#damian: tt

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

🦇Batfamily & Friends (sometimes) 🦇

*Damian tied up as a civilian*

Damian: *looking at the bad guys* You'll have to brainwash me, because I'm stubborn and I don't listen well to what I'm told.

Bad guy: I told you to give me all the money! I have a knife!

Damian: ~Tt~ What are you gonna do? Stab me?

*Batman and Nightwing drop from the ceiling infront of Damian*

Bad guy: Uh.. No, it's a waste of your time... and mine.

Damian: 🤨

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Dick, holding Wally’s hand while they lie in bed: God I love this bed. God I love this house. And you. Especially you.

Voice: How domestic.

Wally: God?

Damian in his Robin suit, holding his bleeding side: No. It’s me. May one of you please direct me to the nearest medical kit.

[Frantic scrambling]

[somanyfandomsorkinafs]

(I am ~buzzing~ with ideas…. Allow me to release some)

Once Danny was an adult, he decided to join Ellie in her ‘permanent world tour’. It’s better than staying in Amity where the opinion of Phantom hasn’t gotten much better. Besides, the portal caused the veil to get weaker, allow ghost to wreak havoc where ever they want.

He’s met a lot new ghost cause of this too. Old as Mycenaean Greece to non humans who came to Earth and died there. Danny’s learnt so much from them that he’s basically a walking in Encyclopaedia.

So, Danny’s decided “fuck it.” and has it became a part-time history teacher. It’s fun! He knows the details by heart and is able to make it more fun than just droning on about the same old wars and whatever. He enjoys it, the kids enjoy it and the ghosts having their stories told!

Of course, this does cause some problems when people try to correct him. Danny’s argument? “I got them correct sources.”

And when anyone asks him how knows his sources are correct? “My source was there when it happened.”

Cue the dc world thinking that Danny’s just some immortal guy whose decided to use his immortality for good(TM)

[yannawayne]

not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.

The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.

There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce. 

His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.

Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor. 

Damian couldn't see anything but red.

His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream. 

A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.

Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.

One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air. 

"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.

"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"

Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."

He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest. 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”

Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.

“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”

The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.

Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.

The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.

When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.

Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.

Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.

From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy. 

The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles. 

Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged.  He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.

A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.

It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.

Then there was you.

The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said. 

At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.

Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope. 

You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.

To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.

You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.

You made him feel things—things he should not.

When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.

Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear. 

And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.

A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.

He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.

Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.

Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.

“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."

Love. His father called it.

In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you. 

He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate. 

Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.

“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”

“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”

Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”

“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face. 

He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.

Love.

He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.

Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.

His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.

At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.

Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

ao3: yenwayne

NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'

It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.

Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.

His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.

I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.

So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)

[robinsleeping]

“TT”

[papaiyatree]

you have so much to do, and i have nothing ahead of me

might be blurry, click on pic for higher quality

edit: my comms are open!!

[pokeberry5]

If you are still taking requests, may I please inquire if I could have a drawing of Jason and Tim working together as a team, please?

this probably isnt exactly what you had in mind, but i think that red robin and batboy from that one death in the family movie ending are so precious

the cowl in question:

bonus:

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

🦇Batfamily🦇

Bruce: I don't have friends. Just acquaintances.

Selina: *squinting suspiciously* Clark's your friend.

Clark: *100% is, but wanting to help Bruce keep his "lonely" persona* No, I'm not.

[bludstein]

Thinking about Jason teaming up with the Titans and their opinions vary depending on the generations. The younger Titans view him as this dangerous, big bad Red Hood who return from the dead to enact his wrath on current Robins like vengeful spirit. Meanwhile, the older Titans be like "oh it's Nightwing's naughty little brother" as if the guy who chopped up heads and became crime lord is just going through an edgy phase.

Tim: everyone, this is the Red Hood. I know we don't have the best first impressions but we must put those aside for the mission. He won't bite... I think.

Meanwhile, Dick: meet Jason, my little brother. He's a full-time jackass and part-time damsel in distress. I hope you all can keep an eye on him lest we're all screwed.

I don't know why but I get the feeling Damian's team would probably understand that Jason beating him (Damian) up is justified.

Edit: NAHHH I just realized they introduced Jason like a pet. Tim trying to convince his team that the big bad wolf Jason won't bite. Dick telling others to keep an eye out on naughty kitty Jason.

[candy8448]

Do you have a recs for fics based on the Apprentice arc?

