#i like to image that she looks like martha wayne

[goddessofbees]

Lady Gotham and Clockwork definitely swap blackmail

Lady Gotham wanted a meeting with Dan and Jason, Dan being embarrassed by his pseudo aunt (she likes being called aunty Gotham), I like to think that Jason's her favorite. Clockwork would be there but he got busy with time (ha!)

[tacagen]

we are NOT!! TALKING ENOUGH ABOUT THIS PAGE. LIKE THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DEPICTIONS OF THAWNE TO EVER EXIST IN COMICS!! THE BLOOD!! THE BRUISES UNDER HIS EYES!! THE LIFELESS EXPRESSION!! THE HAIR!! THE BUILD!! THE EVERYTHING!! AND ITS A FUCKING CORPSE!!! HIS RENAISSANCE PAINTING ASS IS JUST LYING AROUND IN THE MORGUE WAITING FOR THE AUTOPSY!!!!

[acid-ixx]

mild spoilers for chapter six for my series again &. again, but i really feel the need to ramble about this, and i'd love to hear anybody's opinion on this hehe.

as i write outline chapter six (and write for chapter five), i'd like to say i couldn't wait to write the reader's face reveal in bruce's perspective. and it's not just angst, for me, this plays a very pivotal turn for the series— because bruce will spiral to insanity.

to never once see a single portrait of your second youngest child, whose presence has long been erased from the manor, not a single image, nor trace of you is sickening to the heart, even if he scours through the internet day and night for a single memoir of you, nothing— but to find your portrait in alfred's living quarters and seeing you for the first time in forever? graduating a milestone no less?

god, he's in for a ride just analyzing every aspect of your physical appearance.

the color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, the quip of your mouth, the fat in your cheeks; even the length of your lashes! god, does he brand it into the deepest parts of his mind to never forget you anymore. his pearl, his treasure.

the longer he stares, the more he notices and gazes even more, obsessive as he stands lonesome in the room with every bone in his body locking up, his eyes unable to look away from the portrait that showcases his baby child.

and there, there it is that he concludes a detail so small it's unrecognizable for someone who's seen it for his entire life; yet it's all the same triggered deranged emotions deep within him.

— you don't just share him and your mother's traits, no, your smile is also reminiscent of his mother's.

martha wayne, who'd died in his arms, laying in a pool of her blood with a bullet grazed deep inside her body. his loving mother, who caressed his face whenever he'd cry from his nightmares, who'd shown him motherly love that until now he still craves.

she died with her pearl necklace that once decorated her porcelain neck spilling to the ground and stained with crimson.

you wore pearl earrings on your graduation.

the thought alone is enough for him to just snap.

this? this is the child that he's been neglecting far too long? who shares the same, loving expression of his mother's? his child? not even a single memory could be conjured with you but fantasies now do. if your happiest moments were within the picture frame that he holds with shivering fingers at present; could your smile be any wider if you'd be with him?

how come he never once noticed? why is bruce always destined to fail left and right? why, just why is he brimming with jealousy for all the people who must've seen your smile before him, and contempt for himself that he was never there to pick you up from the police station beforehand?

bruce isn't a heckler for favoritism, but a darker part of him is motivated to take you away from wherever you are, and to never let anybody else witness his beautiful, little treasure.

he's gotham's knight, first and foremost. but he's a father, too, with goals to protect his children just like a father should.

and the things he'd do for you, his child, now? anything.

if it means he has to see that smile, then he'll turn the world upside-down.

he has to protect your smile.

[astyrluna]

had some batman/batfam thoughts

(obligatory reminder that ive only read a handful of comics, im workin on changing that but for now most of my knowledge ive gotten through the fandom. would love any comic recs lol)

i do enjoy the idea of the batkids all resembling bruce in some way or another, whether that be through physical features or mannerisms or whatever. i also REALLY like the idea of the batkids each resembling bruces parents in whatever way. so, how about this:

when bruce looks at his children and sees his parents, he usually sees thomas in them. dick just has this way of talking to people thats all thomas, and he gets a dimple in his left cheek when he smiles, just like bruce, and like thomas. tim has the sharp mind and dry, witty humor bruce remembers looking up to in his father. cass is so caring, so determined to help, just like thomas was, and the way she matches his facial expressions is almost uncanny sometimes. when duke laughs, bruce sometimes thinks, just for a moment, that hes hearing his father. and, of course, damian bears a resemblance to his paternal grandfather thats becoming quite striking as he grows up.

when bruce looks at his children and sees his parents, he usually sees thomas. but jason? jason is the spitting image of martha wayne. he has the shape of her eyes, the slope of her nose (though jasons is quite crooked now), the same curly, unruly hair that shines reddish-brown in the sunlight. martha was a strong, plump woman with a sharp tongue, kind eyes, and a smile that felt like home. when jason came back, hed regained the height and weight that malnutrition stole from him, and, fueled by his rage, his words are just as deadly as his weapons. but, despite everything, the protectiveness, the kindness in his eyes he had as robin never left, and bruce rarely gets to see jason smile these days, but when he does, it fills him with a sense of comfort he hasnt felt in so many years.

from the beginning, bruce looked at jason and saw martha. and in his mind, the memories of kneeling in the rubble of a warehouse, holding the still body of his son, begging him to wake up, and kneeling in a dark alleyway, holding the still body of his mother, begging her to wake up, are irreparably fused.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Image if we look like our mom wix with Martha Wayne

Everyday we look at Bruce he sees his mother then his woman who got away and modelling agency requesting us or talking to us at galas

When the reader started straightening their hair, that's when you began to feel Bruce's eyes on you constantly. It makes his heart break because you remind him of your mother when she was younger and had her hair straightened. Either he starts ignoring you, or he gives you crazy attention as if you were his little princess. It's so odd, but who are you to turn down his affection? When he sees you accidentally wear jewelry that used to belong to his mother, he lets you keep it. He says he’d rather have it on someone than let it collect dust in that dirty old box, but in reality, he just wants to see you wear it. You look like a proper young lady—an elegant, sweet, charming girl. The way those jewels glittered on your dark skin just made sense to him, and I think Bruce would go crazy if the male reader started growing into Bruce's old suits and how well you fit into them. You looked so much like the next Wayne heir and how you can take on his legacy. When you come to him for help with your tie, he stares down at you as you try to hold yourself up strong, trying to look intimidating. But all he can see is his little boy, who was so small he couldn't even wrap around his whole finger around his hand. He’s in shambles when you get old enough to wear his father's suits, and he gives them to you, saying they always looked better on you. You were his baby; that was just a fact. You were meant to be protected by him; you were meant to have him as your mentor. You were meant for him and only him. He's your father, your dad, your old man, so let him be that to you once again, even if it's for one minute. If you take up modeling like your mother, he'll ensure you'll only do it for Wayne Enterprises, so the two of you can take pictures together. Being close to you, he knows deep down you'd rather die than have him touch you, but he knows a deep part of you wants his attention, his love, his affection. So for now, you'll do this photo shoot with him because it's the only time your dad feels like a dad.

