You cannot feel grief for the loss of something that you never had.
You cannot wake up on a Sunday morning and grieve for the loss of £10 million because you did not win the lottery the night before. You never had it, you did not lose it.
Can you grieve for the loss of something you felt you should have had?
The moments and milestones?
The questions and conversations?
The words never spoken?
These things were never promised.
We never had them, we never lost them.
The expectation of them was ours and ours alone.
But still we grieve them.
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Yk what I need??? NEED the batKids to just admire Bruce’s beauty ( USHSJSNSNS ur last post about Jason calling Bruce pretty just added fuel to the fire )
Love ur blog :)!!!
Thank you! And that’s so adorable! I just adore the image of Bruce, wide awake at 3 in the morning, applying concealer all over the swollen bruises acquired tonight.
The brush is thick and fluffy, designed to spread a generous amount while maintaining a smooth application, its bristles silver and pale. Dick thinks it belonged to Bruce’s mom, because he looks terribly sad using it.
“You should be asleep, “ Bruce sighs, not entirely delighted his ward is losing precious resting time. He’s read, clearly, that children need a minimal 8 hours of sleep.
“So should you! What are you doing up?”
“Getting ready for a meeting at 7.”
“You’re like, really pretty.”
Bruce pauses, skin blossoming with sudden, flustered heat, “Oh, thank you, Dickie, that’s very kind—“
Dick’s smile beams like moonlight, “So you agree. You think you’re really pretty.”
“…I haven’t watched a single movie in 12 years, so, I think that joke is wasted.”
“Dammit. Thanks a lot, trauma.”
Oh, but Jason? The tiny boy could watch Bruce for hours. His face is so interesting. B’s eyelashes are so long, and his eyes are such a pretty hazel, just like Catherine’s, and his smile is awesome.
He feels really special, because Bruce smiles for no camera, but when Jason asks him to take his picture, he does it without complaint.
“B, boys can be pretty too, right?”
Bruce pauses a bit, not entirely confident. Should he treat this as something casual? Should he break out the educational, but welcoming dialogue? Is it something else? Why aren’t there parenting classes?
“Hn. Yeah.”
“I think you’re the prettiest man in Gotham!”
“I’m afraid that’s not true, Jason.”
“What?! How come?!”
“Because the prettiest boy in Gotham is standing right in front of me.”
Tiny Jason squeaking and squealing joyfully while Bruce takes him in his arms, peppering his soft cheeks with kisses, while a teenage Dick rolls his eyes in the background, trying not to smile.
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