#Damian Wayne Al Ghul

[spicy-apple-pie]

Oopies doodles :)

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Commission Info / Kofi (members get comics a week early)

[tarta-de-limon]

He's thinking Miku, Miku, ooh-ee-ooh

I've realized I always draw him in the same pose when he's wearing a hoodie. Damn.

...

Oh well, he looks cute anyway

[livingtobethevillain]

SCREAMS OMG!!!! LOOK AT HIM!!! OMG I LOVE HIM!! OMG OMG OMG HES SO!! ORVAPFNSPCNSCOENFOECNDK

nurse / doctor damian; his siblings keep spawning in randomly needing medical attention and he hates them very much

[gothamite-rambler]

Roy: And remember kids the next time someone says, "The government wouldn't do that." Oh yes they would.

Jon: That's not true.

Roy: War on drugs, MK Ultra, Nazis working in the US, numerous celebrities and many presidents would beg to differ.

Damian (placing an arm around a startled Jon): Roy, you're scaring him.

Lian (making carpet angels): Papa usually knows what he's talking about... Usually.

Roy: I'm convinced Logan Paul works for the government, because I'm not buying you PRIME!

Lian (pouting): Mean!

[leoleolovesdc]

Something something damian being the only one who has a problem with steph dating tim or cass bc to him that’s like seeing two of his siblings kiss and no one else gets it

[lavena]

I feel like we never get to see Damian when he is truly at home.

When we see him at Wayne Manor we see a boy who just witnessed the death of many of the people he grew up with, assassins he trained beside slaughtered and his grandfather dead.

We see a boy that has been taken away from all he has ever know, all the customs, the rules, the food, the wildlife and plants, the people, the very weather is nothing that he is used to.

He suddenly never gets the chance to speak his native language, he has no one to help him adapt, normal behaviors for him are considered wrong and strange.

He is not at home in his father's house.

The scene we see of him at the League is during a test, training that is meant to be difficult and tortuous. Then immediately after we see a deadly attack on the compound he calls home, the people he love are evacuating and panicking, he has to pay them no mind and make his way past crowds of people he knows to find his grandfather, to defend him. He fails.

His home is not his home when it is under attack.

We never see Damian at home.

Just once I want to see him at home.

See him on his way to the mess hall in his silk green robes, walking camly with his line of advisors.

All children around his age, the eldest 5 years his senior, the youngest 5 months under him.

A boy and 3 girls, one is the smartest and fastest person he knows, she is the next in line to be his tactician, she trains just as hard as he does, he beats her in hand to hand but can never catch up to her in a race. They study mathematics and history together, quizzing one another and working hard to out do the other on their tests.

2 girls, twins, the best shadows the league has to offer him, they are still learning but most teachers can't catch a trace of them in the rafters when they are sneaking into the kitchen to steal damian cookies. They will be his shadows, his elite guards, the two people he trust to not know where they are behind his back.

The last is a boy, 5 years his senior, built with thick muscle and broad shoulders. No one can beat him in raw strength and flexibility. This boy trains with Damian to take on enemy's stronger than himself. This boy will be Damians right hand man, the one who steps in front of attacks, but also wards them off completely simply by being at Damians side. Damian trusts this boy enough to sleep at his back in the open air.

All 4 of these children have put their lives on the line for Damian before. They have killed for him before, and he for them. They have a bond that was not bought, but earned. The boy had once carried them all down halls and hoisted them into the rafters so the guards wouldn't catch them outside past their bedtime.

Damian and these children are the next to inherit the League. They will be more formidable than Ra's Al Ghuls team of 14 guards, tacticians, and trusted advisors. They have such intrinsic knowledge of eachother that words are not needed. These children have never known anything except eachother, they are life long friends.

Or they were supposed to be.

They were going to be. Until their guardians dragged them away from the fighting, fleeing from the attack, leaving their prince without his guards.

The fought tooth and nail to get back to him, and by the time they returned to Nada Parbat their prince was gone. The Princess, Talia, told them he was safe, but he would not return for some time.

Their home never felt the same after that.