[violetbumblebea]

Like, thematically, Thomas and Martha should not have been corrupt. Their death is just a simple act of senseless violence and, when senseless violence is perpetrated with no one (like the Waynes) trying to make things better, you get Gotham.

However, I do think it is super interesting to explore that, even if Thomas and Martha were perfect for their city, they weren’t perfect for their son.

Give me a Thomas who wasn’t very present in his son’s life. A Thomas who was slow to comfort or praise but quick to anger and to discipline.

Give me a Martha that was a little too concerned with public image. A Martha that, while she’s quick to give her son a kiss or a dollar, hasn’t ever put him to bed or helped with his homework or

Bruce, who still looks to his parents with the eyes of a child, will never see these flaws (and maybe there’s a reason he parents like he does)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Thomas survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 56/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne, Unsafe for Work

Chapter Fifty-Six: Identity

Martha looked through a menu book for dessert options at her next gala. Cassandra climbed behind her on the couch and wrapped her arms around Martha’s neck, nestling her face against Martha’s shoulder. “Hi, baby,” Martha whispered. 

“Hi, Mommy. I’m going to be Aurora. Daddy cried in the car,” Cassandra whispered, “What are you doing?”

Martha set her menu book aside and let Cassandra lie on her lap. “Congratulations, baby! I’m so proud of you!” Martha smiled as she showered Cassandra in kisses. Cassandra laughed and held Martha’s face in her hands. “Mommy’s just planning a gala.”

“What’s that?” Cassandra asked. 

They held eye contact while Martha searched for a way to explain. “A gala is a party to raise money to help people. This gala is for children to get better healthcare and schooling in low-income neighborhoods,” Martha whispered. 

“What kids are coming?” Cassandra asked. 

“Oh… No, sweetheart—. Actually, you’ve made an excellent point,” Martha whispered, “Do you want to help me out with something?” Cassandra sat up and nodded. 

**

Gilda straddled Harvey’s waist, sweating in the dimly lit bedroom as she started grinding faster and harder as she came a second time. “Do you feel alright?” Gilda asked. 

“I think I wanna go down on you this time,” Harvey whispered. 

“On me?” Gilda asked. Harvey nodded. “What about you?” She took his hand, letting it rest on her breast. “I could do this differently.”

“Please, baby,” Harvey whimpered, “Please.” 

“Actually, um… I’m tired, honey,” Gilda mumbled as she rolled off him. Harvey frowned. 

“Gil’, come on. Get back on top if you want. It’s fine,” Harvey replied. Gilda shook her head as she climbed out of bed. “Gilda?”

“It’s okay, ‘Pollo,” Gilda replied, “Can I talk to you about my script? I think it’s coming together.” Harvey forced a smile. 

“Yeah?” Harvey asked as he pulled on his pants and followed her to the bathroom, and sat on the counter. 

He looked over at her and touched her cheek with the back of his finger in a singular affectionate gesture. “Okay… So, you know how Redd appears in the second act, right?” Gilda asked. “In this scene I wrote today, Copper’s just waking up, he looks all worn out, and he’s dragging.. And he looks out the window, lighting a cigarette with weary eyes as he sees Redd standing across the street at the light rail station. Copper leans forward as he sees something the audience can’t and the train rumbles past, obscuring his view. 

“As he loses sight of Redd, he sees himself… Young Copper, where his current reflection should be. Then, the light rail passes, Redd’s gone, and Copper is just regular Copper… And he turns away from the window and mutters, ‘Good,’ but he’s got this puzzled look on his face.” Gilda flushed the toilet and walked past Harvey to wash her hands. 

“I like that. I like the idea of the windows and mirrored images. There’s something so cool about the way Redd and Copper are a boy and a man completely obsessed with each other for completely separate reasons… And I think I prefer this version of the story where Redd doesn’t know Copper’s his father,” Harvey commended her. 

“There was no mirror in this scene,” Gilda replied. 

“I know. But the reflection of his child self acted as a mirror. And then, at the beginning when he’s a kid, he’s looking in the mirror when the shot goes off. Right? And when he’s a teenager, he’s looking at Redd’s mom through the window, and she’s sitting at her mirror with her back to him… And she waves like she’s expecting him… And he says, ‘I hate when you do that.’ I don’t know. I loved all those little things about the mirror being like this window into his memories,” Harvey replied, “It’s better like that. It’s shaping up to be something special.” 

“I didn’t think you noticed all of that,” Gilda whispered. 

Harvey took a quick glance at her posterior before tugging her nightie into place. “I’m genuinely interested in your work. It comforts me when I’m at my desk, reading case files, and looking at you on the floor with your typewriter. I’m obsessed with your imagination and how you can nurture it to life… I’m obsessed with you,” Harvey confessed. 

“Obsessed?” Gilda teased. 

“So obsessed,” Harvey replied as he picked her up and carried her back to bed.

**

Bruce came in late from work the following afternoon and showered downstairs before running into Martha as she stepped into the living room with two plates. “Hi, lovey,” Martha smiled, “How was your day?” 

“Not bad. I work Thanksgiving by the way,” Bruce replied.

“Brucie—.”

“It can’t be helped, Mom… Besides, we’re notorious for chaotic Thanksgivings. Don’t tell the kids yet. I’ll talk to them about it. And uh… The weekend after, I’d like to um… I want—.” 

“You want us to meet the mystery woman?” Martha interrupted. Bruce nodded. “Why are you so afraid I won’t like her?”

Bruce made a soft noise and took a glance at his plate. “Mom, you did not… You made bazargan. What did I do to deserve such a good—?”

“Bruce, my question,” Martha replied.

“Your opinion means everything to me. If you don’t like her, it'll crush me,” Bruce whispered. 

“Have you had this same conversation with Alfred or your father?” Martha questioned.

“No, because Dad’s thrilled about—. Dad is Dad. And Alfred… I don’t think he’s ever told me no before, let alone said he didn’t like one of my friends—.”

“What is Thomas thrilled about?” Martha interrupted. Bruce returned to his meal as if he hadn’t heard her. “Bruce Thomas Wayne.”

“Mom, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise you. I’m not gonna spring any big news on you when you meet her… I just want you to keep an open mind because she’s special to me,” Bruce replied. 

“Is she pregnant?” Martha asked. 

“No. Well… I don’t think she is—.”

“Bruce, are you being safe?” Martha asked. Bruce shook his head. “Do you want something to—?”

“I haven’t thought about it. I just—. I don’t think either of us care about that right now,” Bruce interrupted. Martha started to eat. “Mom?”

