Athena N Faymont's Stories

✨ Welcome to my little corner of chaos and romance ✨ Here you’ll find shameless propaganda for my Superbat fanfics 🦇💙❤️🦸‍♂️ and my Romantasy novels 🦄 filled with magic, love and drama. Expect angst, slow burn, brooding heroes and endings that (sometimes) make it all worth it. 📖 If you love romance with a touch of darkness and all the feelings, you’re in the right place. Come in, make yourself at home and let’s fangirl together! 💕🔥 LINK AO3

[wayne-kententhusiast]

One of Bruce's most painful and traumatic experiences in his life, is facing his feelings over Clark's death:

Batman: issue #640 (2005)

[athenanfaymont]

The Sense of Barbara Gordon

Part One. Chapter two: Second Chance

Steph deserves someone kind, intelligent, and down-to-earth. Barbara knows exactly who she needs, so she takes action because she's a woman of action.

Updates every Friday!

[athenanfaymont]

I’ve been greatly enjoying your superbat fic “Dark Days and Lost Suns” !! I’ve dropped some comments (including one accusing you of britishness… bc bahahaa) but wanted to throw one here too and say thank you for the food! 💕

I hadn't seen this question until now, I'm sorry!

I know exactly who you are!! Thanks again for all your help in chapter 10 :)

I'm so glad you enjoyed the story! I hope the sequel (when I start it) lives up to expectations!

[athenanfaymont]

What are your pronouns?

Hi! My pronoun is she/her.

[athenanfaymont]

The Truth ☀️🦇

Chapter 13

Extra Scene 1

Location: Clark’s apartment, Metropolis. Time: Sometime later. State: Let’s pretend there’s a sheet.

Clark: There’s… something I need to tell you.

Bruce: If you have doubts, tell me n—if you have doubts, we need to talk about it now.

Surprised, Clark watches Bruce sit, even though just a moment ago he seemed to melt next to him, like water.

Clark pulls him down to lie back again.

Clark: It’s not… really bad. But… some inappropriate pictures of me might be circulating. From recently. I don’t want you to think that… I don’t know what I want you to think, but you should know I didn’t do anything.

Bruce narrows his eyes.

Bruce: Are they illegal?

Clark frowns, thinking.

Clark: I don’t think so. There were a lot of people, they would’ve stopped us.

Bruce relaxes slightly.

Clark: They’re…

Clark doesn’t seem able to finish the confession.

Bruce: With another partner?

Not ideal, but Bruce has horrid skeletons in his closet and Clark intertwined his fingers with his during sex. He could cry just remembering. Again.

Clark: No! Just… just me… well, in underwear and a little wet…

Honestly, if that’s Clark’s level of embarrassment, Bruce will have to make a dossier and tactfully explain a lot of the things someone could find online about Brucie…

Clark: … riding a mechanical bull.

Oh.

Oh…

Bruce blinks.

That’s… different.

Slowly, he nods.

Bruce: And who has these pictures?

He can’t add “so we can stop them from circulating,” though he’ll work on that after he gets them.

[athenanfaymont]

Batman Is at His Best When He Remembers He's a Detective

One of the reasons I've always loved Batman is that, at his core, he's a noir protagonist.

I adore crime fiction, detective novels, hardboiled mysteries, and classic noir stories. Give me a cynical investigator, a city full of secrets, morally gray suspects, corruption hidden behind wealth and respectability, and a mystery that slowly unravels piece by piece, and I'm immediately invested. That's why I always get excited whenever Batman stories return to his earliest roots and remember that he was originally conceived as a detective first and a superhero second.

Don't get me wrong—I enjoy the big superhero stories too. Batman fighting world-ending threats alongside the Justice League can be a lot of fun. But those stories rarely feel as uniquely Batman to me as the noir-inspired ones do.

There's something special about seeing Bruce alone in Gotham, following clues, interviewing witnesses, reconstructing crime scenes, and trying to solve a puzzle that nobody else can. Gotham feels more alive when it's a city of corruption, organized crime, dirty politicians, and hidden conspiracies rather than just a backdrop for the latest crossover event.

The best Batman stories, in my opinion, are often the ones that lean hardest into that atmosphere. The rain-soaked streets. The narration. The sense that Gotham itself is a character. The feeling that Bruce is one step away from disappearing into the darkness he's trying to understand.

