#Damian angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr Inc. is using 66 technologies for its website.

confused-wanderer · 13 days

Text

Damian realizes he fucked up his second week at the manor.

He’s walking around, warily eyeing the shadowed areas that serve as perfect spots for reconnaissance. Father was keeping tabs on him. Father should be keeping tabs on him, or else Damian would be disappointed in the man he is supposed to look upto. Hah..

Supposed.

Damian’s not a stranger to that word. He’s supposed to be strong, he’s supposed to be an al-ghul, supposed to always fight first and ask questions later, supposed to be a weapon, supposed to be a good one, supposed to be a successor, supposed to be worthy of robin, supposed to learn the world was his enemy, supposed to be good enough, supposed to-

A bounding figure snaps him out his his thoughts, and a rare smile stretches across his face as he hears the familiar sound of paws hitting the grass. Father had told him to make himself at “home”. Robin can’t help but wrinkle his nose at that memory. Home? Home wasn’t supposed to exist for him. So he’s taking to test the Batman’s limits by sending Titus to retrieve anything and everything he found for reconnaissance. He could always claim he was exploring if someone caught him. He keeps his hand out, eyes scanning the horizon for any witnesses until he feels the soft touch of cotton brush against his palm.

He glances at it, the stuffed elephants eyes boring into his skull. Who in the manor was so childish they’d keep such an irrelevant thing around? Was it Drake? Todd? It was a pathetic display, and Damian tutted at his disappointment. This was the people he was supposed to succeed?

The toy was tattered, and Damian made no move to tell Titus to be gentle with it. Why would he? This just gave him the perfect opportunity to humiliate his predecessor. To yell at him about how foolish he was, how childish he was acting for keeping this stupid waste of cloth by his side. So he grips the torn elephant, and storms into the manor, heading straight for the bat cave.

He had never seen Tim’s eyes go from wary to alarm so quickly when his eyes land on the toy.

“What the hell did you do?”, Drake hisses, chair screeching as the man shoots up from his chair, marching over to Damian and grabbing his victim from the others hand.

“What you should’ve done a long time ago Drake. Why would you ever keep such a vile abomination with you? It’s childish.”

Tim’s eyes snap back to him, eyes widening as his hands cradle the toy closer.

“Di- Damian did you ruin this because you thought it was mine?”

“I am correct in my presumption Drake”, Damian fires back, arms crossed, ready to fight. Had he finally found Drake’s breaking point? “The animal serves as a childish companion. Todd would never have one, nor would father and quite frankly you’re the most immature out of them all so it-“

“Oh my god you idiot this isn’t mine this is Dick’s!”

Damian’s heart drops at that. Was he lying? Why would Grayson ever keep it around?

Images of the first robin flashed through his mind. His warm smile, his patience while Damian toed the line, his forgiveness and passion radiating off him in waves. He’d looked at Damian and hadn’t flinched or tried to rip his head off. That… that had earned him a bit of Damian’s respect. And now.. gods what the hell has he done? He’s taken that.. and thrown it away. Ripped it apart. Perhaps.. perhaps this was for the best..no? He was no friend of Grayson’s, this would take care of any fondness the man had for him. That would be good.. right? This is how things were supposed to be…right?

Damian suspects his heart has dropped to his stomach, creating knots as he tries to digest it. He didn’t need his heart. It’s fine. It was fine. Something must’ve seemed off though, Damian isn’t sure what gave it away, if his body betrayed him or if the silence stretched on too long, but something in Drake’s gaze softens a bit as he looks at him. His predecessor lets out a sigh, blowing his hair out of his face before brushing past Damian and heading for the manor. He pauses at the exit, glancing back at Damian.

“You coming?”

Robin stiffens, his legs moving without permission towards the other man. The silence stretches on as he follows Drake through the manor, and his thoughts grow darker and more confused. The most logical choice would be to throw out the animal. The second to ask the butler, yet Tim steered away from where the servant was cleaning the kitchen. So, what did Drake have planned for him? Was he about to stab him? Should Damian make the first move?

