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akaanonymouth · 1 year

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What is it about fics then, where characters always, ALWAYS, have a spare toothbrush conveniently just hanging about in bathroom cupboards for that time someone is, usually unexpectedly, staying the night?

I have lived a few decades now, and I have never known anyone who keeps spare toothbrushes. Is it really common??

#maybe my grandparents did actually.#but they had nine granddaughters and were prepared for war so

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heritageposts · 6 months

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The grandfather, who is also blind as a result of severe diabetes, feels isolated despite having his family around him. "If an air strike targets the house or the neighbourhood, I cannot move, not even using the wheelchair. I am completely paralysed, I cannot see and I can barely hear and move my arms. What has helped me is that we evacuated by car when the situation was less dangerous," Abujubein told MEE. . . . "What did the world that has long talked about human rights and the rights of people with disabilities do for us? My granddaughter has a subject about human rights in school. The first time they learned about people with disabilities, she was happy that she could reflect on me," Abu Jubein laughed. "She came to me repeating what she had learned about their rights and how they should be given a special treatment." "Now where is this special treatment? Did the world at least call for the evacuation of the displaced from Gaza until the end if the attacks?" "Even hospitals are targeted. When the Israeli occupation started bombing hospitals and then besieged al-Shifa Hospital, we thought that this would be the start of an international revolution against the occupation, because the protection of patients and children inside hospitals is the core value of human rights." "But, surprisingly, nothing happened."

. . . full article on MME (18 Nov 2023)

#palestine #israel #gaza #disability #there's also a story earlier in the article about a sister having to carry her six-year-old disabled brother for several kilometers #deciding to leave his wheelchair at home because they'd heard stories of IOF soldiers who wouldn't let people pass with anything #but their ID card #the whole thing is just harrowing to read #but the image of the granddaughter learning about disability rights at school and excitedly relaying them to her disabled grandfather...

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url-is-url · 1 year

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I’m having feelings about Katara v Pakku again, and the fact that at this point in the series, Katara has never been in a fight that wasn’t to the death. Every fight she’s ever been in has had world-ending stakes. She’s not shooting to kill Pakku because she’s weaker and less trained than him - though she is - she’s shooting to kill because she doesn’t know any other way to fight. Friendly sparring, or fighting as a spectator sport, has not been a part of this girl’s life. Pakku’s fighting Katara to put troublesome teenagers in their place; Katara’s fighting Pakku because they’ll all die if Pakku doesn’t pull his head out of his ass and train the Avatar.

Pakku is genuinely surprised to see his own reflection in that disc of ice Katara shoots right past his face. If he hadn’t dodged, it would have sliced his head right open. He starts putting actual effort in after that.

#how many old ladies were completely unsurprised when kanna's granddaughter came rolling into the nwt and picked a fight with pakku #do you think anybody won a 50 year old bet that day #atla

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 3 months

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DP X DC PROMPT #25

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Family Reunion

Clockwork sends an adult Danny, newly appointed Ancient of Space, on a mission through time again. Except this time, it isn't located on Earth, but a distant planet he's never even heard of before. Clockwork didn't tell him any specifics on what he was supposed to do or when he was supposed to return to his own time, just to blend in and have an experience. He would know when it was time to return.

Needless to say, he has a blast! His core is bursting with happiness at getting the chance to explore this unknown corner of the universe with a sky full of constellations he's never seen and fascinating locals. Considering he might be here a while, he buckles down and learns all about their culture and their traditions and even eventually learns their language without having to use the two-way translator Clockwork gave him.

He spends decades there, not even having to worry about how he never appears to age, the people here being incredibly long-lived. However, he eventually meets someone. Someone he falls head over heels for. He gets married. He has kids. He watches them slowly grow into adults as well. It isn't until one of his sons informs him that he's expecting his own child(1) that Danny feels a tug at his core.

He ignores it, but over the course of a few weeks, it's gone from the occasional pull to a full-on yank at his entire being, along with a sense of dread that something was going to happen to this wonderful little planet. To his family.