Maybe that's why stories like The Long Halloween, Dark Victory, Year One, and similar detective-focused runs remain so beloved. They remind us that before Batman was a global icon, a team leader, or a superhero who could punch gods, he was a detective walking through a noir city, trying to solve a crime.

And honestly? That's still my favorite version of him.

[cameliaspark]

There are three virtues: faith, hope, and love.

So:

I have faith in what I write has value.

I hope it brings joy to someone besides myself.

And I love what I write.

This is an edited version of a comment I left in response to one of my posts. I think it's a good motto.

[athenanfaymont]

The Sense of Barbara Gordon

Part One

Barbara Gordon knows what people need; usually before they do. It is one of the things that made her a great Batgirl, a devastating Oracle. After Dinah and Oliver's wedding goes exactly according to plan—no matter how much Bruce complains—Barbara discovers a new use for her talents: helping the people she loves make better romantic decisions. Come on, she's Oracle! Of course nothing's going to go wrong.

You can read it here.

[athenanfaymont]

The Truth ☀️🦇

Chapter 12

13. The Shape of Truth

Location: Clark’s apartment, Metropolis. No more places to run. Time: 2:13 a.m. State: Desperate after a week.

Clark hears the window before he hears the boots. Not because Batman is careless—Batman never is—but because Clark has spent an entire week listening for him and his heart has been racing ever since he heard him cross the bay.

The cape moves first in the darkness. Then Bruce enters the apartment, clad in black armor, shoulders rigid. A statue barely daring to set foot on the generic living room-kitchen floor.

Clark slowly puts down the book in his hands.

Neither speaks immediately. The rain taps softly against the windows.

Bruce looks exhausted.

Clark stands.

Clark: Hi.

Bruce clenches his jaw.

Bruce: I need to say something before I lose my nerve.

Clark feels his chest tighten instantly. Because Bruce never says things like this, and he wonders if it’s because normally he doesn’t feel them and is now in a crisis—or if he always does feel them but hides it, unnoticed by anyone.

Clark nods once.

Bruce doesn’t move further into the apartment.

Bruce: I owe you an apology.

Clark blinks.

Clark: An apol…?

Bruce: Let me finish.

The words come out rough, unmodulated.

Bruce: I’ve spent weeks trying to avoid this because I thought… because I believed it would taint something important.

A sudden chill runs through Clark.

Bruce: You’re my friend. My partner. The person I trust the most. And I…

His voice almost breaks.

Bruce: …I’ve tainted it.

Clark’s heart cracks a little. He steps forward immediately.

Clark: Bruce, no…

Bruce finally looks at him. The white eyes of the cowl, but even covered and in darkness, seem terrified.

Bruce: I constantly desire you.

The room falls silent. Bruce breathes once, and a human could have heard it. Bruce, who is shadows.

Then it all begins to spill out of him, as if truth has finally broken a dam.

Bruce: I think of you when you’re not here. I wait for you. I feel calmer when you’re near. I trust you with things I trust no one else with. Sometimes I hear or think something and wish you were there to share it with me. You make rooms feel safe. You make me feel safe. Me.

Clark checks that his mouth is closed. Bruce clenches his fists at his sides.

Bruce: I love your kindness. Your ridiculous hope. Your self-control. I love the way you look at people, as if they deserve to be saved. I love your voice. Your laugh. I…

He swallows hard.

Bruce: I think I’ve loved you longer than I know now, because I appreciated many of these things before the Rann mission, but I couldn’t admit it to myself because I wanted to feel there was something I hadn’t poisoned or ruined.

Silence.

Then Bruce looks away abruptly, embarrassed that these words exist outside of him.

Bruce: I’m sorry. The outburst and… I’m so sorry for loving you, Clark. You deserve better.

Clark crosses the room before he can think. He gently takes Bruce by the arms.

Clark: Better?

Bruce freezes.

Clark smiles, helpless, warm, face unmasked by relief.

Clark: Bruce… I love you too.

For a moment, Batman seems completely vulnerable.

Carefully, Clark releases one of his arms and reaches up to pull back the cowl. He’s never as handsome as with his hair mussed and stuck, his huge gray eyes.

Bruce blinks once.

Clark stares at him. A moment passes.

Clark: I’m going to kiss you.

Bruce breathes in, unable to speak, only nods like a starstruck teenager.

