Writing blog ā¢ No idea what is canon, don't know her ā¢ Okayest father defender ā¢ latinoamericana ā¢ ESOL ā¢ Rebobinarte on AO3 {https://ko-fi.com/lacote}
Dick turns at the feeling of eyes on him, and smiles at Bruce in the doorway. "Hey, B." He closes his laptop, standing. "You alright?"
Bruce smiles back. "You were meant to be in bed two hours ago."
"Whoops," he lies. "Sorry."
Bruce shakes his head, and waves towards the bed. "Shoo, child."
Dick giggles, padding across the carpet, and clambers up onto his mattress. He grabs for Zitka and doesn't bother to do anything else, as Bruce works his way around him, tucking him in on every side.
A palm settles on Dick's forehead, brushing his fringe back, and warm lips settle there. "Goodnight, Dick." He moves lower, kissing Zitka's head too. "Goodnight, Zitka."
Another laugh is pulled from him, as hard as he tries to suppress it, because Bruce is so lame and not at all funny, but he fails and feels a smile pull at his lips.
"Goodnight, Bruce."
When the man above him lingers, just quietly watching him, he feels the smile fall away. "Bruce?"
"Dickie." Bruce swallows. "You know I love you, right? More than anything?"
He curls his fingers into Zitka, nodding.
"Yeah. I love you too, B."
Bruce winds a finger through one of his curls, wrapping it around his finger, and smiles at him with so much softness Dick doesn't know what to do with it.
"Goodnight, chum."
He watches Bruce release him, making his way slowly to the door, and frowns. Didn't they just do this?
"Goodnight, B."
Bruce smiles at him from the door, and turns off the light.
"Hey, Bruce, waitā"
The door halts halfway closed, and Bruce's silhouette returns. "Chum? You alright, Dick?"
He clears his throat. "Um. Can you leave the light on?"
"Sure. Which one?"
"The hallway one? And leave the door cracked?"
"Like this?" Bruce checks, closing it slightly more.
Dick glances around at how light his room is, and deems it acceptable. "Yeah. Thanks."
"Of couse. Come get me if you need me, kiddo."
"I will."
Bruce nods, and Dick listens to his footsteps fade away down the hall after he disappears from sight.
"I love you!" he yells, straining his ears to pick up a response.
Nothing.
"B?"
Still nothing.
"Zitka?" Dick checks, clutching her tight. "Do you think B is okay?"
She doesn't say anything, but he knows she agrees. Something is up.
"Come on."
He slides out from under the covers, which is made significantly more difficult from how tightly Bruce tucked him in, and doesn't even bother with his slippers, clutching Zitka's arm tightly as he makes his way to the door.
Fingers trembling, he reaches out to the door handle and grasps it weakly, andā
"ARGH!"
"FUCK!"
Bruce stares at him, Dick stares at him, and, slowly, Bruce raises a finger to point. "You didn't hear me say that."
Dick nods, feeling his heart pound in his throat. "Sure."
"You alright? Why are you out of bed?"
Dick chews his clip, and digs his big toe into the floor. Bruce's eyes on him is heavy, and he looks at Zitka rather than the man in front of him.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
"Oh, thank God," Bruce whispers, and Dick is seized into the air, quickly marched off down the hall. "Yeah, kiddo, of course."
Dick buries himself close, and sighs in relief. "Yay."
In action. In defense of his home. In defense of his children. With enough of a body to bury, but not enough of a face for any newspaper to exploit.
Cass gives the eulogy.
It surprised everyone how she volunteered, didn't even let a second pass after the mortuary asked who in the family would be speaking.
"Why?" Dick asked.
It scared Cass that her eyes had gotten so swollen with tears and her ears haven't stopped ringing from dissociation, so much so that she's not sure what her brother is thinking anymore.
She shrugged, "I wanted to."
Part of her wanted to say 'I don't trust you to say nice things' and another part of her wanted to claim 'I don't want you to hurt yourselves with it'.
Dick seemed to understand anyways.
So here she was.
Some odd few years older than when Bruce first held her; and only a few days older than when he last did.
Sitting on Bruce's bed, sheets still cold and tousled.
Wearing Bruce's old college jacket (too small for him, too big for her)
A tablet in front of her, of tiktok and youtube videos of people giving eulogies. The poetry. The memories. The laughter and screaming.
The cowl in one hand, his pen in the other.
Trying... failing... and trying again...
...to find the words to tell everyone:
"I didn't want this to happen"
That's where Tim found her on the night before the speech is to be given, and the coffin is closed so Bruce can be at his last resting place.
"Would you believe Jason wanted to come here more than Duke did?" is what he led with as he closed the door behind him.
Cass followed his silhouette until he next to her.
Tim didn't even look at the blank paper on her lap before taking her hand.
