Summary: DPxDC. Danyal accepts more duties than people think, and that's saying something.
- - -
Danyal stared at the crown now held in Frostbite's large hands.
It had changed.
It wasn't just the lack of green flames engulfing it, no. The crown itself had changed. The darkened metal was no more, and instead he found the crystal-like reflectiveness of obsidian.
The shape, too, was different: the base was no longer flat, made for sitting atop his head —if it were to sit rather than float—, and instead it dipped down at the bottom, like a frown meant to lay directly on his forehead, as well as on his temples and the back of his head.
And on the front, instead of just going up in one spike, there were two smaller pointed endings, resembling tiny ears that stood up.
From an angle, it almost looked like…
No, he couldn't fool himself with maybes and perhaps, he knew the truth: it was a bat, the symbol of his biological father, the Batman.
He knew what it meant: their paths had been marked to cross in the future, of that he had no doubt, and no desire.
He looked around himself, but in spite of being his favourite, time hadn't stopped for him, not this time, he had to face it all here and now.
"Great One." Frostbite called him with a soft smile, unaware of his inner turmoil.
Danny gave him one of his own and inclined his head, accepting the burden of power and feeling the flames light up again, causing him no harm.
Since Jazz had memory, her parents yad taught her and her little brother Danny about ghosts, what was their physical constitution, their general shape, general after-life-spam, etc.
But what was a ghost itself? “An odd manifestation of ectoplasm over a conscience post-mortem" often said her mother.
So, that meant ghosts were people, but dead and ectoplasmic? “Not at all. Ghosts are just a thought, an idea, the last electric waves in a human brain that somehow gets in contact with ectoplasm, which ‘reactivates' some of the biological process of the corpse; but the person and what made them themselves is already gone."
Then again, can't a ghost be a ‘good' or ‘positive' electric wave of a nice, considerate human brain that somehow got in contact with ectoplasm? Like a... good ghost? “Jazzy-pants, all ghosts are evil, that's a fact."
“But how can you be so sure? I mean... what if ectoplams gets in contact with the conscience post-mortem of a GOOD PERSON? Wouldn't the ghost be a good ghost then?"
Jack Fenton narrowenld his eyes at his daughter and stopped cleaning his bazooka. “Madds, why did we discard Jazz being a ghost, again?" He whispered to his wife, eyeing Jazz suspiciously.
“Ugh! Nevermind!" And with an angry sigh, she stormed out of the kitchen.
Of course not all ghosts were evil. That was absurd. Her parents needed to know, to understand, that ghosts could also be sweet, and good, brave and caring, they could be funny and awkward and misunderstood. A ghost could be a good boy. A ghost could be her little brother.
Summary: In a world where Danyal al Ghul is resurrected by his mother after his death, the child turns down the idea of going with his biological father, the feared Batman.
In this one, he doesn't.
Most things don't change. Unfortunately, some do.
A what-if scenario from my dannymay entry "Reflection".
-
Look, I don't actually hate Damian, but I stumbled upon far too many "Danny forgives his abuser/murderer because he was just a kid and forgiving us good and siblings must stick together 4evr 🥺 uwu" and fuck that noise, I say as an abused sibling.
in the first part of this series, Danyal wondered what would have happened had he gone to Batman when he arrived to the USA
here we find out 3:)
- - -
Bruce watched his sons go with a smile on his face when Danyal finally reached out and held Jason’s offered hand.
It was a victory, for Danyal to see that his brother wasn’t out to get him, that he didn’t intend to harm him.
That his brother wouldn’t kill him.
The smile slipped from Bruce’s face, and the detective found himself cursing Ra’s al Ghul yet again.
- - -
Danyal had arrived at the Batcave in the middle of the night whilst Batman and Robin were in the middle of patrol, and introduced himself to Alfred as Batman’s son. His words, his face and his eyes quickly had the vigilantes returning home.
Talia’s nose, Bruce’s chin still full of baby fat, Talia’s soft hair, almost like silk… Martha Wayne’s blue eyes.
Bruce had frozen mid-step when he saw him, so small , with clothes that didn’t fit him and only a small backpack on his tired little shoulders. And when the boy’s eyes –Martha’s same blue – landed on him, a myriad of emotions passed through them, almost too fast for the detective to read them: awe, fear, hope, relief… and when he spotted Robin, the fear came back, wariness, unease…
His Jason, in spite of growing quick to anger as of late, was still good with younger kids, and agreed to leave him alone with only some minor grumbling.
