of forget-me-nots carefully resting in the older man's front coat pocket. "A-Alfie." His voice trembles and shakes as he whispers the name, the tears flowing down his face like a river as he shivers with chills all of the sudden, when did things get so cold?
The warmth of Alfred's hand against his wet cheek is a welcomed comfort, the only sound around being that of Bruce's sobs echoing through the gravesite, not even the wind giving a gentle whisper.
Bruce doesn't know how long he sat crying, how long he spent gripping tightly onto Alfred's suit jacket in desperation. He doesn't know why he feels overwhelmed by a tiny blue-purple flower...maybe it's because Alfred didn't forget all these years when even he did? Maybe it's because despite all of Alfred's confusion, he still holds fond memories closely to his heart, while Bruce's first instinct is to forget the best and prepare for the worst.
After a few more loud sniffles and choked cries, Bruce quites down enough to listen closely to Alfred's heartbeat. When did he lean into the man's chest?
I guess it doesn't matter.
It feels nice to just simply be with the other, no anxious thoughts left in his exhausted brain, only the thought of how nice the other's heart sounds. It's a bit quick, yeah, but at least it's moving under there and strong; alive.
"What's going on, my boy?"
Alfred brushes his shaky fingers through the black hair, using his left hand to gently rub at Bruce's back and waiting patiently for the younger to collect himself.
"Your flower. It's a forget-me-not. Just reminded me of something I had forgotten a long time ago-" Bruce sits up to stare at the other, his grip still tight around Alfred's suit jacket-"I'm sorry I forgot, Alfie. You...I don't know if you can recall? But, you told me once that these flowers are a symbol that one will never forget their loved ones and treasure each and every moment and memory they spent or shared with them, even when said loved one is gone...a-and I forgot that despite promising you I wouldn't."
Alfred 'ah's' quietly, chuckling softly and gently wiping Bruce's tears, smiling slightly at the younger man's displeased expression from his laughter.
"You silly boy of mine. I admit that I...can't mentally recall such a thing happening-" at Bruce's demeanor growing discouraged, he squeezes the other's pale cheek in the hand still cradling his face-"Stop thinking for one second, please, Bruce. I may not remember it in the ways one usually does, but from the promise we made, it seems as though you kept the promise as well as I. You still, after all these years, remembered such a promise and I-" he plucks one singular forget-me-not from the cluster in his pocket and places it on top of Bruce's hair-"did too. I remember how I felt during that moment...because when I look at this flower, I feel love and affection. Not for the flower itself, but for what I know in the depths of myself is attached to said flower."
Bruce's lip wobbles and he reaches up to grab the flower on his head, looking down at the tiny thing in his now much larger hands, letting himself feel the memories of his youth.
It's odd; the feelings he's getting. 
He feels amazement and joy looking at the plant, something he remembers feeling when he was younger and Alfred told him the meaning of this tiny flower, but he also feels love and deep affection...not for the flower in and of itself, but because of the feelings and person associated with said plant. Bruce hates that his eyes are watering again, but there's something oddly scary-yet extremely calming-about letting himself simply feel and remember the good times.
He guesses that maybe he got so used to the pain, death and darkness that he started to identify with it instead of simply acknowledging it's there and releasing it.
Alfred tilts Bruce's chin back up so that the younger is facing him head on, his smile loving and kind just like all those years ago. "I think that something is wrong with me, Bruce. I don't know what or why it is...but thank you for remembering our promise, thank you for never truly forgetting us. And while I may not know what's going on now...this old man asks that you keep remembering when I can't? That you-that you treasure every memory and feeling that comes with them."
Bruce lets out a weak chuckle at the renewed promise. "I promise I will, Alfie."
This time it's Alfred that looks at Bruce with big, hope filled eyes. "You really promise me?"
Bruce allows the tears to fall at the familiar words repeated right back to him all these years later, nodding his head and squeezing Alfred's hands in his.
"You have my word, dad. You have my word."
XXX
Ever since that day at his parents gravesite, Bruce found it easier to try and remember the good things, cause if nothing else, than because he made a promise to his dad. 
Of course, there were still days that were worse than other's, but for the most part, it felt as though a large weight lifted off of Bruce knowing he still had feelings to remember for him when his mind forgot goodness. Yes, it still hurts to see Alfred slowly deteriorating before his very eyes, forgetting mental images and things he's loved, seeing him forget even the most basic of life skills, but he likes to think he's learned to not only feel and process those heavy emotions, but how to share them with his friends and family.
