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rad-batson · 8 months

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Multiverse AU where different variants of Damian Wayne Al Ghul are accidentally hailed to one universe and Damian is in the middle, trying to get all of them back home, but it only gets worse and NOT for the reasons you would think.

So picture this: there’s a sea of Damian variants crowded into the Batcave. One’s a leader of the LOA. Another became the next Harley Quinn? One is a mute assassin. Another is Red Hood’s apprentice. One’s Batman. One’s a meta for some reason. Another is the leader of a revolution. One’s a monk. And another is a clone. They’re all somehow involved in vigilantism or the LOA.

And then there’s a completely normal one. He goes by Dami. He’s in college :) He works at an art studio. He’s got a heart condition. He has a boyfriend, and he has never been Robin before. In fact, he doesn’t even know his dad is Batman. So in a room full of wildly different versions, this Damian sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s like an NPC just standing in the middle of a final battle.

What he does know is that his mother, Talia, left the LOA with him when he was two because she fell in love with Bruce. Since then, the three have lived a Perfectly Normal Life as Perfectly Normal People in a moderately nice house in the suburbs of Gotham.

And you know what? No one questions it. Out of all the problems the Damians are having right now, Normal Damian is the least of them. So he just sits to the side, completely chill, and doesn’t interfere.

But then some chaos happens, the Damians are all sucked into a battle at some secondary location, Normal Dami is kidnapped, gets killed, and everyone’s super depressed about it. (Gosh, he was so nice. Why did it have to be him? Boo hoo. We didn’t even have time to recover the body.)

Until they head back to the cave…and there he is. Respawned. Alive. Confused.

He was literally dead on the floor two hours ago. They checked for a pulse! He bled out. Normal NPC Dami is supposed to be dead. But nope. He’s right there. “Hey, what happened? The last thing I remember is being tied up. Did I faint again?”

Everyone else, the whole batfamily and the mini Damian army, is like “wtf how’d you get here, buddy?” While he’s just like :) so Bruce, who put a bug on the security cameras or whatever, checks the footage and what he finds is absolutely horrifying.

Just after he died, Normal Dami’s eyes snapped open. Glowing a deep Lazarus Green. He stood up, walked out, and immediately fucking decimated the remaining group of kidnappers like a rabid animal. Literally anyone who got near him were goners, and Thank Sweet Jesus he didn’t run into anyone on the walk back because he didn’t care to clean off all that blood. Nope, he just walked right through the front doors of the manor, found a clean set of clothes, completely on autopilot, then all of the adrenaline wore off, and he collapsed from exhaustion.

So everyone watches the footage. NPC Damian is horrified. He insists that’s not him because he doesn’t kill people! How could they ever accuse him of killing people?! He has never done something like that. He can’t even walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded for Christ’s sake!

Nonetheless, he agrees to sit in their itty bitty holding cell as they do some fun little tests, and lo and behold: he is so genetically fucked up. Why? Because his DNA isn’t like the other Damians. It’s completely mutated by this green glowing substance that they know all too well.

The verdict? Normal Dami has been permanently mutated by the Lazarus Pit. The Lazarus Pit is inside of him. It IS him. Or maybe Normal NPC Damian is the Lazarus Pit.

When Normal Dami was two and he and Talia still lived with the LOA, there was an incident involving Damian drowning in the Lazarus Pit (à la Ra’s Al Ghul's Stellar Grand-Parenting Skills.) However, since he wasn’t dead, the Lazarus Pit devoured him, consumed him with violent pit madness, spat him back out, and Damian became this completely, unstoppably rage-filled toddler that can throw you over his shoulder and snap your neck. So Talia, terrified of what Ra’s would do with him, escaped to Gotham, found Bruce, begged for help, and they devised a plan.

Step 1: Raise Lazarus Damian as a completely normal kid.

Step 2: Take him to therapy. Maybe give him anger management classes. (Monitor his sugar intake. That couldn’t hurt.)