"Babs and Dick wanted me to tell you that no one will hate you if you say you change your mind," he said.
Cass paused, "Damian might."
"Yeah, Damian is angry about a lot of things," Tim sighed, "He's a kid. The big feelings don't have a lot of room to be stored in that little body of his."
That's what gets Cass.
Some odd two days and several papers were thrown in the trash, and she started crying again.
She mourned for Bruce, who will never hold her again.
She mourned all the things she wished she said out loud, because gods, she finally knows that glances and gestures can be taken incorrectly and it terrified her that maybe she had ever done anything to make Bruce think she didn't love him.
She mourned for Bruce, who would have spared all of them, spared Damian, spared Cass the need to speak because there would not have been a reason to...
If only you were here.
"You buried parents before."
Tim hummed, "I have."
Cass leaned against him and passed along her blank paper, "How?"
"How what?"
"How do you say you love someone who will never hear it?" she croaked out, "What is the point?"
Tim paused.
"The point is that people get to know how loved he was," he answered.
"I don't need other people to know," Cass snapped, stiffening as tears continued to pour down her face, "I need him to know."
Tim sighed, pressing his face against hers.
"I think he already knows, but the people out there... need remembering sometimes that he's someone who was loved. I think that's why we have eulogies. We forget that every face we've ever seen is a face someone loved. Remembering how loved a person you lost was in life, it is... relieving."
Cass took a shuddering breath ā in and out ā and closed her eyes.
She thought about Bruce's face lighting up when he first saw her grin at his direction.
She thought about Bruce's face pinching in fear every time he made a move in battle because what if I hit the wrong person.
She thought about Bruce's face softening at his family's direction when he thinks no one is looking.
That expression that was richer than poetry, more precious than memory.
That expression with a language for a nation of 10.
Bruce's face, forever clean and stiff like stone, in a coffin too cold and too lonely.
Bruce's face that Cass wanted to see again.
.
.
.
.
.
At the funeral, Cass took no paper with her to the stand. She doesn't look at the people or the sky or the ground.
Her eyes were locked on the casket.
Dick gave Tim a worried look. He smiled and told him: "Cass knows what to say. Trust her."
Cass took a deep breath.
"I wish you were here," she said through gritted teeth.
Silence draped across the church, the daunting sort of silence that belonged to realization and dread.
"I wish you didn't die the way you wanted," Cass hissed.
The Justice League looked at each other with a sort of horror that came too late from the aftermath. The cowl and armor and blaze of glory had made them forget: there was a mortal man once among them, capable of breaking but in capable of letting that stop him.
"I wish no one had to give a eulogy," she continued, even as tears were already streaming down her face.
Dick gasped, fists shaking on his lap. God, he wanted to, not that it would've changed anything, but he had wanted to.
"I wish you got old and watched us grow older too."
Damian was already shaking, burying his face in Steph's shoulder. He was the youngest person in that room.
"I wish I can see your face change and move again."
Jason looked down on his hands. It was hard to breath through his half mask, but it felt disrespectful to wear his father's face on his funeral.
"I wish I knew if you were happy, at least."
Tim smiled bitterly, because he knew a lot of things, just not the answer to that question.
Cass paused, the cloying feeling in her chest finally becoming too much that it rose to her head, filling it with cotton.
"This is... the part that you tell me you were."
The casket doesn't move.
The eulogy and the truth changed nothing. The poetry made nothing better.
Her dad was still dead.
"This is where you come back," she mumbled, finally looking at her family with genuine confusion on her face, "This is where... it stops hurting, right?"
There she stood, humiliated and speechless.
Where is the relief?
Where is the absolution?
"Where is he?"
Damian started wailing, and Steph was too locked up in mourning to do anything. Dick sank behind the pew, shaking, even as Barbara held him through it. Jason had to turn around to take off his mask and breathe. Tim laughed a bitter laugh. Duke stood up, getting on the podium and beckoning Cass off as grief turned into embarrassment.
But then again ā what is love if not an act of humiliation?
.
.
.
.
.
A/N: Writing exercise so I don't get rusty because I haven't progressed a fic in a while šš I miss my hobbies
Was thinking about the term "performative" -> wondered if there was a term called "performative grief" -> thought about Er*ka K*k for obvious reasons -> Ballerina Cass -> love performing -> is love a performance? -> makes sense,,, performance arts require a sort of bravery to keep going for the sake of the entertainment of others and the preservation of feeling, even at the expense of a performer pushing the bounds of their physical and emotional abilities -> love is a performance -> love is an act of humiliation
An alien shape-shifting spy infiltrates a sentient being smuggling ring. Amongst the prisoners, a peculiar creature is secretly organizing a revolt. āJust where are you from,ā the astonished spy asks the would-be rebel leader. She simply replies, āEarth.ā
I need to stop doing these about Bruce and J'onn. I need to stop doing these about Bruce and J'onn. I need to stop-
"Earth" he lets the sound roll out of his tongue. A note for a future visit pinned in the back of his mind.
