I'm Totally Normal About Them - Tumblr Posts

discovered that madonna was second in the billboard hot 100 singles of 1985 so naturally i

🎥: _elllie.louise_ (TikTok)

It’s been a week. And I’m still collecting angles… can you tell I’m still not over it-

His family circles him in the depths of his birthplace, and perhaps such circumstances should fill him with homely feelings of security and love. It doesn't.

Instead, he finds his mind stuck on the memory of his unconscious, injured mother as he sets eyes for the first time on the one who hurt her, draped across the throne she rightfully claimed upon Grandfather's passing. The man's face is drawn into a cocky smirk, the features striking a familiarity that drags forefront days of being two instead of one when the thief before him stood in the two brothers' shadow like all servants must.

Their eyes meet as he opens the tome on his lap to a bookmarked page, the runes at his feet alighting from the simple movement. He grows even smugger at Damian's glower, and it's only years of ingrained, taught patience that stops him from leaping across the room to murder him as he tried to murder Mother.

He maintains eye contact as his fingers glide over the page, taunting.

Damian grits his teeth and keeps his hold on his katana purposefully comfortable.

Do not fall for it. He reminds himself. Do not show any signs of frustration.

"Such a grand name. Damian Al Ghul. Certainly grander than Danyal."

Damian can't help the angry rumble that climbs up his throat. How dare he speak of Danyal?

Ghalib (a far too powerful title for a coward who hides behind his followers) does not pause, but it's obvious the reaction amuses him from the way his eyes crinkle. "I suppose Ra's had a favourite. Or was it your mother that named you? Tell me, was Talia happier once he was gone? Did she seem lighter?"

"Do not speak of what you do not know." Damian growls, taking a warning step forward.

The echoing click of safeties being disengaged sounds from all directions, every assassins' attention snapping to him in a mirror of his aggression. He feels his siblings and his Father shift behind him, tensing impossibly more at the increase in hostility. Damian couldn't care less about the very clear threat.

He can feel Grayson and Father hovering worriedly behind him, eager to reach out but unsure how or if they should. Normally, Damian would find their unspoken, immediate support strangely comforting, if a bit suffocating at times. Now, he finds it annoying. This is not about him. This insignificant, poor excuse of a man just insinuated that Danyal was unloved.

Danyal, who Mother cried for when the Lazarus Pit refused to return life to him and instead chose to hoard his corpse in its depths. Danyal, whose death had Grandfather making sure the men responsible were mutilated beyond recognition and never saw the light of day again. Danyal, who Damian is still mourning even after all this time.

Danyal was loved. He was loved so much.

The first time in nearly six years he's heard his brother's name spoken by someone other than himself, and it's like this? Like he was nothing? Like Danyal's memory is little more than a black mark on the Al Ghul name?

Ghalib knows nothing. He has no right to speak of Danyal. None.

Ghalib acquiesces with a condescending nod of his head. "Yes, yes of course. My apologies, oh honourable heir. Perhaps instead I should speak of the blood spilt to paint your legacy? All the loyal servants murdered in your family's name?"

"My Grandfather was not a good man, but he was not needlessly cruel. He did not go about murdering his own unless given reason, and even if he had, revenge cannot be inflicted on the dead through their living kin. Mother has certainly never acted as rashly as you suggest." Damian countered, fuelled by indignation.

Grandfather deserved slander, but Ghalib was attacking everyone with the Al Ghul name and he couldn't let that stand. Certainly not after he'd left Mother confined to a bed and spoke ill of Danyal. Mother, perhaps, would claim his defence of her unneeded. Even injured as she is she could speak for herself, she'd say. Danyal has no such luxury.

"And even if they had," Drake piped up, "that has nothing to do with Damian."

Damian vehemently disagrees. Anyone out for his mother's head becomes his business, especially when they have gotten so close to taking it. The situation, however, doesn't allow for an argument on his part beyond a pointed glare at his predecessor.

He brought up Danyal. Damian wants to say. He tried to kill Mother and then insulted her dead child to her only surviving son.

"Tsk, tsk." Ghalib shakes his head, his tone condescendingly soft. "And to think you consider yourselves detectives. Do you truly not understand, even now?"

Father takes a step forward to stand beside Damian, posture tense as though he's ready to leap into action at any moment. It's more than that too, though. He's angry; frustrated. Father does not like not knowing things. He's probably still unsettled by the mention of Danyal.