That was literally their whole plan. They had no other ideas ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Occasionally, he’d snap and kill someone in cold blood (whoopsie daisy) but his parents were an assassin and the world's greatest detective. No one’s gonna know.

Through some trial and error, they found out that abrupt adrenaline spikes were what triggered the madness. So they worked around it. They gave him calm, relaxing hobbies. They spoiled him with emotional support animals. They Never Raised Their Voices. He was homeschooled for a bit then introduced to university, but only AFTER they made sure Jon (the Indestructable Superboy) was his roommmate. (Yes, they told him. Yes, he is now part of the convoluted Keep Deadly Damian Relaxed Task Force. They’re also dating.) They got Damian a FitBit that tracked his heart rate so they could predict when his adrenaline spiked. They Life360’d his ass so fucking hard. Meanwhile, Damian just thought he had some kind of medical thing, none the wiser the entire time.

Long story short? “Chill Normal NPC Damian” Cannot Die. But he can Kill.

If he does “die” (the Lazarus Pit cannot die) then he goes into a murderous rage, kills everyone in sight, it wears off with the adrenaline, and he can’t remember what happened. This Damian is the Most Dangerous of the variants, and he doesn’t even know it because his parents decided that would be best.

And now the other Damians are scared of him, and he’s scared of himself, and no one knows why he's made of the Lazarus Pit, and they don’t know what to do with him, and they still don’t know how to get back, and some of them want to kill him, and some don't, but no one trusts him, including himself, and it becomes an all-out war over the fate of Damian.

Anyway, Normal Damian who's actually a Murderous Lazarus Spirit without even knowing it. Thank you :)

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silverskye13 · 14 days

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random thought, but i had a vivid image of, if helsknight and welsknight ever saw each other without armor (or just helsknight out of his armor tbh), helsknight showing welsknight the scar tanguish gave him and saying "this was intended for you."

i don't know how in character that is, but tbh it's haunting me. maybe it's part of helsknight's revenge against welsknight or something, calling out his unknightly behavior and unhonorable conduct.

"You didn't answer my summons."

Helsknight froze. It was a quick, momentary startle, a short-circuit of normality. The moment he did it, every instinct told him to keep moving. That old command [Do something.] blared loud in the quiet surprise of his mind. So he moved his hand to pick up the brush on his table, and pretended to be unconcerned.

"I'm not a dog. You can't call me to heel," Helsknight said simply. He smirked and growled, "Though if you feel like losing some limbs, feel free to try."

Behind him, Wels shifted uncomfortably. Helsknight liked making Wels uncomfortable, he didn't handle it well. He was a creature used to comfort and ease. Inconvenience often galled him more than a sword to the throat. Different tactics for different battlefields, and this battlefield was a delicate one.

Helsknight was cleaning his arms and armor, which was one of several reasons why he hasn't leaped for a fight when Welsknight had called him to one. He was only in a tunic and breeches. It was luck he even had his boots on. He had offered to run errands with Tanguish, but Tanguish had said he was visiting his church and wanted to go on rooftops. So Helsknight stayed home, and he left his boots on. That was the other reason Helsknight hadn't answered the call: Tanguish wouldn't know where he was, and he knew Tanguish got paranoid about being left behind. Besides, Helsknight had chores he could do at home [like cleaning his arms and armor] so he stayed. Cleaning the chainmail was almost a formality. Hels was hot and dry, and he wore it often enough that the rings clattering together cleaned themselves. But sometimes he just liked putting an extra shine on things, so he took out his brush and oil and started brushing it down for any miniscule specks of rust or broken links he could find.

Wels, always keen on the times he wasn't wanted, decided now was the perfect time to show up in his living room. He stood awkwardly, waiting on Helsknight to make some aggressive movement. When none came, he cautiously stalked further into the tiny living space. His emotions were loud and uncomfortable without the distance between their respective worlds to dampen them, and they clung like smoke against Helsknight's skin. Caution at an unfamiliar space. Disgruntlement at being ignored.

