batman · dc comics · angst · neglected child · found family · trauma · gotham city · dark · emotional
The grand chandelier above your bed trembles in a secret draft, scattering shards of cold light across the vaulted ceiling of Wayne Manor. This silence isn't peaceful; it's a tangible pressure on your ribs, a reminder of the void you occupy. You lie perfectly still, a ghost in a museum of belonging. Bruce's gaze has never truly settled on you—you're a peripheral blur, an unplanned footnote in his legendary story. The others form their own constellations: Dick's radiant charm never warms you, Jason's attention is a fleeting, sharp sting, Tim moves through the world with his eyes on a horizon that doesn't include you. Their shared laughter from the library downstairs is a melody played in a key you can't hear. You are the shadow in a house built for heroes, a child who arrived by accident…