A LOVE LETTER TO MY DETESTED ACQUANTANCES

by Etiole

Summary:

Damian Wayne was unshakable. He was confident and competent. He walked through fire and could withstand the burn. In fact, he thrived in the heat.

He was like a frog slowly being boiled; he never knew a life without the burning heat of the Demon’s nest. Never knew anything outside of the burning oppression and expectations that had been thrown at him since the day he had been created.

Maybe that’s why the cold chill of Gotham was only that much more shocking.

Notes:

So, my mom died and the company I worked for went bankrupt. Considered going to therapy, looked at my bank account, and all that looked back at me was debt. Found a place that my dad's insurance covered that could give me session for 25$ a week, spent that 25$ on coffee instead and said coffee is the motivating factor behind me writing a new story despite not finishing my old story that I have a full ass outline for.

So, hope you enjoy my little caffeine fueled depression fic and hope y'all like it, though this is far from my best work I wanted to stop overthinking it and just get it out there and start writing agian.

Chapter 1: UNFORTUNATE AND INEVITABLE

There is a truly unfortunate occurrence that has befallen me today. I looked around and found that there was not a thing for me to do.

 

 

Damian Wayne – Al Ghul. Damian Al Ghul – Wayne. Looking over the scribbled and smudged over page Damian could not write either of these abbreviations out and truly say that it was accurate to who he was. No matter how you looked at it one name had to come first and one second. There had to be a primary name and a secondary name. It used to be simple. He was an Al Ghul. He then was a Wayne. Now though – He was neither.

He was both.

Labels were of high importance to Damian Wayne. How else was he to define his worth and the worth of others without them?

He used to always know what label he fell under. It was simple. He was the Demon’s Heir. He was Damian al Ghul. After every activity, every test, a label would be ascribed to him – failure or victor. It hurt when the former was put next to his name but the euphoria when the latter was put next to it made up for it all the same.

Looking back, he sees the cruelty in a way he never did before. He understands that the punishments and expectations were extreme to say the least. But one mercy the league always afforded him was that of certainty. There was never a moment he was unsure of where he stood. What his role was and who he should listen to.

He was great, mother was greater, and grandfather was the best. The rest were worthless, peasants before royalty. Humans before deities, before demons. 

He confided in this to Grayson once, early on, a small glimpse into his mind. Grayson thought it a cruel way to think of the world. But looking now, Damian thinks his current existence is much crueler.

He has no place. Father is back, Grayson has gone to his own apartment, reclaiming his freedom in Gotham, and the rest of their scattered family swans in and out of the manor whenever they feel like doing so.

Family used to be a very defined concept to Damian. He knew who his blood was and how to wade through the expectations it brought, thick and sweltering.  Father does not feel the same and neither does the rest of his strays. If Damian was being honest with himself too, he has come to the realization that it isn’t that simple for him either. Its was complex, so much so that even if he devoted the rest of his life trying to understand these ties that bind, he would still be just as confused and just as trapped. 

He loved Grayson and he loathed him. Respected father but could never reach him. Drake was a mirror image but far less scarred. Todd seemed like an unfortunate prophecy most days. Brown was weakness personified but somehow never broke. Cain an inverted image. Gordon shattered and put back together again, jagged edges only making her more dangerous than before. And Thomas a light that could never seem to be put out, a leader at his core.

He had learned to love each in his own way the same way he learned exactly why he despised each. He was a prince, but in a place where free will was a rope long enough to create a story of his own imagination, he seems to be the only one who only managed to ever hang himself with it. He was free as a bird to make all of his own decisions but would always be caged because his instincts were so skewed. His migration pattern never taking him along the correct path the others travel down so naturally. Either going the wrong direction or barreling straight into another of the flock. 

The punishment was never severe, not truly, but that only made it all the more suffocating. The silent disappointment weighed down on him more than the violent reproach he had learned to grow used to. The open affection so heavy compared to the light sparse moments of silent love and adoration form his mother. After a life of barely being able to breathe properly he was finally freed, but found he was suffocating from all the fresh air. The oxygen seemed to attack his lungs while the others were simply able to breathe it. 

He’s not allowed to be simply a weapon anymore, but he had always been better at being a tool than being a person. Tools knew their purpose and completed it with confidence. Being human was so much more confusing than being the demon he was raised to be. But despite how much Damian had changed, there was one thing he still knew to be true-

There is nothing worse than being a burden.

Damian has found that’s exactly what he has become.

He remembers his days with Grayson. They used to be the best. Now, he’s nothing but average. Not allowed to patrol, not proficient enough to assist the family socially in this inferior and convoluted society. He was like one of those vases sitting in the manor collecting dust until Alfred came by to care for it for a brief moment before he was on his way to more important household matters.