She ran a hand down the back of his hair without looking at him. “You should care even if she doesn’t. A child is a huge responsibility, Bruce… You’re twenty-six, a medical intern, and you’re already spread so thin. We hardly ever see you anymore, and I think that’s normal… But when do you have time for yourself? I don’t want you to burn yourself out,” Martha replied. 

“Trust me, I’ll sleep once I get some time off,” Bruce reassured her. “What’s going on in Mom’s life?”

“I’m gonna invite kids from three different elementary schools to this year’s gala… Oh, and Cassie and I were thinking about doing an ocean theme,” Martha replied. 

“In the winter?” Bruce asked as he ate. 

“Back to the drawing board then,” Martha sighed.

“The best theme idea has been staring you in the face for five years, Mom… And it’s the best way to get Dick to show his face,” Bruce suggested. 

“What? No. No, I can’t do that—.”

“Do you want me to ask him? I know he’s got a network of acro-buddies all over now—.”

“I can’t ask Dick to do that,” Martha whispered. 

“Can’t ask me to do what?” Dick questioned as he slid down the staircase. “Hi, Bruce.”

“What do you think about a circus theme for Mom’s winter gala?” Bruce asked. Martha scowled at Bruce. 

“Sounds sick. Maybe Mom and I can do a routine together. She’s been getting good with the silks,” Dick replied as he leaned over the back of the couch and kissed Martha’s cheek. “It’d be nice to perform with my mom ag—. It’d be nice to perform with my mom. I want to perform with you.”

Martha softened and held Dick’s hand. “Sounds like a plan… What are you doing up?” Martha asked. 

“I had a nightmare,” Dick replied, “But I’m okay.” 

“C’mere, Robin,” Martha whispered. Dick sat on her other side and lay over her lap. “I love you boys so much.” 

“I love you, Mom,” Dick whispered.

“Love you, Mom,” Bruce smiled. 

“And?” Martha replied. Bruce and Dick groaned in unison. “For me?”

“I love you, Bruce,” Dick muttered.

“Love you too, Dick,” Bruce replied before pretending to gag. Martha sucked her teeth and played with Dick’s hair. “Goodnight, you two.” 

**

Alfred pulled Thomas in close as he pushed inside him slowly. They lay on their sides facing the wall, and Thomas murmured something incoherent as Alfred ran his hand down Thomas’ stomach to the base of his cock. “What was that darling?” Alfred asked as he started to stroke Thomas’ cock. Thomas moaned and whimpered. Alfred stopped stroking for a moment to cup his lover’s balls. Thomas hid his face in the pile of pillows. 

The room was near silent, outside of Thomas’ murmurs and whimpers, so Alfred stroked deeper to hear more from Thomas. “Please darling. You’re so quiet,” Alfred whispered, “Does something hurt?” 

“Fuck!” Thomas cursed into his pillow before cumming in Alfred’s hand. Alfred kept stroking until Thomas grabbed his wrist, and he rolled onto his stomach. Alfred came, took off his condom, and dumped it in the wastebasket before he heard a sob escape the pillows. 

“Thomas?” Alfred whispered as he rubbed Thomas’ back. “What’s the matter?” 

“I don’t know,” Thomas sobbed. Alfred pulled Thomas toward his lap, and Thomas shook his head. “No. It was good. You were good. I love you, and I’m sorry for crying—.”

“It’s not a problem, dar—.” 

“Bruce is going to move out soon… Dick is probably heading to Beijing next year… Cassie’s making her own way in school, and she’s got her Sleeping Beauty solo. I retired… And for what?” Thomas cried. “They’re our babies, but they’re not babies anymore… I don’t want them to go.” 

“Thomas, Master Bruce is not moving out. He’s far too stressed with his internship to leave home just yet. I’ve spoken to him, and he says he has no interest in moving until he’s finished residency… Thomas, perhaps you’re feeling unfulfilled,” Alfred replied. Thomas covered his face with his hands. 

“Who am I when I’m not a father or a doctor or the fucking mayor of—?”

“You are always a father but before all of that, you were a kind soul begging for the same excitement that Bruce seeks now. Perhaps you’ve forgotten what excites you,” Alfred suggested. Thomas rolled off of Alfred’s lap and lay facing the door.

[chronicfandom118]

OC INTRO: Martha McCoy

[First image is their base look, second image is after they get involved with the Wayne's, third image is them when they are comfortable. I also have them as fancy/pre-batfam. lmk if you guys want to see those too.

FANDOM: DC (Batfamily)

Age: 25

Gender: Non-Binary (AFAB) uses they/them, but will also use she/her because of the upper class but doesn't really like it.

Sexuality: Bi

In-Universe Relevance: They are Bruce Wayne's bio kid. A lot like Thomas Wayne in regards to fuck's given.

Abilities: Some self-defense training and they know how to shoot a gun.

BACKGROUND: They grew up attending galas and therefore have met Bruce and family. They were also brought along to meetings and office business because of their parents. They were an only child so taking over the family business was a must. Obviously rich upper class. They were named after Bruce's mom (their mother knew they were Bruce's kid and just lied to her husband). Their father did not know until after Martha was 19. When they learned their father was dirty (from going to meetings sometimes by themselves) they were trying to figure out how to get all the info to tell the cops about it. Batman found them one night and very soon after the encounter it comes out that they are Bruce's kid. There had always been talk due to their looks and name about being Bruce's kid. Their dad told everyone that he was not the bio dad and divorcing his wife, this was how Martha found out both of these things. Bruce jokingly he offered to take a test before this all came out. They plotted to help Batman get their father whether he wanted help or not. They officially meet the family knowing they are Bruce's kid. After helping take down their father with Batman, they find out one of the kid's is a vigilante which then leads to the conversation that Bruce is Batman.

(I can give an age line up for all the kids with Martha too)

[dickheadcanons]

Your brain is literally gynormous. Do you think Damian's and Dick's relationship is paternal? Because, as someone who has actually had to raise their sibling (do not recommend) it looks more like a guy that had too much in his plate trying to be the best caregiver he could, but not really being a parent, if that makes sense. I feel like the idea of him wanting to adopt him feels like kind of a retcon, couldn't really see it in the og run. But of course, it could be because it's not exactly the same as my experience (abusive father, incapable mother, yknow the drill). What do you think? All your posts are so good.

Also while you're at it, what do you think of Dick as a parent? Some elseworlds have played with the concept, and main continuity did something too with Olivia but T*m Tayl*r fucked that up too. I also wonder how Damian would be as a dad, but I don't think I've ever seen any stories with it.

omg anon thank you and thank you for asking!! this is literally one of my favorite topics!! i was thinking about making a post on this and now you gave me the excuse for it!!

Long story short, I don't think that “parental” is a binary thing. I mean, I know several bio-parents who are just guys with too much on their plates, trying to be the best they can, you know? And people can see parent figures in all kinds of relationships that aren’t blood or traditional moms/dads, especially with people who didn't know each other from birth. There are a million ways to be parented, and a million ways to act as a parent.