(He should be more than unsettled. He would be furious if he knew just who Danyal was. If he'd been told of the second blood son he never got to meet because he'd been murdered so young.)

Damian supposes his own reaction only served to unsettle him more.

Tt.

It does not matter how Father feels at this time. Ghalib spoke ill of Danyal, of Mother, and Damian's fury burns so hot it threatens to consume him. How pathetic, to insult those not present to defend themselves. How foolish, to speak so poorly of Damian's family to his face.

"We know what you plan to do and why. That does not make your actions understandable. You are behaving irrationally." Father says.

"It's like talking to a brick wall with you lot." Ghalib sighs. Damian finds he has the sort of voice that becomes more grating the longer you hear it. "Oh well." His eyes find Damian's once more. "I suppose I expected too much."

Damian has never wanted to slap a person so much.

Ghalib leans back with a shrug, the runes' glow flickering as the actions cause his fingers to briefly lift from the page. The angle the book rests now puts its yellowed insides in plain view, but the distance between them makes the words contained within seem like little more than meaningless scribbles. It's a massive unknown. None of them had expected Ghalib to have any talent for magic, yet it's clear from how the dried blood and Lazarus water painted on the floor responds to him he does.

Damian should be concerned about how out of their depths they are, even with Brown, Cain and Thomas infiltrating the base as their backup, surely making their way over to assist. Father signalled them to enter several minutes ago now. They should be close. They should be here already, dropping down from the ceiling in some unnecessarily flamboyant attack.

But they're nowhere to be seen, and Ghalib is a magic user. Damian should be thinking. Trying to figure out a way to turn the odds. Do something more than shake in place, fuming.

Yet all he can focus on is Ghalib and the things he said about Danyal.

How dare he how dare he how dare he how dare he -

"Just remember," Ghalib continues, his voice like the screech of nails on a chalkboard as it rattles in Damian's skull, "I did try to warn you."

---

"Time out!"

At once, the world stops spinning. Everything from the wind in the trees and the collapsing stars galaxies out of reach, so far away Earth has never seen their light, jerk to an unwilling still. It's a silent, all-consuming freeze.

Danny floats in the centre of it all, his beloved katana raised in preparation to land its killing strike, the hundreds of people witness to his execution stuck in a picture of panic and fear. The man who was just quivering at his feet, begging and pleading for mercy he did not deserve, continues to stare up at him with wide eyes, his tears glued to his cheeks. They no longer fall, and the image is almost funnier now that it's fixed in place.

He's grinning as he lowers his sword and sheathes it, an outlier of motion in the ocean of statues. "It's about time you showed up. I almost had to commit to the bit."

He turns to find Clockwork behind him, wrinkled face drawn into a displeased frown. His beard seems thinner than ever, draping low enough to brush the whisp-y tail where legs should be. The jagged scar across his eye is faded, warped by the way age has pulled his features down.

Oof. This is the oldest form yet. Maybe this was a bit too much?

"There are better ways to get my attention." His voice is gravely and low, quiet in a way that he knows is purposeful. Yeah, he's mad. Oops.

"You moved your tower again! What was I supposed to do?"

"There are consequences to messing with time, especially periods as fixed as this."

"Okay, okay." Danny conceded, his giddy delight at Clockwork's appearance melting away in the face of his genuine upset. "I'm sorry for trying to kill Hitler. I wasn't trying to make things hard for you."

The Ancient levels him with a look that has the liver spots on his face multiplying and his hair growing even longer, his body hunching further into itself. "Only honesty can allow for true reconciliation."

Danny winces, drooping low so they are no longer on the same eye level. "Right, sorry. I did know this was going to leave you with a big mess to clean up. But it's urgent!"

Clockwork morphs into a younger form, perhaps middle-aged as far as humans go. The heavy wrinkles are replaced with smooth skin and the beard with a lightly stubbled chin, his scar a clear black line across an otherwise unmarred face. "What matter, so pressing, demands my attention through such unusual means?"

Danny doesn't spare the moustached man on the ground a glance, the swastika-draped flags in front of him plenty reminder of his presence. "Something's wrong."

The raised brow he receives in response is prompt enough to elaborate.

"Okay, so I was just floating around all casual like, and suddenly I started feeling wrong. It's like something important is happening and I don't know what but I have to go, and I have to go now. But that doesn't make sense, and it doesn't feel like forgetting to do something. It's like… like something is pulling at me and pulling and pulling and pulling so much I can't breathe, except I don't breathe because I'm clearly a ghost, so that doesn't make any sense!" He trails off with an irritated groan.