He didn’t want to be a demon anymore. He doesn’t want to be human anymore. What else is there?

He’d simply rather be nothing.

With his final thoughts on the matter organized, Damian moved with a purpose he hasn’t had in quite a while, a renewed vigor in his actions. He picked up his pen and wrote, “Dear my detested acquaintances….”

Chapter 2: BURNS SO BRIGHT IT HURTS

Summary:

DEAR GRAYSON,

YOU WERE THE BEST. YOU WERE THE WORST.

Notes:

Slightly dysfunctional thought patterns and references to a dysfunctional and dark time. I love Dick and Damian's relationship and how it develops and the fact it isnt all sunshine and roses all the time is one of my favorite aspects of their relationship.

This is by no means a hate piece on Dick Grayson nor will any chapter letters be for any of the characters, the family structure of this family is so complex, they all have flaws, theyve all done each other wrong at some point, but love will prevail or whatever

 

Dear Grayson,

You were the first to become one of my detested acquaintances. In a world that is cloudy and dreary every day you always come bursting in like the sun.

 

Not a warm fire like Thomas nor a bright star like Cain.

 

You burn brightly, so brightly you often hurt those around you. Friends, family, and allies alike seem to gather around you but forget that getting too close can come with a nasty burn.

 

I believe that is why you are my favorite of the deviants of this household. You are the kindest and the cruelest of everyone here and there is no one else who could’ve been better to help me adapt to this deceptively kind new world I was thrust into.

 

You showered me with kindness and reproach. You outlined the clear rules and enforced them when I stepped over the line you considered important to never cross. When I lashed out you lashed out right back at me. And at the end of it all you would help soothe the burn.

 

I could not understand endless kindness and understanding, which is why I am glad that is not all you extended to me. When I lost my temper and you lost it right back it made me feel like I was not the only one going crazy in those dark times where father was gone, and I felt alone in a brand-new world. 

And the way you kept coming back no matter how much we clashed, no matter how much we burned each other is the reason you have earned my trust. It was us against the world. We were the best and the worst at the same time.

We were each other's biggest allies and biggest enemies. At that time in my life, you were everything to me when I had nothing else.

 

Sometimes I wish I could still be everything to you, you are what I imagined a father would be.

You were perfect for me.

We were the worst. 

Sincerely,

Damian Wayne

Notes:

I love fics that are super fluffy with the found family aspect of the batfam but I wanted to go a slightly different route with this fic

Chapter 3: MIRROR IMAGE SO CRUEL

Summary:

DEAR DRAKE,

I SEE MY REFLECTION STARING BACK AT ME WHEN I LOOK AT YOU, ISNT THAT JUST SO CRUEL?

Notes:

Just want to make it clear I love Tim Drake, he's such an asshole and I love it though thats true with most of the wayne kids. Anywho this is his letter from damian. TW: allusions towards carrying out a plan for suicide, very vaguely alluded to but still be cautious if that is a triffer for you

Dear Drake,

 

I have never thought myself one who hated anything about myself. And then I met you. You were unyieldingly confident in yourself and your role within the family. You would do anything for the win. You were never one to trust, to forgive, to let one off easily.

 

I looked at you and I saw myself reflected back. A mirror image most unkind. I despise you. But somewhere deep down, I respect you as well. You were what grandfather always wanted me to be, but with the morality father approved of.

 

You were my biggest threat. You were intolerable. The first true enemy I encountered in this new world.

 

I knew I had to destabilize you, take your place, before you realized the mirror image in me as well and no doubt found it as detestable as I did.

 

I admit I don’t hate the current stalemate we have come to recently. I suppose its tolerable to hear the sound of your breathing at dinner. Though even that has become less and less since you have taken over the company. 

 

You are an usurper. But I suppose at least you are useful.

 

I wish I could be useful too. I wish father trusted me the way he did you. But in a weird way, I understand you. You are my equal.

 

I’m glad in the future we will no longer have to pretend to tolerate each other's presence, I hope this acts as a gift to you. I know you never stopped your incessant whining about some of those earlier incidents.

 

Reluctantly,

Damian Wayne

Notes:

You know Tim and Damian have a lot of similarities if you really read the comics (except Damian isnt a massive cheater) Love you Tim but my man was really like "Its not cheating if ones dating me and the others dating robin" he really is the closest to batman in a lot of ways

Chapter 4: CONVOLUTED CRYSTAL BALL

Summary:

DEAR TODD,

WHEN PEOPLE LOOK INTO MY FUTURE, THEY SEE YOU. ISNT THAT SO FOOLISH? I COULD NEVER BE YOU.