The way I think about it is, is Dick Damain's John Grayson? No, I don't think so.

But is Dick Damian's Bruce Wayne? Yes. Totally. Absolutely.

More under the cut bc I have a lot of thoughts.

I think to talk about Dick and Damian, we have to start with Dick and Bruce. So much about Dick and Damian is a reflection of the original Dynamic Duo, and I think that's very much the case with this element as well. From the start of their very long comic history, Dick and Bruce have been dancing around their relationship. We get early comics that say they're "like" father and son, we have Bruce saying he couldn't care about Dick more than if he was Bruce's son, but we also have places where they call each other their best friends, where they act more like brothers, etc etc.

When it comes to who our parents are, I think there is the responsibility, and the result. Certain people have the responsibility, the duty, to be our parents, and sometimes (because death or illness or being shitty people), they aren't able to meet those responsibilities. That never removes the responsibility; they don't stop being the parent. But they aren't able to create the result of us becoming good stable adults. That's where other people can step in, where the parental figure appears, and those are the people that we actually point to when we say "they made me the person I am today."

In fandom, we see a lot of Dick not wanting Bruce to replace his father, of him asking not to be adopted. I think this is a fine characterization that works with who Dick is, but Bruce is actually the one to say that he is not going to replace Dick's father. He says it completely unprompted, too. This is withholding the responsibility of being Dick's parent from Bruce, keeping him at a distance and reserving it as an honor for someone who can't hold it anymore, even as Bruce demands responsibility for literally everything else about Dick.

And I think that it's very telling of what Bruce's idea of a father is. The thing about having a dead parent at a young age is that the person of your parents is still tangled in the role of parent in your life; Mom is mom, not Martha, and because she's dead, the image of both Martha and "mom" is frozen. For Bruce, the relationship of father and son is frozen in the relationship of specifically his father and him. Of course Bruce is not Dick's father; Bruce himself is so different from what his conception of a father is. And as a fellow son, for Bruce, someone who just got back from 7 years abroad studying to be Batman, for whom the nearly 20 year old wound is still fresh, the idea of even wanting another father doesn't make sense, particularly for a boy that Bruce identifies with so hard that he becomes the third person ever to know who Batman is.

This looming memory is even worse when it's Dick's turn to be Batman. While Bruce looks at Dick and sees the memory of his own loss, the shadow of his own grief, Dick is looking at Damian and seeing Bruce. Dick knows very well who Damian lost; Dick is grieving what Damian lost more than Damian is. Bruce couldn't conceive of replacing a father, but Dick is struggling to imagining himself replacing Bruce at his job, much less who he was in his personal relationships.

But even if Damian isn't Dick's responsibility, Dick doesn't hesitate to care about Damian's future. "Who's going to save him if we don't?" At the start of the DickBats era, Dick isn't looking at Damian as a family member, really. He's looking at Damian as a victim, abet a very involved, very dangerous one. It's how Bruce looked at Dick too, before he had any reason to know that this kid would become something more to him. But, like Bruce, what Dick does to save Damian is bring him into the thing that is most precious to him; Batman. The mission. Saving people. A way to live in the world.

I know saying someone is the Batman to their Robin is like, a joke at this point. Something unbelievably cheesy. But you google "iconic duos" and Batman and Robin are one of the first responses. There's a reason for the joke. So imagine you are Robin, and your Batman is dead. And you have to go and find a new partner. Dick making Damian his Robin is heavy, just as heavy to me as adoption papers. Bruce made Dick his partner without any idea of what that meant. Dick, and the audience, had 70 years of expectation on what Dick and Damian could be. Dick making Damian Robin was a very specific claim, far stronger imo than just claiming him as a son would have been.

Because, to be honest (and speak to your other question), I don't think Dick thinks a lot about being a parent. I don't really think it's that important to him. Dick is a leader, a mentor, he deals with a ton of teenagers and kids through his vigilante work, he goes to Tim's sidekick parent's meetings and takes Jason skiing and more than that, he's also young. He's in his 20s. He should be at the club. I think he probably thinks he'll have kids in an abstract way, but it's not something he's looking for, consciously or unconsciously. He's not searching for connection, or to fix his mistakes or his past, the things that lead Bruce to adopting sidekicks. He'd be a great dad, and I think we see him being pretty good with his Elseworlds kids, but Dick is a very practical person, and him taking a kid in (vs finding somewhere else they can go) is not really the practical choice.

Except for one kid. There's just been one kid with legitimately no where else to go, where Dick is truly the only option, because going home meant only bad things for him. Dick made Damian part of his family in the ways that mattered to them both in that moment. With their lives, adoption doesn't really make a huge material difference on custody (if Damian wanted to leave, Dick couldn't have stopped him; Damian has access to basically unlimited money and can feed and clothe and wash himself. and possibly already has a phd.), and Dick wanted Damian to choose, anyway. If I recall correctly, Dick says he didn't think about taking Damian with him until Bruce comes back. He thought about taking Damian with him, thought that Damian might be better with Dick (his partner!!!!) than even with Bruce, his dad, the person Dick loves so much, only in the face of them being separated.

Meanwhile Damian, for all his blustering about how Dick needs to "earn" his respect, warms up to Dick startlingly quickly. For Damian, who had never known a father, who in his initial run hadn't even known his mother for more than two years, whose other male family is Ra’s al Ghul, his father is Batman. Even in Tomasi's kinder depiction of Damian's childhood, Damian only knows the Bat. And when he meets Bruce, the first thing he expresses is disappointment. Bruce the man is underwhelming and then goes and dies. So much for the mythic hero!

And then he meets Dick. Who manages to teach Damian something, who doesn't discount his skills even when he's wrong. Who proves that he is better at being Batman than Damian, and shows that he wants Damian around. And, even more importantly, who doesn't die. Dick is stable in a world constantly in flux. Damian screws up a lot in that run, and he leaves for long stretches of it, but Dick is always there when he gets back. There's no blame here, but the truth is that Dick is the one who stays.

Bruce was Damian's father, but what does that mean to someone whose never met a father at all? Bruce might have tried to connect with Damian before he died, but he doesn’t do it in a way that works. He doesn’t give Damian trust, he doesn’t encourage him in the ways Damian finds important…the first person to do that is Dick. Dick gives Damian responsibility, makes him part of the team. It could be argued that Damian didn’t deserve it, but we’re not talking about deserving. We’re talking about what worked. It sounds like as good an idea as making a tiny 8 year old acrobat a sidekick, but it undeniably worked for both Damian and Dick. Does that mean that either of these relationships were parental in the way that we think of it in the real world, in the way that a child psychologist would say is good and healthy? I have no idea. But they are the most parental in the absence of any other parents, and I think that means a lot.