The creature, eyes shimmering with confidence and the colour of precious minerals, nods at him. "Earth" he repeats. "I need to get back home" he continues to bandage one of the rebels, hidden between the shadows of the building.
J'onn nods. Home. It's been a while since he thought of anything as that. His own mission dragging him around the corners of the universe. But he has a base. A place to return, he has-
"Where are you going after this is all over?" Bruce, the creature's name, looks at him beneath thick lashes that cover the beauty of his eyes.
"I have nowhere to go" he lies. He doesn't know why.
"Mn." Bruce finishes and gives the rebel a smile. Warm. And J'onn has never felt hate for a stranger who has done no damage to him before. Until now. "You could always come with me. Back... To my planet."
J'onn let's that sink in for a second. He nods "I would love to see your home". And Bruce's smile addresses him, this time.
He'll need to contact base and make some sort of excuse.
He looks around. To the bodies and the flames and the pain and the anger. He can do this. Give him a few minutes. He can do this and quick travel to Earth.
He nods, more to himself, and raises himself up, imitating the gesture he had seen on Bruce before, rolling up inexistent sleeves, and circling around where human shoulders should be.
You can't go from this https://www.tumblr.com/ilovemybruciewayne/823402868058030080/all-the-blame-for-this-crack-goes-to?source=share to this https://www.tumblr.com/ilovemybruciewayne/823429162634199040/hes-alive-he-pressed-the-meat-of-his-palms?source=share the same day! my heart can't take your rollercoaster of fanfics! you can't make me laugh and they cry! stop!
I can! And I did!
Mwahahahaha!!
The posts are these (crack) and these (whump)
Glad you're enjoying yourself!! Stay around for more whiplashes!! š¤
I think I know which is it. Is one of Mouse's asks, right? Where B is scared of the firreworks?
But I couldn't find it to check what had I written. I have the feeling that I didn't write it with that intention, but like most of what i write, i like to leave things pretty unclear so the reader interprets more freely... But yeah, I can't find it to corroborate.
hi! i've been eating all of your terry. i can't wait for the fic. does he ever get jealous like dick does? he's always so calm. i love your writing ā¤ļøā¤ļø i'll wait here for the first chapter
Oh, thank you thank you!
He definitely gets jealous, but he has a better behavior than the other Batkids. Also, he has learned how to deal with (cofcofandmanipulatecofcof) a grumpy tires Bruce. So everything works easier for him in that aspect.
About the fic... Uh...
*Looks at the mess of unconnected chapters and ficlets thrown around my table*
*Unfinished running fic glares back*
*Loud swallow*
Yeah, uhm. So I might have chapter one by the end of the yearrrrrrrr....... Maybe 2027...........
I am so sorry!! ;;-;; PLEASE more dad!Gordon? I am really sorry
Why sorry? Sure!
Bruce's cheek was a mess of tomatoe sauce and cheese. Jim smiled and grabbed a tissue for the kid.
The kid turned when called, looking away from his plate. He stared at Jim's hand, and then his face. Back to the hand, and then the toddler sitting in front. He nodded once and swallowed deeply.
It was adorable watching him lift himself with a hand pressed against the table to reach for the tissue... But what melted his heart was the way the kid grabbed the tissue, beaming fondly and extending his arm to reach small Barbara's cheek to messily clean her from the food she had been spilling all over her tiny body.
And lord, the way his babies laughed together. It made his eyes tingle with emotion.
The ten year old turned to him, a shy, proud smile across his chubby messy face, and Gordon was done.
A quickly turned around the table, lifting the boy in his arms and twisting him around until there was nothing but giggles and happiness echoing around the room.
I have a line that Bruce says but I donāt know+donāt feel like writing the scene. Basically, when working a case Bruce says something that the people around react to and then he says āWe donāt know that ā¢Oā¢ really?? :(ā
And then he explains it ofc but for a moment there he forgot that he was a sophisticatedly trained detective.
āšøš
"Sophisticatedly trained detective" hehehe love that, mouse
He closed the file and knocked its border against the table to make the papers align.
"So, now that everything is settled-"
"Wait wait wait wait!" Green Arrow rose up with a hand extended forward. "What do you mean everything is settled?"
"I-" He tuned to his side with a questioning gaze. Dick was already standing, but his lenses were narrow and his lips slightly separated as he stared at the archer; and by the way Tim had his head tilted to the right, he was just as confused as his brother. "I explained all there was to explain..." What is happening?