And now.
Now Bruce stands in the doorway of Alfred's bedroom with watery eyes, watching as each of his children say goodbye to their granddad for the final time, processing the sadness as he watches his babies cry over the man who loved them just as fiercely as Bruce did. Everyone looks at him after they finish their own goodbyes, his body automatically tensing at the attention before he remembers this is his family; people he loves dearly, and that he can loosen himself up...that he can look just as heartbroken as he feels.
Bruce swallows down the tightness in his throat as he approaches Alfred's bedside, lowering himself slowly onto the edge, surprising himself at how he manages to look the dying man in his eyes.
"A-Alfred-" in and out, just as Leslie taught him-"Thank you f-for everything you've done for me...for all of us. When I was in the darkness you came in after me, it didn't matter how dark it was...s-sometimes I think you were even braver than I was." Bruce lets the tears fall freely; unashamedly, grasping Alfred's hand in his own. "I know you don't know what's going on, maybe even unaware of the words I'm saying. B-But I hope that even in these final moments, you know how much I love you? You taught me how to l-live, how to enjoy goodness in my life by you being good to me...sometimes-sometimes I felt like I didn't deserve it."
Bruce sniffles and shakily reaches into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a small bouquet of forget-me-nots, his smile wobbly as he holds them up in Alfred's line of sight.
"I really, really p-promise that I'll remember you as long as I live, as long as these exist. Y-You taught me that love is a simple thing; something genuine that can never be touched, warped or replaced when it's true-" Bruce feels his calmness crumbling, his shoulders shaking as he releases a loud wail, bending his head onto Alfred's shoulder as he cries for his dad, "I just--I'm gonna miss you and see you in everything, and I thank you for loving someone like me."
Bruce sniffles and sits up to look Alfred in his eyes, it's been so long since he or the family has seen clarity in the gunmetal blue orbs, but to everyone's surprise, the older man slowly looks down at the little flowers almost fondly. He feels frozen in place at the warm gaze being directed towards him, his heart pounding harshly at the small smile the older man gives before whispering. "Love...y-...ou...t-oo." Bruce's eyes widen in shock, his shoulders shaking in a mix of the overwhelming happiness as he laughs and cries harshly.
Something settles inside of Bruce's chest after hearing those words; acceptance.
It seems Alfred never truly forgot after all, his thoughts were just repressed. Bruce kisses his dad on the cheek one last time, his hands running through the very thin hair as his kids surround their grandfather in various colors of forget-me-nots, all promising to never forget him as long as they can love and feel.
Bruce smiles at his dad, surprising himself with how...genuine it feels. "You can go to sleep now, dad. You deserve the rest, we love you."
Alfred looks over his family one final time, a smile gracing his face as his eyes drift closed, his heart full with the love of the people surrounding him and the scent of an everlasting promise carrying him into a restful sleep.
(
"-when deep down he's that eight-year-old boy in a bloody alleyway, the red clinging to his legs and hands like a second skin." I'd like to point out how before that part I stated, "-maybe that's why death clings to him like an insecure child seeking affirmation from an adult or loved one?" I mention that because my intent was to show how Bruce compares death like a clingy child, but then I describe as death (the blood on his clothes and skin) clinging onto the eight-year-old him. 🥲🥲🥲
The part where Bruce admits to Clark and Diana that he's scared is supposed to be the moment he TRULY realizes he's scared. Maybe I don't need to explain it? But I don't know if I wrote it well enough to be understood that while he mentioned he was afraid before, that moment with his friends was a time and space where his mind could actually process his fear.
Okay, now that that's out of the way (I wanted to mention it before I forgot). I want to truly thank anyone and everyone who stops by for this story...I apologize if this is horribly written? I tried to take my time with this (it's been in my drafts since August) as I based this off of my grandma who has dementia.
This story was born out of the constant fretful worrying and sadness I felt at truly realizing my family and I are watching her slowly deteriorate before our eyes. But don't worry! I didn't have Bruce's severe denial about it though (and I'm not shaming anyone who struggles with similar thoughts either, you are loved and seen 💛) XD, I just wanted to write from a mindset of someone who does constantly agonize over the what-ifs of the possible future.
It was also based on my thoughts of wondering how my mom feels watching her mom forgetting everything and such, wondering if her inner self is scared and uncertain about these things as well. Not saying my mom does worry this much, but again, this story was based off of my curious thoughts and basing it off of someone who might be extremely anxious about the future of those they care about.