Unfortunately, we don't get to actually see the dissolution of Dick and Damian's partnership. DC conveniently skips over showing us Bruce coming back and Dick becoming Nightwing again; preNew 52, Dick is still Batman with Damian even when Bruce returns, and in the New 52, he's been Batman "Before" and we don't really see the end, just a vague aftermath. But if it did take that kind of change to make them realize their relationship had a flavor of "parent and child", had the makings of something like a father and son, well, they'd just be following in the original Batman's footprints.

[fangedbats]

another snippet based off of this !! probably going to make this a full fic over the weekend

The gala’s music swirled around him, the sounds of laughter and soft chatter filling the grand hall. Bruce stood by the edge of the dance floor, watching as Gotham’s elite danced under the soft, golden lights. The perfect, polished image of the night—until the soft, inviting voice of a socialite broke through his thoughts.

“Mr. Wayne, would you care to join the dance floor?”

He turned to face her, the polite smile he wore often slipping into place. "I’m afraid not, not tonight."

She looked at him with a soft, knowing expression, and for a moment, Bruce felt the weight of her unspoken understanding. She smiled gracefully—accepting his refusal with ease before mingling back into the crowd. She knew, like everyone else, that he rarely danced. But tonight—the night of all nights—it would have been expected.

It would have been her 58th birthday.

Bruce’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass as his gaze turned back to the dancers. The music, soft and nostalgic, echoed a rhythm he couldn’t shake. He was supposed to be celebrating his mother’s memory, honoring her vision for the city she loved.

The Martha Wayne Foundation had been her dream, her passion, and he had continued it after her death—because it was her legacy, because it was right. But every gala, every event, every birthday—it reminded him of the quiet moments they had shared. The moments before the world was ripped away from him, before his mother’s warm embrace was forever lost.

Martha had loved to dance. He remembered those nights, when he was younger, when she would twirl him around the living room, her laughter echoing against the walls. He could still feel the warmth of her hand on his, the gentle rhythm as they danced together, the way her smile would light up the room.

How she had pulled a awestruck Thomas into dance while Bruce watched. His parents' laughter had floated around the room, timeless then and in his memories still.

He had been too young to understand how precious those moments were, how fleeting. But now, every time a dance floor called, it was as if a piece of her was still there, waiting for him to take her hand, waiting for him to feel her presence. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

His mother had believed in Gotham in ways that no one else had. She had worked tirelessly for the city's people, long before Bruce could fully understand her efforts.

The Wayne Foundation had grown, changing lives, just as she had dreamed. Even now, it flourished—because of her vision.

As he watched the dancers, he felt the bittersweet pull of his memories. It wasn’t the gala he resented. It wasn’t the celebration of his mother’s work that he avoided. It was the quiet moments he couldn’t forget—the way she had held him, the way they had danced together, the way he had felt her warmth and her love.

For a long moment, Bruce just stood there, letting the music wash over him, honoring the woman who had given him so much more than just the foundation—she had given him a sense of purpose, of belonging, that he was only now beginning to understand.

The music gradually softened, and Bruce found himself standing at the edge of the crowd, eyes scanning the room. The event was a success, as always, but his mind was elsewhere, still lost in the quiet ache of memory.

He caught sight of Alfred, moving through the crowd with his usual grace, offering his own quiet brand of support as he approached Bruce with a subtle, knowing smile.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said softly, “It’s a fine evening, isn’t it?”

Bruce nodded, though his expression was distant. “Yes, it is.”

Alfred’s eyes glinted with understanding, and he paused, looking out over the gala. “I noticed you didn’t take the floor tonight.”

Bruce’s gaze turned back to the dancers. “I can’t.”

Alfred’s smile faltered, and he placed a hand gently on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s not about the dance, sir. It’s about the person you are honoring. She would be proud of everything you’ve done for this city, for her foundation. For Gotham.”

Bruce’s throat tightened, and he exhaled slowly. “I know. I just... I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Alfred gave him a reassuring look, one that spoke more volumes than words ever could. “When you’re ready, Master Bruce. You’ve made her proud already.”

Bruce gave a tight nod, his eyes lingering on Alfred for a moment before he turned back to the podium. The evening was moving forward, and it was time to fulfill his duty—to honor his mother’s memory in a way that didn’t require a dance.

With a silent sigh, he made his way toward the stage, the murmurs of the crowd dying down as he took the microphone. He adjusted it with a steady hand, trying to steady his emotions, to focus on the words he needed to say.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Bruce began, his voice calm but firm. “Tonight, we honor my mother, Martha Wayne, and her tireless work to make Gotham a better place. Her vision for this city—her belief in its people—has shaped everything the Wayne Foundation does.”

His gaze swept the room, taking in the faces of those who had gathered, those who had contributed to the cause his mother had built. For a moment, he felt a sense of warmth, a connection to the legacy she had left behind.

“She believed in giving people the opportunity to succeed, to rise above the challenges they faced. And that’s a belief that still lives on in all of us.”

Bruce paused, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “We carry her work forward not because we have to, but because we want to. Because we owe it to her, and to all those who still need us.”

He cleared his throat, trying to push back the lump in his throat, but it was harder than he had expected. He wasn’t just honoring her memory. He was honoring the hope she had brought to Gotham.

“I miss her,” he added quietly, his gaze softening as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, just for a moment. “But I know she would be proud of the work we continue to do here. And I promise we will keep fighting for Gotham’s future—just as she always did.”

The room was silent for a beat before the applause began, and Bruce allowed himself a small, genuine smile. He had said what needed to be said. He had honored her the way she deserved.

As he stepped off the stage, Alfred was waiting nearby, his presence a quiet comfort. Bruce didn’t need to say anything; Alfred knew him well enough to understand the weight of the moment.

“I think she would have enjoyed that, Master Wayne,” Alfred said with a slight nod.

Bruce nodded, his chest tight but lighter than it had been all evening. “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.”

Alfred gave him a soft, proud, smile. “You’re welcome, sir. It’s an honor to serve both you and your mother’s legacy.”

Bruce glanced out at the crowd one more time, seeing not just the celebration of wealth and status, but the tangible impact of his mother’s work, carried on by those who cared.

And for the first time that night, he felt her presence again—not in the dance, but in the work they were doing together, for Gotham.

[phantoms-lair]

Batman Exalted thing - The First Exaltation

Bruce sometimes wished he crafted the identity of a reclusive hermit rather than a media darling. All he wanted to do was buckle down on the imminent attempt at a dimensional invasion and try to think of a way to solve it without relying on a power up from the enemy.

But instead here he was in an interview, talking about his company and charity work. "There's been some criticism of the Martha Wayne Free Clinic as of late. Some are skeptical about the noted criminal cliental." asked the interviewer.

Bruce fought back his annoyance. "My mother believed, as do I, that no person is expendable. Some have made poor decisions. Some had poor decisions made on their behalf without their consent. Some are children. All of them, all of them are entitled to medical care. The moment you start adding restrictions, it becomes all too easy to add more and more until only people who have been chosen as the 'right' people can gain aid. And there is nothing more abhorrent to me. Everyone in Gotham deserves care."