Barry covered his mouth, suppressing a smirk. Arrow continued "No. You did not" Nightwing slowly took his seat back, but his gaze never lifted from Oliver. "You just showed us the investigation. You showed us the clues. You- you're not really expecting us to solve it, aren't you?"
Bruce blinked in surprise. A small, curt "oh" was heard from his side, and he quickly turned to his sons... Who were blatantly avoiding his stare. "But it's already solved..." He turned in disbelief to his childhood friend.
"What-?"
"It's already-" A shaky hand grabbed his forearm, and he turned to see Dick bitting his lip to suppress a smile while shaking his head. Tim was next to him with his face between his hands and his shoulder trembling with quiet laughter
"Uhm-" Barry stopped to clean his throat, the humour still reflected in his tone "If i might" he lifted his hand "I can finish this for batsy, so they can go back to Gotham"
"No, Flash, this should-"
"Please, Arrow. I beg you to keep quiet" Clark whispered from Bruce's other side.
Tim quickly rose up from his seat and practically ran away before his laughter could escape him. Dick moved slower, but Bruce didn't miss the snort that he tried to cover with the screech of his chair.
He turned to see Barry failing to contain his laughter any longer, barking as he grabbed his stomach, while Hal patted Oliver's - still noticeably confused - shoulder.
"Dames is not letting you live this out" Dick elbowed his side as a welcome when he joined them next to the zetas.
"Oh gosh. I love your coworkers" Tim cleaned a fake tear after pushing the last part of the code and entering the tube next to them.
"Please, not another word"
Their laughter vanished along the blinding light covering the entire room.
"Their bad evil Batman who always has conflicts with people and its always his fault vs our good blorbo who evolves and always makes up with people after a fight and it's not even his fault they argue half the time š„ŗ"
I have read some. Some of them as an untagged jumpscare, some others bc I really love the author and I thrust their work.
But... Nah
Not for me.
Sorry, if you wanted me to go "EUGH! NO!! BRUDICKs DNI!!"
Not me, love.
But if you wanted me to go "YES!! YESSS!!"... Also no.
I don't appreciate the pair, because I see them way too much as a parent/son relationship. But to those who do... You do you, boo. Won't yuck on your yum... Well... In THIS yum. I do have my limits.
But Brudick is not an issue there. Just... Not for me and that relationship does make me uncomfortable.
Hiii!! Not a request or anything but just wanted you to know that I absolutely adore your writing and that your ficlets inspire SO MUCH to make art!!! I really like how you write the batfam and it feels like a balm to the soul to read about the family being so aggressively affectionate towards Bruce š„ŗā¤ļø
I hope you always have inspiration to write and that your days are filled with warm food and cold pillows
Kyaaaa! Screeching.
I love your art!! You have no idea how freaking happy I get whenever an artist I admire interact with my content. But knowing you get inspired?!
Ohmyohmy
Btw feel free to post if you ever draw anything I've written not as if I'm asking you to bc I'm actually begging on my hands and knees and if you ever do tag me so I can keep screaming and kicking my sheets bc AAAAAH WHAT?!
I love your Bruce!! He's so pretty aaaah!!!!
Im fine.
Thank you tehe.
I'll just quietly print this and leave this as my heirloom.
I noticed you started tagging again! Mind if I ask you why?
Not forced! I'm just actually curious, since you said you would not tag for a different amount of reasons.
I do prefer you tagging, if I am to be completely honest.
-š„
Are you a frequent anon? Either your way of writing or your signature feels familiar.
No worries!
Mmh... I actually thought I uploaded that ask.
Makes sense I didn't post... Was super angry in that... Not really proud of my answer, bc I exploded.
I will post the ask's screenshot here. I won't post it. That way I'll just delete this if I don't want to see my shame again :D (I am indeed a coward.)
Also my grammar sucked there but I was truly upset and by the date that was on top of the draft, I probably was at work so I might have been also in pain. That is not to apologize for my words bc I don't regret them, I'm just embarrassed by my emotional reaction, but I stand by what I said. It's to apologize for the constant typos and bad grammar ;)
Not the first time someone came to ask that. I thought my posts should not appear in the main tags, as long as the tag was not done by me. And even if they do, I can't do anything if other people tag them in their reblogs...
Still. I'm sure that if a post I hadn't tagged shows up with the tag, it must be bc you follow the person who tagged and not bc I did? Idk. I have no idea how it works.
Anyway. Now I'm tagging, so there's that.
TLDR.: It's bc I got angry and I'm a petty asshole. So I'm tagging everyone now (ā āā ā¢ā į“ā ā¢ā āā )
(I will avoid tagging without the "anti" when it's a post that blatantly makes any of them look bad, but that's mainly bc I love them and I don't want a hater using my posts for whatever reason)
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