He should have gone to the Yetis. He would have, but they're having a festival and he doesn't want to go and ruin the fun with his melodramatics. Clockwork was supposed to be closer anyway.

"Someone outside this Realm is summoning you." When Danny's attention snaps back to him at the sound of his voice, Clockwork is a child. Younger than Danny was when he died.

Danny gawks. "Why would someone want to summon me?"

Clockwork shakes his head, the movement triggering a transformation back to an adult form, this one in its twenties by the looks of it. "Not you alone. Dozens are being called. You happen to be one of many."

Okay. Not the most reassuring revelation. "Who? Why? Where?"

"I know not their name nor their intentions, but it is clear to me that the call comes to you from there where you were born."

So that means either his home dimension or the League. Neither sound like very appealing places to be. "Can I refuse?" He asks, already anticipating an answer he won't like.

Magic is all answers he won't like, apparently, because, sure enough; "Avoiding what must be will not prevent it from coming into being."

Danny resists the urge to phase into the ground and be one with the floor. He's an assassin, not a child. Come on, Danny, think like an Al Ghul.

"So I'm being summoned. Alright. First time for everything." His gaze is pleading as it bores into Clockwork's eyes. "Care to give me a crash course?"

"The knowledge you seek is already within you."

Okay. Clockwork's still pissed. He won't be getting anything useful from him for a while.

Okay. That's fine. Danny knows lots about magic! He's an expert. Sure, he only ever really studied the practical stuff and the other non-practical bits that apply to him, but that should be enough, right?

Ancients, what use is it to know everything about the afterlife, the Realm Between Realms, and Time, when someone is summoning him? It's like, the one subject he hasn't got to yet. Damnit it this is karma for wagging study time to play with Cujo.

Ha, 'wag'.

No! No wordplay! Focus Danny!

Clockwork's judging gaze isn't any help, so he shuts his eyes and tries to ignore him entirely. Ancients, he's petty for being an embodiment of time. This isn't even the worst thing Danny's ever done!

Focus!

First things first, what does it feel like? Magic is all about vibe. Just zoom in on the wrongness.

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter as the sensation multiplies at the attention. It starts at his core, spreading out to the tips of his fingers in a buzz of hyperactive energy that bounces along the insides of his ectoplasm, grabbing and tugging to force it to bounce along with it. Except his body's natural response to a foreign entity is to reject it, so instead of following the energy's motions it's repelling them in a way that makes him feel like there are bugs under his skin.

Uncomfortable, but not painful.

Deeper.

He draws his focus to his core, where the sensation bleeds out from. Underneath it, his core is cool, as it always is, a pleasant balm against the pull of the summons; an icy haven, expansive like the emptiness of space that lies between stretches of planets and stars, humming a constant, eternal tune. The unfamiliar magic doesn't touch his core, instead covering the frozen fortress that makes up his soul like an unwelcome fleece blanket in the heat of summer.

It's persistent, an urgent command to come, he wants you to come, you have to come. It's human magic, he can tell in the way it's woven together with mortal desire and lifeforce. Not a particularly taxing spell on the caster as they long as pay the cost demanded.

And it's been paid. A sharp, metallic taste tickles his senses, telling whispers of pain and violent death. That's when the rot hits him. Disgusting, corrupted ectoplasm, eons old and infected with all manner of despair and rage and fear. It's regret that's decayed into agony and blackened mould.

It's vile.

It's familiar.

Danny's eyes snap open to the inside of Clockwork's tower, his hand clasped tight around the weathered handle of his precious katana. Clockwork floats before a gear, WWII Germany visible in its centre. He's old again, back facing him and twisted into a prominent hump as he works away unbothered.

"I'm not ready."

Clockwork doesn't turn nor still. He continues working away, unmoved by the whimper in his apprentice's voice. Danny wants to be affronted by the lack of care, but he's just so scared. He didn't think he'd ever have to go back, especially not so soon.

"No one ever is." He finally says, voice carefully gentle.

Danny thinks he's going to burst into tears. The magic of the summons burns like the surface of the sun inside him, blazing and painful and frightening. Come, it continues to urge. "Please, I can't."

Clockwork shifts into a child, just Danny's age. A show of sympathy. "I'll be waiting."