Notes:

TW; very light not in depth mention of past murders

 

Dear Todd,

 

You are an outcast to the family. Always will be. I suppose we are similar in that regard. You are the worst-case scenario Grayson and Father see in me every time they disapprove of something I do on patrol.

 

You are not the worst possible outcome. You are dramatic, self righteous, and stubborn. But you are regrettably useful. At least compared to the days where you would mindlessly wander around with mother having to tame you like you were a rabid beast.

 

You looked into the abyss, jumped into the abyss, and slowly started taking the abyss over. And it worked.

 

Father may never approve, neither may Grayson, but no matter how much my opinions on slaughter may be changed my opinions of efficiency never have. You are mildly effective in what you are doing.

 

You are not kind nor are you cruel, there is no judgement when I am with you. The sins of the past feel less heavy. The oxygen less suffocating. 

 

You will never be my brother, but if I had to choose one of my detestable acquaintances to give that title to, I suppose you wouldn’t be in last place.

 

Take care Todd. Give the attached letter to my mother, I know you will deliver it.

 

Grayson and Father are wrong in thinking I could have ever ended up like you.

You are not a useless tool. You would never let yourself be discarded.

 

Thank You,

Damian Wayne

Notes:

Going half canon and half fanon with this ngl. HOWEVER, I do not personally like the "pit madness" fanon theory jason todd is just a dramatic fanatical extremist asshole who has a lot of trauma and thats why I love him!!! So when Damian mentions him wandering around an stuff that is BEFORE he was dumped in the pit and like a short period directly after pit madness is not a thing in this fic and wont be, Jasons actions are all his own as influenced by his trauma as they are

Chapter 5: RIPPLES IN THE WATER

Summary:

DEAR CASSANDRA CAIN,

ARENT YOU JUST A DISTORTED IMAGE- SO CRUEL.

Notes:

Had a harder time writing this letter so it is a little bit on the shorter side but I'm satisfied enough with it. I should have the other letters uploaded soon and then we can get to the actual dialogue and plot.

Dear Cain,

 

I know in a lot of ways others consider me cruel. I prefer to think of myself as pragmatic, willing to do what’s necessary. I always thought that way until I truly met you.

 

Your personality still had bite to it but no one could ever deny your kindness. The others are devoted to you, admire you, even when you are rarely actually here.

 

Looking at you is like looking down at a lake, my own image distorted by the ripples in the water. We were thrown in the deep end, should have been a mirror image, but instead your water ripples like a serene creek while mine always seems to be a raging waterfall.

 

You have freedom. Trust. Respect.

 

Everything I was promised.

 

Everything I will never receive.

 

How can we differ so much when we come from the same well?

 

I wish I could be you.

 

You are truly loathsome.

 

Maybe if our images were inverted, this would hurt. But I am simply the distorted image, you are the only one who is clean. 

 

Disappointingly,

Damian Wayne

Notes:

Being so fr rn, I havent read a comic in a few years so I am really going off of memory here

Chapter 6: WARRIOR WHO NEVER FALLS

Summary:

DEAR DUKE THOMAS,

I LOATHE YOU. YOU ARE WEAK. YOU ARE DETESTABLE. YOU ARE A TRUE LEADER.

Notes:

TW; mentions of self loathing

Dear Thomas,

 

My entire life has been with one goal in mind - Become a Leader. 

 

It's what I trained for, what I bled for, what I desperately reached for. It was promised to me, it was my birthright, it was destiny. 

 

However, I soon came to realize that destiny can never make you a leader. Grandfather got where he was not because he was given it, but because he took it. He always found me lacking. I never understood why.

 

Until I met you.

 

You are weak, you are unnatural. You are a leader. You did not wait for training or destiny to tell you who you should be, you decided who you should be and went out to accomplish that end goal. You are someone who got people to follow you. Despite having insufficient training and an inferior background, you embodied the type of leadership Grandfather had when he started the League long ago. 

 

Something I now realize he never wanted me to embody, never needed me to. 

 

Fierce in the face of tragedy is something I could never be, for I never felt anything to be a tragedy. 

 

Now the only tragic thing is me. 

 

Condemningly, 

Damian Wayne 

Notes:

Duke and his "we are robin " movement and his feral little gang. Love him, hope to see him featured more in the future in comics. Ngl I have like a base level knowledge about him, same with pretty much most of the character, because again, its been a few years since I actually read a comic though I am not trying to get back into reading them.

Chapter 7: WEAKNESS PERSONIFIED, PATHETICALLY HUMAN

Summary:

DEAR STEPHANIE BROWN,

YOU ARE WEAK. YOU ARE HUMAN.