It’s a soft kiss at first and at the end.

Bruce’s gloved finger brushes Clark’s cheek as they part, staring without blinking.

Clark: Tell me the sky is red. Or that you voted for Mayor Hill. Or that… or that you don’t love me.

Clark’s voice is fragile. Bruce opens his mouth, ready to say any lie except the last one.

Bruce: It’s… it’s…

And he can’t.

Clark’s face falls, but Bruce just presses a little closer.

Bruce: Don’t be sad. It’s okay. At least you’ll never doubt what I’ve said.

A scant consolation, in Clark’s opinion.

Bruce exhales, exhausted, over Clark, as if he’s finally laid down the pillars of the Garden of the Hesperides.

Bruce: Diana was right. It’s a relief.

That’s a better consolation, if you ask Clark. So he laughs softly against Bruce’s hair, hugging him tighter.

The end.

Extra 1

[athenanfaymont]

Bruce is off on an intergalactic mission, and Alfred has stepped out for half a second to run an errand.

I don't need to tell you who they are:

But I'm opening a debate about which of them is who.

[athenanfaymont]

Publication Date

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been working on the Dick-Barbara-Bruce dynamics and… well.

What day would you prefer I publish a fanfic during the summer?

(Outside of DDaLS universe, it has nothing to do with it n.nU)

.

Monday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday, always Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Voting ended onJul 4

[athenanfaymont]

On heroes, disappointments and broken hearts 😔🦇

I think a lot of Batfamily conflict is really about disillusionment.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationship between Bruce, Barbara, and Dick. Not romantically. Not in terms of ships.

I’ve been thinking about it in terms of confrontation, disillusionment, and the incredibly complicated emotional history that exists between three people who have spent years orbiting the same impossible figure.

Barbara and Bruce are deeply similar people. They are both obsessive, hyper-competent, controlling, analytical, and fundamentally convinced that preparedness is survival. Which is exactly why they clash so violently sometimes: Barbara shares many of Bruce’s instincts, but she has always been far more willing to question the ethics behind those instincts.

Bruce crosses lines when it comes to control. He makes decisions for people. He decides who enters vigilantism and who does not. He withholds information because he believes he knows best.

Barbara understands the logic behind those decisions better than almost anyone, and maybe that is exactly why she resents them so much.

I’ve also always thought canon has barely scratched the surface of how complicated Barbara’s feelings toward Bruce should be after what happened with Joker. Because yes, Joker pulled the trigger, but Batman created a world in which everyone around him eventually becomes collateral damage. Barely three months pass between the attack on Barbara and Jason’s murder.

That has to leave scars far more complex than anger alone. In fact, Bruce is not even the one who eventually helps Barbara recover physically; it is her father who does. It works wonderfully from a narrative perspective, but emotionally it feels brutal: Batman can perform scientific miracles, but this particular one has to come from Jim Gordon for Barbara… which inevitably raises the question: did Bruce simply not try hard enough?

Dick’s conflict with Bruce is different, but I think both Dick and Barbara share one thing they rarely admit:

They were children who placed Batman somewhere above the stars.

And I sometimes wonder whether a huge part of their conflict with Bruce comes from processing the realization that Batman is not some mythic moral figure, but simply a man. A deeply flawed man with extraordinary determination, enormous trauma, and enough money to make those flaws dangerously consequential.

I am not trying to excuse Bruce. A lot of his choices deserve criticism, and many of them are unacceptable. But I think what makes these relationships so fascinating is that buried underneath all that anger there is also disillusionment.

Dick and Barbara know Bruce better than most people. They constantly insist: “I know the real Bruce, and he has more shadows than light.” But I think what really haunts both of them is that they once believed Bruce was something greater than human.

And I think part of the difficulty they both have in forgiving him—and in accepting the moments when he genuinely tries to change for the better (setting aside the fact that these are comics, and canon always tends to return characters to an earlier status quo)—comes from being unable to forgive him for not being as perfect as they believed he was when they were children.

And growing up always hurts.

Maybe, a lot of Batfamily conflict is not really about morality, maybe it is just… heartbreak.

Not romantically. Not in terms of ships. Just disillusionment.

Mikel Janin

[A little humor to finish]

[athenanfaymont]

The Truth ☀️🦇

Chapter 11

12. Probably

Location: Watchtower. Status: Emergency briefing.