Will you protect all the people of Gotham?

Something twinged in his mind as wrong about the question, but he answered anyway. "Every last one." Bruce reaffirmed.

"That's quite a statement, given Gotham houses individuals like Scarecrow and the Joker." The interviewer pressed.

"They're still human. If Scarecrow had a heart attack in Blackgate, he'd still receive life saving care. Outside should be no different."

"But should that be the case? Do people like that deserve to be saved?"

Will you save them?

Bruce fought the urge to scowl. "Of course. And if I can save their minds too, I'll do it. I refuse to give up on anyone."

"MmmHmm." The interviewer looked at him like she'd figured something out. "You had a well know friendship with Harvey Dent. Between that and your charity clinic serving villains, it seems you have some connections to the wrong side of the tracks. Maybe the squeaky clean image of Bruce Wayne is hiding something else?"

Is your philanthropy really to help others, or just a cover?

He stood up, letting a sliver of his anger slip through. At this point it would be stranger not to take offense. "I watched my parents die in a mugging. It would have been so easy to act like you. To judge and look down on people I could easily blame for my grief. But my parents loved Gotham and wanted to see it rise above it's own ashes. And in trying to see their wishes granted I grew to love the city too. All of it. Good and Bad. And I will never give up on it or stop fighting to make it better."

Do you think you can protect the city?

"I will protect Gotham till the day it kills me." Bruce snarled, rising to his feet. And he knew something wasn't right. Something was feeding into his emotions. But it was too late to stop it. The screens cut to static as Bruce Wayne exploded.

~

The Bats had gotten their first, because of course they did. Jim was listening to his radio as he made his way to the studio, not saying a word.

Some of the reports were positive. Everyone else had made it out of the studio. Whatever had caused Bruce Wayne to explode in a dizzying array of light hadn't affected anyone else. This being Gotham, every had evacuated quickly. And the studio didn't seem to be catching ablaze. Small mercies.

From the radio he heard that most of the Bats had shown up, despite it being the middle of the day. They'd sealed the place tight, with Spoiler and Signal bodyguarding the entrance, saying only Gordon himself could get through. His men had tried to force the issue and they'd threatened Black Bat in retaliation.

Jim pulled into the crime scene that was likely the death spot of Gotham's Favorite Son. Spoiler was at the door, arms crossed, while Signal was talking to the EMTs. When she saw him she nodded and moved aside.

Jim didn't know what he was going to find inside. But whatever it was, it wasn't this. Despite video of the explosion going out before the feed was cut, Bruce Wayne seemed to be alive and well, sitting of the set with his head in his hands.

The power literally rippling off him was new. A bright blue energy flowed from his eyes and into a beautiful display rippling around him. It was Gotham, not any one part of it but a rippling view of the city from Park Row to Bristol ever shifting and changing, leading into a night sky with bats flying around. All contained in a very familiar, albeit larger than life silhouette of a sharp eared cowl and cape. The imagery plus his being there for the first conversation with Quill made it obvious.

Bruce Wayne was Batman. And he'd just Exalted, publicly, while in his civilian persona.

"Does one of you powers include seeing the future?" Nightwing asked someone on the other end of the phone. "Then I don't think not being able to accurately get into the mindset of a manipulative sociopath is a personal failing."

"What does Quill say?" Bruce asked in a completely exhausted tone.

"That you're an Exigent, like her. You're in 'Iconic' or 'Bonfire' anima, which is a representation of your soul and power and it's going to take a while for it to calm down. Also that in retrospect it makes sense as he wants a throne to be a power behind and Batman would never accept a throne but Bruce Wayne is more vulnerable. as well as already being a power in the city."

"Nightwing!" Robin hissed, glaring at Nightwing,

"He's involved." Bruce said in the same tired voice. "He's been involved since before you were born. We can trust him, and against Ketchup we need all the help we can get. The question is, what is our next move?" "If you want to kill off Bruce Wayne, now is the time." Red Robin said idlily. "Drake!" Robin shouted reprovingly. It wasn't just Bruce. It was Bruce's whole damn family. "What? He can make a new identity easily. All the paperwork is in place for Uncle Eddie if we need something in a pinch. But this would allow him to devote his time to his actual interests rather than juggle a very public identity that mostly annoys him." Red Robin shrugged. "Most people don't change identities like a coat, Baby Bird." Nightwing said, gently. "They need to get on my level." Red Robin sniped back.

"Killing off Bruce Wayne is not an option. I can feel the ripples of my death having an affect in the city. People are already planning to use it to roll back a lot of the philanthropic works I've done." Bruce blinked. "That interviewer was accepting a bribe to discredit me."

"How do you know?" Gordon asked. "I just do." Bruce sounded more bewildered than tired.

"Can an Exigent be the chosen of a location, like a city?" Nightwing asked Quill. "She says yes." Bruce sat up straighter. "Ask Quill what we should say. Her whole power revolves around stories and that's what we need right now."

"Okay, give her a minute." Nightwing instructed. "Okay, send out word that Bruce Wayne is alive, but under some kind of magical effect. Unknown, but a curse hasn't been ruled out. Bring in Justice League members know to work with magic as cover. Have them recommend isolation until the effects are fully known, which will give Bruce the privacy he needs to get this under control."

"I'll get on the official story then." He was going to get answers out of Batman, out of Bruce, but later. "If news of your survival isn't slowing down the plans, let me know. Nightwing, I take it you can call the Justice League." "There's someone else you need to call first." Bruce reminded Nightwing. "He's panicking right now with the news, but won't admit it."

"Oracle's already keeping Agent A informed." "Not him. R2." Nightwing snorted. "And he pretends he doesn't care." Jim saw himself out. And much as it still burned a little that something was obviously being kept from him, Bruce had said nothing to try to hide his own secrets or that of his children's. Which meant R2, whoever that was, was likely someone else's secret that Bruce didn't feel at liberty to say, like Oracle and Agent A. So fair.

That was for later. They all had work to do.

[arkhameirs]

BRUCE WAYNE + MARTHA ARKAHM - a study in expression ; there was something very mysterious and endearing about my mother. at times she was so secure in who she was and what she wanted to be ... that i remember being awed and her presence was an awesome force. then there were times where sadness engulfed and there was no light to be had , those times i told myself that she had somehow gone away ... that she had ebbed away as does the sea upon the shore. her behavior wasn't a reflection of the child that she couldn't bear to look at but ? she felt deeper than anyone else. how was i , at a child meant to deal with my father's indiscretions ? - they tell me i look like the spitting image of her , we have the same arkham features that when i look into the mirror i'm left with nothing but fear. the fear that history , her history is staring back at me. i love her , and i forgive her - she is human , and loved me as best she could. i wonder now , would she approve , would she love the son that had so deeply fallen from grace ? - bruce wayne entry #1457 sept 24th , 2023.

