#mommasboy

Ok here’s Kel’tul meeting his Kame’tire mommy for the first time WHATTEEVVEERRR

She found him in the forest not long after he escaped the ruins of TAP (a couple days)

ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE 🫣

In the Wayne living room, back when Dick was maybe eight or nine — still her only baby, still small enough to curl perfectly under her arm. It’s movie night, a tradition she takes very seriously: homemade popcorn, blanket forts, and twinkle lights. Bruce had gone down to the cave for “a quick systems check.” (Translation: he’d be gone for hours.)*

---

Arielle: (innocently scrolling through channels)

Hmm… “Finding Nemo”… “Cinderella”… oh — what’s this one? “Something Strange in the Dark”? Sounds like a documentary.

Dick: (perched beside her with popcorn)

Mom, that doesn’t sound like a documentary.

Arielle:

Really? It’s got “Dark” in the title — sounds educational.

Cue five minutes later — eerie music, ominous doors creaking, flickering lights.

Dick: (slowly inching closer)

Uh… Mom?

Arielle: (pretending to yawn)

Hm? Oh, it’s not that scary, sweetheart. Just a little suspense—

A thunderclap. A jump scare. Dick yelps and burrows straight into her side.

Arielle: (fighting a smile, wrapping her arms around him immediately)

Oh, baby, it’s okay! See? Just silly special effects.

Dick:

You knew it was scary!

Arielle: (mock gasp)

Me? Never! I would never intentionally put on something spooky just so you’d snuggle with me all night.

Dick:

...You totally did.

Arielle: (grinning, kissing the top of his head)

Maybe a little. But can you blame me? My brave little acrobat grows more independent every day — I have to schedule my cuddles now!

Dick: (pouting but snuggling closer anyway)

You don’t have to trick me, Mom. I’d stay with you anyway.

Arielle melts completely, hugging him tighter. The scary movie forgotten, she lowers the volume, content with the steady rhythm of her son’s heartbeat pressed against her.

---

It’s years later.  The older boys are out; the manor is quiet except for Damian reading on the couch and Arielle wandering in with a bowl of popcorn.

Arielle:

“Movie night, habibi.  Just you and me.”

Damian:

“I am in the middle of a volume on Renaissance fencing forms.”

Arielle:

“And I am in the middle of missing my son.  So that’s that.”

She drops beside him, already scrolling through the streaming menu.

Damian:

“Please tell me this is not another of your sentimental dramas.”

Arielle:

“Fine, we’ll watch something educational.”

(She clicks a documentary thumbnail that—unbeknownst to her—is three hours of whisper-narrated footage about sloths.)

Ten minutes later, Damian is frowning.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s dozing off against her shoulder.

Arielle’s smile spreads slowly.  She adjusts the blanket, enjoying the quiet weight of him.

Arielle: (softly, to herself)

“Didn’t even need a scary movie this time.”

But just as she’s about to reach for the remote, a low voice murmurs:

Damian:

“You planned this.”

Arielle: (freezing)

“What?”

Damian: (eyes still closed)

“You chose something impossibly dull so I would fall asleep.  Transparent tactics, Ummi.”

Arielle: (grinning)

“Caught me.”

Damian:

“…Do it again next week.”

A/N

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Not many people know however that he had a bad habit of misplacing his glasses. He did it so often that at one point his mother gave him glasses chains, because she was tired of her son losing his glasses and needing new ones.

He despised it. The chains were hers, they were old, too long for him and made him look stupid.

Initially a hated accessory (I'd assume it was another reason for children to bully him), became a staple of Alastor style and he continued wearing them as an adult. Besides, chains help to not lose one's glasses during a murder.

💘 Let me Welcome ALL my New Friends and Followers! 👋 👋 Starting Over on Tumblr sux! 😔

For Those Who Don't know What I do and Why I DO it.. Let me Explain! A few Years Ago My Son Kody was Diagnosed with A.L.L. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (Cancer). 🎗️ I spent the First 2 years Living in Vanderbilt Children's Hospital w him and since our Lives have been a Never Ending Series of Dr Trips, and Pokes, and Spinal Taps, etc. 😒

And let me Tell yall Cancer Care isn't Free like St Judes likes to deceive and tell people in their Commercials! There is still Gas, Lodging, Activities when he's Able, and a MEGA ton of Dr Bills from Life Flights and out of network Dr visits! I thought Charities were gonna come out the woodwork to Help! Then the Sad Reality set in.... NO Help was Coming!! I Contacted over 35 Charities and Received not a DIME of Help! So l Started Making Spicy 🎥 & 📸’s and NEVER looked Back!

