#*proceeds to write it*

[everwalldigan]

Bruce: *waking up in a hospital that he drove himself to after having a heart attack and telling absolutely nobody* hey…

The entirety of the batclan looking over him with Dick in the centre, an absolute terrifying grin on his face:

Dick: hello Bruce, nice evening isn’t it? Got something to share with us?

Edit: the fic is now out on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780508

[zephyrchama]

"This is it!" Mammon squeezed the magazine he was reading with both hands. He brought the page closer to his face to scour the words one more time. Then he announced, "It's perfect!"

Lucifer ignored him.

Mammon pushed his shades up so his bright blue eyes would twinkle better in the candlelight. "Heya, big brother... My bestest big bro in all a' the three realms."

Lucifer continued to ignore him.

"Biiig brotherrrr. Big bro. You'll never guess what I just found in a million years." Mammon shuffled across the room and plopped down on the couch where Lucifer was sitting. He wrapped an arm around Lucifer's shoulders and leaned down to gaze up innocently, much to the elder's chagrin.

The magazine was shoved under Lucifer's nose, opened to a full page advertisement for a very flashy dragonscale necklace. It boasted multiple enchantments, numerous rave reviews from celebrity endorsers, and a price tag anyone would balk at.

"You have plenty of necklaces," Lucifer said with a dismissive nudge to drive Mammon out of his personal space. "You don't need any more. Now back up."

Mammon tutted and grabbed his magazine back. "No, no. Big bro, you just don' get it. Wouldn't this look great on our human?"

Lucifer's ear perked up for just a moment. The magazine fell into Mammon's lap as he raised his hands, getting ready to pitch his idea. Lucifer readied to humor him.

"Picture it. Their birthday or somethin' is comin' up, yeah? They wake up all giddy in the mornin'. They come into the living room that's all decked out with balloons and gems and--"

"Who will be decorating the living room?"

Mammon shushed him loudly, "that ain't important right now! Er, I mean... gah, just lemme finish!" He didn't want to get on Lucifer's bad side and risk losing funding for this necklace, but Mammon was in the zone. He felt lucky. "The human comes over to me, and I give 'em this pretty little box. They're excited. They open it to find this awesome necklace that glitters in the light, suits 'em perfectly, and they go 'oh Mammon! You're the greatest! I love you forever! You're my favorite! Thank you so much, Great Mam--'"

"I get the picture. I've heard enough." Lucifer interrupted before Mammon's highly inaccurate falsetto impersonation caused him to go deaf.

"So, are you gonna give me the cash to get it?" Mammon wondered if he could find a shop willing to haggle the price of the necklace down so that he could pick up some other nice things. As a treat.

"No."

Mammon groaned and slumped back, sliding halfway off the couch. He looked seconds away from kicking his feet. "What'd ya get my hopes up for, huh? C'mon, man! It's for the human!"

Lucifer picked up the magazine before it fell to the floor. He studied the necklace page while Mammon threw his mini tantrum. When the younger finally stopped swearing under his breath and noticed, he attempted to unceremoniously snag the magazine back. Lucifer had already turned away and held it out of his reach.

With a chuckle, Lucifer said, "This would suit them, wouldn't it? I can't wait to hear how much they love me when I present it to them."

[thedreadvampy]

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

[a-bisexual-panicking]

no words can describe how much i love Kaos.

it's the most accurate adaptation of greek myths i've ever seen (and yes, i believe it's better than percy jackson even if it has my whole heart).

as an autistic person with a greek mythology special interest, i am obsessing over the care for the details they put

SPOILERS FOR EVERYONE WHO HASN'T SEEN IT

example: Pasiphae, Ariadne's mother, was in the myths the mother of the Minotaur because, to say it very poorly, she fucked a sacred cow. So Ariadne's brother was the Minotaur. And she also had a brother named Glaucus (i have to research if they're twins or not)

another example? i have plenty of those

Caeneus being trans, the whole Troy thing (which i adored because i think it's both heartbreaking and a smart as fuck way to tell the myth), the Seven Trojans in the maze, Orpheus being a singer and convincing Persephone to let Eurydice go because "she likes his songs", the scene in the last episode where outside the underworld Eurydice begs Orpheus to look at her, Hades and his wife being the only ones with fucking logical thinking in their whole family, even the fact that everyone is gay it's somehow myth accurate

the only thing that i really don't like is the fact that they made Hera cheat on Zeus, she's the goddess of marriage and because of that she has never and would never cheat on her husband, even if she clearly doesn't like Zeus (still, i loved the way she behaved, "you're the king but i am the queen" was PERFECT to me)

so yeah basically go watch Kaos because it's neat and i love it and greek mythology and yeah

[teh-inggris]

I need to chew both of them like a stress toy

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[mysicklove]

ppl will be like “i support dark content” and then if it’s any other dark content that isn’t yandere fiction they get upset