[ev-arrested]

OK if you want Dick/Tiger prompts I have like eight rattling around my skull of varying degrees of fleshed out so I'll just. Spam you.

First up: Mr and Ms Smith AU Dick and Tiger are both spies (maybe Bruce followed in Alfred's MI6 footsteps to fight crime and pursue justice instead of doing it via kevlar fursuit so the Batfam is a spyfam), married, and they live across from an equally married but still superheroes Midpollo. Midnighter and Tiger have THE most suburban dad rivalry going and it annoys the hell out of both of them to have any part in a suburban dad rivalry until Midnighter gets a fancy garden tech inspired grill and Tiger HAS to one up him to make him stop looking so fucking smug. Absolutely nobody knows how when or why Dick and Tiger got married, except for Helena (she officiated) and Dick's gym students (witnesses/flower girls). It's all fun and games and Tiger being awestruck and horrified that Dick looks sane standing next to his family UNTIL Tiger's organization starts investigating the identity of the Bats and. Well. Love conquers all in the end. Possibly with the help of how great Dick looks in an evening gown with a thigh high slit and Martha Wayne's pearls. I have a very vivid image of absolutely everyone in slightly bloody formal wear standing around as Dick and Tiger do a vow renewal while the dust is still settling and Dick's siblings are sundry shades of obnoxiously overdramatic sobbing, Bruce looks like he's eaten a lemon, Apollo and Midnighter are there as Tiger's groomsmen because at some point during the conflict he was forced to deem them adequate backup in battle, Helena is yet again stuck officiating, Dick's gym students are his bridesmaids. Dick is wearing the aforementioned evening gown with a thigh high slit but he's added a veil that was visibly made as part of a $5 Halloween costume. Tiger is absolutely slaying in deep reds with gold embroidery. He and Dick renew their vows in the smoking rubble of whatever ballroom just exploded and it is the first time almost everyone present has ever seen Tiger smile.

You’re in for a treat when Dick Grayson week starts tomorrow. I had an ancient Mr. and Mr. Grayson sketch from like a year ago that I fucking excavated, and turns out tomorrow’s prompts include “Spyral Crew”, so guess what sketch is (probably) getting posted and when

[consultingsister-a5]

i can't believe you have that picture on your wall.

a meme / from @batfall

"Which one?" Cee calls from the other room, finishing off their drinks with a flourish. Maybe she can't cook, but she can make a good drink. "The vagina one? Oh--" She comes in behind him, glasses in hand. It's not 'the vagina one' he's looking at.

It's a black-and-white picture, although she is pretty sure it wasn't originally black and white. She just thought it looked classier that way. The image is taken by someone standing, with four smiling faces looking up at them. Cee likes to think it was taken by her own father, although she has no memory of her father with a camera in his hand.

The two women look the same age, and the two small children, each perched on their mother's knees, must have only a couple months between them too; maybe a year. The children's hair is damp and sticking to their foreheads and they have towels wrapped around them. Cee doesn't remember whose pool it was; there was nothing with the picture to suggest it was taken in England or America. It's too focused on the beach chairs and happy families. The whole story behind Mrs Holmes and Mrs Wayne's bookend smiles has been lost to history. Along with the women themselves.

It was a mystery if the two women ever got past small talk. Did Violet Holmes admit to her 'friend' that she felt as if she was losing her mind? the picture was surely taken only a year or so before her death after all. Did Martha Wayne pat Violet's knee and say, I know what you mean. These old houses are haunted, I don't know where I begin and the darkness ends anymore. Could they have saved each other if they had?

None of this is obvious in the old picture. It's just two loving, happy mothers and two protected, happy children. That's why Cee likes it. If you didn't know the women, the picture wouldn't stand out among the many other happy smiling faces on her wall. They look normal; it makes her feel normal."It's nice, isn't it? Do you want a copy?"

[bruciemilf]

I saw a post where its mentioned social media style that Thomas' jaw was shattered by Joe Chill's gun (the bastard directly threatened Bruce???) and, in the Clark mediumship post that his ghost had the skin of his jawline ripped off.

It also mentioned that Martha bit off his fingers, and that someone's teeth were missing and I was just wondering - was Martha the one missing teeth (from biting through bone), or was Joe Chill the one missing teeth (considering she had flesh and blood under her nails, and even after getting shot I have this larger-than-life image of her continuing to beat the shit out of the man)?

In a world where Thomas and Martha are ghosts, do they appear as they looked when they died? How do you perceive them specifically?

And, I think you mentioned once that her brother took her body from Gotham? So...in a ghost AU, how would...that work out?

Also, how likely is it that Martha choked someone through weaponizing jewelry? You never see it coming, and the murder weapon both comes and goes by way of the killer wearing it both in and out of the door.

She's a badass bitch, I don't know. There's something interesting about her weaponizing something that isn't meant to seem dangerous - considering women are often likened to jewelry, pretty and priceless and objects to be looked at....

(Those pearls Chill tried to steal were not just meant to look pretty).

Very excited to talk about this.

Martha’s teeth break when he bites off Joe’s fingers, yeah! What I noticed is that Waynes aren’t granted pretty deaths; When they die, they let the world know. It’s not a graceful, or silky, or easy to chew.

As for Jacob taking her body, — in my AU, it’s the raw culmination of a breakdown that’s been waiting to happen, and can’t anymore. He didn’t do it as a statement, or pettiness, or bitterness.

It’s hatred. Maybe for Gotham, or Thomas, or both.

But it’s also affection, to me. It’s ruinous and devastating, and there’s no word for it but love.

When he tells Bruce about it, when the boy crawls bare foot through Russian snow for Jacob to train him, and he asks why, the answer is very simple.

“I loved my sister. You’ll do this for someone too, one day.”

It’s a threat and promise in one.

Hate is love in putrefaction , Jacob thinks, and Bruce has been dead a long time.

Above all else, Bruce is saddened he can’t deny it.

[watchmakerhippo]

Imperfect

The god of the river, Kefis, forces the beautiful nymph Liriope to have coitus under the waves. She becomes pregnant by him and gives birth to a beautiful child, whom she names Narcissus. Liriope turns to the seer Tiresias and asks if her son will live to adulthood. The prophet replies: "If he does not fall in love."

Many years pass and Narcissus grows into a stunning 16-year-old boy. Many men and women tried to capture his heart, but he rejected them all out of pride. One day, the mountain nymph Echo spots Narcissus while he is hunting deer in the forest. She is captivated by the boy's beauty. Instantly, she falls madly in love with him, and secretly tracks his every move in the forest. Echo is unable to express her feelings to Narcissus, so she waits for him to say something first so that she can at least repeat his words.As it happens, Narcissus separates from his hunters and calls out, "Is anyone there?" Of course, Echo is there, and she calls back, "Here." Narcissus wants to know who it is, and after a few words of exchanging and repeating answers, Narcissus calls the source of the voice out of hiding. She appears and immediately throws her arms around his neck. However, instead of responding lovingly, the boy rejects Echo, saying, "Away! May I die before what is mine becomes yours."Echo is embarrassed and flees in shame. The insulted nymph is so unhappy that she hides among the leaves and lives alone in mountain caves. All this time, her love continues to grow, as does her despair. Her body withers, and her bones turn to stone. From now on, only Echo's voice remains in the mountains.