The room is quieter than usual for a meeting about good and easy news. So it is like usual, because they rarely get good and easy news.

Zatanna stands before the main holographic console, her fingers tracing faint trails of residual energy only she can see. The air around her crackles softly when she speaks, as if reality itself is remembering how to bend.

Batman stands rigid beside Superman.

Clark does not look at him. Not directly. As if he is trying to give him space even in perception.

Zatanna: Okay. I’ve got it. And… magically speaking, it’s a mess.

She flicks her wrist. The hologram shifts, showing Rann, the Thanagarian artifact, the moment of impact. A wave of invisible force spreads across Bruce’s silhouette.

Zatanna: The explosion you used to “deactivate” the object gave consistency to part of the magic surrounding it. I don’t know what it was. Some of the “dust” hit you, B, and… partially anchored you.

Barry leans forward.

Barry: That sounds bad.

Zatanna: It is bad. It means the spell didn’t form correctly.

Diana’s gaze sharpens.

Diana: And what did form?

Zatanna hesitates for a moment.

Zatanna: A conditional “Truth Binding.” Not global. Just personal and focused on something.

Barry: That doesn’t sound that bad.

Zatanna: It is, because I can’t undo it. And I don’t think anyone can. It’s stuck halfway formed—we’d have to find the exact missing half to undo it, and that… is luck. We don’t even know how much dust hit B or what percentage of the curse each particle carried.

Everyone falls silent. No matter how much they actually understand, the important part is that it cannot be undone.

Bruce clenches his jaw.

Bruce: Define “conditional.”

Zatanna exhales.

Zatanna: When you fulfill the condition, it breaks. I think. Normally that’s how it would work.

Bruce: And how do we know what the condition is?

Zatanna’s eyebrows lift.

Zatanna: Ah… it’s always the same: when you express your deepest hidden truth, your most intimate secret, the anchor releases and you regain the ability to lie.

A sepulchral silence settles over the room.

Clark finally looks at Bruce.

Clark: That is… specific and incredibly vague.

Zatanna (shrugging): Magic loves specificity and mystery.

Hal mutters something under his breath about hating magic entirely.

Bruce remains motionless.

Bruce: “Deepest hidden truth” is not measurable.

Zatanna: Oh, it absolutely is. But it usually means you first have to be honest with yourself, and the spell only forces you to be honest with others.

It is such a terrible thing—and even more terrible because it is emotionally constipated Batman—that everyone falls silent as though Zatanna has announced a deadline for Bruce’s life.

For several full minutes, all the heroes remain quiet. Screens shift colors. Things beep softly.

Finally, Victor adjusts the console.

Victor: So if he confesses it, the effect breaks.

Zatanna: Probably. Or it stabilizes. Or rebounds. But I trust it’ll end even incomplete.

Barry groans.

Barry: Bats is never going to manage that. He could move a mountain, sure, but…

Diana: Of course he will. When he is ready.

That silences Barry, though not his expression, nor the heaviness in Bruce’s chest.

Clark’s voice is quieter.

Clark: And if he doesn’t?

Zatanna looks at Bruce, not unkindly.

Zatanna: Then he stays like this. Honest. Exposed. The strain could… break the binding anyway. Probably.

Bruce finally speaks. Eyes forward, seeing no one, lost somewhere among the stars beyond the great window.

Bruce: Who do I have to tell?

Everyone falls silent.

Zatanna, speaking carefully: Who do you tell… your secret to?

Batman nods.

Zatanna: Oh… oh… —she seems to understand. The others probably do too, but Bruce refuses to look at them—. The person. The people involved. If it were, uh… a secret about yourself, verbalizing it would be enough. If it’s about someone else…

It does not matter that she never finishes the sentence.

Bruce: And then it ends.

Zatanna: Probably.

Bruce: “Probably” is unacceptable. And there are too many here.

Zatanna almost smiles.

Zatanna: Welcome to magic, B.

To be Continued...

[hollow-head]

"who do you self insert as when you read?"

This is me when I read:

[athenanfaymont]

Please, watch Interview with the Vampire

I need more people to watch IwtV because I genuinely think it is one of the best television shows released in recent DECADES and somehow people are still sleeping on it.