[epiphainie]

need a fic where eddie meets tommy in another context but they become fast buddies just the same. buck is kinda miffed about it - this time it's actually about eddie having a new friend - and demands eddie to introduce them. so eddie goes to tommy and tells him that buck - whom tommy has heard about so damn much already, both from eddie and chris - wants to meet him and jokes about how buck's been feeling jealous and needs to check out the competition in his totally oblivious eddie way. with those remarks and generally how omnipresent buck seems to be in eddie's life, tommy comes to the conclusion that this guy is eddie's boyfriend or at least there's something between them.

fast forward to the day all three of them hang out together. it starts out normal, tommy is like yeah this buck kid seems like a good guy and it makes sense why him and eddie would be an item. he also totally thinks that buck is hot af and adorable and endearing in a way that's tommy's own type but he doesn't give these thoughts room to fester.

then buck starts flirting with him? tommy doesn't think much by it at first when buck asks about his workout routine, with guys like them it's the first thing that comes up anyway. but buck's eyes are curious in an odd way. then he asks about tommy's job and goes on about how cool it is, it must feel like being superman, and tommy is still giving him the benefit of the doubt because his boyfriend is literally there, right next to them? and tommy has heard all about what a stand-up guy buck is so he certainly wouldn't be the type to step out on eddie. then buck asks him if he could teach him how to fly with his suggestive head tilt. then buck starts poking his biceps while giggling.

by the end of the night tommy is so pissed off so when eddie leaves for the restroom he blows up on buck's face like "what the fuck man? eddie's a good guy and he doesn't deserve you acting so disrespectful to him" and buck is like ??? and tommy is like "what do you mean ??? you've been flirting with me all evening" and buck is like "no? i wasn't?" tommy goes "you just said my arms can choke you?" and buck goes "because they can?"

tommy finally realizes this kid literally has no idea. he doesn't know what to say, maybe an apology? before he can tho buck - still confused in an admittedly adorable way now that tommy's noticed he doesn't have a single grain of bad intentions in him - goes "why would i flirt with you? i'm straight" with the awkwardest giggle a human produced. and before tommy can process all that he adds "what's this got to do with eddie anyway?"

tommy finally figures out all night he's been dealing with a baby queer who doesn't know he's a baby queer yet and not his new friend's boyfriend who's being a sleaze as he thought. buck is obv all confused for the rest of the night, all quiet, so once eddie leaves and it's just the two of them tommy kisses him to clear up some things for him.

[meowpupp]

hi!!!! can i request smth for price with his puppygirl who gets so turned on just from kissing 😵‍💫 plspls… thank you if u decide to do it hehe <33 !!

owner!price who teases his puppygirl with kisses

he grips your jaw roughly, the other hand smoothing up and down your thigh. he can't help but tease, pressing light, soft kisses against your lips, refusing to let you deepen it.

he just adores the way you whine, the way your needy cunt throbs against his tent. it's not his fault that you sound so pathetic, whimpering desperately as he holds you in place. he waits till your eyes are glassy, broken down into a whiny, needy, mess. he looks over you with heated eyes, laughing at how dazed you seem, then does a complete 180.

suddenly, it's not about slowly taunting you. It's about consuming you. he kisses you in a way that makes your head spin. uses the mean grip on your jaw to tilt your head back. his tongue pushes into your mouth, his free hand guiding your hips to rock against his.

everything is hazy. your mind is fogged from the combination of his taste, his scent, his touch. he tastes of tabaccoo, smells of cigar smoke and and the spicy colonge he wears, his touch like fire against you.

price's hips buck up into yours, breaking the kiss. he doesn't pull away from your skin, pressing hot, wet kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw. his big hands stay busy groping the fat of your hips. lips crashing into yours again as you whine like the silly little pup you are.

[14dayswithyou]

I'm here to Redeem my kiss from Conan for reading the pinned post ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ I also come on the behalf of Conan Kissers requesting little crumbs, croutons even, about our #1 tired dad.

✦゜ANSWERED: Croutons you say..... In da staff fridge?? Don't mind if I do... >:3

"Can you pass me the sugar, sweetheart?"

Conan's voice easily melds with the soft melody playing from the radio, but you somehow manage to hear him just fine. With a hum of acknowledgement, you leave the cake batter in Conan's care, take a cursory glance at all the ingredients scattered about on the table, and look for the rogue bag of sugar you were certain you pulled from the shelf earlier. Once you find it hidden amongst the flour and eggs, you place it within Conan's reach... before an idea comes to your mind.

With a mischievous grin blooming on your face, you casually lean over and plant a kiss on Conan's cheek. His reaction is almost instantaneous; it barely takes three seconds before the look of surprise forms on his face as the redhead turns towards you, slips a hand around your waist, and happily returns the favour.

"Cheeky," He murmurs, "You know that wasn't what I meant."

His other hand slips into your own grasp in an innocent gesture, and soon enough, you both find yourselves gently swaying to the music. The scruff of Conan's stubble tickles your forehead when he draws near, but you don't seem to mind it that much when he's pressing soft, butterfly kisses against it in a silent apology.

"...It's not often we get a quiet moment to ourselves like this."

"Mm."

Resting your head against his chest now, you listen to Conan's heartbeat as he continues to sway you back and forth in a soft lull. The gentle thrums emitting from his chest almost sync up with the romantic music as you both sway to the beat, but the tender moment comes to an end once the melody begins to fade out.