“What are you doing Drake”

“Fixing your mistake brat, that’s what.”

“How? Are you going to tell Grayson? Or perhaps father?”

“No. I’m gonna fix it.”

“You know how to sew?”

“Only wounds and barely suits. You?”

“…”

“So the same. Figured. I’m going to the only person who knows how to. He’s not gonna like this though.”

Who? Damian wonders, before his reflexes force him to stop walking. Tim had paused at a door, finger hesitantly curling into a fist before knocking twice. He mutters something under his breath, before the door swings open.

“Alfred I-oh what the fuck”

Jason stares at them, gaze flickering intently between the two. He’s about to slam the door in their faces, Damian’s sure, before Tim holds up the limp toy and Todd freezes.

“Oh..shiiiit..”

Tim breaks eye contact, head bowed down before entering the second robin’s room, Damian hot on his heels. He can feel Todd’s gaze on him, he knows that Jason must’ve figured out who did the damage. He needed to figure out an exit plan. He needed to be safe before they jumped him. They were supposed to be enemies after all?

That’s how he ends up watching Jason take out a sewing kit and gently assess the damage before proceeding to start stitching up the creature. Time ticks by as Damian sits tense and stiff a good few feet away from the two. Drake’s nodded off, head resting against the bed’s end while Jason works away at his desk, his back facing them. This was a good opportunity to take them out, Damian realises. He could take Drake out first, the fool-

“Don’t you dare wake him brat.”

The youngest’s eyes flicker upto Todd, who hasn’t moved an inch, eyes squinting at the needle under the light.

“.. does he know about us?”

Todd pauses at that question. Damian’s seen the other man before, seen his mother train him, seen the rage of the Lazarus pit that screamed for victims. Jason knows him. And he knows Jason. They had to work together as assassins. They were supposed to be ruthless killers. Yet here sits the fearsome man, with the same hands Damian has seen ripping people apart gently cradling a ripped elephant toy.

“No.. atleast I don’t think so. Replacement’s slippery though,. dunno how much he knows. My turn for a question, brat. What the hell did you do to Zitka?”

Who? There is no way that Todd is referring to that creature, Damian thinks. “Titus found it. He thought it was a toy. I didn’t feel the need to correct him.”

Jason clicks his tongue.

“Not very nice to be so rude to the only person who tolerates you well”

“It’s not like you’ve done the same to him”, Damian shoots back. “You’ve been a jerk to Grayson in the past. You’ve said his name with contempt, given spiteful remarks and insults and treat his existence as a personal insult to you. You haven’t treated him with respect, yet his behaviour hasn’t changed towards you. Grayson’s a simpleton, Todd. And if he saw fit to keep that thing with him, he’s a childish one.”

“Firstly, my history with him is none of your business, brat. I’ve known Dickie longer than you’ve been alive, so there’s no fucking point trying to be nosy. Secondly, you’re wrong. Dick.. Dick’s no simpleton. If he was, he wouldn’t have beaten you every time you fought now would he? Wouldn’t have survived Bruce, hell not even Gotham. He’s the first goddamn robin, and we have a rapport I don’t think you can even hope to understand.Thirdly.. why do you think he keeps zitka?”

“You insisted on calling that.. a name. You support his childish delusion?”

“Not answering my question brat.”

Damian huffs, inching closer.

“You don’t know do you?”, Jason teases, and Damian can hear the grin in his voice.

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I can’t fathom any coherent response-“

“You don’t know.”

“I never said that Todd, has no one taught you not to interrupt others? I know that.. that Grayson has-“

“You don’t know”

“I will personally finish what the joker started and use the crowbar myself Todd”

There’s a bark of laughter, before Jason looks back at him. But there’s no heat behind those eyes like there’s supposed to be. Why isn’t anyone in this damn manor acting like they’re supposed to?? They’re supposed to hate him! They’re supposed to be professional! To be trained soldiers!! Not.. not family.

