The scrumptious angst of Bruce, after growing up with the belief that he is a needless burden to Alfred which is why the butler was otherwise so distant and careful with formalities, finding it so easy to overcome the same barriers when he had to take in and care of Dick
Bruce, who understood that Alfred was only there for him all his life because he was paid to stay there, and whatever sense of fondness he might afford him were consequences of proximity rather than a natural condition for care
Then he takes in Dick Grayson, a little bundle of odd behaviors and a penchance for anger
It startles Bruce, how easy it is to outwardly love a child and overcome the circumstances around it
It happens again and again — Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian... each one of them, becoming Bruce's responsibility by circumstances beyond their control... each one of them, loved to the best of Bruce's human ability
Alfred says the formalities are necessity; Bruce once thought so
But what did those formalities and tensions matter when Jason came home for the first time twice? What did those tensions of succession matter when Cass had her first dance lesson? When Tim came out for the first time? When Damian celebrated his med school acceptance?
The resentment grows in Bruce, it's ugly and clawing in all the ways a child's petulance is
.
.
.
One day, it comes out, finally; both of them too heated into an argument that lost meaning ages ago
"Why couldn't you have loved me this much!?"
Alfred looked shocked, sputtering in disbelief.
"Now, you listen here, boy," Alfred growled, eyes glassy with age and grief, "You may insult me in everything, but not by the sacrifices it took to raise you."
"Sacrifices?" Bruce asked back, disbelief coloring his face, "What sacrifices? The ones attached to a paycheck? The ones made on behalf of my parents whose authority died with them?"
"You never were gentle with me the way you are with Jason," Bruce croaked out, "Or as kind as you are with Dick, or as attentive as you are with Tim and Damian. Even Cass earns more endearment from you than I and your own true daughter combined."
"Watch yourself, young master-"
"All you ever did was prove at every turn something I could've grown up not being told repeatedly, and it was that I am a burden who has to be deserving of every scrap of love that I have!"
Alfred and Bruce stilled. The house is tense.
"I may not have always loved you right," Alfred meagerly defends, "But I did love you."
They know the children hide behind the lens of cameras or the shadows, watching what is to become of their family.
Dick is reflecting on his childhood; the first to have been here, the first to miss this discrepancy. Jason reminisces about the time he spent with Alfred, detaching the idea that Bruce was lucky to have also been loved in that way. Damian thought deep about Alfred's curt banter, how it had never penetrated Damian's ego, but it may have been enough for his father's non-existent pride. Tim and Cass look at each other, thinking about the tight smiles and careful words, and wondered what could've possibly been in place of that.
Somewhere out there, the Wayne children are realizing or re-realizing, deep down, that their beloved grandfather-figure is responsible for all the reasons they strain and struggle against their father
But in that moment, at the stand still that this pseudo-father and son were having, there was nothing more to acknowledge except the fact that there was a fault here
A fault, it seemed, that Alfred was not too willing to apologize for at the moment
Bruce frowned, eyes watering and face flushing red. "Did you?"
Alfred twitches, just enough to shake out the nightmare — because for some god forsaken reason, he started to see a blood-drenched 9 year old in place of the 40-odd something year old living legend he had betrayed.
Cardinal Zoppi read the names of every child lost in Gaza. He spent seven hours reading their names, his heart aching with grief. Among those names were children of Sami's relatives who died, hungry, afraid, and deprived of their rights. Today, with the United States recognizing a famine in Gaza, the need is more acute than ever. The children who survived are fighting daily for food, medicine, and their simple right to live. You can contribute to Sami's family with any amount, no matter how small or small, it means a lot. Never forget that there are children who want to live. If your life is beautiful, you eat every day and live freely, remember that there are children and souls whose luck has never been good and they are dying now. Donate, share, do something, please.
Coming back here to say that re: Tumblr being viewed as a distinctly "white" website: this should not be shocking to anyone because it reflects in its most popular niches. The obsession with categorizing and flattening all art that it engages with but especially that which features non-white perspectives prominently. The self-infantilization, the inability to hear anything that makes you uncomfortable and immediately needing to derail discourses that make you question your values beyond what you can handle. The vile reaction to black and brown people being visible anywhere in fandom in ways that aren't pre-approved or sanitized. And so on