Ooohohoho yesss, you've come to the right person. I have quite a lot of fics to rec (ive been obsessively consuming and hyperfixating like mad on the apprentice arc in particular):

(Also i consider haunted to be part of the overall apprentice arc so there are a few fics based on and set after that episode)

First you can look at the tag "dick grayson as slade wilson's apprentice" on ao3 and there are hundreds of fics, with every dynamic and characters you could want, these are just my favorites ive read (put very very vaguely in an order going down from my most favorites):

Never Alone

My favorite, its a masterpiece, its amazing! After haunted robin continues to have hallucinations and its a finished longfic that gives a really good look into robin's mental illness and how he is still only a human. I made a whole post about this fic and how its perfect in every way, i have not binged a longfic this long in forever but i did this one in a single reading session because i was completely and utterly gripped

More coherent and detailed but completely spoiler free rambles about what makes this fic so good here i cannot stress enough how this is a must read if you like the arc. I like, really really want you to read this one

The voice and gears of sunset

Oneshot set right after robin is rescued from slade in the apprentice arc. It hits so hard and hurts. Robin's recovery and him trying to connect again with the titans after what he had gone through, the titans being there to help every step of the way. The ending melts my heart

Emotional motion sickness

Oneshot set many years later when the batfam is fully formed and robin is nightwing. A good fic with dick and damian's brotherly relationship and discovering new ways to cope. There is an encounter with slade and that scene fills me with so much undescribable emotion

The fight and the war

Oneshot with the batfam. After an encounter with slade, dick is interogated with his family about the way he responded to slade's commands in the battle and how it could have gotten him killed. Dick is forced to admit what happened back when he was with the titans in the apprentice arc. Very good protective batsiblings in a different way to the other fics

Bedeviled

Oneshot set right after haunted. The spores have a lingering effect and robin presses an emergency distress signal to batman who is there for him

To pick at a scab

Years later with the batfam dick comes to the batcave and his younger brothers have some questions about a sound recording from his time with slade. Dick is thrown into a vivid flashback and the batfam break him out of it and help him talk through it. Oneshot

Just the same

Robin deals with stockholm syndrome and cant help but compare how similar or even better slade is than batman. The titans are there to help him figure things out. Oneshot.

Reforming Nightwing

Unfinished longfic. The titans never find iut about the nanobots and dick is forced to be slade's apprentice for 9 years. After Slade is killed and dick is able to excape, he goes to bludhaven where he picks up a new civillian name and the new identity nightwing. Meanwhile tim and steph want to figure out who this new "nightwing" and what his connection is to the villian "renegade"

Do you think batman will give me partial custody?

Oneshot. After the apprentice arc, robin returns to gotham. Unable to figure out how he feels about the situation he goes to his parents' graves where he encounters harely who helps him start a conversation with him about the abuse they both faced

The apprentice

Unfinished longfic where the titans dont discover the nanobots and robin has to continue being slade's apprentice. He spends his time figuring out how to get a message to the titans or to batman or to anyone without slade knowing

Next to my robin and some matchsticks

Oneshot set after apprentice part 2 where the titans patch up robin's wounds and talk about some scars he has, some from his time before the titans and some from slade

Update: since making tthis post, any good fic with the slade and dick dynamic that i read snd liked i have put in this collection

Update update: here are my thoughts on this fic i also found

[unidentifiedgothamite]

the batboys chillin' on WE's roof after patrol

jason, bored & horny: oi goldie, bet ya 10 bucks you can't do 10 consecutive backflips across the roof

dick, never backs down from a challenge: ha! prepare to be 10 bucks lighter, jay

damian, sweet summer child: what are you doing? we all know grayson can do that

tim, just wants to go home: he just wants to ogle at dick's assets clearly

[fandomisthe10thcircleofhell]

Hero of the hero 🥹

[hood-ex]

Nightwing (Vol. 4) #122

[7weaslesinacoat]

ever reading a comic w damian and you just see the “tt.”

it’s so iconic, like he’s been doing since the very beginning and literally every time i see it i fangirl.

[batfam-belfry]

Take your kid to work day <3

[toriluvsnickwayne]

Ummm yall I ltr will never recover from summer slam it is official my least favorite ppv that has ever happened.

As soon as I was done crying abt Rhea’s match Damian’s match rolled around not long after now I can’t stop crying from it