#Assassins

[sleepboysummer]

-be me

-be in history class

-charles guiteau is mentioned

-let out an audible gasp.

-be forever dissapointed in yourself because how the fuck am i supposed to explain that i know him because he's my favorite presidential assassin in a steven sondheim musical

-never! i would never admit to that! im a NERD god fuck my life

[strangemonochromes]

Tomie ("Assassins ") // Junji Ito

[jonnolovesfob]

[servethelight]

Maybe the assassins would beat the templars for once if they stopped serving the light and started serving cunt.

[yuushin7]

Thorn Princess is not sure if she can handle this new recruit 🥵😆🙃 TwiYorMonth Day 18: Garden AU. I just wanted to draw Twilight in that outfit again. xD

[illustratus]

The Assassination of Julius Caesar by William Holmes Sullivan

[aeshnacyanea2000]

The Assassins' Guild was easy to outwit. They had strict rules, which they followed quite honourably, and this was fine by Vimes, who, in certain practical areas, had no rules whatsoever.

-- Terry Pratchett - Night Watch

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Dead Brothers

Written for: Whumptober, prompt 4. HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

"Danyal?"

His voice is shocked. Danyal doesn't understand what's there to be shocked about. He strikes again, aiming for his target's shoulder, quick and merciless, like the weapon he always was.

"Danyal, stop!" The target tries, dodging, and Danyal hears a tinge of plea in his voice. He doesn't care. And, he doesn't stop, of course - he is not to listen to commands of others. Only Grandfather's.

The boy in front of him doesn't fight back. Strange, Grandfather told him he was of the League. Maybe betrayal had softened him? Danyal narrows his eyes and strikes again, his blade reflecting the moonlight from the window briefly. His target steps back, avoiding the tip of it by mere inches.

"Ma bik, akhi?" The boy tries again as he keeps dodging and taking steps back to avoid Danyal's attacks.

Nothing is wrong with him. Danyal fails to understand the reason for the question. He is simply doing his job, one he was destined to do, one he was taught for. If this boy is not going to fight back, what is the reason for his dodging? He should simply succumb to the fate and accept his death.

...what did he call him?..

It doesn't matter. It's only a futile attempt to deceive him.

The hallway of the manor ends with a dead end, and his target is cornered. There's no escape now. Danyal lunges. The blade goes through the boy's shoulder with little effort, sharp and cold like ice. The moonlight from the window falls on the face of the boy, pinned to the wall like a butterfly.

His face is... familiar, somehow. Danyal has seen it before.

Yet, it's his eyes that cause him to still in his place. Dark and wide open, full of hurt and betrayal and, for some reason, hope. There are no tears - understandable, if the boy was one of the League once, he was trained to never cry, just like Danyal was.

His own eyes are burning with long forgotten tears.

The boy looks at him, blood streaming down his shoulder and leaving splotches on the carpet.

"...Danny," he whispers, and-

No, no-no-no, it doesn't matter, it doesn't make sense, he is a weapon, he has a mission, he-

It's not possible, he never had a-

"Brother," the boy, no, Damian says again, quiet and pleading, and Danny's eyes land on the blade again. Blood stains his brother's clothes, a dark, growing wet spot in the dim light of the moon.

Danny let's go of the hilt like it burns him and steps away, the memories locked away behind his purpose filling his head, speading and staining him, just like the bloody spot on Damian's shirt.

"Danny is dead," he tells the boy, shoving the undignified lump in his throat down, where no one can hear it. Damian looks him in the eyes without blinking.

"You were always alive in my head," he answers, almost soft, which is... Damian never talked like that before. Danny hates that he knows it.

He hates what he remembers. He hates that he remembers at all.

He turns away and runs.

[animentality]

You can't be an assassin and straight.

It's too homoerotic of a profession.

What do you mean, you're hunting other men?

You're bathing in their blood and hiding your identity from the world and you have bad relationships with your parents?

You're fighting other assassins who are holding their knives to your pretty throat and hurling chairs at your head and stabbing you in the thighs? You're bleeding and dying in each other's arms? Your dying breaths are commingling and your life force is dwindling, and all you can do is clutch each other tightly as you spiral into oblivion, but at least you're not alone, in the end?

This is the queer experience.

More queer assassins. Diversity win, that man who tried to kill you is pansexual.

If you agree, check out my new novel series.

But if you don't, it's ok to be wrong.

[resident-dumb-fuck]

every stephen sondheim musical ranked by number of ao3 hits it has

[thatonebirdwrites]

When the news came, Lena was in a meeting with Sam and the L-Corp's board. She'd long ago set all alerts for Supergirl to come through to her phone, but ones where Supergirl was injured had been set to ignore all other settings.

The ring caused Sam to jump, but Lena kept her cool. She glanced down at her phone, and felt her veins turn to ice. A brief message that Supergirl had fallen from the sky.

Shit.