He'll be waiting.

Danny sniffs and lifts his spare hand to rub at his face. Right. Come on, Danny, be an Al Ghul. He takes a breath he doesn't need, forcing himself to calm. "Okay."

And he lets the summoning whisk him away.

Dpxdc demon siblings au prompt

So standard demon twin/sibling setup where after dying for dissapointing Ras Danny is thrown into the pit where he doesn't surface. Damian mourns his brother but never tells the bat's at first because it's to painful but then because he doesn't want to cause his family pain with the knowledge that they have a brother/son/grandson respectively. (I personally like Danny being the older one in this whether it's just the first born twin or he's a couple years older is up to you all)

The rest under a read more.

So we cut to an older Damian as Robin and the batfam are fighting a exiled member of the League of assassins who wants revenge on something Ras did and decide that they will hurt Damian to hurt Ras.

So this exile uses a magical ritual to summon the ghosts of every assassin Ras turned on and killed (its a lot of them) so the bat's are not able to stop the ritual in time because they couldn't get a skilled enough magic user to Gotham in time (is there some other threat? Just out of contact? Performing at little Jimmy's birthday party? Who knows.)

So the bat's are getting what anti ghost gear they can (nth metal weapons magic doodads whatever) when the last and most powerful ghost is pulled through. Damian freezes because he knows that face, he's older and he has an unnatural glow, but Damian will never forget his brother.

The exile is laughing taunting the Bats about the dead son come for revenge on his brother who betrayed him Damian is emotionally distraught crying, apologizing, telling his brother that they tried to bring him back but the pit took him from them.

The other bat's are freaking out in their own way because holy shit this is true?! Meanwhile Danny is staring silently at Damian face completely blank. While the feral ghosts of the assassins are trying to break out of the summoning circle.

One ghost manages to find a crack from where it was weakening from the thousands of ghosts trying to break it and rushes to attack Damian who is too distracted and too far from the others to react. He throws himself back scrambling for his sword as the assassins lunges forward to rip his heart out with his bare hands.

Yet as is seems he's about to meet his doom the assassin jerks to a stop before his momentum is reversed and he's thrown back into the circle. Everything is silent because the one who saved Damian was his own brother who was not even slowed by the magical protection (because he's half ghost not that anyone knows this but him)

The insane assassin starts going on about clearly his betrayed brother has decided that only he is worthy of striking down the heir to the demon. Except as he's mid monolog a ice knife is thrown into his leg missing all the arteries but causing a lot of pain. Then Danny speaks.

"I never blamed you little brother. Now dry those tears and Al-Ghul never shows weakness to an enemy."

As he says this for the first time since he's summoned Danny no longer has that blank face instead he has the most affection filled smile you can imagine while he wipes his brothers tears before he turns to the massive swarm of ghosts.

"Any who would seek to hurt my brother must first go through me, The Phantom, Pariah's bane, keeper of Balance and guardian of the mortal realms, but if you think you can take me by all means just do me a favor, let some other poor sap try first."

Now if the ghosts heed his warning or not is up to you if they do then Danny just opens a portal to the ghost zone for them to flee into, if not then he proceeds to beat the unliving shit out of them before tossing them through a portal anyway.

After everything is said and done Danny goes over to Damian talking about how proud he is to see him growing into such a good person and how it's so wonderful to see him again after all these years. Just really heartwarming stuff there's hugs Dick is crying into Jason's shoulder everything.

Then Danny says it's time for him to go he can't stay forever. Damian is upset saying he can't lose him right after he gets him back. Danny then laughs and says..

"This isn't a goodbye Damian it's just a see you later, I promise we'll see each other again before you know it."

And the batfamily are all crying thinking this is him saying that he'll be waiting in the after life for Damian. Before he goes through the portal closing it behind him

The bat's all handle the clean up and police for the crime scene before returning to the manor and getting explanations from Damian.

After all that the family come together to make a shrine to their departed brother with Damian being the last one to walk away to get some sleep.

The next morning everyone feels lighter with this secret no longer between them as they chat and laugh as they get ready for breakfast.

As they are all sat together ready to eat one of Damians siblings asks if there are any pleasant memories about Danyal Damian wants to share and Damain decides to tell a carefully edited version of one of their escapades (conveniently leaving out that he was responsible for the situation in the first place) only right as he finishes a voice chimes in.