DAMIAN'S FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL - BATMOM OC

The Wayne Manor breakfast table looked less like a morning meal and more like a command center. Arielle stood over Damian like a general readying her soldier for battle-except instead of armor, it was school supplies.

Arielle (holding up his pencil case):

"Do you have your pencils? Pens? Eraser? What about your lunch money? No-scratch that, I packed you a full lunch just in case. And Damian, remember, if anyone is mean to you-"

Damian (flat, arms crossed):

"I will destroy them."

Arielle (gasping, horrified):

"No! You will ignore them. Or tell a teacher. No destroying anyone."

Tim, already in his school uniform, sat across the table trying not to laugh into his orange juice.

Tim (muttering):

"This is going to be fun."

Damian shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Arielle, oblivious, bent down to straighten Damian's collar for the third time.

Arielle (softly, fussing):

"You'll make friends, sweetheart. Just... try to smile a little, okay? And don't bring up swords. Or assassins. Or your father's hobby."

Damian (dead serious):

"Mother, I am the heir to the League of Assassins and the son of the Batman. Do you truly expect me to bond over juvenile subjects such as-"

Arielle (cutting him off, cupping his face):

"Yes. Exactly that. Bond over... juice boxes. Or trading cards. Or whatever it is ten-year-olds bond over these days. Please, Damian. Just try."

At the doorway, Bruce leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a quiet smirk.

Bruce (low voice, half to himself):

"...It's like Dick's first day all over again."

Arielle looked up at him, wide-eyed.

Arielle:

"It is! You remember how nervous I was? He looked so small in that uniform, and I just knew the other kids wouldn't understand him, and-"

Bruce (fond, interrupting gently):

"And he was fine. He thrived. Just like Damian will."

Damian, unimpressed, slipped free of Arielle's hands and shouldered his backpack.

Damian (grumbling):

"I hardly require a babysitter's lecture. Let us depart before I am late."

---

The Car Ride

In the backseat of the sleek black town car, Tim scrolled casually on his phone while Damian sat rigidly, arms crossed. Arielle turned in her seat, looking back at her youngest with maternal worry written all over her face.

Arielle (softly):

"Sweetheart... just remember-you don't have to prove anything to anyone today. You just have to be you. And... if it feels overwhelming, take a deep breath, okay? You're not alone. Tim's there too. And I'll be right here waiting when the day ends."

For the briefest moment, Damian's hard expression softened. He looked at her, wide-eyed, the way only she ever got to see him.

Damian (quiet, almost a whisper):

"Yes, Ummi."

Tim glanced up from his phone, raising a brow.

Tim (teasing):

"Aw. He's nervous."

Damian (snapping back instantly):

"Silence, Drake, before I end you."

Arielle gasped.

Arielle:

"Damian! What did we say about threats?"

Damian (huffing, looking away):

"...They're only empty if I don't follow through."

Tim snorted. Arielle groaned. Bruce, driving them, hid a smile.

---

Drop-off (aka mistaken for a Velcro baby)

The Wayne car stopped in front of the academy. Kids ran off with backpacks bouncing, some crying into their parents, some practically sprinting toward freedom.

Inside, Arielle had Damian's collar straightened for the third time.

Arielle (fussing):

"Do not climb walls, do not threaten anyone, no batarangs, and no Latin insults. Please, baby, just... try to enjoy it."

Damian sat rigid, arms folded.

Damian (flatly):

"I have fought mercenaries twice my size, Ummi. I believe I can survive a classroom."

Arielle sighed, pulled him in, and hugged him tightly. He tolerated it-expression blank, but he didn't push her away. Tim, already standing outside, smirked knowingly.

That's when a cheerful teacher approached, clipboard in hand.

Teacher (warmly):

"First day, huh? Don't worry, sweetheart-we'll take good care of you."

Damian turned his head slowly, glaring.

Damian (cool, cutting):

"Do not address me as 'sweetheart.'"

The teacher chuckled, mistaking the attitude for shyness. She bent slightly, reaching for his hand.

Teacher:

"It's alright. You can hold my hand if you're nervous."

Damian stared at her hand like it was diseased.