Lena grabbed her phone and bag. "I regret that I must take this call. An emergency has come up."

Sam looked at her, her brow furrowed in worry. "I can handle this, Lena. Go."

With a tight smile to her friend and CFO, Lena hurried from the room. She swapped out her shoes, and took off in a sprint. The alert had given her an intersection, but she needed to know if Alex knew about this yet.

Lena: Alex, I'm incoming.

Alex: wait, what?

Lena: Kara, she's fallen.

Alex: The hell? She's supposed to be eating lunch! Was in a meeting. Where?

Lena forwarded the alert's text, baffled that Alex had no idea.

Alex: How close are you? It's gonna take me fifteen minutes. J'onn unavailable.

Lena: Be there in five.

The doors of the elevator opened. Why drive when she could take the helicopter? When her pilot reached the intersection, Lena stared in horror. Someone had what looked like a missile launcher over their shoulder, and Kara laid in a cracked hole in the street in front of Noonan's. So Alex had been correct, Kara had been getting lunch, as drinks and food was spilled across the curb. People clustered in the doorways of the cafe and storefronts, and Kara's supersuit had a burn mark across its front.

Fuck.

"Hold us steady," Lena ordered the pilot. She grabbed a bag from behind her seat. In case of an attack -- considering she had quarterly assassination attempts all the time -- she had some specific weapons in here. One of them was a shotgun with some unusual shells. She flicked through her supplies and decided on a particularly useful set. She popped in the shells, cocked the gun, and threw open the door. The person started to look up, but Lena wasn't giving them a chance to react. She fired. The shots slammed into the person's back and immediately ice formed. She fired again. This time the person fell to the ground as a block of ice. Cryo shells had their use. She reloaded and gestured to her pilot.

He brought the helicopter closer to the ground. "Watch my back," she said, mostly out of habit, though she doubted the pilot could do anything. "And stay in the air. We'll need a quick exit." "Right, Ms. Luthor." He kept his gaze on the controls, his voice coming through her headset.

She jumped to the ground, her shotgun cocked. As she scanned the area, she realized, to her dismay, that another person stood in the shadows of the storefront across from Noonan's, armed with some sort of long rifle. Why the person hadn't fired yet confused her.

Lena aimed but didn't fire yet. She didn't have confidence that her shot would hit before the other took her out. "Step away from Supergirl."

The person wasn't that much taller than herself. Curly blonde hair leaked out of the black beanie, and blue eyes regarded her from under a black mask, their clothes definitely assassin-like. "Stay out of this, Luthor." A high-pitched voice. Possibly a woman?

"This is my business." Lena stalked closer. "Don't think I won't take you out like your friend there." She nodded at the other person dressed in black with a black mask over their face, their eyes closed. Ice was still encased around their lower body.

Lena wished she'd seen the person earlier. Otherwise she'd have fired on them too. Now they were in a stand-off exactly when Kara needed her the most.

"I don't want to do this," the woman in black said. "You're not on our list."

"Then step away now. Don't think I won't fire."

The woman stared at her for a long moment as if sizing her up. Her voice timbre changed to a hint of coy and frustrated. "Why do you care, Lena Luthor? Doesn't your family hate Kryptonians?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "I'm not them." She needed to distract her somehow. At least until Alex got here or Lena could fire the shot without getting hit in turn. "Now, how about you put down your weapon, I'll put down mine, and we'll talk like civilized people?"

The woman hesitated, her rifle moved just an inch down.

That was when the shot came from above. The bullet hit the woman's shoulder, she staggered backward, and Lena took the shot. Two blasts later, the woman was encased in ice like her friend.

Lena slung the shotgun over her shoulder and raced to Kara's side. "Supergirl!" She dropped next to her and felt for Kara's pulse. It was faint, far too faint. "Dammit." She didn't have time to check for injuries. Kara needed extracted immediately. "Riordan, drop the stretcher," she said into her headset.

The helicopter hovered closer, and a side door slid open. The stretcher shot out, swung, and slowed to a stop above her head. She reached up, snagged its side, and pulled on its rope until she had it next to Kara. It took two tries to lift the Kryptonian -- damn, Kara was heavy -- until she had Kara on and belted in securely. Flicking the switch on the bottom of the stretcher, a set of footrests dropped into place.

After she clamped her shoes onto the footrests, she noticed several people had started to come out of the stores with their phones in their hands, likely recording her rescue.

Whatever. All Lena cared about was Kara. "Go," she ordered her pilot, and held on tightly as the helicopter lifted toward the sky.

TO BE CONTiNUED...

[moosehorn]

It's the lad again

[libraryfag]

guy who ships lee harvey oswald and john wilkes booth but has never heard of assassins the musical.

[strangemonochromes]

Tomie ("Assassins ") // Junji Ito

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: After successfully assassinating the target, two identical targets are waiting for me outside the hotel. “I’ve evolved,” he says cooly, flashing snake eyes at me from behind his dark glasses.