"That's not how I remember it little brother." And standing there leaning against a wall is Danny himself.

His family circles him in the depths of his birthplace, and perhaps such circumstances should fill him with homely feelings of security and love. It doesn't.

Instead, he finds his mind stuck on the memory of his unconscious, injured mother as he sets eyes for the first time on the one who hurt her, draped across the throne she rightfully claimed upon Grandfather's passing. The man's face is drawn into a cocky smirk, the features striking a familiarity that drags forefront days of being two instead of one when the thief before him stood in the two brothers' shadow like all servants must.

Their eyes meet as he opens the tome on his lap to a bookmarked page, the runes at his feet alighting from the simple movement. He grows even smugger at Damian's glower, and it's only years of ingrained, taught patience that stops him from leaping across the room to murder him as he tried to murder Mother.

He maintains eye contact as his fingers glide over the page, taunting.

Damian grits his teeth and keeps his hold on his katana purposefully comfortable.

Do not fall for it. He reminds himself. Do not show any signs of frustration.

"Such a grand name. Damian Al Ghul. Certainly grander than Danyal."

Damian can't help the angry rumble that climbs up his throat. How dare he speak of Danyal?

Ghalib (a far too powerful title for a coward who hides behind his followers) does not pause, but it's obvious the reaction amuses him from the way his eyes crinkle. "I suppose Ra's had a favourite. Or was it your mother that named you? Tell me, was Talia happier once he was gone? Did she seem lighter?"

"Do not speak of what you do not know." Damian growls, taking a warning step forward.

The echoing click of safeties being disengaged sounds from all directions, every assassins' attention snapping to him in a mirror of his aggression. He feels his siblings and his Father shift behind him, tensing impossibly more at the increase in hostility. Damian couldn't care less about the very clear threat.

He can feel Grayson and Father hovering worriedly behind him, eager to reach out but unsure how or if they should. Normally, Damian would find their unspoken, immediate support strangely comforting, if a bit suffocating at times. Now, he finds it annoying. This is not about him. This insignificant, poor excuse of a man just insinuated that Danyal was unloved.

Danyal, who Mother cried for when the Lazarus Pit refused to return life to him and instead chose to hoard his corpse in its depths. Danyal, whose death had Grandfather making sure the men responsible were mutilated beyond recognition and never saw the light of day again. Danyal, who Damian is still mourning even after all this time.

Danyal was loved. He was loved so much.

The first time in nearly six years he's heard his brother's name spoken by someone other than himself, and it's like this? Like he was nothing? Like Danyal's memory is little more than a black mark on the Al Ghul name?

Ghalib knows nothing. He has no right to speak of Danyal. None.

Ghalib acquiesces with a condescending nod of his head. "Yes, yes of course. My apologies, oh honourable heir. Perhaps instead I should speak of the blood spilt to paint your legacy? All the loyal servants murdered in your family's name?"

"My Grandfather was not a good man, but he was not needlessly cruel. He did not go about murdering his own unless given reason, and even if he had, revenge cannot be inflicted on the dead through their living kin. Mother has certainly never acted as rashly as you suggest." Damian countered, fuelled by indignation.

Grandfather deserved slander, but Ghalib was attacking everyone with the Al Ghul name and he couldn't let that stand. Certainly not after he'd left Mother confined to a bed and spoke ill of Danyal. Mother, perhaps, would claim his defence of her unneeded. Even injured as she is she could speak for herself, she'd say. Danyal has no such luxury.

"And even if they had," Drake piped up, "that has nothing to do with Damian."

Damian vehemently disagrees. Anyone out for his mother's head becomes his business, especially when they have gotten so close to taking it. The situation, however, doesn't allow for an argument on his part beyond a pointed glare at his predecessor.

He brought up Danyal. Damian wants to say. He tried to kill Mother and then insulted her dead child to her only surviving son.

"Tsk, tsk." Ghalib shakes his head, his tone condescendingly soft. "And to think you consider yourselves detectives. Do you truly not understand, even now?"

Father takes a step forward to stand beside Damian, posture tense as though he's ready to leap into action at any moment. It's more than that too, though. He's angry; frustrated. Father does not like not knowing things. He's probably still unsettled by the mention of Danyal.

(He should be more than unsettled. He would be furious if he knew just who Danyal was. If he'd been told of the second blood son he never got to meet because he'd been murdered so young.)