Once alone, the boy stood straight again, hands clasped behind his back and chin lifted up proudly even as he swam in his clothes. (So small.) His eyes, though, didn’t meet Bruce’s, and instead settled on his chin.
“Hello, my name is Danyal al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul…” He paused for a second, but then carried on, “and of the Batman.”
“I see.” Bruce barely managed to get out past the lump of emotion clogging his throat.
“I… mother and I have decided that Nanda Parbat and the League of Shadows is no longer safe for me,” his voice wobbled and broke and they both pretended it didn’t, “so she sent me here with you, if—if you will take me.”
Bruce breached the distance between them and knelt in front of his son with measured, projected movements.
“Danyal,” he said at last, “can I hug you?”
With a stunned expression, his son stiffly nodded, and just as slowly, Bruce wrapped his arms around him, tugging him towards his chest and feeling Danyal tentatively wrap his tiny arms as far as he could reach in turn.
“Danyal, what happened? Why now, at last, did your mother send you to me?”
“… I was murdered by Damian al Ghul—son of Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul and Heir of the Demon’s Head… my—my twin brother.”
- - -
It was always a challenge to track down the League’s movements and status, but not one Bruce ever cowered from.
Talia’s latest movements weren’t impossible to track, if you knew what you were looking at.
Places she hadn’t gone to in a long time, where he knew she had caches of valuables, money, safe-houses and the necessary means to disappear.
He could almost see her helping Danyal along, guiding him long enough to know he could make it to Gotham, until her father turned his eyes towards her once again, questioning her actions.
He searched further, from everything from the past seven years, to what they were currently doing.
He wished he could leave the country to have a more hands-on approach with the ever elusive League, but with Danyal only really relaxing—feeling safe— when Bruce was present, he had barely even left to go on patrol.
Despite their tense start, Bruce was grateful for Jason, from his acceptance of the paused patrols, his patience with Danyal, his understanding of the smaller boy’s situation, and his genuine desire to connect with him and be a good big brother.
It was a relief to Bruce, as a father, to see the anger that had been growing more and more in him be tampered down, easily put aside by his kindness, his gentleness.
- - -
“Do you like reading?”
Jason asked, smiling from his upside-down position in the couch on Bruce’s studio, where the man was working on police cases while he couldn’t go out and be Batman.
Danyal was glued to Bruce’s side, having been assured that it was okay for him to do so, was welcome, even, and he looked at his father from his periphery, gauging his reaction.
When he got a curious lifting of an eyebrow, Danyal frowned and his focus returned to Jason. “I don’t know.” He seemed pained to admit it.
Jason, though, didn’t let that put a damper in his plan, and beamed at the kid instead. “Wanna find out if you like children’s tales?”
This time, Danyal did turn his head towards Bruce, just a little, and the small frown on his face showed he was having difficulty deciphering Jason’s statement.
With an indulgent smile, Bruce carded his fingers through his youngest’s fluffy hair, feeling the kid relax under the touch.
“Jason is a fan of reading,” he explained, “and he’s trying to see if you two have that in common, and you just don’t know it yet.” Jason smiled and nodded, as much as he could in his position. “But mostly, he wants to share something he loves with you.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Danyal. “Uh, okay.”
Jason’s smile turned radiant, and he jumped from his spot, closing his eyes and gripping the back of the couch as the world straightened, but said with joy anyway, “I’ll be back in a second!”, and ran out of the room, no doubt towards their library.
Once the older boy was gone, Danyal finally turned towards him, glaring at the bookshelf behind them. He clenched and unclenched his chubby fist a few times, clearly thinking hard. Bruce had learned by now that it was best for him to let Danyal take his time—unlike Jason, who typically had to be encouraged into revealing his feelings.
“Father, I have only ever read academic and pedagogic papers, what if I don’t like what Jason loves?”
Bruce cupped Danyal’s cheek with one hand, a victory in his heart when his son leaned into the touch, when two days ago he had startled. “Did you love all the academic papers you read?”
After a second of thought, Danyal confessed, “I don’t know. I enjoyed the ones about astronomy, the other ones… not nearly as much.”
“Hmm. Then maybe you will like this better, or you won’t, and you can try to find something you do, Jason has a big collection, and the library is even bigger, I’m sure he’ll like to help you find out, if you allow him. But tell me, do you want to find out if you like fantasy and fairy tales better than academic texts?”