[Guilt, like ash on a burn.]

"Is this... Yours?" Wels asked, glancing around.

"No, I'm just squatting in a random house. Sounded like a fun way to spend a Tuesday."

Helsknight felt the ant-bite sting of vicarious agitation and smirked. He was already getting on Wels's nerves.

[Good.]

"Couldn't build something nicer?" Wels snapped impatiently.

"I'm a fighter."

Helsknight found a place on his chainmail to brush down and got to work. The rough, grating twinge of the coarse bristles on chain made Wels wince. Helsknight always found the noise pleasant. Like scratching an itch.

"So?"

"I have better things to do than spend hours building the perfect house."

Wels scoffed and looked around the room with renewed disdain. "Where's your little devil?"

It took Helsknight a moment to place what he was asking. He sneered, a quiet bearing of teeth, and caught the flicker of red in the reflective shine of his chainmail. Wels looked pointedly away from him.

[Like ash on a burn.]

"Not feeling remorse... are we, crusader?" Helsknight asked, finding a new place to polish. The coin-drop clatter of chain, and the shrill scrape of bristles filled the silence like an accusation.

"Of course not," Wels sniffed disdainfully, still refusing to meet Helsknight's eye.

"Careful." Helsknight murmured, that red flash reflecting off his chainmail again, anger simmering. "Lying's a sin."

"Why would I feel remorse for protecting my home?"

"A crusade well fought I'm sure."

"It's not a crusade!" Wels snapped, his own anger a living thing raising hackles. "A crusader invades! A crusader fights a holy war just for the principle."

"Right. And you're fighting because--"

"Because I'm protecting Tango."

"-because it's for his own good?"

Wels didn't exactly wince, but he did still, as though he'd heard someone draw a blade from its scabbard. Helsknight might as well have unseated his sword. He had stopped scrubbing, all pretense of work falling. The need to pace, to circle, to corner, rose up in Helsknight like a waking beast.

"Interesting choice of words. Protecting." Helsknight said, his voice low, his hands still. "I was under the impression they were friends. Do you often protect Tango from the people he's begging you to spare?"

"That doesn't matter." Wels said so firmly it was almost convincing. Almost. "People are convinced they need an abusive relationship. That doesn't change the fact it's bad for them."

"So many interesting words today," Helsknight hissed. He stood like a dark tower rising, all embered fury slowly stoking. Wels didn't bother turning to face him. He could feel his intent like thunder. "Abuse. Brings to mind the image of power. I do have a question."

"I didn't come here for your stupid questions."

"No, you came here looking for a fight."

"I didn't."

"You really do need to tame that lying tongue."

"I didn't come here for a fight."

"Did it feel powerful?" Helsknight demanded, pacing a step, and loathing the tiny room for denying him the space to circle. "The voice. The command. How did it feel."

"Shut up."

"To have someone begging you not to hurt them," Helsknight continued relentlessly. "Not your stupid play fighting on your stupid little server. True, shaking, terror. Did it feel good, crusader? Just?"

"I told you to shut up!" Wels shouted, taking a threatening step forward only to find Helsknight had closed the space between them and stood looming like a rook on a tombstone.

Fear, a caged thing howling, battered against Helsknight's anger. It made Helsknight feel almost giddy, the crash of malicious schadenfreude and self-righteousness against Wels; a flickering thing of brittle will. They made a terrible ouroboros together, fear feeding anger feeding elation feeding fear. They were always like this. No matter how calm either of them tried to be, once anger kindled in one, their emotions burned until there was nothing left but fury and loathing. Helsknight had been made to cut Wels down to size.

"Do you know what that kind of fear does to people?" Helsknight demanded again, his voice so near a whisper it was smothering. They were so close together, but they made so little noise, all will and wide eyes. "What happened to mercy for the helpless, crusader?"