Damian (deadpan):

"If you touch me, you'll regret it."

Tim snorted from the curb.

Tim (grinning):

"Yeah, he's really adjusting well."

Damian shot him a sharp look.

Damian (dry):

"Drake, you're proof that schools fail children regularly."

Bruce, watching from the driver's seat, muttered under his breath:

Bruce:

"This is Grayson's first day all over again."

Meanwhile, Arielle hugged Damian again, planting a kiss on the top of his head. He didn't flinch-he simply let her, still stoic.

Arielle (softly, emotional):

"My baby. You'll be fine."

Damian's gaze softened a fraction.

Damian (quiet, only to her):

"Yes, Ummi."

The teacher smiled tenderly, whispering under her breath:

Teacher:

"Such a little mama's boy."

Damian turned his head, eyes narrowing.

Damian (calm, but sharp as a blade):

"I suggest you rethink that statement."

The teacher blinked, frozen. Arielle laughed nervously, tugging Damian forward with one last kiss. Tim was practically doubled over in laughter as Damian walked off, straight-backed, refusing to look back.

---

In Class

The teacher led Damian into the bright, noisy classroom. Children laughed, swapped trading cards, and chattered about superheroes. To Damian, it sounded like the squawking of caged birds.

Damian (to himself, dry):

"Glorified daycare."

He sat at his desk, posture perfect, arms folded. He scanned the room-eyes sharp, cataloging every detail. Who was loud. Who was shy. Who carried themselves with confidence. Who tripped over their shoelaces.

A boy in front turned around, grinning.

Boy:

"Hi! I'm Josh. Wanna be friends?"

Damian blinked once, slowly.

Damian (flat):

"Friendship requires common ground. You chew your pencil."

Josh's grin faltered.

Josh:

"...Oh."

Damian returned to his notebook, sketching a near-perfect anatomical drawing of a falcon in flight.

Later, during math, the teacher posed a question about fractions. Dozens of hands shot up. Damian didn't move.

Teacher (calling on him anyway):

"Damian, would you like to try?"

He gave a flat stare, then rattled off the answer and explained three alternate ways to solve it, with perfect articulation. The room went quiet.

Teacher (blinking):

"Well. That's... correct."

Damian leaned back, unimpressed.

Damian (dry):

"Hardly worth the time."

At recess, a group of boys invited him to join a soccer game.

Boy:

"Hey, new kid! Wanna play striker?"

Damian looked at the ball like it was beneath him.

Damian:

"I've trained with Olympic athletes. Your game would bore me."

The kids booed him off, muttering "weirdo." Damian ignored them, climbing to the top of the jungle gym in seconds. He perched there silently, like a hawk, watching.

A girl walked over, clutching a book. She eyed his sketch of the falcon.

Girl (quietly):

"You draw really good."

Damian looked at her for a long moment. Unlike the others, she hadn't been loud, irritating, or demanding. Just... observing.

Damian (curt, but not cruel):

"Correct. I do."

She sat down near him, opening her book. Damian didn't chase her away. He simply returned to sketching. For him, that was acknowledgment enough.

Back in class, another boy tapped Damian's shoulder, trying to copy from his notes. Damian's pencil stopped mid-line.

Damian (low, dangerous):

"If you so much as breathe on my work again, you'll lose a finger."

The boy squeaked and turned away.

By the end of the day, Damian had made no "friends," but the entire class already knew: the new kid was brilliant, scary, and very much untouchable. Exactly as Damian preferred.

-

Time for the School Pickup

Arielle's heart swelled the second she spotted Damian leaving the school building, perfectly composed like he hadn't just finished his first day ever in a traditional classroom. She was on him in an instant, hugging him like he'd survived a war.

Arielle (squeezing him):

"My baby! I missed you so much, sweetheart!"

Damian stood stiffly, lips pressed in a thin line, but he didn't push her off.

Damian (flatly):

"Mother, this display is unnecessary."

She kissed his cheek anyway, beaming like the sun.

Meanwhile, Tim strolled up behind them, earbuds in, scrolling his phone. Arielle immediately reached out with her free hand, tugged him closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head without hesitation.

Arielle (warmly):

"And how was your day, Timmy?"

Tim didn't even flinch-he was used to it. Just mumbled, "Fine," while sliding into the car. But then, with a sly look, he decided to stir the pot.

Tim (smirking):

"Damian had quite the day, though."

