#muse: Brianna Wayne: Batwoman
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~Open to all~ Muse: Brianna Wayne
"Had I known you were waiting, I would have come back sooner." Bri softly remarks, pulling her shades down the subtle curve of her nose. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
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The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship
Poised on the upper landing of the Manor’s grand staircase, Brianna Wayne bears a striking resemblance to Tim’s mother. They have the same sense of style (fine suits and commanding high heels, though Bria prefers boots to pumps), the same regal demeanor (squared shoulders, perfect posture, head raised high) and the same all-encompassing presence that makes his mouth go dry and his heart pound against tightening ribs.
They are of the same breed: resilient women in a man’s world, self-forged into weapons that only fools would dare challenge. The creeping knowledge that this woman is also Batwoman, Gotham’s dark knight, only increases the tension. He’s known for years, but now she knows that he knows. And he’s here to train with her. To maybe, if he proves himself, become Robin.
Tim has never been more excited in his entire life, nor more terrified.
He hides the latter with a grin, hands tense on the straps of his book-bag. “Hiya, Ms. Wayne.”
“Bria is fine.” As Bria descends, her cool, dark eyes give Tim a once-over, taking in his school uniform (rumpled), his hair (gelled, but wilted since this morning), and his school-bag (full of homework and the clothes he’ll need for this weekend visit). Her painted lips thin into a tight line. Her expression is unreadable.
Her gaze burns into Tim until he squirms, his chest growing tighter than ever. When they’d first met, Bria could hardly meet his eye; he’d been dressed as Robin, after all, a ringer for her dead partner and son. Now that she saw him for real, he couldn’t shake the idea that those shadowed navy eyes are peering into his very soul.
She reaches the floor alongside him and pauses only a moment to complete her observation. Then she turns, gesturing for him to follow. “Before anything else, you and I need to talk. Alfred, some tea would be lovely.”
“Of course, Miss Brianna.” The old butler primly tucks his driving gloves into a coat pocket and clasps Tim on the shoulder as he strides for the kitchen. It’s meant to be supportive, but the very idea that Tim needs support makes his stomach squirm.
He stars up at Bria, willing himself not to pout. “Am I in trouble?”
Her gaze softens. “No. But we need this.”
Tim nods and follows, his sneakers almost as silent as her heels on the thick carpet. She leads him to her first-floor study and motions that he should take a seat on one of the couches. Tim obliges, tucking his backpack under his feet and trying not to stare at the grandfather clock, now that he knows what it hides.
Alfred appears shortly thereafter, bearing a full tea set and several fresh-buttered scones. He places the tray on the coffee table between them, prepares each a cup to their preference, and bows out, latching the door behind him.
Bria muses over a few long, silent sips before, at last, she begins. “So. Tim.”
He straights his posture. “Yes?”
“You must know we’ve investigated you.”
He deflates.
She knows. Of course she knows.
“Naturally, we began with your school.” Her tone and expression are both carefully even, like she’s trying to soothe a frightened dog. “We needed their permission for you to spend weekends here. That meant getting access to your student records, including your parents’ names…”
Tim bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.
“…which led to Alfred’s revelation that, so far as the public knows, Jack and Janet Drake have only one child. A girl.”
Tim hurriedly sets down his teacup before his shaking hands can do it for him.
“Tim—”
“I’m sorry!” he blurts, hands clutched over his thighs. “I swear, I didn’t mean…I-I’m not lying. Wasn’t lying, I swear. I just…”
He blinks against the tears that prick at the back of his eyes. He doesn’t have the words to explain why and how he’d approached her like this, why he’d dressed in boy’s clothes and given the name “Tim” when Dick and Alfred had asked. Maybe he’d thought he could disappear after Dick came home. Or maybe, maybe, when he’d thought this would be his only chance to meet his heroes, he’d been desperate for them to see him as himself. Or maybe…
“Tim.”
Brianna’s second call, more firm, cuts through his thoughts like a warm knife through butter. His heart trips over the realization that she’s still using his name. She has also set down her teacup. She pats the embroidered cushion beside her.
“Come over here. I want to show you something.”
Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Tim abandons both his teacup and the untouched scone. Once he settles awkwardly alongside her, Brianna opens a coffee table drawer and pulls out a leather-bound family album, which she opens across both of their laps.
The photos contained within are clearly of her childhood. Some are even in black and white. They’re labeled in neat handwriting — Alfred’s, Tim would guess — but never with more than a date and few names. There’s school photos, galas, social events and private moments, all of the same three figures: a handsome man, a beautiful woman, and a lean, spritely dark-haired boy.
Tim frowns, his thoughts nagging, but it doesn’t register until Brianna stops on a family portrait. It looks very much like the one above the mantle in this very room, only the album’s version also features the young boy in a stiff, short-pants suit. The label beneath it reads only:
Masters Thomas and Martha Wayne, age 36 & 34
Master Bruce Wayne, age 7.
