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lovingdabeessss · 8 months

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WARNING: R A M B L E

AAAAA LITERARY ALLUSIONS AAAAA

I love Rwby it’s all immediately that deep with the character- like- LISTEN they take intentional simple good/bad characters fair tales which are THE simplest because it’s being told to children and then they make them complicated!!! They make them multiple things

Blake- everyone knows Blake’s everyone loves Blake’s I mean it’s wonderful beauty and the beast where she’s both of them already good already great but then!!! But then it also!!! makes a DIFFERENT CHARACTER also both beauty and the beast which also goes into their other dynamic of yin and Yang and transformation into the other and the constant switching and it makes it like symbolically Yang is a part of her it’s so good she’s the only one who’s a love story she’s defined by the people she loves it’s great

Weiss, she’s always great never disappoints she’s a knight and a princess she’s Snow White which Rwby recognizes as less of a love story and more of a story about parental abuse and overcoming it and never once is it Snow Whites fault the evil queen is acting like that she just is too pretty which Weiss is so it’s perfect for her i truly love “what if Snow White was a middle child” never stop Rwby

Then RUBY I love her she’s red riding hood and the HUNTSMAN makes the “are you a huntress” a little funnier to me cause it’s the core of her character just a little girl trying to do a sweet thing until she is TRICKED AND EATEN BY THE BAD GUY

she’s never not devoured in the story she goes to see her grandmother and they are both eaten and then saved because the huntsman cuts the wolf up it’s truly horrible she never gets saved beforehand and this I think is very well shown in volume 9 where she has to be totally destroyed by the wolf which in this specific instance was just her own grief and guilt (and the cat the cat was also wolf) and then she cut herself out of the stomach of the beast (and attacked the cat that too)

And finally in no particular order YANG my beloved she’s so great

Yangs particularly interesting because she’s the only one of them to be both the hero and the villain of the story and in Goldilocks that villain changes often the villain is the little girl for breaking into the bears house and other times it’s the bears

In some versions when they catch her the bears attempt to burn her (which doesn’t work quite right) drown her (not right either) and then finally MAIM HER BY STABBING HER WITH A CHURCH CHAPLE!??!?!?

She is also the only character in her story it’s Goldilocks and the three bears, she is the only one in this story and all the story is that she will destroy herself

And it’s so interesting that the child is the villain of the story it reminds me of when she was talking about Alice saying she was a bad person when she was just a kid trying to survive

And being the only character and her self destruction in her loneliness like when she lost her arm and no one was around and she just deteriorated

She’s destroying herself she’s so desperate to protect people she’s determined to go out saving someone Yang is a huntress who watched her entire family be destroyed by the job she went into this expecting it to kill her she went into this hoping it would kill her not Ruby

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumbleby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #allusions #rwby analysis #I’m so sorry #posting this cause I drew Ruby and Yang but I left my drawing stuff downstairs and can’t post it without walking down there #someone take words away from me

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lumencoelisanctarosa · 1 month

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Joe Hill’s "The Black Phone" (dir. by Scott Derrickson, 2021) as his dad’s stories.

Stephen King coded.

1) “It” (2017), dir. by Andy Muschietti.

2) “The Shining” (1980), dir. by Stanley Kubrick.

3) “Cujo” (1983), dir. by Lewis Teague.

4) “Gerald’s Game” (2017), dir. by Mike Flanagan.

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beanifred · 3 months

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Part 5: Those Who Dig

@dollarstrilogyevent prompts: humanity/liminal/torture

In which Tuco is left in a graveyard, and also muses poetically:

#dollarsfandomevent #tuco ramirez #blondie #the good the bad and the ugly #poetry #allusions #Finishing The Sentence is my favorite part

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env0writes · 9 months

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Dead End Dirt Lot Diaries 7.28.2023 “Earthbound"

Men are from Mars Women are from Venus Even world’s apart You’ll break my heart Snap a tender chord on guitars Durm and strum the vibrations too far between us Lost, to the void of distance – time Love may not crumble But be lost beneath rubble Grow fonder or forgetful

@env0writes {C.Buck} [Ko-Fi ] & [Venmo]: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist! Photo by @mynamemeanscloud

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crazydaisy710 · 1 year

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I don't know if anyone else has said this, but Sabine staring at her helmet in the Ahsoka trailer has such Mulan vibes.