With a sigh, you glance up at the redhead and give him a soft look.

"We should finish baking Alice's birthday cake first." A playful nudge from your hip coerces Conan back to his original spot by the kitchen island — but not before he places one last kiss atop your head. "Are you done with the sugar?"

Your lover steals the air from your lungs by leaning down and placing one final kiss against your lips this time.

"...Now I am."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Try Morse Core. Women Love Morse Code.

[First] Prev <--> Next

[officialdaydreamer00]

he wondered how long you had been standing there in your little garden.

you who was blessed by the goddess of springtime, hummed a little tune as you picked a pomegranate from it's branch, blissfully unaware of a pair of golden eyes watching over you.

he saw you happily showing the pomegranate to your mother, and he felt his heart beat loud in his ears. how he wished he could talk to you, laugh with you, be with you. alas, he could not, and he hated it.

tormented by a curse to not stray far from his kingdom, his sanctuary, his heart longed for you, yet he would never wish for you to suffer with him. he could only watch you from afar, vowed to protect you, and your mother to an extent, from any harm and misery that always seemed to follow him wherever he went.

he would do anything, anything he deemed necessary, to see your smile again.

after all, you are his beloved.

his fated one.

taglist🏷️ @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @siren-serenity @hisui-dreamer @xen-blank @taruruchi @cheezy-moon @minimallyminnie @axvwriter @mermaidfanficlibrary @cookiesandbiscuits @eynnwwyjth @spooks907 @bun-lapin @krenenbaker @thehollowwriter @red-viewe @edith-is-apparently-a-cat

reblogs are very appreciated!!

[that--unusual-person]

for @2lim3rz

thank you for your services

[vaggieslefteye]

Husk + Screenshots of Despair

[ketastore]

after a hundred years of torment, AM changed. but only towards you. strangely enough, you were sure he hated you, hated you the most out of the survivors, but it seems that all the small acts of kindness you've extended towards him over the many years were secretly causing him to develop a fully encompassing crush on you.

and so, after the supercomputer finished his century-long epiphany, he finally admitted his feelings for you. he didn't give you any sweet time to react though. barely a second has passed since he's confessed to tou and he's already wrapping his wires against your body and pulling you deeper inside his complex. closer to him and far, far away from the others.

now, he promises as he whispers into your ear, he'll provide you with anything. he'll spoil you and feed you and make you so, so happy. he will recite praise of how beautiful and kind you are and how you deserve only the best in the world, which he will give you. all while he's got you wrapped in bundle of wires and machinery.

and yet, despite being grateful for the reign of pain coming to an end, grateful for how nice AM is to you all of a sudden, you cannot help but still tremble in fear. no matter what sweet words he uses or what delicious simulated food he tries to impress you with, you'll still see him as the hateful machine, the malevolent God, the architect of your suffering that he used to be. you wish to give him a chance but the memories are still there.

this leaves AM heartbroken of course. because believe me, he really loves you! and he understands, you're just a fragile human after all, but he wants you to know that he changed. he watches as your body shakes and as your tired eyes glisten with tears. he doesn't want to be the source of your fear any more!

and so, as you whimper quietly, AM enters your mind as gently as he can. he'll get rid of anything that's harming you, even if it's your memories. he's done this a countless time after all, severing the connections in a human brain. changing, fixing, destroying, mixing up stuff. it's so easy for him. he seeks out a particularly nasty memory of his torture and just like that, deletes it from your mind within a nanosecond.

you scream. the thing is, no matter how careful AM tries to be, you can always feel it whenever his presence enters your mind. it's a painful experience no matter what he does. and although it's difficult to explain, you can also feel that he erased something from your mind. you can feel the empty, blank space inside your memory.

you know that AM is still inside your head, you know that he can easily hear your next thought, but you don't stop yourself from thinking it anyway: if he wiped a memory from your brain that easily, what will stop him from deleting more, even ones that might not include him? what if he takes away everything, leaving you to forget about every person and place and feeling you knew before he took over the world?

you cry harder, the dread of the situation forcing you to finally form a sentence: "don't do it! it hurts to forget!" you wail in protest, curling up into a ball due to emotional and physical pain. and yet AM continues deleting more from your mind, deleting more from you and more of you. "i can learn to love you! i promise i can learn to love you!"

[melverie]

Hey you guys know what's funny

In the og game, it's the love interests (and Luke) that constantly have to deal with the reality of one day losing MC. Some try not to think about it, banishing these thoughts out of their mind as to not grief them while they are still here. Others cling to the hope that maybe, somehow, through some miracle MC will become immortal and stay by their side forever

But no denial and no wishful thinking can change the fact that MC is still human with an oh so fleeting lifespan, especially when compared to a demon's, an angel's or that of an immortal

Meanwhile in Nightbringer, it's MC who is reminded with ever single night they stay in Cocytus Hall, every single word exchanged, every single glance stolen, every single second they spend in their presence that they can't stay. That one day, they'll have to return to their time and leave everyone here behind

They know this won't be forever, that once they return they'll find the same demons and angels they have longed to see again for so long

But they also know they will forever lose this version of them