Danyal did stop to think about it, and then a spark of defiance entered his blue eyes, a small rebellion compared to what he had already done, but a rebellion nonetheless.
Bruce ever-active detective mind could tell his son was thinking of Ra’s, of his sure disapproval for such a frivolous topic, and felt his heart fill with pride when his son replied, rocking his whole body in a nod.
“Yes, I want to find out.”
When Jason returned, it was with his arms full of books, almost toppling over his hold.
“I got some variety here!” He put half of them on Bruce’s desk, closer to their father than to his little brother, and went back to his seat across from the room. “Got two copies of each one so you can have your own! You get to choose what to start with!”
Bruce spread the books out on his desk, over his paperwork, to let Danyal see the titles and covers.
“How about this one?” He suggested, pointing at one title in particular.
Jason, though, glared at him. “Danyal gets to choose.”
Bruce winked at him, but Jason’s frown only really abated when his little brother asked him, “What is The Little Prince about?”
And, in spite of the physical distance Jason respected, Bruce got to see his children grow closer.
- - -
Now here he was, down in the Cave, pouring over strategies on how to infiltrate one of the most guarded places on earth to rescue his son, get him out, and not allow the League to ever lay hands on either of the twins again.
“They made him a killer.” He lamented when Alfred approached to hand him another mug of coffee. “They’re only six… if only Talia had told me…” He massages his temples and closes his eyes, the map of Nanda Parbat burnt in his eyelids while he imagined a world where he got to raise both kids since infancy.
“The past is rarely what we want it to be, Master Bruce, we can only hope to influence the present so as to have a better future.” Alfred told him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder before taking his leave.
“If Damian is given the opportunity,” he muttered after a long moment of silence, drumming his fingers on the desk, “what kind of person would he become?”
“You would bring him here? After what he did?”
Bruce felt a stone drop in his stomach and he turned around to be met with Danyal, his sweet and shy youngest son, already clad in his star-themed pyjamas, staring him down even as he had to tilt his chin up to look him in the eye.
Straight in the eyes, instead of his chin or the bridge of his nose, where he felt safe looking in his shyness or nerves. Right now, his gaze was cold, a cold so great it burned you.
His tiny fists, clenched at his sides, were shaking, thumping against his thighs. If it was in rage or in fear, he couldn’t tell; both, possibly.
“Danyal.” He breathed out softly, carefully relaxing his posture and letting his hands fall palms-out by his sides. “Son, I know this isn’t ideal, but please listen to me, what Ra’s did to you is monstrous, to both of you; you are both just children…
“I promise I will keep you safe, and won’t let anyone hurt you, but I have to get your brother out of there, too, he’s not safe there. He’s only a child, Danyal, I can’t just leave him there.”
“Damian is not in danger, he is the danger! He murdered me and you don’t care!”
“Of course I do, if there was anything I could do to change it, to fix it, I would, but all I can do now is try to prevent it from happening again, to either of you; your brother is just a child too, who wasn’t taught any better-”
“ I knew better! I didn’t kill him !” Danyal screamed. His chest was heaving with laboured breaths, and his eyes shone with tears ready to fall. One of his hands went up to fist in his hair, tugging on it, and Bruce internally winced, trying to keep it off his face. “You—why—I can’t—you’ve only had me for a week, but you’ve already decided you love him more!”
Bruce had stood up, at the beginning of this, with measured movements, and now approached his youngest son the same way, with his hands spread out and taking a short step.
The only one he managed to take, before Danyal flinched back from him, eyes wide and afraid, sobs cutting short.
It was as if he had been stabbed in the gut, with the way he suddenly couldn’t breathe and how his knees would no longer hold his body and left him prostrated before his flesh and blood.
“Please, son, listen,” but the boy didn’t, instead bolting for the lift, almost falling into it when it opened, and leaving the cave with tears falling down his face, “Danyal!” Bruce called after him, watching him go.
And as he had sank into the floor, Bruce sank his head in his hands.
When he had regained enough of his composure, Bruce went back up into the manor, resolute in talking to his youngest. He was met, instead, with his second’s glare and anger.
“What did you do to Danyal?” Jason’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, his knuckles white and his blue gaze cold.
Bruce really didn’t like the sense of déjà vu he was getting.
“Not now, Jason, I have to talk with your brother.” He tried to go past him, but his son wasn’t budging. “Jason, move .”