Honestly, Disney, please keep giving me allusions to my favorite Disney princesses in my favorite Star Wars character. I live for it.

#can chopper be mushu?#star wars rebels #star wars ahsoka #space aladdin #space mulan starts a new journey #sabine wren #star wars #I'll stop now #I used to tell my students allusions were my favorite literary device #allusions

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bluelead35 · 1 year

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ally of what you see, enemy of what you read

alhaitham x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

sfw, fluff, friends to lovers, allusions to Ibyn Al-Haytham (direct quote)

synopsis: you are blind to what you see, and an ally of what you read, when what you see is alhaitham, and what you read is lies. i hope people understand this, i’m tired and should be studying for a bio exam, but instead i’m feeling my english major self so here you go.

His eyes always caught your attention. The way they would sit under a pair of half-lidden lashes when reading a book while hands were covered with the fancy scribe gloves spreading the book out by its spine. Eyes moved slowly across the page- just as gorgeous as a painting, with a major centerpiece with several details evolving around it. The blue and green all melded together to be a background for his iris-almost cat like. A fine line was pressed onto the scribe’s face, deep into thought.

You decided to grab a table at the House of Daena to be a productive scholar. You had your iced coffee from Puspa cafe and opened your notebook. You swiftly took out your feather quill and began transcribing information from your book into your notes. Along the way however, your head lifted up to grab a sip of your liquid caffeine only to find a work of art sitting on the window sill, by a bookcase with a red cover in between his hand reading. You found it interesting how he always sat with one leg over the other-you weren’t one who sat “correctly” either.

His eyes shifted towards you-almost seeming he sensed your gaze. You quickly put your coffee down, and dove back into the pages of the books-but those eyes seeped into your mind. They burned onto your skin, and suddenly, you were blind. You could still see the words in front of you, and you continued your day as someone with sight-but you were blind to the obvious in front of you.

What you didn’t see was his smile when your head dipped down, or the way his vision lingered onto you moments after. What you failed to see was those iris soften, and the tips of his lips tilt up beneath his book. You glanced up once again, but instead of him reading, you saw an empty window seat with the sunlight seeping through-putting the red book in the spotlight.

“Oh, he forgot his book.” You whispered, walking over to pick it up. You brushed your fingers along the embellishments and held it carefully, until something slipped out. A white piece of paper fell down at your feet, tickling you to pick it up. You put the book into your satchel with your other things, and looked at the note.

“If learning the truth is a scientific's goal, then he must make himself the enemy of all that he reads”

You tilted your head in confusion, but kept the note, after discarding your empty coffee cup. You walked out of the library with the note in your hand flickering between your fingers.You were a scholar and those words were written in your favorite Scribe’s handwriting-so carefully delicate with precision. This had to mean something.

You flipped the note over to find a note on the back as well.

Razan Garden, nightfall.

You sigh to yourself, walking along the path that stretched along the trunk of the massive tree that covered Sumeru city. You immediately took note that it was nightfall, and a silver haired scholar awaited your presence.

“I believe you have my book.” He spoke, straight to the point. You nodded, slipping into your bag to grab it out. His hands brushed against yours and you gave it back to him.

“Thank you.” He said softly, as you nodded, an expression on your face that piqued Alhaitham’s interest.

“What’s up?”

“Why did you write this quote on this?” You asked him, as he scoffed. His eyes piercing your soul.

“You’re a clever thing. You’ll figure it out.”

“Alhaitham…” You whine, as he chuckled.

“It doesn’t make sense. You love to read, why do you want to be an enemy?” You asked, earning a laugh from him.

“Who said I was the enemy?” He smiled, walking away under the night sky, as you groaned.

************************

Sighing, you ran through your brain for an answer or an explanation to the phrase he wrote. You tapped your foot on the floor of the tavern, as you listened to the sound of scholar’s giggling. You were also reading one of the new editions of the paper of Sumeru City-published by the Akademiya. You came across a section about the scribe.