Damian supposes his own reaction only served to unsettle him more.

Tt.

It does not matter how Father feels at this time. Ghalib spoke ill of Danyal, of Mother, and Damian's fury burns so hot it threatens to consume him. How pathetic, to insult those not present to defend themselves. How foolish, to speak so poorly of Damian's family to his face.

"We know what you plan to do and why. That does not make your actions understandable. You are behaving irrationally." Father says.

"It's like talking to a brick wall with you lot." Ghalib sighs. Damian finds he has the sort of voice that becomes more grating the longer you hear it. "Oh well." His eyes find Damian's once more. "I suppose I expected too much."

Damian has never wanted to slap a person so much.

Ghalib leans back with a shrug, the runes' glow flickering as the actions cause his fingers to briefly lift from the page. The angle the book rests now puts its yellowed insides in plain view, but the distance between them makes the words contained within seem like little more than meaningless scribbles. It's a massive unknown. None of them had expected Ghalib to have any talent for magic, yet it's clear from how the dried blood and Lazarus water painted on the floor responds to him he does.

Damian should be concerned about how out of their depths they are, even with Brown, Cain and Thomas infiltrating the base as their backup, surely making their way over to assist. Father signalled them to enter several minutes ago now. They should be close. They should be here already, dropping down from the ceiling in some unnecessarily flamboyant attack.

But they're nowhere to be seen, and Ghalib is a magic user. Damian should be thinking. Trying to figure out a way to turn the odds. Do something more than shake in place, fuming.

Yet all he can focus on is Ghalib and the things he said about Danyal.

How dare he how dare he how dare he how dare he -

"Just remember," Ghalib continues, his voice like the screech of nails on a chalkboard as it rattles in Damian's skull, "I did try to warn you."

---

"Time out!"

At once, the world stops spinning. Everything from the wind in the trees and the collapsing stars galaxies out of reach, so far away Earth has never seen their light, jerk to an unwilling still. It's a silent, all-consuming freeze.

Danny floats in the centre of it all, his beloved katana raised in preparation to land its killing strike, the hundreds of people witness to his execution stuck in a picture of panic and fear. The man who was just quivering at his feet, begging and pleading for mercy he did not deserve, continues to stare up at him with wide eyes, his tears glued to his cheeks. They no longer fall, and the image is almost funnier now that it's fixed in place.

He's grinning as he lowers his sword and sheathes it, an outlier of motion in the ocean of statues. "It's about time you showed up. I almost had to commit to the bit."

He turns to find Clockwork behind him, wrinkled face drawn into a displeased frown. His beard seems thinner than ever, draping low enough to brush the whisp-y tail where legs should be. The jagged scar across his eye is faded, warped by the way age has pulled his features down.

Oof. This is the oldest form yet. Maybe this was a bit too much?

"There are better ways to get my attention." His voice is gravely and low, quiet in a way that he knows is purposeful. Yeah, he's mad. Oops.

"You moved your tower again! What was I supposed to do?"

"There are consequences to messing with time, especially periods as fixed as this."

"Okay, okay." Danny conceded, his giddy delight at Clockwork's appearance melting away in the face of his genuine upset. "I'm sorry for trying to kill Hitler. I wasn't trying to make things hard for you."

The Ancient levels him with a look that has the liver spots on his face multiplying and his hair growing even longer, his body hunching further into itself. "Only honesty can allow for true reconciliation."

Danny winces, drooping low so they are no longer on the same eye level. "Right, sorry. I did know this was going to leave you with a big mess to clean up. But it's urgent!"

Clockwork morphs into a younger form, perhaps middle-aged as far as humans go. The heavy wrinkles are replaced with smooth skin and the beard with a lightly stubbled chin, his scar a clear black line across an otherwise unmarred face. "What matter, so pressing, demands my attention through such unusual means?"

Danny doesn't spare the moustached man on the ground a glance, the swastika-draped flags in front of him plenty reminder of his presence. "Something's wrong."

The raised brow he receives in response is prompt enough to elaborate.

"Okay, so I was just floating around all casual like, and suddenly I started feeling wrong. It's like something important is happening and I don't know what but I have to go, and I have to go now. But that doesn't make sense, and it doesn't feel like forgetting to do something. It's like… like something is pulling at me and pulling and pulling and pulling so much I can't breathe, except I don't breathe because I'm clearly a ghost, so that doesn't make any sense!" He trails off with an irritated groan.