Damian left his home in that fight, left the people he trusted most.

I want to see Damian at home somewhere.

Let him see the people he fought with, the people he trained with, the people who love him and call him Prince without a mocking or teasing tone.

I know his time with the League was not kind, was not the environment any child should grow up with, no one should have as many scars as Damian does at his age.

But he is a prince, he was bound to have assassination attempts, so he was trained against such attacks. It was horrible and awful and he had to kill, but he survived.

There is no way to something as powerful as the League to exist without any kind of warmth. There had to be moments where the screams of children weren't from the pain of training but instead the screeches that come from playing tag, or running from an elder sibling whi grabs you around your waist and swings you into a couch violently.

Screams as they ran from guards that would quickly trail into giggles and pants for breath as they couldn't contain their laughter.

Damian was not in a safe place, but that doesn't mean it was devoid of joy.

The Bat Fam deserves to see their youngest at his most comfortable.

Dodging knives that were thrown, not with the intent to hurt, but to tease. Their games of tag and hide n seak were dangerous, it help them to not panic in time of actual danger. A knife would be thrown and dodged in the same second as a conversation was started.

A race up a mountain was aided by arms reaching or throwing one another over obstacles. Attacks are made with the expectation the other will respond accordingly, a tussle is a normal form of greeting and bruises are almost a welcome sight.

You are alive it says, alive enough to be moving with me and you will continue to do so.

Your injuries prove your strength, a cut from a thrown dagger is greeted with a smile and a returned throw.

They are just as easily greeted with a tackle to evade an assassins attempt as they are a tackle to simply tussle, either way the other party is thankful for their contact.

The first time Damian sees his advisors again 4 knives are thrown at him, all dodged and responding ones are dodged as well, right after all 4 of his friends are tackling him to the floor and reaching out to check he has no wounds from his travels. They laugh the whole time and drag Damian from the floor to their joint rooms. They have much to catch up on, never mind the line of 4 vigilantes standing behind their prince, mouths agape at the violent yet unmistakablly friendly actions towards their youngest.

They will se much of the same actions throughout the week they reside their, knives are thrown and danced away from in one moment and a guard is bending his knee to softly bump foreheads and whisper " Welcome home Little Prince, we have missed you" in the next.

[wothmzn]

Damian: Why don't humans have a specific noise that means "there are bees here, let's leave immediately." Why are elephants more advanced than us.

Respawn: We do have a specific noise for it. It sounds like this:

Respawn: "There are bees here, let's leave immediately."

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Are these my hands, still? (scrubbed clean as they are?)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: hurt/comfort, angsty but happy ending always always always

warnings: we're back with the blood on hands analogy, this is vaguely and metaphorically about consent, love and redemption and finding yourself blah blah blah

a/n: me ?? posting a fic ?? new year miracle fr. I haven't written in,,, a long time. I'm getting back into it but guys I am kinda rlly fuckin unwell and couldn't rlly proofread so I HOPE you all enjoy it at least a bit <33

"Do you ever… miss it?" It's not often that your voice is quiet, but tonight Damian has to shut off the water in the bathroom sink and turn to you, cocking his head to the side as if to hear you better.

"Miss what, my love?" he asks gently, leaning his hip against the smooth, granite counter and watching as you stand at your own sink, scrubbing rather aggressively at the dried blood on your hands. It has been a messy patrol, to say the least, and the two of you are sort of thrumming from the adrenaline of it as you stand in the dull light of your bathroom.

"Just… well, I don't know," you mumble, and it's enough to make something that feels upsettingly close to worry begin to eat at Damian's heart. He's not used to you stumbling - not used to you sifting through words and searching so desperately. And he knows, with a fearful sort of vulnerability, that you're not used to it, either.

So he can't really stop himself from chasing after you, can't find it within himself to leave you drowning. Damian moves toward you slowly as you stare down at your hands and scrub, and you find it difficult to stop even when he covers your frantic movements with one large palm while he reaches his other hand to turn off the water. It had been hot, he realizes rather abruptly, and your skin is too warm to the touch, steam still rising from the white sink basin.