After meeting Echo, Narcissus continues to reject many others who crave the boy's attention. One of his suitors becomes so contemptuous, he curses Narcissus, that he could suffer as he had made others suffer. Nemesis, the goddess who avenges acts of hubris, hears the plea.One day while hunting, Narcissus comes across some pristine, clear water. He is attracted by its beauty and lies down to drink, but what he sees in the still water enchants him. He is in love with what he sees: hair, eyes, porcelain skin and rosy cheeks. Attempts to kiss and hold the reflection are in vain, and Narcissus is disappointed only by the teasing reaction of the image. When Narcissus winks, the image winks back, when Narcissus waves, the image waves, and when he cries tears, he sees that the image is crying too. The narcissist cannot understand why he cannot achieve what he so desperately desires.The tormented boy is tormented by his unrequited love. He cannot leave the source and is frozen in his frozen gaze in his reflection, yearning for the boy in the water who rejects all advances.

Narcissus then realizes that this is his image, but it is too late, as he has already fallen tragically in love with himself. Knowing that he can never have what he desires, his body dies in despair. When Narcissus says "Goodbye" to the reflection, Echo's voice says "Goodbye." At that moment, Narcissus dies, looking into the surface.

How did my story begin? Don't remember? Okay, let's start from the beginning, but I'm telling you this for the last time.

To be born in Gotham is a misfortune. To come to Gotham from another city is a double misfortune, to come and be robbed is a triple misfortune. And how did this happen?

In the center of town, near the botanical garden name Martha Wayne, stood a girl with her head down and dirty pants. On the way to Gotham Academy, she was robbed, called names, and even pushed. Not just anywhere, but into a big puddle! Fortunately, only a pen and an eraser were stolen, but her big ego, inflated to its maximum limits, was hurt and she didn't like it at all. She was the proud daughter of a politician Tempest. A politician who gave them, the dirty inhabitants of Gotham, a chance to exist, even if it was a miserable existence. They shouldn't just be grateful, they should kiss the asphalt she walked on. 

"Hey, don't stand there and let me pass."

Oh yeah. She said Gotham is terrible? No? Then she will tell. This dirty city, all so dark and gloomy, as if lost in its own 80s world. Even Pripyat and Dudleytown look like paradise against its backdrop. 

Tucking in the wet part of her trousers and shaking off the dust, she walked towards the house, muttering to herself about the half-baked peasants. Every step she took was calming and slowly her anger gave way to apathy. As she walked, she counted the number of passers-by and said out loud funny names of shops and banks, she kicked the rock and took out her phone from time to time to check the time and find out where she was on maps.

It was her obsessive habit and mania. The thing is, she was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. These seemingly simple things helped her escape from her disturbing thoughts and ease her anger, which more than once grew into a violent hysteria. And anger caused passive-aggressive disorder. Add to this narcissistic disorder and that would be a killer combo for a teenager who's barely 18 years old. 

Although she did not agree with the latter. She didn't consider herself a narcissist, she just saw the world through transparent glasses, and not like most people through a rose-colored prism where unicorns fly and mermaids do the splits. In her opinion, pathetic, insignificant people who are not some kind of important constant in the life of the country do not have the right to complain about the government and should be grateful for any piece of bread. After all, no one could make this piece of bread without someone to guide them. They need control all the time and important people who care about them a lot, helping them achieve what they want. So she is always shocked when she sees ordinary people revolting, speaking badly of the government, and climbing into their bed simply for money, and not out of gratitude.

"Good morning, lady Tempest. Your spare uniform is waiting for you in the locker room, the bath is already filled and all the products are already mixed. While you were rushing to school, you forgot to take your lunch and jacket. Try not to stay too long, your father wants to see you in the evening, ready for the gala concert held by the Wayne family."

This was her faithful butler. The only one of all the common people who could be on the same level with the important ones. His name is Ron and he spent almost half his life by her side, helping her with everything and showering her with affection and love. His past is quite mysterious and his love of violence makes him more threatening to everyone but her. She likes him exactly like this. 

"Ron, you forgot something."

A puzzled, wrinkled look appeared on the old man's face for a second, but was immediately replaced by that menacingly innocent smile. 

"Oh, yes, how could I forget. Forgive that rusty dog. Lady Tempest, you look stunning today, as always."

A proud smile appeared on her face and the apathy disappeared, leaving behind a feeling of superiority and confidence in his own godlikeness. Ron's words always lifted her spirits and filled her with a new portion self-adoration.  

"It's okay. The main thing is that you understood what you need to say."

Her loud, teeth-grinding sweet voice echoed throughout the bright, green mansion. The animals, who were in a separate wing, immediately became restless and tried to escape from the cage or aquarium and run to her. Since their appearance, they have loved Lady Tempest, better known as Y/n, and often brought her their treasures. Usually these were dead animals, rotten fruit, a torn piece of grass, or a deflated ball. To all this, Y/n simply stroked them and quietly threw them into the trash, not wanting to offend the animals' feelings, but also not wanting to take the gifts.

The maids immediately ran up to them and tried to calm them down. Unlike their owners, they had the most difficulty adapting to their new habitat. San Jose was gentle and welcoming, while Gotham radiated an aura of death and devastation. And let's be honest, Gotham is notorious throughout the world for its frequent crimes. It was a huge contrast to their old home and caused a lot of stress. But he quickly disappeared when the salary rose.  

The other maids immediately ran up to their young mistress and hurried to help her undress and lie down in the hot bath. Every step they took was nervous, but not because of Y/n, but because of the person behind her. Her favorite butler.After washing, dressing and checking that she had everything with her, Lady Tempest set off on foot.

Yes, on foot, you didn't hear you. The thing is, at the last meeting of politicians, Y/n, who was with other children, subtly insulted the adopted daughter of one of the politicians and destroyed his relationship with her father. This hit their reputation hard, but, albeit unhealthy, her father's love did not give way to anger, and only with a tired sigh did he punish her to walk to school.She didn't argue much and accepted the punishment with a calm face.

Walking along the now familiar sidewalk, counting cars again, naming the colors of buildings and looking at the time, she calmly reached Gotham Academy. The appearance was not bad, of course it was not entirely made of gold or silver, as in her dreams, but a beige building (thank God it was not white like in the mental hospital) a little larger than her house was enough. 

"Well then, meet Gotham Academy Lady Y/N Tempest"

Masterlist