#assassin’s angst

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

Dialogue from the quest into Lucanis's mind

Organized by order of occurrence in the scene. This took me 2 hours.

First echo;

ECHO OF CALIVAN: Useless. All of this. Utterly useless.

Upon arrival;

ROOK: I know this place. It's the Ossuary. The prison we freed Lucanis from. SPITE: Freed? No. We've always been here.

The first room;

ROOK: Nobody's here. SPITE: Of course not. Rook can't be here. ROOK, surprised: Me? Why not? SPITE, matter-of-factly: You open doors. You don't close them.

Another echo;

ECHO OF ILLARIO: If I were in charge, you wouldn't have to do this anymore...

Another echo;

ECHO OF ZARA: Still fighting? How tiresome. There's no point, you know. Nothing awaits you anymore. You're long dead.

Thought fragments in the room with Caterina;

She gave that ring to my mother. It was the mark of her favor. House Velardo killed my parents and sent it back to Caterina... (so few of us left...) [found near Diamond-style couches below]

...but we're more like brothers. Caterina took us both in... (All we had left...) [found at this Crow-style meeting table below]

What if I go after him and get Caterina killed... (All I have left...) [found near lonely chair and a drink for one, shown below]

Projection of Caterina Conversation;

CATERINA: Rook, did you forget our deal? CATERINA: You were to bring my grandson back to me. ROOK: I... did? CATERINA: You brought me an abomination! Where is my grandson? SPITE (inhaling): Tenderness and terror. Rage and relief. Old, stale fear of disappointment. ROOK: This is the Fade, so this Caterina is... a spirit? Something like that? SPITE: No. Lucanis is mine. They won't dare. Thoughts live here. Ideas. Feelings. ROOK, understanding: She's his idea of Caterina, then. ROOK: Caterina? Lucanis is trapped. But I think you're part of his way out. ROOK: Lucanis may have changed, but he's still the little boy you loved, and raised. CATERINA: He's not changed - he's possessed by a demon! ROOK: And you would never think of rejecting him, whatever happened. Would you? CATERINA, fading in a burst of light: My poor boy...

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ZARA: What trouble you've been...

Thought fragment from an "outside" area of the mental ossuary;

I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep. This was my mistake... (Spite is here...) [area pictured below]

Second Encounter - projection of Lace Harding:

HARDING: Don't worry, Rook. I've got my eye on the prisoner. ROOK, displeased: You've conjured up a friendly face, Lucanis. But your real friends and allies need you, in the real world. HARDING: Rook, are you sure Spite isn't tricking you? What if there's no Lucanis - just the demon? ROOK: After a year in the Ossuary, you might believe that. But you're no demon. HARDING: Look around. This isn't the mind of a human being, let alone an Antivan Crow. ROOK: You're still the man you were, Lucanis, even buried in this pain. No demon would punish itself like this. HARDING: You really shouldn't trust anything you find in the Fade. ROOK: I trust you, Lucanis, and I trust myself to get you home. Let me. HARDING: You know that's the kind of attitude that's gonna get you killed, right? ROOK, still to Lucanis and not the projection: I'll risk it. I have a master assassin on my side. Don't I? HARDING, fading into light: Just... be careful.

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ILLARIO: Cousin, stop. You can't dwell on this. It'll drive you mad. [a memory of what Illario said shortly after declaring Caterina dead, in response to Lucanis demanding to know how she was killed]

Thought Fragment;

You'd have to kill me... (And Spite would die...) [found on cozy reading chair similar to one found in the Lighthouse]

Third Encounter - projection of Neve Gallus;

NEVE: Hey, Rook. Should you be here? Can't say it's the safest place in the world. SPITE (inhaling): Strangeness and charm. Something familiar and foreign at the same time. With a little guilt. ROOK, thoughtfully: Somehow, I thought Lucanis would think of Neve as being more... Tevinter? SPITE: Tevinter? People come in three kinds. Family. Enemies. Contracts. ROOK, unhappily: I hope that's just Spite talking. ROOK: Neve, you need to let us pass. NEVE: You know how he is, Rook. Even if you open the door, Lucanis won't walk through it. This is where he wants to be. ROOK: Well, I'm not leaving until Lucanis is all right, so we might be here a while. NEVE, fading into light: You really think you can help him? You're such a sap, Rook. ROOK: I think it's time you stood aside and let me try.