“Why? So that you can go and make him cry more ?” He spat on his face, making Bruce flinch.
“Move aside, Jason, that’s an order.”
Changing his stance, Jason was no longer an unmoving wall, but someone prepared to dodge a blow. It was just as bad as with Danyal flinching back from him, even if this time he didn’t let his body fail him.
“Make me.”
“Jason,” he pleaded, “I have to fix things with your brother.”
“How? Breaking down his door? Barging in through his window? He locked himself in, he won’t even say a thing to me!”
And that obviously hurt Jason, who had adored his little brother the moment he knew about him, and for whom he had worked so hard in earning his trust, step by small step.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
“I need to make things right, son.”
“Then think of how you’re gonna do that first!”
And with that, Jason marched off to Danyal’s door, sitting down to keep watch against their father.
-
Jason didn’t barge in through Danyal’s window, he knocked on the windowpane first, and waited patiently for his baby brother to decide to let him in himself.
“Hey, buddy,” he started, looking at the boy’s red and swelling eyes, knowing he had cried himself to sleep, “you haven’t touched the food Alfie left ya, and you gotta eat if you wanna grow up strong.” He handed Danyal the lunchbox he had brought with him and continued. “I know my cooking isn’t as amazing as Alfie’s, but I think I’m okay.”
Danyal bit down on one of his sandwiches with a thoughtful face.
“It’s good.” He declared after swallowing.
Jason beamed at the praise, and hurried to offer the bottled juice he had brought as well. “It goes better with the sandwich than tap water!”
Danyal took it, and they sat down next to the wall, silent as Danyal ate.
“Thank you, Jason.” His little brother told him, handing him back the lunchbox.
“No problem.” There was another moment of silence, and Jason hated having to break it. “If you don’t wanna talk,” he started slowly, “about what happened with Bruce, you don’t have to; but, if you don’t wanna keep it in, you don’t have to do that either.”
Danyal obviously mulled it over, putting a hand on his nape and rubbing gently, and Jason waited, thinking of what could’ve happened and what he could say to it.
Maybe he should have expected it, knowing Bruce for years already, knowing Batman, but Danyal’s words still left him speechless.
“Father wants to bring Damian here.”
-
“Are you out of your fucking mind?! How could you even think it was a good idea?!”
“Jason, Damian is a kid who needs a better environment, not to be in the belly of the League of Assassins, he needs his family!”
“And Danyal? First Ra’s sacrifices him so that his chosen heir doesn’t grow weak , and now you sacrifice him so daddy’s littlest murderer can come and play house!”
“… Damian is my son.”
“So is Danyal. Doesn’t he matter?”
Alfred cut in with a harsh, worried look, “Sirs. Young Master Danyal is gone.”
The vigilantes turned as one to a worried Alfred, meeting his panic with theirs.
-
Everything fell apart so quickly after that.
They looked for Danyal, of course they did, but it was like his son was a ghost; he had only taken two extra changes of clothes—from the full wardrobe they had just gotten for him days ago—, some money in cash and some food they hadn’t seen him take from the kitchen.
He knew how to travel by himself, that was how he had gotten to Gotham in the first place, and even if he hadn’t wanted to use it, he had had infiltration training, knew how to not be noticed, how to look as if he fit in a place he wasn’t meant to be in.
He could have already left the continent, for all Bruce knew.
Not long after, Jason left for Ethiopia.
Him, who had a goal in mind other than leave this place , Bruce managed to track, reading his hurried movements and seeing, as well, another plot emerging around him, the jaws of danger closing on his son, who had walked into a trap as he looked for a good parent.
Batman arrived too late.
“Danyal is gone and Jason is dead.” His voice was rough with disuse, after having screamed in sorrow until his throat burned. “What could I even offer Damian if I could bring him here?”
Disappointment? Failure? Death?
Alfred didn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect him to. Whilst looking at Jason’s battered Robin suit inside the glass case, they knew there was no answer.
He allowed himself another short moment of sorrow, and then pulled himself together. He had work to do.
“If Ra’s finds out Danyal was here, he could look for him, he could find him.” He could have him killed again. “Outside the two of us, no one is to know that we even met him, that we knew he existed .”
“I shall dispose of his belongings, then.”
Bruce could hear the well-hidden pain in Alfred’s voice, but this had to be done, it was now the only thing he could do for Danyal.