“No.. I don’t know.”, Damian admits quietly, eyes trained on the ground. He doesn’t want to look at Todd. Doesn’t want to feel the tirade of insults hurled at him for not knowing like he’s supposed to. So he focuses on Drake’s breathing, the long slow heartbeats coaching his to join them.

“These.. are symbols. Do you remember when we were talking of symbolism in literature? Our discussions of metaphors and how they allude to other things? Bigger pictures?“

Damian nods.

“What does your katana symbolise?”

“Myself.”, his answer is instant. “It serves as a lesson to how I must view myself. Sharp, and ready for attack. Poised and deadly.”

Damian’s ears pick up the repressed laughter the other man tries to hide.

“My god they’ve fucking drilled that into you huh? Tell me brat, honestly. What does the katana mean to you?”

Damian’s hands unconsciously drift to his side, gripping his weapon. To him? Not what it was supposed to.. but what it meant to him…

“..my duty. It reminds me of the people who have trained me. Of my purpose. Of my mother, and grandfather. It reminds me of their lessons, their instructions.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So your katanna represents your memory of them right? It’s a symbol of their training, it your childhood- even a sorry excuse for one. So it holds memories for you doesnt it?”

“I.. I suppose..”

“So tell me. What do you think Zitka represents for Dick?”

He pauses. Memories sift through his mind as he remembers all he learnt about the first robin. Of his past. Of the circus, of the death of his parents. Of who he was-oh..

It hits him, and it hits him hard.

“It symbolises his past, represents his memory of.. the circus? Of himself and his parents?”

“Bingo brat. Everyone has stuff that stores memories, and they choose what represents it. It depends on the person, their characteristics and attachments to that memory. So while yours serves as a reminder of how you’ve been taught to view yourself, Zitka is a reminder to Dick of who he is. Who he was, and who he became. It’s a tether, a reminder of everything that he was before and after. So yeah, this thing as you call it, it’s a symbolism of something special for Dickiebird.”

And with that, Jason swivels around, presenting his creation to the younger child. Damian inspects the stitches, careful to conceal the awe he felt at the impressive work. It was as if nothing had ever happened to it.

“Now, you take this back to where you found it. And I will kick replacement out of my room.”

Damian nods, surprising himself with the gentle way he accepts the elephant. He never knew his grip could be this soft. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be.. was it? He nods his thanks, subconsciously cradling Zitka to his chest before heading out.

“.. Damian.”

He turns around, meeting Todd’s eyes.

“You.. you’re not at a training ground. You’re not supposed to act how people think you’re supposed to. You’re not how you’re supposed to be.”

Damian visibly flinches at that, taking a step back while gripping the toy closer to his chest. Jason seems to notice that as his eyes soften, hands held up in surrender.

“All I’m saying is.. that’s not always a bad thing. And it’s not supposed to be. You’re not supposed to be a weapon. You’re supposed to be you. Damian Al-ghul Wayne.”

“And who is that?”, Damian rasps. Jason just shrugs, flashing a grin as he stands up and stretches.

“That’s something you’re supposed to figure out.”

Damian leaves with his heart thudding in his chest. He carefully leaves Zitka in Grayson’s room, paints a self-portrait with shaking fingers and breaks it apart when he realizes he doesn’t recognise the reflection. Who the hell was Damian Al-Ghul supposed to be??

He receives a gift the next week. There’s no note, and it contains the soft toy inside. He has a sneaking suspicion Grayson or father saw him carrying Zitka and thought he’d like one of his own. The handiwork is one he’s seen before, and he wordlessly places the robin Todd made on his table, far from anyone else’s view but his own Perhaps.. perhaps a bird was a symbolism. A puzzle Damian was supposed to solve.

A bird was supposed to have a nest.

Perhaps Damian was supposed to realize that these people were his family. Perhaps.. perhaps this place.. these people.. were supposed be his home. And perhaps, just maybe, he wasn’t supposed to fight that.