The situation is sad no doubt...but my optimism and hope shines through as I wrote Bruce slowly coming to terms with things, whereas at the beginning of this story, he was super angry, in denial and anxious. That is just my thought process about it I guess? I admit it's very hard and saddening to witness...especially as said sick person can grow anxious and scared cause they don't remember or know anything, but it's best to live everyday treasuring the memories and feelings you have of one another rather than stressing about tomorrow.
I want to encourage you as my readers to treasure your memories and feelings too ☺️. Even if one day your mind forgets...you ALWAYS remember how you felt, and those feelings are a kind of memory in and of itself, it just doesn't have the mental images to go with it.
The ending made me really sad when writing it 😭. I didn't realize how deeply this story got to me until I wrote Alfred passing on, especially as my own grandma is the grandparent my siblings and I have left-- Anywho! I'm probably sharing TMI, sorry my lovelies.
I hope the medical examination was written okay enough? I made it that way as I wasn't present when my grandma got her scans done and based the results out of my grandma's own, that's why I never went back to mentioning if Alfred has Alzheimer's specifically or anything...cause our grandma still hasn't gotten a very clear diagnosis rn. And I'm sorry if the speed of Alfred getting symptoms is maybe quick or odd? My grandma just kind of quickly declined in her memory after our grandad (her husband) passed, so that's why I also wrote and implied that Bruce thought it was caused from past (most likely undealt with) grief.
Also, I did my best when researching flower language ☺️, I hope I did okay? I chose the ones I really loved best as most flowers have multiple meanings anyway. I know there is more I wanted to say to you all here...but I speak too much as is 😂. Again, any and all who stopped to read are truly treasured, thank you so much!
Oh! Something I wanted to mention is how the ending isn't meant to glamorize Dementia/Alzheimer's (at least I hope it doesn't seem that way?), I just wanted something slightly hopeful and sweet to end on. I also based it off of some people's stories of their loved one having a random moment of lucidity before passing away.
That's truly all I wanted to share, so, thank you for reading my long notes always!
I hope everyone stays safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛💛💛💛)
8 notes · View notes
coffee-without-a-pause · 9 months ago
Text
I'm a happy cat mom since July 2017, and holy crap! The difference between "what to expect according to the internet/common knowledge" vs reality is unbelievable! Here's a list of self-experienced debunks:
What I thought: Cats are a*holes Reality: Well, maybe your cats are! Mine are the sweetest, kindest ever. Maybe it's luck, idk
What I thought: Cats are independent Reality: HA.HA. no. No, they're not. One of our cat didn't eat, drink or use her litter whenever we left the house. Cats are social animals
What I thought: Cats will knock things down... Reality: not ours. Or 100% unintentionally
What I thought: ... cause they're evil! Reality: I've seen mosquitoes more evil than cats! BUT! That being said... cats are like toddlers with incredible physical abilities who can jump several meters high and slip through the tiniest space possible. Baby-proof your house as if it was baby Clark Kent you adopted!
What I thought: Cats will scratch your furniture Reality: Nope. But your cat does need their stuff just like a toddler would. Get scratch posts, get toys, play with your cat, don't let your cat get bored. If they continue to scratch your sofa, there are options you can try to redirect them to another surface to scratch
What I thought: Cats don't listen Reality: That one............ they hear and understand you, it's just they choose to ignore you sometimes. And that's alright. Remember? Toddlers!
What I thought: Cats are cuddly and will sleep on your laps. Always! Reality: Toddlers! Some are cuddly, some aren't, and that's alright. One of our cat's name is "Glue", the most appropriate name ever! She just doesn't let go of you, always on your shoulders or on your laps, always sleeping while snuggling with you. But, another of our cat is not. She's very shy, easily overwhelmed, doesn't know of to deal with her emotions but she tries very hard and is making lots of progress. She's just not that "sits on your laps for hours" cat.
What I thought: Cats are clever Reality: Toddlers! They will eat and lick whatever they find... and they have sharp teeth! Seriously, baby-proof your home
What I thought: Cats must go outside to be happy Reality: Some do, some don't. Don't force your cat to go outside. If they don't show interest in the outside, i strongly suggest to not encourage them. Because of safety, environmental damages, health, etc...
What I thought: One cat is fine on its own Reality: Depends on your cat, but remember they're very social and they need company, and someone who can play with them. Isolation is bad for everyone, even cats. My suggestions: if you want to adopt a kitten, adopt 2 so they can play together. If you want to adopt a cat, maybe check with the shelter if they get along well with another cat and adopt them both. It won't be more work, but be sure you can financially support them (vet visits, shots, etc...)