“Oh yes, that cold-hearted and romantically distanced Scribe. He most likely is in love with his books.” was a quote someone wrote, which made your heart sink. You hit your head on the side of the table, causing you to say ow, earning laughter from the other side.

He stood there with his arms crossed, holding two cups of coffee. He invited himself to the table, despite you clearly being a mess and panicking.

“Remember, be an enemy of what you read.” He whispered close in your ear, causing you furrow your eyebrows in thought, when immediately you stared into his eyes.

“You’re blind to the evidence supporting everything, and yet you are an ally of what destroys you.” He continued, sipping his coffee, watching you carefully. Eyes moving catlike, observing you. She tapped her finger, right on the tip of finally uncovering it.

“What it says in the newspaper is wrong! You’re not cold-hearted and romantically distant.” You shouted, standing up, causing a few people to turn, but then turned away-seeming it was another student coming up with a brand new thesis.

“You’re a clever thing.” He whispered, but then looked back.

“So the next part is being blind. Look at me.”

You stare at him, eyes looking deep into his, as his gaze softens. You look down and find his hands shaking, and back up to find his cheeks red. You notice his lips parted awaiting for the future, and you gasp.

“Eyes are the gateway to the soul. Through those eyes can you figure out someone’s true intentions. Once you stop being blind, you can see their soul through their eyes, and begin to be an enemy of what you read.” You thought out loud, as his lips opened more in surprise. His eyes softened once more as you chuckled.

“So what did you find?” He asked, his hand reaching for yours under the table, and you politely accepted.

“That your heartbeat quickens everytime I’m here. That your vision sparkles with more power than before, that your cheeks turn red, that your ever-so steady hands shake. That your parted lips wait for a kiss….” You lean in, but hesitant.

“You like me?” You widen your eyes in shock. He nods, terrified for this moment, as you look at him.

“And you accuse me of being blind, yet you stand here.” You speak with a giggle in your words, as the scribe is left dumbfounded.

“Be an ally of what you see, Alhaitham.” You chuckle, leaning in quickly.

In a small corner of the tavern, the light was barely enough to read or see the table, concealed by a curtain that was a style choice, and buried from sight due to the many chairs placed everywhere- lips touched.

#i hope people understand this #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact #Alhaitham genshin impact #alhaitham x yn #bluelead35 #literature #allusions #sumeru #friends to lovers #scholars #actually having to think #mystery #brain game #mind games but academic #alhaitham is a sneaky scholar #fluff #safe for work

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skylerchasesbooks · 2 years

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How To Use Allusion In Writing

An allusion is when we hint at something and expect the other person to understand what we are referencing. For example:

Chocolate is his Kryptonite. In this example, the word “kryptonite” alludes to, or hints at, the hero Superman.

Writers can use allusions to build trust with their readers, contextualize characters, and to help disclose mysterious plot points. Here are some ways allusions can help to support a story:

1. Character Development: Using well-known figures as character inspiration can help to define characters and associate familiarity with the reader. For example, King Triton in The Little Mermaid bears resemblance to Poseidon, the god of the sea.

2. Change Point of View: Choose a familiar story, and retell it from the perspective of an alternative character.

3. Context: An allusion to another work can delineate differences or similarities between the two. The film The Matrix draws parallels with Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The film’s protagonist, Neo, follows a character called the “White Rabbit Girl” to a mysterious underworld, much like Alice’s journey to Wonderland.

4. Exposition: Allusions can be used to help piece together thrillers or mysteries, offering readers clues that intimate other stories. In Charles Dickens’s The Mystery of Edwin Drood, allusions to Shakespeare’s Macbeth foreshadows the story’s plot and the motivations of its characters.

5. Modernize Themes: Put a contemporary spin on a classic story with a gender-swap, or tell the story through a more modern perspective.

6. Switch a Story Element: Set the story in a new, surprising locale. For example, the 1980 film In the Snow Queen turned Hans Christian Andersen’s classic tale into an opera set in space.

7. Make it Yours: Incorporate your own personal history or experience into a familiar story. An example is The Godfather, which weaves the screenwriter Mario Puzo’s family history with elements of Shakespeare’s history play, Henry IV.