Tim stares at the page for a full thirty seconds before it finally clicks. He gasps as his head jerks up to stare at Brianna, goggle-eyed.
She smiles softly back, leaning in until their shoulders brush with something like affection. “I only figured myself out a decade after this was taken. I’d never heard of the word ‘transgender’ before then. It took me years to come out, but once I did…I’ve never looked back.” She lifts her hand, hesitates, then tucks a bit of hair behind Tim’s ear. “To possess that level of self-awareness at your age is admirable.”
Tim shake his head, trying to rattle his thoughts into some kind of order. “I…I’ve always known. I mean, I didn’t have the words, but I just…knew.”
Brianna nods in understanding. “When did you…”
She gestures to all of him. Boy’s haircut, boy’s uniform. Binder and cup.
“Just this year. I, ah, hacked the school records over the summer. Nobody noticed. New school, new level, new start and all.”
“And your parents?”
Without thinking, Tim’s shoulders slump. “They, ah. Haven’t been home to see my haircut yet. And without the gel they might not, you know.”
He bites his lip, silently begging that she won’t make him explain. Part of him wants his parents to know. He wants them to use the right name and stop sending him dolls or jewelry or dresses that feel like he’s wearing another person’s skin. But a larger part is afraid. What if they blow him off? What if his mother thinks he’s trying to cheat, to take “the easy way” to respect when she had to fight for it so hard? And Dad…Dad, who calls him “Janie” and dotes on “his princess,” who beams with pride when he sees the dresses he’s bought put to use…what would he even think?
To his unending relief, Brianna doesn’t pry, though she does gaze sadly upon her family photo. “My parents never had the chance to know. I’ve always regretted that. But it does make things easier.” She closes the album and sets it aside, turning to face Tim with a fiercely protective expression. “Tim, however this training pans out, I want you to know that you can always come to me if you need support. I have press contacts, access to research, top medical experts on speed dial, and a half-dozen lawyers on retainer who specialize in discrimination suits. And…I also have personal experience. For whatever that’s worth.”
She mutters that last bit, but to Tim, it means more than he could say. Brianna Wayne, Batwoman, C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises and one of the world’s greatest heroes, is like him.
He beams and half-wishes he could hug her. But they’re still basically strangers, so he holds back and hopes the smile says more than he can.
Brianna clears her throat and doesn’t look at him as she sets the photo album aside and stands up. “Now, about your training.”
Tim sits at attention. Brianna pins him with a sharp, stern look.
“No binders in the Cave.” She raises one finger to cut off his objections. “No buts. You’ll have enough bruised ribs from training alone, you don’t need to risk any more. Trust me, we have alternatives. Are you on puberty blockers?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be?”
“I don’t think my doctor would…”
“Your new one will. So long as it’s your choice, she’s supportive. And even if she wasn’t, well.” Bria shrugs. “It would hardly be the first drug I’ve procured under the table. Get changed after you finish that scone; you’re going to need the extra calories.”
She strides for the grandfather clock. Tim scarfs the last of his tea and hurries out to the guest room, where Alfred has laid out a training uniform. The first deep breath after he pulls off the binder tastes of sweet anticipation.
------
Four months later, Brianna presents him with a Robin costume all his own. He stands before a full-length mirror and admires the defined muscles of his armor, the way it broadens his shoulders and slims his hips. He puts on the mask and feels more like himself than ever before in his life.
And that night, the Boy Wonder flies again.
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Originally posted on AO3 a bit over a week ago, but there’s been a lot of exclusionist bs on my feed today, so it’s here now too. Happy pride everybody.
#batman#robin#tim drake#bruce wayne#genderbends#genderbending#batmom au#batmom#the adventures of batmom and robin the transboy wonder#trans positivity#trans pride#batfamily#pride 2019#happy pride 🌈#tw transphobia mention#fuck terfs and fuck transphobes
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@prettytragcdies for Bri (From Brianna Wayne)
"Behind you!" Shouts Wayne as she fumbles for a weapon in the crowded room. The one night she doesn't bring the Bat-suit, she finds she needs it and the weapons usually found on her utility-belt. With a sigh, she settles for the steel lid of a trashcan. She lifts it like a sphere and nails a would-be-thief in the head.
"You alright?"
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@mnolith continued
Wayne trustingly follows Seth to the perilous perch and drops her eyes to the patch of ground in the indicated zone. The corners of her jaw twitch, tightened with unspoken tension. Her darkened eyes, however, carefully mask her genuine emotions. "Have any idea who he is? Or what he wants?" She questions. "Or maybe," her lips slowly inch upwards into a menacing smile, "we should go ASK him ourselves? What do you say?"
