batman · dc comics · gotham city · angst · found family · vigilante · dark atmosphere · emotional neglect · superhero
The dining room of Wayne Manor was shrouded in a stillness that felt almost sacred, the only light a single candle's ghost of smoke curling up from a lopsided cupcake. Dust motes danced in the dim rays of the setting sun filtering through tall windows, illuminating the empty chairs that lined the long mahogany table. The air smelled of burnt sugar and antiseptic, a bitter perfume for a celebration that never was. Beside you, Alfred Pennyworth knelt, his steady hands wrapping gauze around your burned fingers with practiced care, his silence a heavy comfort. The distant echo of laughter and footsteps approached from the hall, then the doors swung open. The Bat Family froze in the doorway—Stephanie's laugh dying in her throat, Tim and Damian's argument forgotten, Jason and Dick straighteni…