"My love," he says slowly, leaning down a bit with slouched shoulders so that he can crane his head enough to look at your downturned face. "Please talk to me. Please."

You pull your hands out from under his instead of speaking, and he turns his palm to face upward so that you can place your hands there, dried blood ground into the grooves and prints of your skin.

"How long has it been?" you ask dully. "Since our hands looked like this?" Our, you think, a sickening sort of nausea twisting within you. But his are clean these days, always always always.

"It… doesn't happen often," Damian says slowly, a frown tugging at his lips as he feels himself chasing after you - feels himself trying desperately to catch up with whatever's dragging you under right now. "But there's… never a last time for things like these. It's not up to us to know when we'll have to get our hands dirty again."

When you look up at him, then, your eyes are big and shining and open, staring with something that looks a bit less like love and a bit more like longing. It makes Damian's stomach twist, just a bit, and he reaches one arm to wrap around your waist and pull you into him while his other hand abandons yours to tangle into your hair and guide your face to his chest.

There's no space for longing here, he thinks. There is only love. There is only love here and it belongs to you. He hopes, a bit desperately, that the sound of his heart thumping in his chest is enough to say that - to remind you of that. When you press your face closer to him and tangle your bloodied hands into his shirt, he can't help the touch of relief that courses through him.

"I need you to tell me what's going on, beloved," he says softly, and in any other situation you might've laughed at him - might've poked fun at the fact that Damian Wayne is practically begging at your feet like a dog desperate for a bone. 

You just sigh at his words tonight, though, tipping back and away from him as you untangle his arms from around you. He lets you, notably, his hands ever gentle and pliable under your touch. But when you spin back to the sink, turning the hot water back on with a steaming hiss, he lets one large palm cover yours again. 

"Let me do it for you, please?" And there's something about the way he asks it, something about the love in his begging that makes you crumble and nod. 

"You don't have to ask, you know," you say quietly as he takes your hands gently into his own over the sink and begins to scrub ever so gently at your skin. "You don't need my permission."

"You don't belong to me," Damian points out softly, but a frown tugs at his lips once more because he thought you knew that. 

"No, I - I know that. I just mean…" You trail off, though, as you stare at your hands engulfed in his, the gentle motions of his fingers wiping the red from your hands over and over and over again. "I belong to myself, I know," you continue, ignoring the thick unfamiliarity of the sentiment. "But we… we've given ourselves to each other, right? You don't have to ask."

"It's not a formality," Damian muses in the quiet bathroom, the pale light reflecting down onto the two of you. "It's a promise. It's… a reminder, my love."

"Of what?"

"Of what you just said," he reminds you patiently, his eyes flickering up to you as you keep your own gaze locked on your intertwined hands. "You belong to yourself now. These hands are yours now, completely. You get to choose what to do with them. You get to choose what's done with them."

"Ah," you say flatly, Damian's words jarring in a familiar sort of way. None of it's new, but sometimes it slips away from you just a bit too much on nights like this.

Your hands, you realize sort of distantly, are clean again, and Damian's taken a towel to dry them with a gentleness that the two of you seem incapable of most days. He moves with a softness that feels learned rather than inherited and it makes something that feels dangerously like hope flutter through your chest.

You don't speak through the rest of it, content to stare down at your clean palms as he smoothes his fingers over your skin and throws the wet, used towel onto the counter. As your eyes flicker to track the movement, watching as it splats onto the solid granite with a dull, muffled flop, you find your gaze searching for the red that you're sure should be there. You find yourself looking for the blood that must've been scrubbed from your hands - that must've seeped into the white fabric and stained the towel into something unusable. 

"You cleaned them enough on your own, you know," Damian muses gently, smoothing a stray hair away from your face as he wedges himself between you and the counter to block your view from the towel. "You didn't really need me to do it for you."

"Didn't I?" you say haltingly. "Why did I - why did you do it, then?"

"Do you remember when we were children?" he asks in lieu of answering, a confused look scrunching over your face at his words. "The first time we really fought - the first time you cut me with your sword."