Speaking of which! Adopt your cats for shelters, there are so many abandoned cats everywhere in need of a good home. Please adopt
24 notes · View notes
rickktish · 1 year ago
Text
Today my mom and I finished the 90’s superman TV show Lois and Clark and it’s a really great series and I think every superman fan ever should watch it because Henry Cavill has nothing on Dean Cain, but that’s not actually what this post is about. This post is about the fact that in a pre-Superboy Jon Kent world, the central arc of Clark Kent’s character was that he wanted a family of his own, and this culminates in (spoilers) the last episode being centered on the question of what to do about having kids since Clark’s biology is not compatible with humans’ for making babies, and my anthropology major brain couldn’t not analyze this through a gender/sexuality lens since I took a class all about the cultural impact of gender and media portrayals of it.
Here’s the thing: in the vast majority of media (I almost said western media but then I thought about it more and I think it’s actually pretty darn universal) infertility is a female plotline. It’s one of the few plots that is inherently feminine in nature because for so much of history we’ve viewed infertility as a woman’s concern. If a man and a woman can’t have a child, after all, it must be something wrong with her, right? (Ha. Ha. Ha. It’s not funny, actually.) But this means that this silly little superman show from the 90’s is portraying an infertility plot line, but the problem isn’t the female character’s fertility, it’s her husband’s. Except that since fertility is an “inherently” feminine plot line, we get almost no emotional impact of this news on Clark himself. Lois, after all, is the one who spent the second to last episode going through the question of whether or not she’s ready to have children and deciding that she is. It could perhaps be argued that this is because Clark has been ready for a while, because a family is all that he wants, but I think it’s also because the question of a working woman choosing to have a child is, culturally speaking, a very different question to a man choosing to have a child, and has been since women became acceptable in the work place.
Here’s my point though: Clark gets the news that he can’t reproduce with Lois, goes to talk to her, and ends up holding her as she mourns this loss of something they were hoping for. She doesn’t comfort him, except by coming up with actions they can take to try to get around their incompatible biology. Lois is the one who gets to mourn, while Clark continues to emphasize that they will be okay no matter what because they love each other. And all I could think about watching this was how removed Clark was from his own fertility. How completely separated he was from it. Because in spite of the issue being his fertility and not hers, Lois is the one who gets to have an emotional arc about it, because she is the woman in the story.
One of the solutions they come up with is to ask Lois’s father, who (in rare fashion) is not a general but instead a handy-dandy generalized “scientist,” to see if there’s anything he can come up with for them. In order to do so, though, they need to reveal to him that Clark is Superman. The whole scene where they’re trying to figure out how to tell him feels a little bit queer, because I can see a modern writer turning everything from it into a trans reveal instead of a secret identity, but that’s a little beside the point. The point is that still, at no point does Clark seem distressed for himself, but instead for how Lois feels about all this— up to and including the point about her mother’s lack of maturity meaning that she doesn’t feel safe telling her they’re trying to have a baby or that they’re facing infertility.
And from all this, somehow all I can think of is how far we’ve culturally removed men from power over their own fertility. It feels like the only things that get discussed on the news or in shows, up to and including the abortion issue, is women’s fertility. We rarely talk about giving men education about and control over their fertility, only women. Women’s bodies, women’s rights, but what about the fact that the men don’t seem to be attached enough to their own fertility to know or even consider what they can do to control it for themselves? I actually wonder if the requirement (historical or present, depending on where you live) for women to get permission from their husbands to get their tubes tied has more to do with men’s fertility than with their wives’, because in some ways it seems that the only control a man is offered over his own fertility in our culture is by exerting control over his wife. There’s an alienation between men and their ability to procreate that honestly baffles me now that I’ve thought about it. It’s separated from them by their relationship with their partner’s body, and I wonder if somehow giving men more control over their own fertility, and educating them about it and how they can reclaim it from where it has been outsourced to another body, might be a positive step. I wonder if our cultural disconnect between fathers and children might take a few steps if men were taught to view their reproductive systems as more than just pleasure centers, as a part of their personal fertility.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I think there’s more to be explored with this idea but I’m not fully prepared to go on the biological tangent with it yet so I think I’m going to leave it at that. I just. What would it take for men to reclaim their own fertility from where it has been culturally outsourced to women’s bodies?
49 notes · View notes