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ZARA: What are you hiding, little demon?

Another Echo;

ECHO OF CALIVAN: I was supposed to have a useful demon, and instead I have a useless abomination! Wonderful!

Thought Fragment;

I didn't want you to see that. Again... (I'm not this. I cannot be this.) [memory of what he said to Rook after Spite nearly killed Illario, found atop a stack of books like the ones in the Lighthouse library]

Thought Fragment;

She came after me. She came after Caterina. She will come for you, too... (Cousin, what about you?) [found on a simple table with two chairs, like the one he sits at after jobs for coffee]

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ILLARIO: How long are you going to keep doing this?

Fourth Encounter - projection of Illario;

ILLARIO: Rook... you're too good to be wasting your time in a place like this. Forget about my cousin. You've got much more important things to worry about, don't you? You've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. SPITE (inhaling): Sharp. Jagged edges. Hurt with every breath. Grief and relief. Hope and anger. Mixed. ROOK: Lucanis, you don't owe Illario a second thought, much less a supporting role. SPITE, angrily: He. Put. Us. Here. ILLARIO: You've got to leave this be, Rook. You turn my cousin loose, it's only going to cause more grief. ROOK: I think Illario will be feeling that grief. Right, Lucanis? ILLARIO: You know that Caterina had five children? Eight grandchildren. All dead now, except for Lucanis and me. Last time the Crows fought a war of succession, House Dellamorte lost everything. Except for the seat of First Talon. This time, we fight ourselves. What will be left then? You think you'll survive? Your friends? Your cause? ROOK, chuckling wryly: You know him, Lucanis. Even here, Illario just wants to save his own neck. ILLARIO, bitterly: Would that be enough? Would anything? Do you really think he made a deal with a demon? He's not even a mage! Or do you think, maybe, he just found the one there already? He'll carry this prison with him forever, and he'll fill it with corpses given time. SPITE, uncomfortably: We. Need. Out. ROOK: You're an Antivan Crow, Lucanis. A profesional. Trained to avoid collateral damage and go after the real enemy. ILLARIO, ominously: You have no idea what the consequences will be. ROOK: Whatever they are, Lucanis, I'll be there to help you.

Final Encounter - finding Lucanis;

LUCANIS: What're you doing here, Rook? ROOK: I had to find you. If anything happened to you... I can't even think about it. [can we agree this line could have been better written?] LUCANIS: You should go. It's better I stay here than risk losing you. SPITE: You see? He breaks. Our. AGREEMENT. SPITE: His mind. Is stil here. He wants. To stay here. So he keeps. ME here! LUCANIS: Mierda! Why would I want to stay? Even in my head, this place is a nightmare! ROOK: RIght, but... it's a nightmare you already defeated. ROOK: I get it now... As bad as the Ossuary was for you, it was better than the alternative. LUCANIS: What alternative? ROOK: The Ossuary, Zara- you could solve those problems with a blade. But healing again? Living as an abomination? There's no simple answer there. And if you fail, you could hurt the ones you love. LUCANIS: No! I... This is not... (angry growl) Damn it, Rook! SPITE: Make. Him. LEAVE! ROOK: He's trying to leave, Spite. It's... complicated. Mortals can't just change ourselves. It takes a lot of time. SPITE: (growls in frustration) LUCANIS: Rook. You are right. There has to be a way through this. It's just... so much. I cannot see how to begin. ROOK: Start small, you and Spite. Figure out a goal you can both agree on, then make it happen. SPITE: A contract! LUCANIS: Contracts are for clients. Call this... an alliance. But on what terms? ROOK: The choice seems obvious to me; beat the crap out of your cousin. SPITE: Rook. is. my FAVORITE! LUCANIS: Illario... he's a pain in the ass, Rook, but he and Cateria are all I have left. SPITE: He. Put. Us. HERE! ROOK: I never said 'Kill him.' I said, 'Beat the crap out of him.' LUCANIS: So. Do we have a deal, then? We'll work together, and Illario will suffer for what he's done to us. SPITE: He. Will not. Escape us both! LUCANIS, merging with Spite: (looks into Rook's eyes as they fade from the Fade in a burst of light)