203 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 2 months

Text

How small must the world be for both Bruce and Tim to witness John and Mary Grayson's deaths

Or for 10-year-old Duke to crack the Riddler's puzzle before Batman swoops in and saves the day, long before his powers came into play

Or for Sheila Haywood to leave her son only to end up assisting his killer a decade and a half later

Not to mention the popular fanon concept of Jason knowing baby Damian in the League of Assassins

Now imagine how many other invisible strings could've tied them together

Like what if Tim and Jason went to the same school when Jason was Robin but all they shared was the occasional bump and "excuse me" in the busy halls

Or what if Babs was a tutor and helped an elementary-aged Steph finally understand her homework only for the Browns to cancel after a couple sessions because they couldn't afford it

What if the first person to buy Cass a hot meal was Kate on one of her travels

What if Alfred witnessed young Selina shoplifting groceries but chose to turn a blind eye

What if Jason lived on the same streets as the Row siblings and gave little Harper tips on how to use tools and defend her brother

What if Steph and Duke shared the same school bus, only he sat in the front while she was toward the back

What if the first person to teach Tim how to tie his shoes was Bruce at a gala because Jack and Janet were busy talking to someone important

What if Bette did a DNA test for fun and found a connection in Nanda Parbat but just assumed the results was faulty because she knew her whole family, right?

What if 8-year-old Dick, the day before his parents died, stayed at a cheap hotel near Crime Alley and found 4-year-old Jason wandering alone and said, "I'll be your big brother for tonight"

What if the universe knew they were made for each other and wouldn't rest until they realized it too

6K notes · View notes

yournewmisstress · 1 month

Text

In the Danny is Damian’s brother trope what if instead of Damian not telling the family about Danny wasn’t because of grief or shame or any of the more commonly used reasons for his silence. What if it was because he heard about how his father talked about Jason after his death, focusing and exaggerating the negative. That he was violent, angry, never listened to orders but in some iterations and popular fanon is that Jason was a cheerful and studious Robin.

What if while compiling info and researching the former robins during his tumultuous introduction he saw what kind of robin Jason was, good with kids and victims. Talking about his favorite books while on patrol and similar. Reminding Damian of his most Beloved brother.

Then he finds out about how Bruce talked about Jason after he died. Using him as an example as what not to do, erasing his good traits and just using him as a cautionary tale of what happens when you don’t follow orders. Just like what Ra’s said about Danny.

So he didn’t tell the family, not out of guilt or grief. But because his father stripped away Jason’s positive traits after death, the son he chose, adopted and loved. Who when he failed because he was a child led astray by his mother. What would he do to his brother, who loved the stars and excelled in stealth, who was quite in his kills but had no lust for killing.

Whether or not Bruce would do this to Danny’s memory doesn’t matter. B’s actions are gonna affect how Damian views his father even years after the initial actions. Because Damian will protect his brothers memory from being twisted even by their father.

#danny and damian are twins #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpjl #danny phantom crossover #angst #Bruce is not trusted by his son and this causes issues #maybe Danny died during a failed mission #or ra’s didn’t want two heirs #the Lazarus pit stole Danny’s body and dropped it on the outskirts of amity park

5K notes · View notes

ghost-bxrd · 6 months

Text

Prompt:

After Jason’s resurrection he finds that his body works… wrong somehow.

Some days he forgets to breathe until he wants to say something and finds there’s no air in lungs. Other days his body goes eerily cold until someone points out that his lips are blue and he needs to warm up.

And some days his heart stops beating in his sleeps.

It’s fine, really. It always starts again eventually a short while after he wakes up. And yeah, of course it was a bit scary the first couple times it happened but it’s not like his resurrection and Pit-dip came with an instruction manual, so this is probably pretty normal stuff, all things considered. He is kind of the definition of “undead”.

The real trouble starts when he forgets to mention those little details to the Batfamily when he stays over for the night.