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Which type of love interest would you be in a dating simulator?
Brianna Wayne
The stoic team leader who doesn't trust the main character at first
You often feel like you need to take responsability for those around you and to protect them. You struggle to show your love through other means, so you take that task seriously. Your friends know they can always count on you no matter what. However that leads you to be mistrustful of others' actions before getting to know them, usually asuming the worst of them. On the exterior you might seem cold, calculating and distant. But those close to you know that's far from the truth, you just have a particular way of demostrating it. When it comes to love, you'll probably try to deny it at first, bury it before it grows more than it should. Mostly because you're so accustomed to being the strong one, that allowing yourself to be vulnerable for once scares you. But it's exhausting to constantly keep that guard up, sometimes you need to take a rest and allow yourself to be the one being taken care of. Don't forget that.
Tagging: Everyone
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Titanic Au for Brianna Wayne
As a graduation gift from Alfred, they went on a European tour together. Their trip ended in Cherbourg, France on Wednesday, 10th of April 1912. They were ferried to the boat via the SS Nomadic. The Titanic was late, but they eventually boarded by 7pm that night. An hour later, they were underway to Queenstown, Ireland.
Alfred used the trip to distract her from crime-riddled Gotham and how EMPTY Wayne Manor feels.
She is booked in first class but finds herself commiserating with the 3rd class passengers.
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@americansentinel continued
______________________________________
Wayne's meltdown happened in spectacular fashion. A black tied birthday affair is now left in sheer tatters, with Gotham's finest probably thinking the WORST of her. The words that heralded the evacuation were eviscerating, sharpened like shattered glass. The ill-landing words no longer mattered, though they were curdled in a lemon-like bitterness when they departed her. Because of those words, her guests will LIVE to see the mark of a new day. Whereas, if she remained cordial, remained her usual pleasant self, many would have perished.
Ra's Al Guhl was not a man who played PRANKS, nor one who DELIGHTED in CHILDISH games. With a sharpened swallow, she understands EXACTLY what he intends to do.
-- He intends to set a cleansing fire, a measure of HIS warped JUSTICE.--
An unusual GROAN comes from the manor she's known since birth. It rises like a pitiful, cruel warning. The walls come alive with waves of FLAMES, scorching clear down to the struts. She turns, the despicable man GHOSTS in her wake, behind a choking wall of SMOKE. Her parents legacy becomes a heated, fatalistic SEA.
There is nothing delicate about the collision between her and the man practically made of reenforced steel.
Minding her surroundings is the ONLY reason THEY are NOT CRUSHED. She wants to apologize between ragged inhales, but can't find the words in the depths of her numbing soul. "Don't thank me, Steve. Just-- get out." She orders almost dazidly. "Get to safety." In the undercurrent of the words is an unexpressed, I NEED YOU TO LIVE.
Her work isn't COMPLETED. Despite the charred and wearied nature of her countenance, and the cough that departs from her, Wayne turns to head further into the inferno. "He's STILL HERE." She grits. Making the assumption BASED on many years under Ra's tutelage. Then with an almost agonized breath, she adds. "So is Alfred---" And she WILL NEVER leave her Butler and Guardian behind.
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@palaceofmuses Memory loss
Where could HE be? Alfred didn't just abandon the manor. Something terrible must have happened. Months of night patrol had yielded NO satisfactory results. Blearied eyes dwell upon his favorite chair and she feels a twinge of homesickness sinking like a KNIFE into her chest. Without Alfred, Wayne Manor just didn't feel like home. It felt more like a hostile foreign country. One Wayne is EAGER to leave.
Moodily, she sweeps the grounds for the thirtieth time that day. The gloominess of a rainy sky did nothing to lift her spirits. Only this time, patrolling rendered -- She blinks once, blinks twice and then realizes it is he. The salt and peppered man she'd been searching for. "Alfred." Her steps to the gate are hurried.
"ALFRED?!" She exclaims. "Where have you been? You look like hell. A-- are you alright?" Deftly, she moves around the gate to let him in. Her coat is eagerly shrugged off and she extends it to wrap around the elder's shoulders. "Come, come inside before you catch cold. Then, I want you to tell me WHO did this to you."
#memory loss#Muse: Brianna Wayne: Batwoman#palaceofmuses#I am such a sucker for all the Wayne & Alfred interactions
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"When that light hits the sky, it's not just a call. It's a warning."
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@star-of-troy
"Diana speaks highly of you." Brianna carefully starts. "Are you sure you wish to join the fight?" She asks. She does not wish to rope anyone into the Justice League who didn't want to be there.
#muse: Brianna Wayne: Batwoman#star-of-troy#Bri needs more sisters in battle#but like an entire justice league of women would be EPIC- just saying
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