"Yes," you snap just a bit, and you find yourself balling your hands into fists so that you can't stare at your palms any longer.

"I remember it, too," Damian muses further, and you look up at him with furrowed brows while he smiles - something soft and sweet and loving beaming down toward you. "I remember feeling it."

"…What?"

"It's so human to bleed, isn't it? So human to be beaten." Your face morphs into bewilderment at his rambling, at the sweet reminiscence that passes through his voice. He takes your hands into his with a gentleness that wasn't supposed to belong to him, and as he smoothes his thumb over your knuckles you can't help but wonder if there was ever anything really wrong with your hands at all.

"Why are you bringing this up right now?" you ask quietly, and he flips your hands over in his hold so that your palms are facing up, staring back at you as you glare down at them.

"Because I was always human. I just needed you to remind me of it. Sometimes we need to be reminded, beloved. That's all." He says it simply, of course, like the words haven't ripped the ground from underneath you. But they have - and you both know it, you both feel it as you teeter on your feet.

"They don't look like my hands when they're clean like this," you offer hollowly, your voice swallowed by the dim light of the bathroom, shrouded by the love that pours from Damian as he lifts your hands to press kisses to each one of your fingertips. "These aren't my hands anymore."

"But they are, aren't they?" he says simply. "They're yours now more than ever before."

"What am I…" you falter. Damian waits - ever patient, ever solid under your touch. "What do I do with them?"

"Whatever you'd like."

"Should I…" you trail off, staring up at him first and then down to your palms again, his hands tangled with yours. "Should I do something good with them?"

"Do you want to?"

"Always," you answer quickly. "Yes, I - you know I do."

"Well, then," Damian shrugs - like loving you is easy, like knowing you is something he was born to do, "I suppose it's inevitable that you will."

[sanwuich]

super sons (2017) #9

[soup-of-madness]

a little sketch of dami I did when bored

Yes I did draw this AGES ago but never posted it… also I only remembered its existence yesterday…

[danilights2021]

I didn't know Damian Wayne had a dragon

Dick: Oh now we got jokes do we?

Commission Info / Kofi

[tarta-de-limon]

Miku fan.

Edit: with a future Miku collection.

[helpiamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

Clark: Why is Jon covered in yellow highlighter?

Damian, holding said yellow highlighter: You said to highlight the important things

Jon, trying not to cry and smudge the ink: You think I'm important?

Bruce sighing: You can't just colour in his face, Damian

Jon, now crying: HE SAID I’M IMPORTANT-

[anonymousmoth43]

I have a Pinterest board named “Damian Wayne’s Tumblr” and one of the recommended adds was the photo below and it’s honestly the most Damian thing ever

[lilyissuswritings2]

Batkids Always know

Hear me out, any of Batman's kids could never be cheated on or lied to. Why? Because of their detective skills. Even if you're not cheating, they always investigate everything you say. It's not even cause they don't trust you, it's just their instinct after growing up with the world's greatest detective.

You can be like "oh, I went to A friend's house" and I guarantee they'll check your alibi.

However, there is a way to still surprise them. There are sibling groupchats between all of them. However, certain ones have one sibling left out. You have to get in contact with the group chat that doesn't contain the sibling you're trying to surprise, so the others can help you.

Each one also has it's own unique name. I don't know what all of them would be, but the one without Damian is one hundred percent called 'The Council Of Siblings'

Or, if you wish to avoid the hassle of bribing them all(ESPECIALLY DAMIAN, the menace will not do anything unless you bribe him), just talk to Alfred and he'll handle it.

You need Dick distracted for a surprise party you're throwing him? No problem.

Jason is asking too many questions when you need to sneak off to buy him a new, expensive leather jacket as a Christmas present? Please, child's play to distract him.

Tim is wondering what you are doing at the mall everyday as you wait for a custom order laptop for him? Alfred has enough coffee to kill a horse.

Damian being a little too nosy when you're trying to surprise him with a pet? Alfred doesn't think he needs more animals, but he can distract him.