8K notes · View notes

charlietheepicwriter7 · 4 months

Text

G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̏̃n̵͙̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀Wa̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉

It was a simple mission. Damian was working with Father to confirm the existence of a Lazarus Pit below Gotham, as Ra's Al Ghul speculated. And they had found it, deep in the caves below Gotham. A Pit the size of an Olympic sized swimming pool, bubbling and steaming. He'd only looked away for a moment.

"Kin-slayer."

Standing waist deep in the water stood Damian's reflection. The hair might be white, and the eyes glowing with the waters, but it was his face. But not his face alone.

Danyal's ghost glared at him. "Get in the water."

Father threw a batarang at him, but the metal flew straight through his head like it was air. Danyal didn't even glance at him, his eyes fixed on Damian. "Get in the water," he ordered again. He stepped closer to the shore and the green water sloshed up the bank higher than it was before. "Or I'll raise the tide so high, all of Gotham will die. So get in the water."

Damian's heart jumped into throat. "Wait-"

"Get in the water."

Father shoved Damian behind him, as if it would protect him, as if he could stop Danyal. "Stop this, please-" If he could just explain-

Another step and the waters surged forward, nearly touching Father's boots. "I'll make whirlpools so profound, your entire family will drown," he promised.

"NO!" Not his brother, his kind brother-

"THEN GET IN THE WATER!" Danyal snarled, revealing monstrously sharp teeth and a black tongue from Damian's poison. "G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̟̰͙̏̃n̵͙̝̟̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀w̵̜͍̤̌a̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉͜!̷̡͔́̀̽" He lunged and Father pushed them back down the passage they'd come. "Don't mistake this for a bluff, brother. You've lived more than enough. Just get in the water." Damian swallowed, throat dry. Was this Danyal's revenge? Did he finally have to face what he had done?

"Robin, who is this?" Father snapped, trying to keep retreating down the cave. But Damian wouldn't let him; the waters, and Danyal with them, would only follow.

Danyal looked between them, scowling. "G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̟̰͙̏̃n̵͙̝̟̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀w̵̜͍̤̌a̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉͜!̷̡͔́̀̽" he snapped again. "I'll take your father and gouge out his eyes, unless you want to stop being a coward and choose to die. Now... get in the water."

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #Danny: I've been sent to collect all the souls that have escaped various afterlifes for evading ghost taxes or whatever #Danny: *notices the brother who killed him is on the list*#Danny: Oh i'm going to traumatize the hell out of him #c: danny fenton #c: danyal al ghul #c: damian wayne #c: bruce wayne #i know i promised bruce angst but i'm pretty sure he's plenty angsty right now even if it's not his PoV #i've been listening to epic the musical on repeat and thought of this

5K notes · View notes

ktkat99 · 1 year

Text

Angst/humor fic idea, if you need a prompt:

Bruce finds out the hard way which of his kids is okay with the 'unadoption' joke threats he makes when they annoy or stress him out. "Why did I adopt you?"..."I still have your adoption certificate. I wonder if the orphanage accepts returns?"..."I knew I should have left you on that street corner where I found you."

Dick fires back with twice as much sass, sometimes rolling his eyes and flipping off Bruce when he gets older.

Young!Jason looks so scared the first time he hears one, and Bruce never jokes about it again. Adult!Jason makes jokes about unadopting himself.

Tim is far too tired to register that it was a joke and gets quiet and avoids Bruce completely for the rest of the week until Bruce realizes what he did wrong and tracks his son down. They talk and Bruce never implies regretting to adopt Tim again.

Cass laughs along with him before pulling out her adoption certificate from her pocket and grinning, scaring him. His kids's adoption paperwork was all stored in a hidden, impenetrable, designed-by-Batman safe. Laughter fades and she just whispers "You'll never be rid of me."

Bruce- Maybe Talia wants you back.

Damian, not even phased- And maybe Alfred would have rather been working for a doctor than a clown-hating, nocturnal, combat furry, but I guess we're both out here disappointing our parents.