He becomes restless and loses so much sleep, it's a miracle he can even stand. His family are worried for him, but he assures them that he's just feeling a little under the weather. One night, he's sat up in bed, unable to sleep again. His gaze is fixed lovingly on his spouse, but nonetheless sad.

He doesn't miss when all the soft sounds of the night stop and a green glow appears behind him.

"It's time to leave, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"There isn't any way I could stay? I can't bring them with me?"

"I'm afraid not. There are some things that can't be changed or stopped, even when they fall into your domain. I'm sorry."

"Why send me here just to make me abandon them like this? What was the point?"

Clockwork is silent, but when Danny turns to look at the ghost, he's gone.

Danny takes a few more precious days to spend time with his family. Kiss his spouse. Hug his kids. Feel the strong kicks of his grandchild he won't be there to witness the birth of.

The night he leaves, he places a letter on his spouse's nightstand, gently kisses their forehead, and disappears in a flash of green, never to be seen again.

Years later is when Danny gets the news. That the planet Krypton is no more and that his family is gone. He searched the Ghost Zone for them, but he never knew the location of Krypton in the cosmos. Their afterlife is beyond his reach, in a place that isn't even on the Infamap.

He nearly drowns himself in grief when he finds a sliver of reprieve in the form of a news broadcast. An extraordinary man in blue and red with the kryptonian symbol for such emblazoned on his chest is shown fighting off multiple enemies at once. He is the spitting image of his father and Danny as well.

He had a grandson. His grandson was alive.

✦

(1) This was Kara, not Clark. Danny left before he even found out about Kal-El being in the oven, so there will be a misunderstanding at first. Then Kara pops up later, and Danny just bawls his eyes out that he had two surviving grandchildren without even knowing it this whole time. How he first meets either of them is up to you!

(*) What this means power-wise for Clark is yours to decide. As well as what Clark already knows about his grandfather from the stored information his father left him. What his father thought of Danny disappearing without a word is also up for you to decide.

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miss-what-a-d0ll · 1 month

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𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 ⚓

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

#moodboard #coastal aesthetic #coastal granddaughter #spring moodboard #coastal cottage #cottagecore #aesthetic #blue cottagecore #blue moodboard #spring #summer aesthetic #coastal grandma #ocean breeze #salty sea air

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ghostbsuter · 7 months

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Damian was 10 when he was shipped off to his father.

He was 10 when he finally decided enough was enough, packed his stuff, called Mara, and the ball went rolling.

The moment Talia left the mansion, the DNA test confirmed, and Bruce emotionally compromised, did he finally move.

He'd stared his father down, felt nothing when he stood up and mild annoyance bloomed when his father asked– demanded– where he was going.

"You're a fool if you believe I will stay here." He spat, eyening the man in disdain.

It became very apparent that Damian wasn't what Bruce thought he'd be, what Talia thought he was.

"Your mother entrusted me with your safety–"

"I don't need protection. Mother wouldn't care if I stayed or not." He blinks. "Where is the cave? I wish to use the computer, I have people to contact."

Reluctantly, Bruce shows him the way, questions of who and why, and the plans he apparently had were asked.

Damian answers with vague wordings and enough open spaces for interpretation. Words greatest detective, he can figure it out himself without damian spelling it out for him.

When they do arrive in the batcave, Tim Drake— Robin— was sitting at the computer.

Huffing, Damian shoved the entire chair away from the table, taking its place and started typing.

"W— hey! What—? Who?" Tim looked between Bruce and Damian, despite being sleep deprived his eyes caught on the similarities, mouth dry and mind calculating.

"Does Dick know?" Is all he asks, leaning back and watching the younger boy work.

"Not yet."

A heavy sigh.

"Silence," the boy huffs, annoyed. "I'll have to make a call."

Glaring daggers, he pulls out a old burner phone, pressing the single number saved inside and waits.

"Damian."

"Hello, brother."

('Oh. Did he have another?' Tim wonders, watching Batman's face, blank like a paper sheet. Nothing. It feels like all his efforts of bringing the man back were just flushed.)