-- back in the real world --

TEIA: ...Rook, are you alright? VIAGO: What's the matter with the two of you? ROOK: It's okay. We needed a moment, but I'd say we're ready for anything. VIAGO: ... ROOK: How, uh, long were we standing there? TEIA: Just long enough for it to get awkward. You're sure you're alright? LUCANIS: We're fine, Teia. Don't waste your worry on us. Can I trust the two of you to keep an eye on Illario? If he starts anything, I want to know about it. VIAGO: I was going to do that anyway. TEIA, suspiciously: You're planning something. LUCANIS, firmly: My cousin has a lot to answer for. I intend to make sure he does. But we need information first. We don't know what we're going into; if he has Caterina hostage, if he has allies... We do this job right. Find out everything we can, then strike.

[blueteller]

You guys ever think about how funny it is that the whole reason why Cale did not have try at all to impersonate the original Cale, was because no one actually knew anything about him, despite the fact that everybody knew about him? On an international scale, even??

Cale: (doing an absolutely terrible job at being trash) Everybody else: That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about Cale Henituse to dispute it

[greengoblinswifey]

Home For Christmas—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— your boyfriend, Luigi, recently extradited to New York, faces a court hearing just days before Christmas, leaving you heartbroken and unsure if he'll make it home. against all odds, he is granted bail and surprises you by coming home for Christmas.

warnings—none! lots of fluff, luigi is a sweetheart, perfect christmas ending <3

a/n— My dms and asks have been blowing up with you guys clamoring for more Luigi content, so I decided to whip something up, enjoy <3. I truly don’t believe Luigi is guilty and would’ve hoped he would be home for Christmas :( I hope he gets out soon and won’t be sentenced.

The courtroom doors creaked open, and your breath hitched as Luigi walked in, surrounded by officers. He wore a burgundy sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, its collar peeking at the edges. His dark curls framed his face perfectly, and even though he looked composed, you could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the toll of the weeks apart was evident.

His gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. His steps faltered briefly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You felt your chest tighten as he looked at you like you were the one ray of light in an otherwise dim world.

“Amore,” he mouthed, his voice soft even though you couldn’t hear it.

You couldn’t hold back your emotions. You smiled, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over, and blew him a kiss. Luigi grinned in return, his confidence slipping back into place as though the sight of you gave him strength.

It had been weeks since you’d seen him, weeks of navigating the unbearable distance after his extradition to New York. Every call had been short, every letter cherished, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him.

When he was seated at the defendant’s table, Luigi tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “You came,” he whispered, his voice carrying an unmistakable mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

“Always,” you mouthed back.

The hearing began, the air in the room heavy as his lawyer argued for his release on bail. You knew the evidence was thin, there wasn’t enough to convict him of the CEO’s murder, but the stakes were still high. The very thought of him being sentenced, of losing him, made your heart clench.

During a brief recess, Luigi’s lawyer gestured for you to come forward. You hesitated for only a moment before making your way to the front, the officers giving you a wary glance but letting you pass.

As you approached, Luigi’s eyes softened, and he reached out slightly, his cuffed hands resting on the table. “Amore,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to hold back tears. “I missed you too, Lulu. More than anything.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m so sorry for all of this. For putting you through this. But you’ve kept me going.”