He should have gone to the Yetis. He would have, but they're having a festival and he doesn't want to go and ruin the fun with his melodramatics. Clockwork was supposed to be closer anyway.

"Someone outside this Realm is summoning you." When Danny's attention snaps back to him at the sound of his voice, Clockwork is a child. Younger than Danny was when he died.

Danny gawks. "Why would someone want to summon me?"

Clockwork shakes his head, the movement triggering a transformation back to an adult form, this one in its twenties by the looks of it. "Not you alone. Dozens are being called. You happen to be one of many."

Okay. Not the most reassuring revelation. "Who? Why? Where?"

"I know not their name nor their intentions, but it is clear to me that the call comes to you from there where you were born."

So that means either his home dimension or the League. Neither sound like very appealing places to be. "Can I refuse?" He asks, already anticipating an answer he won't like.

Magic is all answers he won't like, apparently, because, sure enough; "Avoiding what must be will not prevent it from coming into being."

Danny resists the urge to phase into the ground and be one with the floor. He's an assassin, not a child. Come on, Danny, think like an Al Ghul.

"So I'm being summoned. Alright. First time for everything." His gaze is pleading as it bores into Clockwork's eyes. "Care to give me a crash course?"

"The knowledge you seek is already within you."

Okay. Clockwork's still pissed. He won't be getting anything useful from him for a while.

Okay. That's fine. Danny knows lots about magic! He's an expert. Sure, he only ever really studied the practical stuff and the other non-practical bits that apply to him, but that should be enough, right?

Ancients, what use is it to know everything about the afterlife, the Realm Between Realms, and Time, when someone is summoning him? It's like, the one subject he hasn't got to yet. Damnit it this is karma for wagging study time to play with Cujo.

Ha, 'wag'.

No! No wordplay! Focus Danny!

Clockwork's judging gaze isn't any help, so he shuts his eyes and tries to ignore him entirely. Ancients, he's petty for being an embodiment of time. This isn't even the worst thing Danny's ever done!

Focus!

First things first, what does it feel like? Magic is all about vibe. Just zoom in on the wrongness.

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter as the sensation multiplies at the attention. It starts at his core, spreading out to the tips of his fingers in a buzz of hyperactive energy that bounces along the insides of his ectoplasm, grabbing and tugging to force it to bounce along with it. Except his body's natural response to a foreign entity is to reject it, so instead of following the energy's motions it's repelling them in a way that makes him feel like there are bugs under his skin.

Uncomfortable, but not painful.

Deeper.

He draws his focus to his core, where the sensation bleeds out from. Underneath it, his core is cool, as it always is, a pleasant balm against the pull of the summons; an icy haven, expansive like the emptiness of space that lies between stretches of planets and stars, humming a constant, eternal tune. The unfamiliar magic doesn't touch his core, instead covering the frozen fortress that makes up his soul like an unwelcome fleece blanket in the heat of summer.

It's persistent, an urgent command to come, he wants you to come, you have to come. It's human magic, he can tell in the way it's woven together with mortal desire and lifeforce. Not a particularly taxing spell on the caster as they long as pay the cost demanded.

And it's been paid. A sharp, metallic taste tickles his senses, telling whispers of pain and violent death. That's when the rot hits him. Disgusting, corrupted ectoplasm, eons old and infected with all manner of despair and rage and fear. It's regret that's decayed into agony and blackened mould.

It's vile.

It's familiar.

Danny's eyes snap open to the inside of Clockwork's tower, his hand clasped tight around the weathered handle of his precious katana. Clockwork floats before a gear, WWII Germany visible in its centre. He's old again, back facing him and twisted into a prominent hump as he works away unbothered.

"I'm not ready."

Clockwork doesn't turn nor still. He continues working away, unmoved by the whimper in his apprentice's voice. Danny wants to be affronted by the lack of care, but he's just so scared. He didn't think he'd ever have to go back, especially not so soon.

"No one ever is." He finally says, voice carefully gentle.

Danny thinks he's going to burst into tears. The magic of the summons burns like the surface of the sun inside him, blazing and painful and frightening. Come, it continues to urge. "Please, I can't."

Clockwork shifts into a child, just Danny's age. A show of sympathy. "I'll be waiting."

He'll be waiting.

Danny sniffs and lifts his spare hand to rub at his face. Right. Come on, Danny, be an Al Ghul. He takes a breath he doesn't need, forcing himself to calm. "Okay."