"He wasn't helpless," Welsknight said, trying very hard not to back down. "He stabbed me."

"And a drowning rat bites. I wouldn't call it an apex predator. Certainly I wouldn't call it a danger to you, with your full armor and sword." Helsknight bared his teeth at Wels, something like a bitter grin. "I wasn't wearing armor."

Wels looked down, where Helsknight had drawn up his tunic to reveal the new scar in his abdomen. Wels looked like he'd stopped breathing.

"This was intended for you," Helsknight said. "You should thank me."

"You're-- you're here telling me he's harmless," Wels laughed nervously. "But he almost killed you. You."

Something in Helsknight snapped, and in the moment it took him to reach for it with white knuckles and compose it again, he'd shoved Wels hard in the chest. It didn't knock his other half off his feet, but he stumbled back hard enough hit the opposite wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to warn.

"He did," Helsknight snarled, pacing forward slow steps. "That's what terror does to helpless people, crusader. It makes them bite. It makes them beg. It makes them clamor to live. You. Did. That. What did it feel like to abuse that kind of power Wels? To turn someone into a scared animal? To make someone so desperate they would almost kill a friend? Did you find your righteousness there crusader?"

Helsknight didn't know what he planned on doing. Violence was in his blood like a serpent, and he wanted it. And Wels knew he wanted it. There was the ring of drawn metal, and the silver-bright glint of an enchanted blade in a dark room. Helsknight's advance stopped at the top of Wels's sword, not close enough to hurt, but close enough to warn.

"Stop." Wels said. A command. A plea.

"I'm unarmed."

"That doesn't matter."

Helsknight smiled, and there was loathing and euphoria in it, and the wine-dark dread of Wels right on the other side of it. The knowledge of a line crossed, a battle he hadn't even realized he was fighting made forfeit.

"Fine." Helsknight said. "My blood's already been spilled once on your behalf. At least this time do it with your own sword, coward. I'll make it easy for you."

He took a step forward, and nudged the blade with a knuckle, resting the point against his scar. The metal was cold, even through his shirt, the enchantments alive and writhing so close to his skin.

"How cruel have you gotten while I wasn't there to keep you in check, crusader?"

There was a long breath of silence between them. Helsknight stood, precarious and predatory, daring Wels to kill him. And Wels stood there, and dared himself to as well. And the room was dark, lit only by red anger and blue dread, and the pale, languid flicker of enchanted steel. And neither of them breathed. And the universe watched.

A loud clatter sounded on the roof. Both knights looked up towards the ceiling, Wels in startlement, and Helsknight in resignation.

"And he stays my hand once again," Helsknight sighed.

"What--?" Wels didn't get his full question out before Helsknight moved. He knocked the sword aside and lunged forward to grab Wels's shirt. In a move that would've made Martyn proud, he dragged Wels forward into his knee, knocking the wind out of him. In the time it took Wels to collapse to the floor, Helsknight had taken his sword, and held the point beneath his other half's chin.

"Go home Wels," Helsknight said, "before I send you there the hard way."

Wels, breathless on the ground, let out half a strangled laugh. "Why don't you?"

"Because I was asked nicely not to go running off and killing you."

"Helsknight?" A loud knock sounded at the door. Tanguish's voice, a bright comfort even in spite of its concern, called to him. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard something fall."

Helsknight glared meaningfully down at Wels, who only hesitated long enough for Helsknight to draw back the sword before slipping back to his world. The moment he did, Helsknight felt his breath leave him, the great void of being left to his own thoughts and emotions. In the wake of everything that was Wels, he felt ridiculous.

[What in hels had he even been about to do? Die on someone's sword to prove a point? Idiot.]

"Helsknight? The door is locked."

"I'm coming," Helsknight called, pausing only long enough to hide Wels's sword beneath the couch, where Tanguish couldn't see it and inevitably worried about it. He checked his tunic to make sure he hadn't managed to actually stab himself [he hadn't] and went to let Tanguish inside.