And I say this as someone who was very skeptical about the adaptation decisions made… before watching the series. It completely proved me wrong…

This show understands something that a lot of modern television seems to have forgotten: audiences are not stupid.

It respects its characters enough to let them be complicated, messy, selfish, cruel, vulnerable, contradictory, intelligent, and deeply human, even when they are very much not human.

The writing is exceptional.

The acting is honestly absurdly good.

The writing is exceptional.

The cinematography is gorgeous.

The writing is exceptional.

And maybe most importantly: it actually trusts emotional intensity. It doesn’t run away from difficult relationships. It doesn’t dilute darkness to make characters more palatable.

It allows people to love badly, hurt badly, and exist in relationships that are uncomfortable, obsessive, intimate, destructive, tender, and impossible to categorize neatly. Which already makes it more interesting than most things currently on television.

Even if vampires are not usually your thing, I would still recommend watching it. Because at its heart this is not really a story about vampires. It is a story about loneliness, desire, memory, power, identity, grief, and what happens when love becomes the thing that simultaneously saves you and destroys you.

Anyway.

Everyone should be watching Interview with the Vampire.

I am once again asking people to have better taste in television.

Ah, and the writing is exceptional.

[zyephen]

Another superbat sketch

[athenanfaymont]

The Truth ☀️🦇

Chapter 10

11. Tea (not in both senses)

Location: Wayne Manor. Time: 15:42. Status: Active denial on both sides.

Rain lightly hits the living room windows. Gotham remains grey, damp, and cold, but inside the manor the atmosphere is warm: dim light, dark wood, and the aroma of freshly served tea.

Bruce holds the cup with both hands. Clark holds his like it is a delicate diplomatic mission.

Clark does not mention Rann. Bruce does not mention Gotham.

Neither mentions anything at all about the conversations that have turned their worlds upside down.

Clark: Alfred says the garden survived the storm.

Bruce: Yes.

Silence.

Clark: That is good.

Bruce: Mm.

Silence again.

These foolish lovers have decided to do the same thing, even without agreeing on it beforehand, so this tea meeting is neither interesting nor particularly pleasant.

Both of them have decided to act as if the recent confessions never happened. As if Clark did not admit he wants to sleep with Batman, that he likes his jaw (and pecs), and that what was once platonic is no longer so. As if Bruce did not flee across rooftops after confessing to Dick that he feels something “inappropriate” for Clark.

It is a terrible strategy. Doubly terrible because both of them are good strategists.

Clark takes another sip.

Bruce stares at the rain.

Clark: Kara says she will never drink anything yellow again.

Bruce: I hope she wasn’t talking about urine.

Neither of them is alarmed anymore by Bruce’s blunt honesty, although something in Clark’s chest shifts pleasantly at having another brief glimpse into Bruce’s internal, never-spoken world.

Clark: Something Rannian, actually.

Bruce lets out a huff.

Bruce: Then I should add purple drinks to the list.

Embarrassed, but unwilling to confess anything, Clark nods and lets silence spread again.

Porcelain clicks softly when Bruce sets his cup down on the table.

Bruce: Dick is… being insidious.

Since Clark can only think of one direction Dick might be insidious in after that time in the Batcave, his cheeks turn red. Fortunately, Bruce seems more focused on the rain than ever.

Clark: Ah…

Bruce nods, as if that were some kind of answer.

Bruce: Please give him space and let me handle it.

The thought coats his mouth in ash, but he cannot let Clark deal with Dick in this state. Bruce still does not know what state Dick is in and does not want to expose himself to it—but even less does he want Clark exposed to it. Whether Dick brings up Bruce’s messy feelings, or whether he chooses to be cruel again.

It still feels so strange that Dick would be cruel…

He had told him he liked seeing him accompanied by Clark, but Clark is his hero… Bruce thinks he understands why Dick might hate Bruce having “unclean” feelings and the problems that come with them.

Clark: Sure. And if you need space or compa—

At the same time, both of their League devices beep. The screen shows the message: “Justice League Priority. Zatanna requests immediate presence of Batman and Superman.”

Clark sets his cup down.

Bruce is already standing.

Clark: That doesn’t sound good.

Bruce: No.

A pause.

Bruce: But it is good: it means she has found something.

Batman could wear it under kilos of kevlar and black fabric, but Superman has always known his friend is an optimist.

Only an optimist fights to change things.

To be Continued...

Chapter 12