Hope It Helps! Like, Share and Follow For More!

#allusions #writingtips #writing advice #writing a book #books #writers #readers of tumblr #daily life #bookaddict #writers on tumblr #dank memes #reader problems #book blog #booklover #literary devices

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dougielombax · 11 months

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Wait.

What?

You’re sure!

It must be so?

For true!

It cannot be so!

Yet so it is!

Astounding!

Indeed!

It was actually BEYOND belief! (These were first and ONLY drafts of music)

What do you MEAN the showrunner of The Boys (Eric Kripke) also created Supernatural?????!!!!!!!!

I cannot process this information!!!!!!

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aspoonofsugar · 2 years

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What are your favorite RWBY allusions?

Hi!

I have answered here!

Summarizing they are

Penny/Cinder

Weiss

Blake

Ruby

Pyrrha (for now)

I wanna more from Yang's allusions and I have a theory about Mercury! As for now... I am good :D

Thank you for the ask!

#rwby #allusions #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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agstricker18 · 2 years

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Below is a “Poem” I wrote for a friend a couple of years ago. The bolded words are only to signify the song titles. Towards the beginning, I attempted to solely use allusions to the songs, but I then quickly gave up and used the actual titles.

Oh It’s Saturday Night and I wanna go Home

Looking Down, I can’t help but to overhear

Try to smile even though your sad cause your Dying in LA

You see it and taste it so you’re taking back what’s yours

In your fight you are Victorious so you Make an Old Fashioned

Seeing from a New Perspective you realize that this was an Impossible Year

All this time you had High Hopes and can safely say “Hey Look Ma, I Made It!”

In the beginning, you said “Fuck A Silver Lining”

Now looking back at those Golden Days, you were Threatened With A Good Time

Memories of All The Boys flooded back, noticing that Crazy=Genius

The Casual Affairs and Greatest Shows

Strolling through your House of Memories it’s Time to Dance

You give in cause Dancing’s Not A Crime and It's Better If You Do

The Calendar pages have gone so fast but this isn’t The End Of All Things

The Girl That I Love will sing Hallelujah in a Hurricane

Then she looks at me and asks if I will join

ALWAYS will I Panic with you

#panic!#panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie #poetry #music #lyrics #songs #artists #writing #writers and poets #poets #poems #music poetry #allusions #patd #p!atd

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everydayhearth · 2 months

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day one hundred sixty-three

i love allusions

#reminder #things i love #allusions

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honkytonkdyke · 8 months

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abigail hobbs lady lazarus slyvia plath. has that been done yet

#i'm not a plath girlie but we read this poem for intro to lit and oh my god. there's even cannibalism illusions #allusions #vade's post

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nerdpoe · 9 months

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Damian's little chirps

Damian was grown in an artificial womb, in Lazarus water, and later exposed to a chaos shard.

Then he was tossed in Lazarus Water to see if he would drown.

Damian is super fucking liminal.

But his liminal quirks are firmly buried under a lifetime of being raised by Ra's and Talia, in an effort to make it seem like Damian was 100% stable. All so Ra's would not have an excuse to be rid of him.

But away from that, as he is finally toning down, it starts up again.

He has no idea he's doing it.

When he's content and sleepy, he'll fucking purr.

Instead of "Good Morning" he lets out a small chirp.

Sometimes he forgets to verbalize "what" or "why" and make trills instead.

In his sleep he'll sometimes speak in a language no one understands, that hurts their ears.

No one brings it up; he didn't do it when he arrived, and the more relaxed he gets the more it happens. Ergo, he's probably a meta of somesort, via exposure or otherwise, and if they question him about it he'll get embarrassed.

Tucker Foley, newly hired onto the Development team at Wayne Enterprises, overhears one of these chirps as Damian tails after his father during one of his visits.

Tucker, out of instinct from dealing with Ellie, let's out an answering chirp of his own.

He was not expecting the absolute chaos that would be his life after that one simple action.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #damian's little chirps au #story prompt #abuse tw #abuse allusion #i read somewhere about the womb full of lazarus water thing #and i no longer care if it was canon or not #it sounded cool as fuck #so now it is there

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starry-bi-sky · 3 months

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There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)