#rns ficlets #helsknight #welsknight #tanguish (kinda)#this one feels very dense and dramatic #i feel like wels actively seeks out hels when he feels guilty / bad / self loathing #its like a compulsion: punishing yourself because you did wrong #even though its ultimately unproductive #also something something helsknight making some kind of point about how #instilling terror in something to confirm your bias that its dangerous #is more even than the terrified thing causing harm #case and point i scared you into drawing your sword on an unarmed man #i dont know im tired and that was a really badass phrase to just drop on me anon #*evil not even alskdjfjf im going to bed

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dirtytransmasc · 3 months

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atwow hot take:

if jake had said his "son for a son" shit out loud and spider had heard him, he would have been so beyond pissed, he would be seeing red.

spider loved his little siblings so much, neteyam included, even after they grew apart. he loved them like they were his own blood and protected them like they were too (we see a lot more of them together in the comics, where spider is the big brother without a doubt). neteyam's death most certainly rocked him hard, even if he hasn't really been able to show it (how could he? he's already going through all the shit with his dad and the RDA and their nonsense, he can't grieve around neytiri, he's just so tired after it all. he doesn't have the room or the energy to grieve yet)

so if jake had the audacity to say that to/around spider not even a few hours after he watched his little brother get shot after coming to save him, after he stared at the bullet hole in his back, after he watched him take his last breaths, after he watched the light leave his eyes, after he watched his little brother die for him; if he said that while his little brother's body lay in a pool of his own blood not even ten feet away, not even cold yet, blood still clinging to his chest, the scent of it still filling the air: he would have lost his shit.

because the disrespect for his brother is wild.

jake was an active player in spider's neglect and abuse for the last 16 years, he let it happen, he helped it happen. he tried to send spider with the humans, tried to take him away from his siblings, from the forests, from eywa to live with his foster family that didn't love him (not to mention Nash was an asswipe of epic proportions) and the RDA of all people. he had referred to spider as a stray animal since he was little. he was the reason spiders life was hell.

and after all that, years and years of putting him in shit positions and allowing him to suffer the fate of being forever unloved and uncared for (by an adult authority figure, cause I love the kids, but they don't make up for the gap left by a parent), this is what it took for jake to care about him? his little brother had to die in front of him first? he had to be traded out to fill the space of a corpse, to fill in the gap left by his little brother's death?

in canon, spider was in deep in shock with nothing to break him from it, he wasn't in the place to really think about any of it, and I'm sure we're gonna see this anger in the coming movies, but if jake had said it out loud, that would have been enough to snap spider right out of it, and he would have given jake a piece of his mind, I just know it.

#he loves neteyam too much to let jake do that. to say that. he'd never allow it.#spider is such a good big brother. he loves his siblings too much.#if jake had said that to his face there would have been hell to pay. regardless of how out of it spider was with shock/grief/pure exhaustio #spider doesn't even care about the disrespect being done to him by that statement. he just cares about neteyam.#cause how could a father say that? how could he just move on. fill the gap with a “stray” as he puts it. take him in after all he'd done to #him? it wasn't fair #it wasn't fair to him and it most certainly wasn't fair to neteyam #I love spider. he deserves a family that loves him and wants him. he wants it. but this is not what either of us asked for.#that line has always rubbed me wrong. and it would have rubbed spi wrong too. I just know it.#I really hope we see spider express his rightful anger/disgust to this whole thing next movie #though I worry he will be too busy feeling guilty over everything and feeling like he just has to be grateful. but one can hope.#he deserves to be angry #and his dynamic with neteyam deserves to be explored. cause its a crime that it was ignored in the movie.#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #jake sully #I wanna punch that man so hard istg. I can't with him. I won't say I hate him. but lord have mercy I can't with him.#my baby boys deserved better #spider was neteyam's big brother. that's my agenda #we need to talk about them more

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