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re coming home, Luigi. I’ve talked to your lawyer, and we’ve worked everything out. The judge is going to grant bail. You’ll be home for Christmas.”

Luigi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Two days, just two more days.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to compose himself. “You’re my everything,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve you, but I swear, I’m going to make this right. I’ll make it all right.”

Before you could respond, the bailiff called for everyone to return to their seats. You reluctantly pulled away, but not before squeezing his hand one last time.

The judge’s decision came swiftly, Luigi would be released on bail, just in time for Christmas. As the words registered, you felt the weight you’d been carrying for weeks lift. Luigi turned to you, his eyes shining with relief and love.

“Looks like I’ll get to spend Christmas with my amore,” he said, his voice soft yet triumphant.

“I can’t wait,” you smiled through your tears, nodding.

When you finally got home that evening, the reality of it all hit you. Luigi was coming home in just two days. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes as you stepped into your apartment, flicking on the lights.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree filled the living room, and you froze in your tracks. Underneath the tree, there was a mountain of neatly wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there before. You blinked in confusion until you noticed a note placed delicately on the coffee table.

It was from Luigi’s lawyer.

Amore, the note read in Luigi’s familiar handwriting. I didn’t know if I’d make it home for Christmas, so I asked someone to help me make sure you were taken care of. I wanted you to have a perfect Christmas, even if I wasn’t there to share it with you. I love you.

You smiled, your heart aching with love as you knelt by the tree. The gifts were wrapped neatly, clearly not by Luigi himself and labeled with little tags in his messy handwriting. Your favorite perfume. A set of Victoria’s Secret lingerie and a cute silk pajama set. A cashmere sweater in your favorite color. A pair of designer heels you’d been eyeing for months but would never have splurged on.

Tears welled up as you unwrapped each thoughtful gift, your fingers trembling slightly. He’d thought of everything, even when he wasn’t sure he’d be here to see you open them.

Two days later, you stood at your front door, waiting as the sound of a car pulling up outside made your heart race. When the door opened, and Luigi stepped inside, you couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Lulu!” you cried, throwing yourself into his arms.

He dropped his bag instantly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Amore,” he murmured, “I’m home.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his sharp jawline. “I missed you so so much,” you whispered before pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss.

Luigi groaned softly, pulling you even closer until your feet barely touched the ground. His hands slipped to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips and giving your ass a squeeze. “I missed everything about you,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” you teased, your fingers threading through his curls.

He smirked, his eyes darkening slightly. “Trust me, amore. I have no intention of being away from you ever again.”

The night continued with kisses and lingering touches all over. You showed Luigi the gifts you’d gotten him, a rare set of books he’d been searching for, a sleek leather jacket that fit him perfectly, and an intimate surprise, a pair of silk boxers with pictures of your face all over it.

Luigi laughed when he opened them, pulling you onto his lap as he held the boxers up. “Really, amore?” he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs.

“What? I thought you’d like them,” you said innocently, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“I love them,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he kissed your neck.

The two of you spent the night cuddled on the couch, watching Christmas movies and sharing a blanket as the tree lights twinkled softly in the background.

You turned to face him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll always wait for you, Luigi. You’re my home.”

Christmas morning was a quiet and cozy. The smell of hot chocolate and marshmallows filled the living room as you stretched out on the couch in your matching pajamas, wrapped in one of Luigi’s arms. His other hand rested on your knee, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the fabric.

“Good morning, amore,” he said, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied softly, his gaze warm.

Under the tree, there were more gifts to unwrap. Luigi insisted you go first, sitting back with a grin as you tore into one of his carefully wrapped presents. It was another beautifully thoughtful gift—an engraved gold bracelet with the words Sempre il mio cuore (Always my heart).

You stared at it for a moment, your chest tightening.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his tone suddenly vulnerable.