Had his small son stayed, it would have been unavoidable for the League of Assassins to find out, but Bruce had been ready for that, ready to fight the Demon’s Head for his children, to make sure they were safe.
Now, though, he knew he couldn’t promise that. The safety of a warm home was not something he could provide, as a father.
All he could do was hope, against his paranoia and his instincts, that Danyal would survive out there, that he could live.
And all he had left, all he could do, was to keep on his crusade against crime, hoping a better world would treat his son kindly where he had failed.
- - -
and then Danyal meets an eccentric but loving ghost-obssessed family that adopts him and love him very much and don't dissect him because that tropes fucking bores me too fr
and if he ever meets Damian again and sees for himself he has changed for the better and regrets his actions, he still doesn't forgive him and doesn't reconnect with him, because he doesn't owe him neither his forgiveness nor his love just because they're blood 😊
i have Thoughts about why Danyal was deemed the weak one (it's ableism) by Ra's, and how it connects him and separates him from Bruce as well
please leave a comment with your thoughts! unless you're a scammer, I won't fucking buy a comission if you spam me!
Danny looked up with green-tinted eyes, glaring at the cultists even as the flower crown digging its thorns on his forehead made him dizzy with its pungent scent.
"H-how? Impossible! So many blood blossoms so close would incapacitate any ghost!" Said the cult's second-in-command.
"Yeah, y'know something about still being half alive?" Danny said, casually plucking one of the flower buds and bringing it in front of his face. "That I can develop immunity to poisons." With a devious smirk, he popped the flower in his mouth and ate it.
- - -
lmao i was told in the discord server that danny's reaction to blood blossoms would be more akin to lactose intolerance but i really want to have his human side be more useful so here is this
The wind whipped around them, flowing with Jason’s tumultuous emotions: a tornado of his own making that left him and Danny right at its centre, its core.
“I can’t tell you what to choose, Jay, but you have to choose. This… this is your crossroad.”
And Jason could feel it within himself: his obsession fighting for stability, the two aspects of it now set against each other, no longer coexisting in balance, no longer with the same goal.
Justice or Revenge.
The Lazarus Pit boiled in his veins, in every cell of his body, clamouring for blood and violence, reminding him of all that he had suffered, all the people that had to pay.
Closing his eyes he could feel the city, his haunt, thrumming with lie all around him… but in pain, bleeding. The corruption of it, the violence, the poverty, made it scream non-stop, cry out for something it knew it wouldn’t get.
And then, buried deep beneath disdain, anger, and resentment, was not hope, but a desire for a better future, for bright days, to finally get a respite.
Jason opened his eyes, and tears streamed down his face.
Jason landed on a small floating rock, one that wasn't moving right now, and looked around the green and purple landscape littered with doors.
He reached inside his pouch and ran his fingers over the cold, glowing orb that was the soul of a dead boy.
"Hey, buddy, hangin' in there?" He talked to it, not entirely sure the boy could hear him. "I'll get ya home in no time, don't worry, just…" He looked around again, trying to pinpoint any landmark to help him not get lost in the maze of rocks and doors. "I'll get you home, no matter what."
The dead man, looking as he had when he was a dead boy, closed the pouch again and jumped with determination.
- - -
this is from a fic i wanna write but still don't quite know how
maybe getting lil bits out of my sistem will help me practice its voice :)
Summary: Do Not Speak Of This With The Higher Authorities, And Your Rewards Shall Be Great. Deal?
- - -
When her little brother's lip started wobbling, Jazz's panic spiked.
"Shh! Shh!" She looked around to make sure her parents weren't approaching, and put her hands over Danny's mouth. "If you don't cry and don't tell mom and dad, I'll, um, give you all my marshmallows from Halloween!"
His little hiccups stopped, but only because his energy was now being used to level an unimpressed glare at his sister.
"And! I'll eat your toast this whole month!"
At that, Danny's chubby face lightened up and he held up a tiny pinkie finger, saying a muffled "Pwomise?"
Finally freeing his mouth, Jazz entwined her own left pinkie with his.
"Promise."
- - -
you can imagine baby Danny with a huge lump in his forehead they won't be able to hide/heal in time (:
Summary: A little brother with a mission and lots of properly-placed anger.
- - -
With one of Clockwork's amulets sitting firmly against his chest beneath his tee, an iron ring in each hand and a bunch of anger within, Danny stepped into the fungal portal that would take him to his sister and her kidnappers.
Faery food or not, they would let her go if they knew what was good for them.