Notes:

So yeah... this was the hardest letter for me to write cuz i didnt really know what to go with here but here it is and its kind of ok

Dear Brown, 

 

You are the weakest of all my detestable acquaintances. 

 

You are kind. You are nuanced. You are understanding.

 

You treat everyone as if they are human.

 

In a family full of beings so talented they are monstrous in comparison; you are the weakest. 

 

You are the most humane.

 

Supposedly,

Damian Wayne

Chapter 8: BROKEN INTO SOMETHING USEFUL

Summary:

DEAR BARBARA GORDON,

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW YOU ARE BROKEN? WHY DIDNT YOU STAY THAT WAY?

Notes:

TW: Slight victim blaming and references to ableism

Dear Gordon,

 

Like Grayson, you were firm but kind. Helpful but damning. 

 

I detest you. You are too weak to be with the rest of the family. 

 

You failed, you were broken.

 

You glued the pieced back together and from your throne you are the eye in the sky; All seeing, All knowng. 

 

Mother told me a broken tool is useless. It was the last day I saw one of my teachers, he was severely injured too. 

 

So why do you defy that standard? How can shattered glass turn into something so impenetrable,

 

You are useless. 

 

I am useless too. I dont know how to reshape my new self into something useful. How did you?

 

Loathsomely, 

Damian Wayne

Notes:

Barbara is still oracle and in he wheelchair after the joker incident in this fic. Damian struggles with what was ingrained into him (ableism, weak deserve what they get mentality) and the conflicting thoughts between that standard and how he actually feels about Babs.

Chapter 9: TO MY INFERIORS

Summary:

DEAR ALFRED PENNYWORTH,

NEVER DID A MERE SERVANT CHILL ME SO.

Notes:

TW: references to classist ideas

Dear Pennyworth,

 

Though it is regrettable I ever came to be so close to the help, I suppose it could not have been any different. The household needs someone to run it.

 

At the time I came, neither Grayson nor Father could truly fill that role.

 

So, I suppose it fell to you.

 

You made me tea. You scolded me, despite your station.

 

You got me art supplies, convinced the rest of my detestable acquaintances to tolerate the fur coated companions I brought into the house,

 

You let me indulge in my weaknesses, you truly are incompetent at your position.

 

Grandfather never would have let a servant undermine him so. I could never call you detestable, because we could never be acquaintances.

 

Unfortunately, I don't think I could detest you even if that wasn't so.

 

Your Master, 

Damian Wayne

Notes:

Damian loves alfred, but his love conflicts with former ideas that were ingrained in him

Chapter 10: DEAREST MOTHER

Summary:

DEAR MOTHER,
I AM SORRY.

Dearest Mother,

 

I hate you.

 

I love you.

 

You were so kind.

 

You were so cruel.

 

I hate you.

 

I love you.

 

I'm sorry.

 

Please miss me. 

 

Belovedly,

Damian Wayne

Chapter 11: LET ME BE YOUR SOLDIER

Summary:

DEAR FATHER,

I WISH THAT WHEN I FELL, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN AS YOUR SOLDIER.

Dear Father,

 

I know you did not expect me when I came. I know you did not want me. 

 

From the moment we met I knew we would never be father and son, but I still always thought I could be your blood son. Your heir. Your soldier.

 

Now that is a right I am no longer afforded. 

 

I could handle not being a son. 

 

I can't handle not being allowed to be a soldier either. 

 

Though my passing was not that of one in battle, I still hope you will afford me the same sendoff you afforded Todd. 

 

It would be a great honor. 

 

Your soldier,

Damian Wayne 

Notes:

So the chapters for Talia and Bruce were shorter but also more tragic, that was just how I felt he would do things but idk.

Anyways BIG TW for next chapter for a suicide attempt, this is the last of the letters and from here on out we are on to the actual story with action and dialogue.

Chapter 12

Summary:

Damian didn't know what he expected, but as it turns out it's just another day.

He was meant to be a conqueror, now he can't even go out with a bang.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING SUICIDE.

You have been warned.

Its not super graphic but it's also not not graphic at all so be cautious.

If you are not in a good place rn don't read (coming from someone who had severe depression and used to seek out fics like this when I was a kid to fuel my self destructive spiral. If this sounds like you- STOP HERE AND GET HELP FROM A TRUSTED PERSON AND LOCAL HOTLINE)

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

 

The sound of rain outside wasn't an uncommon one, but it had always been one Damian hated. He was used to scorching heat and sunny days that the doom and gloom of Gotham never saw, changing the sights and sounds from a peaceful golden to a dull city grey. He had to get into the habit of waking up to the sound of rain outside his window instead of rays of sunlight from between the curtains. Damian shifted, skin irritated by the scratch of linen as opposed to the smooth silk he used to collapse into after grueling trials. 