You nodded quickly, slipping it onto your wrist before throwing your arms around his neck. “I love it, Lulu. I love you.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good. Because I saw it, and I thought of you. Always my heart, amore. Always.”

You gave him a box that held an expensive perfume set he had been eyeing but never expected to have. Another had a small, vintage journal with an inscription from yourself inside the front cover, For the stories you’ll write one day.

The next gift made him grin even wider, a vintage Italian cookbook, filled with recipes you knew he loved.

“You spoil me,” he teased, leaning over to kiss you softly.

“Now I can teach you how to make the perfect lasagna,” he teased, flipping through the pages before looking up at you. “Thank you, amore. This is perfect.”

The day passed in a happy blur of laughter and kisses. You spent the afternoon in the kitchen, making Luigi’s favorite Italian dish, spaghetti alla carbonara, while he stayed close by, sneaking bites of the ingredients and kissing your cheek whenever he passed.

“You're going to burn the pasta if you keep distracting me,” you warned, laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

“Let it burn,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’d rather taste you than the pasta anyway.”

“Luigi!” you protested, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Dinner was perfect, and afterward, the two of you curled up on the couch with a plate of cookies you’d baked together. The promise ring on your finger glinted in the light of the tree as Luigi traced the outline of it with his thumb.

“Do you know why I got you that?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

You glanced at him, your head resting on his chest. “Why?”

“Because I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’m yours. Forever,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “Even when things got bad, when I was in a prison cell, all I thought about was you. You’re the reason I fought so hard to come home.”

Your throat tightened with emotion, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Luigi.”

The night ended with the two of you wrapped up in each other, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows over the room. Luigi held you close, his hand tangled in your curls as he murmured sweet nothings in Italian.

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so safe, so loved.

For the first time in a long time, Christmas felt like it should, celebration of love, laughter, and the promise of a future you’d both fight for.

[art-the-f-up]

I'm glad you guys like my feligami AU obsession

Previous part

[ethan-acfan]

On the note of desmond surviving the end and having to rebuild his life after, I just wanna say that he would probably have some kind of muscle disability afterward. Because, and yes, I'm talking about this again, by ac3, they were keeping him in the animus for at least 3 days at a time, and no doubt it was probably upwards of a week towards the end. So his muscles were probably FUCKED by the end and he would def need physical thearpy and perhaps a cane/crutches (PLEASE IF ANY ARTISTS READ THIS IM BEGGING DRAW HIM WITH A CANE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA-) ahem, anyway also I feel like his mental state would also be screwed like verging on Clay's level of insanity, so do with that what you will

(PLEASE DRAW HIM WITH A LEG BRACE OR SOMETHING LITERALLY ANYTHING IM BEGGING I CANT DRAW FOR SHIT PLEASE🙏)

[noisilyscreechingsong]

As the (for a lack of a better word) Ancient of balance and space, and being a halfa that is arguably immortal, Danny has the rare opportunity to reincarnate. Live again. Start over.

When Clockwork had originally told him he was immortal, he (understandably) assumed he meant he, Danny Fenton, could not die. He was wrong. As usual. Instead, it was that he, his soul, could not parish or cease to exist. Two very different things that he was forced to learn through experience when Danny Fenton died at the age of 64 from a car accident as mundane as that is, and ended up in the Ghost Zone to, presumably, ‘live’ the rest of his afterlife. It wasn’t until later when he fell asleep in his lair (first sign something was happening, ghosts don’t need to sleep) and woke up with his head fuzzy and body clumsy. He was a baby and it wasn’t until his mind was old enough to comprehend who he was that he understood he was living life again, this time as child in a different universe and different time.

And when he died again, this time very young from a sickness traveling through his village, he ended up in his lair again, as if he never left. The other ghosts understood after a brief explanation, but the process was still disorienting. Even if it happened again and again.