—

Or in simpler words:

Danyal al Ghul, the first successor of the demons head, born with his twin Athanasia al Ghul, to be the future of the league.

They were reborn with their former memories, stuck in place, constantly watched and trained. Manipulated. Weaponized.

All for a man playing immortal.

They'd only started planning when two more children came into the picture, Damian and Mara Al Ghul.

Danyal now Daniel "Danny" and Athanasia now Eleanor "Ellie" Nightingale took matters into their own hands and separated to take the kids in and end this.

End the league. End the cycle of whatever this, this cult is, and take over.

In many universes, Ra's al Ghul does not die, always returns, wielding his people like mere weapons.

In this universe, Danyal al Ghul is acknowledged as a traitor, killer of the Demons head and Older Brother, borderline father even, to his tiny brother Damian al Ghul.

In this universe, he raises Damian instead of Talia, shows him the cracks of this careful manipulated picture and listens when Ellie tells of her travels to this tiny child with a sad sad fate.

In this universe, Ellie takes in their tiny cousin, shielding her from the cruel eyes of a man not worthy. She trains her, shows her the ropes and takes her along when she leaves.

In this universe, Damian al Ghul and Mara al Ghul live a good live, protected by the twins of old souls and have a somewhat normal if not very complicated childhood.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #Danny is Damians older brother/father #Danny aka Danyal al Ghul #Ellie aka Athanasia al Ghul #Dani is Maras mentor/parental figurine #Danny and Dani got reincarnated as twins in the league #the reason Damian and Mara suffered so much under Ras was because he alr had a granddaughter and son #why a pair more if they cant even surpass the first ones? he blatantly ignores the huge age gap #danny killed ras #Bad parent Tali #bad parent bruce #bruce wayne tries #damian just doesnt care bcs he alr got a father figure #why one more?#to dami talia is more a of a teacher #and what does he do with teachers he doesnt like? get rid of them #sorry talia love #anyway clockwork is having a field day with his fav drama show #for funnsies #adding Dan as Jasons mentor for the rage issues #Mara al ghul my beloved #Damian is NOT interested in the Robin title!!!!#he is much more serious about the phantom family name

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buttercupyellow · 4 months

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wanted to draw the whole found family in one pic and this is literally the only moment in the movie where they're all in one shot so.. ta da!

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka #noodle wonka #abacus crunch #piper benz #lottie bell #larry chucklesworth #my art #fanart #there is an extended family to be had too #but thats too many lol #like wendy chucklesworth abacus' wife and granddaughter #lofty and dorothy smith

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hazbinhotelxreader · 2 months

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Hello, Happy Valentine's Day, first of all and second, I always liked the idea of Alastor dating a relative of the Overlords, so could you make Alastor dating Zestial's granddaughter? 🌺ψ(｀∇´)ψ

A/n: yep! Sorry this took so long! Also I think this is my first ever post about Alastor so let’s hope this goes well!

-Romantic

-I’m not too sure of their relationship, but by the looks of it , Zestial and Alastor seem pretty close, like good friends. Maybe not as close as he is to Rosie, but definitely close.

-Zestial, being older, would of course be aware of the danger Alastor is, and how deadly he can be, but I believe Zestial has some sort of trust in him.

-You, were Zestial biological granddaughter. Once you died and went to hell, you reunited with him, and he was overjoyed to have found you.

-He seemed to play more of a fatherly role than a grandparent, but he doesn’t smother you, you are an adult after all. You also tagged along overlord meetings with him, and when he ran his own meetings you’d be there to help

-You most likely met Alastor at an overlord meeting, you were pretty new to hell so you weren’t aware of what he’s done.

-Out of curiosity, you approached him to get to know him, he did look around your age. And you have no regrets doing so, he was oh so charming. He was polite too. You couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter in your stomach every time you speak to him.

-Of course, your grandfather Zestial noticed your jittery actions near him, and the way you’d get nervous and always try to be more sweet with him. He had a little chat with you that night, but told you that you could date or be with anyone you love as long as you’re careful.