 

Little did he know the deceptive peace of the manor would be his most grueling yet. 

 

And one he would fail. 

 

Shifting to get out of bed, Damian felt something dried against the side of his face. Looking into the mirror, he realized it was pen ink. Why would that have been on his face?

 

The previous night flashed in his memory, shaking him out of his lethargic stupor with a renewed sense of... well he wouldn't call it purpose so maybe motivation would be more apt. These past few months have passed in a fog, one created by his fire being snuffed out. However it seemed today he still had a small ember left to burn before all of it disappeared. 

 

Damian got up to go to his desk. He ran his hands across the smooth bocote desk, admiring the swirling patterns created as an artwork by nature before taking out his bottom drawer. In the back he found his letters. He had thought about mailing them at first but it would simply be a waste of time. Afterall, he did live with his acquaintances, he might as well simply but them in their rooms. 

Besides his body would surely turn up well before his letters would if he were to entrust them to the postal service. 

No, some things needed to be carried out by oneself. 

Damian went to each of the former robins rooms, laying out a letter or two to be read when ready. Each one had a wax seal and his best penmanship of each of his acquaintances name scrawled across the envelope. His acquaintances, while detestable, deserved a proper goodbye, not one that was a sloppy eyesore. 

Damian went downstairs for breakfast in a better mood than he had been blessed with in a while, making good use of the flicker of that final ember. His mood was so bright that Father and Drake saw it immediately when he came down, and they both looked at each other with the same thought: today is going to be a good day. 

Damian sat down with as close as what he got to a smile, and began sipping on the tea so carefully prepared by Pennyworth. He didn't feel hungry, drinking his tea he felt almost euphoric. 

"Here could you look these over? Just need some final input for a case". Drake, recognizing the good mood, extended a disturbing but much appreciated semblance of an olive branch to his youngest sibling. He saw his brother in a good mood and wanted to capitalize on it and keep it rolling for as long as he could before it blew up in all their faces. It always did, what with Damians temper. Though he supposes he hasn't seen much of it these past few months. There was relief to it but also something almost akin to sadness. 

"No thank you Timothy, I already have some plans with my charcoals and paper today." Drake looked over in a slight shock, though he tried not to show it. Damian refusing vigilante work? He never thought he would see the day. Though in a way he was happy for Damian, they didn't get along in the slightest but it was nice seeing the Damian might be on the edge of a better horizon, one where he feels comfortable just being a kid instead of only caring about being a soldier. 

"Great idea, we'll give you space." Said Bruce, still a bit tired from patrol the night previous."Let me know if you need more supplies. Damian practically glowed with happiness as he looked at his father and said "No, I think these art supplies will last me quite a while."

Bruce was just glad to see his son so happy, thinking back on it he's seemed a little grey these past few months. Maybe this was the start to a new beginning for him. And though he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, Timothy was thinking the same.

So with the end of the happiest meal the three had in months, each acquaintance left the table in a good mood, two with some renewed hope for the future.

One with the relief of never again having to worry about one. 

 

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

 

 

 

 

The day had been peaceful. Drake and Father had left him alone to congregate with his animals, writing out a detailed care plan for each and drawing pictures of them. He wanted his last art works on this plane of existence to be of the only ones who truly loved him. 

He thought about how he would carry this out and had eliminated a lot of possibilities until he was down to one. 

A bullet is too loud, a building too public, medication too messy and painful, suffocation to unreliable. That only left one. 

 

Damian grabbed his knife, the one that had stuck through him through thick and thin, and thought it was a fitting ending this would be what would end him. He could choose nothing better. And so he sliced, vertical and deep, so deep that he hoped it would be irreversible. It hurt at first but then came a sense of euphoria. Then he started getting dizzy and he collapsed to the floor. 

Looking at him licking his face was a pure white angel. Damian didn't regret this choice, not really, but seeing this angels concerned face and fur being tainted by red, he began to regret. He was so happy today so why now did his mood seem to start dropping. He was getting everything he wanted. 

Or maybe he was simply lying to himself. Either way, it was too late now.

A tear slipped out across his cheek.

The last thing Damian heard was a concerning crash, a curse, and a distressed little- meow. 

Notes:

Short chapter. Not gonna lie depression really hit and I haven't had a lot of motivation for anything but work and university lately but the little I managed to scrounge up went into this chapter. This is the first fic I've ever really written and committed to so I'm still finding out writing style but this is it so far.