Damian's head snapped toward him, glare sharp enough to kill.

Damian:

"Don't."

Tim (ignoring the warning):

"He didn't talk to a single kid, sat at the front of the class like he was CEO of Gotham Academy, and told the math teacher she was wrong. Oh-and when a kid tried to trade him a pudding cup, he said-" [drops into a mock Damian voice] "-'I do not sully myself with prepackaged desserts.'"

Arielle gasped softly, covering her mouth with her hand-half horrified, half amused.

Arielle:

"Damian! You didn't actually say that, did you?"

Damian (arms crossed, smug but unbothered):

"The statement was accurate. I will not apologize for upholding higher standards."

Tim snorted.

Tim:

"Yeah, okay, Prince Arrogance."

Before Arielle could scold, Damian smoothly leaned into her side in the car seat, tilting his chin up just so.

Damian (innocent tone, clearly testing his theory):

"Mother, you missed me today, didn't you?"

Arielle immediately softened, brushing her fingers through his hair.

Arielle (melting):

"Of course I did, sweetheart. Every second."

Tim groaned loudly from the other seat.

Tim:

"Unbelievable. He insults the teachers and still gets cuddles."

Damian (smirk, without looking at Tim):

"Known fact. I am the favorite."

Arielle swatted him lightly on the arm, smiling despite herself.

Arielle:

"You are not the favorite, Damian. You're just... my baby."

Damian's smirk faltered, his brows twitching in annoyance at the word-but Arielle immediately kissed the top of his head, pulling him close.

Damian (grumbling under his breath):

"I'm not a baby."

Tim (cackling):

"She literally called you a baby. This is the best day ever."

Damian's fist clenched at his side, but with Arielle's hand stroking his hair, he restrained himself-barely.

---

Back home

They had just sat down in the living room when Damian, perched with perfect posture in the armchair, folded his hands in front of him. His expression was cool, almost regal.

Damian (flatly, without hesitation):

"Father. Mother. I will no longer be attending those classes. My academic prowess far surpasses even the university level. Forcing me to sit through such primitive lectures is insulting, demeaning, and a gross misuse of my time."

Arielle, halfway through pouring herself a cup of tea, blinked at him.

Arielle:

"Damian-"

Damian (cutting in, tone sharp):

"One of my teachers miscalculated a theorem. A theorem, Mother. I corrected her. The class applauded. It was excruciating."

From the couch, Tim stifled a laugh.

Tim (mocking):

"Poor baby. Imagine being too smart for fourth grade."

Damian's eyes narrowed into daggers.

Damian (venomously):

"Imagine being sixteen and still second place."

Tim bristled, but Bruce's voice cut through before a fight could start.

Bruce (stern, calm):

"Damian. You're going back tomorrow."

Damian (snapping his head toward Bruce, incredulous):

"What purpose does it serve? I could run laps around every curriculum in Gotham. It is a waste of potential."

Arielle set her teacup down and walked over, kneeling beside his chair. Her hand smoothed over his hair, softening what was fast becoming a standoff.

Arielle (gently):

"It isn't about how fast you learn, sweetheart. It's about... adjusting. Socializing. Learning patience. You're ten. You need this experience."

Damian stiffened under her touch, jaw tight.

Damian (cold, clipped):

"My tolerance is already far beyond that of a ten-year-old."

Tim coughed loudly into his hand.

Tim:

"Yeah, except when someone calls you a baby."

Damian's glare nearly burned a hole through him.

Bruce (closing the conversation, tone final):

"You're going. That's not negotiable."

Damian turned his gaze back to Arielle, seeking any sign of reprieve. But she just smiled softly, cupping his cheek.

Arielle (soothing):

"I know you're brilliant, Ummi's proud of you. But sometimes being smart isn't the hardest thing. Sometimes it's learning how to be... with people."

Damian stared at her a long moment, the arrogance cracking just slightly before he leaned back in his chair, resigned but unbowed.

Damian (muttering, icy but controlled):

"Fine. I'll humor this charade. But only because you insist, Ummi."

Ooohhhh and also follow me cause i need to build a following lest my mom's gonna restrict my access to social media!

A/N

PLEEEAASEEE DON'T BE GHOST READERS, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!, COMMENT!, EXPRESS YOUR THOUGHTS!, SEND REQUESTS!

ANYTHINGGGGGG

IT MOTIVATES ME