-And like he said, you did love Alastor, so you wanted to be with him. And surprisingly, you managed to score a date with him! Or more like an outing, he’s not a very romantic guy, he’s charming and sweet, but not romantic.

-At the beginning of you two dating, he made it clear he didn’t want any sort of physical affection or intimacy, especially no sexual contact. You didn’t mind, love isn’t all about sex anyways. It’s not like you fell for his body, you fell for him, his personality and charm.

-he’s definitely going to try and manipulate you a little bit in the beginning, maybe attempt to make a deal with you and use you as bait for Zestial? He could do that. But you followed your grandfathers advice and stayed safe, not giving into any deals that involved selling souls.

-He’d try to get information about Zestial out of you. Sure Zestial and him were good pals, but Alastor is still pretty darn evil, he’d want some sort of info about his plans or meetings, or just about him in general. You can’t lie, you’ve accidentally told him some personal info, like some plans before.

-Now later on while you two are officially together, he’ll let you give him more physical contact. Nothing sexual though. For example, small pecks of kisses on each others hands or faces, hugs, holding hands, or just wholesome cuddling in bed.

-He doesn’t really mind if your the granddaughter of another powerful overlord, he’s not the type to respect higher beings, Lucifer for example.

-He’s gonna be protective, let’s say that. Any one that threats to hurt you, or even thinks about it, will instantly be Alastors next radio broadcast.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #zestial x reader #hazbin hotel zestial #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #zestial #zestial x carmilla #Zestial x fem reader #Zestial x granddaughter reader

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drabbles-of-writing · 1 year

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more memes from the ghostly Golden Guards but now they’re finale flavored

the ghosts are Luz’s own personal hype team and I just know they went through the widest possible range of emotions. first they’re mourning that Luz died and she’s probably not gonna be a ghost with them, then they’re hollering that she’s back to life, and then they’re howling like deranged monkeys as she beats Belos to a PULP. felt more emotion in those ten minutes than they had in their entire living lives

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

#the owl house #toh #watching and dreaming #toh spoilers #memes #toh memes #golden guard #previous golden guards #ghosts #ghost golden guards #caleb wittebane #emperor belos #philip wittebane #luz noceda #threw in some regular guard memes for a bit #i might make more #specifically about their titan god apparently being this tiny little kid that. calebs great-something granddaughter adopted #all them whooping in belos's face that the titan whom hes been desecrating has a kid and that kid is gonna kill him so bad #'was i supposed to know the titan was an actual guy and not an allegory or was i just supposed to watch the human come back to life myself'

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taudryfalls · 2 months

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conflicting "the coastal granddaughter" aesthetic I propose "the lace girl aesthetic" which is basically the same thing but the grandmothers vibe from when she was young.

XOXO -Taudry

#this is what makes us girls #lizzy grant #girlblogging #just girly thoughts #female hysteria #female manipulator #girlhood #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #coquette #dollete #coastal granddaughter #chemtrails over the country club #cinnamon girl #coquette angel #cool girl #coquette dollete #coastal grandmother

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deadsetobsessions · 18 days

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Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne’s guilt complex #Bruce ‘everything is my fault’ Wayne #no Bruce not everything in fact is about you bby #ras al ghul #Ra’s was a jackass long before you were born #oc in dc #batman #tim drake #damian wayne’s older sister #damian wayne #Bruce took his guil and fucking sprinted with it #he’s also making a lot of (very fair considering the circumstances) assumptions about oc #did I write that entire first part so I could make Alfred quote a poem?#yes yes I did #technically it’s also a part of a Kanye west song or whatever #oc: my brother is so cute look he’s so excited to see me #everyone else: what? hes walking so elegantly and calmly???#sleep deprived me did not do the difference between habibi and habibti #Alfred Pennyworth #Alfred Pennyworth was besties with Martha Wayne #Martha Wayne coming back to haunt the Waynes via her granddaughter #Alfred calling Ra’s and honorless goat #a couple thousand words of Alfred being sassy

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