#batman #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #red robin #nightwing #red hood #damian wayne #robin #cassandra cain #orphan #batfam incorrect quotes #batfam #batfamily #angst #humor #fic ideas #writing prompts

14K notes · View notes

dclovesdanny · 2 months

Text

You know those fics where Danny and Damian are twins? What if we made them slightly angstier/different?

What if a bad reveal happens, and Clockwork de ages Danny to the age he was when he ‘died’ with the Al ghul’s?

Meanwhile, Damian had revealed his brothers existence, and a grave was made for his brother on the Wayne cemetery, even though they didn’t have a body.

One night, Jason and Damian go to the grave again, and hear a noise. A scratching sound that Jason knows far too well. Within a second, he starts digging, trying to get to the coffin. Damian notices that both his and Jason’s eyes are glowing, yet he doesn’t feel rage, only curiosity.

Jason finally reaches the coffin and yanks the top open, to reveal a crying de aged Danny, who was scraping at the coffin, thinking his parents buried him. It’s not until he opens his eyes, and sees his twin that he figures out what’s going on.

“Akhi… where are we?”

#angst #dcxdp #dc x dp #danny and damian are twins #chaos and angst #de aged danny #no one knows what’s going on

2K notes · View notes

whaleteeths-blog · 2 months

Text

“To heal is to save thyself”

#damian wayne #batfam #batman #batfamily #damian al ghul #dsmp fanart #comics #damian wayne angst #dc comics #dc universe

1K notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 4 months

Text

There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc prompt #i promise this is a prompt #it just got very long #danyal al ghul au #my take on a danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey #consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that?#his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there #did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned #thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed #when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake #danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault #also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for #his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat #gremlin assassin child danny is so funny #i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential #but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually.#because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i #thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it #tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid #like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family

3K notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 3 months

Text

Tim Drake hc:

After rescuing Bruce from the timestream, the other Bats eventually notice that Tim is 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 without at least one weapon on him at all times. He usually has three (the small knife he built hideaway spots in all his shoes for, the larger knife either on his hip or shelved on his back, and a nonlethal option such as a taser), but he doesn't even sleep without them within reach.

The shoe knife was introduced to his outfits after the Titan Tower Attack. He wanted a hidden way to never be caught off guard again (he wasn't sure his precautions would be well-received by the Bats). The larger knife was added after the desert (Tim's not sure he'd resort to using it, but he lost two friends during a time he had only himself and them to rely on). The nonlethal one was added after Damian cut his line.

He does end up forgiving all the Bats for their transgressions and seeking forgiveness for his faults, but he's never without a weapon. He's learned that even "safe" spaces can suddenly become unsafe. He learned that, when it came down to it, he has only himself to constantly rely on.

#dc comics #dc universe #dc robin #tim drake #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc red robin #jason todd #hc #tim drake angst #hc tim lost his sense of safety and home by the time he was 18

1K notes · View notes

fantastic-nonsense · 2 months

Text

got a message out of the blue about that 'why Batman doesn't kill' explanation I left on someone else's post like two years ago but it was just "wait is Alfred dead????" and I sort of forgot that most of tumblr Batfam fandom doesn't actually read comics and so largely has no idea that Bane killed Alfred back in 2019 and he's stayed dead since

#kinda tragic really because it's been excellent angst material for Damian Dick and Jason (and Bruce of course)#even if it's also led to some absolutely baffling writing decisions (tom taylor. I'm looking directly at you)#Alfred's now the second-longest lasting death in batfam history next to Jason lmao #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman #batfam #EDIT: IF I SNEAKILY CORRECTED MY DATES SO I ACTUALLY NOTED THE CORRECT YEAR CITY OF BANE WAS PUBLISHED IN (2019): no I didn't.

1K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

chelseafcb

jindalhc

Jindal Healthcare

troglobyte

Troglobyte

jinyum

multi kpop trash & anime enthusiast

pigeonwithapen

OC City