And he lets the summoning whisk him away.

Dpxdc demon siblings au prompt

So standard demon twin/sibling setup where after dying for dissapointing Ras Danny is thrown into the pit where he doesn't surface. Damian mourns his brother but never tells the bat's at first because it's to painful but then because he doesn't want to cause his family pain with the knowledge that they have a brother/son/grandson respectively. (I personally like Danny being the older one in this whether it's just the first born twin or he's a couple years older is up to you all)

The rest under a read more.

So we cut to an older Damian as Robin and the batfam are fighting a exiled member of the League of assassins who wants revenge on something Ras did and decide that they will hurt Damian to hurt Ras.

So this exile uses a magical ritual to summon the ghosts of every assassin Ras turned on and killed (its a lot of them) so the bat's are not able to stop the ritual in time because they couldn't get a skilled enough magic user to Gotham in time (is there some other threat? Just out of contact? Performing at little Jimmy's birthday party? Who knows.)

So the bat's are getting what anti ghost gear they can (nth metal weapons magic doodads whatever) when the last and most powerful ghost is pulled through. Damian freezes because he knows that face, he's older and he has an unnatural glow, but Damian will never forget his brother.

The exile is laughing taunting the Bats about the dead son come for revenge on his brother who betrayed him Damian is emotionally distraught crying, apologizing, telling his brother that they tried to bring him back but the pit took him from them.

The other bat's are freaking out in their own way because holy shit this is true?! Meanwhile Danny is staring silently at Damian face completely blank. While the feral ghosts of the assassins are trying to break out of the summoning circle.

One ghost manages to find a crack from where it was weakening from the thousands of ghosts trying to break it and rushes to attack Damian who is too distracted and too far from the others to react. He throws himself back scrambling for his sword as the assassins lunges forward to rip his heart out with his bare hands.

Yet as is seems he's about to meet his doom the assassin jerks to a stop before his momentum is reversed and he's thrown back into the circle. Everything is silent because the one who saved Damian was his own brother who was not even slowed by the magical protection (because he's half ghost not that anyone knows this but him)

The insane assassin starts going on about clearly his betrayed brother has decided that only he is worthy of striking down the heir to the demon. Except as he's mid monolog a ice knife is thrown into his leg missing all the arteries but causing a lot of pain. Then Danny speaks.

"I never blamed you little brother. Now dry those tears and Al-Ghul never shows weakness to an enemy."

As he says this for the first time since he's summoned Danny no longer has that blank face instead he has the most affection filled smile you can imagine while he wipes his brothers tears before he turns to the massive swarm of ghosts.

"Any who would seek to hurt my brother must first go through me, The Phantom, Pariah's bane, keeper of Balance and guardian of the mortal realms, but if you think you can take me by all means just do me a favor, let some other poor sap try first."

Now if the ghosts heed his warning or not is up to you if they do then Danny just opens a portal to the ghost zone for them to flee into, if not then he proceeds to beat the unliving shit out of them before tossing them through a portal anyway.

After everything is said and done Danny goes over to Damian talking about how proud he is to see him growing into such a good person and how it's so wonderful to see him again after all these years. Just really heartwarming stuff there's hugs Dick is crying into Jason's shoulder everything.

Then Danny says it's time for him to go he can't stay forever. Damian is upset saying he can't lose him right after he gets him back. Danny then laughs and says..

"This isn't a goodbye Damian it's just a see you later, I promise we'll see each other again before you know it."

And the batfamily are all crying thinking this is him saying that he'll be waiting in the after life for Damian. Before he goes through the portal closing it behind him

The bat's all handle the clean up and police for the crime scene before returning to the manor and getting explanations from Damian.

After all that the family come together to make a shrine to their departed brother with Damian being the last one to walk away to get some sleep.

The next morning everyone feels lighter with this secret no longer between them as they chat and laugh as they get ready for breakfast.

As they are all sat together ready to eat one of Damians siblings asks if there are any pleasant memories about Danyal Damian wants to share and Damain decides to tell a carefully edited version of one of their escapades (conveniently leaving out that he was responsible for the situation in the first place) only right as he finishes a voice chimes in.

"That's not how I remember it little brother." And standing there leaning against a wall is Danny himself.

Breathing the wildness...

Even if you soar through the skies…

At drift of time…

Or in the embers of twilight…

Always with you