This time he was born into an odd place. He awoke from a large tube of green liquid. He had a mother named Talia and a Grandfather. He also had a father and older brother named Damian, but they lived in a different country and weren’t really on speaking terms it seemed. It also appeared he was born into a cult of some kind. Mother called it the League of Assassins and Grandfather called it his Legacy, the organization he built from the ground up. Oh and it all revolved around the green, bubbling pit below their home that had resurrection powers that may or may not make someone insane.

A connection to the dead in the basement, a family business, and a Frootloop with too much power. This was turning out to be a lot like his first life.

It’s the assassinations that bother him. He’s fine with killing to protect himself and to protect others. He’s even fine with mercy killings, but to kill someone who is unarmed and can’t even put up a fight is crossing a line.

Grandfather doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like a lot of what Danny does. He talks back too much, he doesn’t follow orders, he has too much of an imagination, he has a weak stomach and can’t see the big picture, he’s never good enough. He’s also compared to his big brother Damian a lot. He’s never even met the guy but knows he has a better fighting stance and climbed the mountain faster when he was Danny’s age. Danny doesn’t know if he wants to met Damian at all after hearing his name every time Grandfather criticizes him. The only thing Damian is to him is a standard to exceed.

And don’t get him started on his Father. Mother brags about him enough, but he’s obviously not here for a reason. He stole Damian from the family, Grandfather says, his golden heir. Danny is just the spare, filling in for his older brother who doesn’t want to come home. Of course, he takes everything with a grain of salt. Danny’s family also brainwashes and conditions people to follow them and die for them, it’s all twisted and manipulative. However, there’s bound to be some truth woven in there somewhere and it doesn’t look good for his biological father.

When Danny becomes the Demon’s Head, and with everything he’s been training for he WILL be the Head, the first thing he’s doing is cutting Grandfather’s head right off his shoulders and feeding it to the dogs. He’ll run this cult thing with actual morals and better management. Not too much change because then his position will be questioned, but over time he’ll bring about some good outcomes.

He does think his family believes they are doing things for the greater good, he just thinks they’ve lost sight of what’s important.

Danny’s not even bothered with not having a normal childhood. He’s lived it once or twice, it was quiet, nice, but ultimately boring. He enjoys the adventure and thrives on the action. He gets excited when he learns a new weapon and celebrates when he finally perfects that technique he’s been practicing. He’s proud when his mother compliments his precise aim in her own weird roundabout way of speaking and is awfully smug when Grandfather doesn’t say a word of criticism when he slaughters his opponents efficiently.

He has a crazy family, but it’s his. So it comes to no surprise that he feels a little unbalanced when his mother takes him to Gotham after some political tension between Grandfather and some group he’s not important enough to know.

He’s seven and has lived this entire life in Nanda Parbat, only visiting the other League locations a few times, where the weather is warm and the air is clean. Gotham is the opposite of his home. He remembers a life in Chicago, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the permanent smog covering the sky. Even if it was clear, the light pollution would hinder his view of the stars.

He already hated this place and was actively counting down the minutes until they could leave. Although he had a suspicion of why they were here. The tight lines beside his mother’s eyes gave away her reluctance, but her confident stance didn’t falter.

Danny watches as she meets with a man in a black superhero suit and what looks like a teenager in a different uniform. The pieces were finally coming together when Mother calls him to come out and he drops from the rafters to land on his feet like a cat.

Their two visitors stare hard at him and if he was in a different life he might have fidgeted under their intense attention. He does not.

“My son, this is your father and older brother.”

“Mother,” the teen- Danny’s brother, Damian, objects, “since when do I have a brother? Have you adopted like Father?”

In response, Danny pulls down the black mask to show the rest of his face and the clear resemblance between the two. Danny had more blue mixed with his green eyes to give a marbled effect and he had his mother’s jaw line but he still had his father’s lips and- actually that was all he could see, the cowl obstructing the rest of his features. Either way, there was no mistaking Danny and Damian as anything but brothers.

“Damian, meet your brother. I hope the two of you will get along and look out for one another.”

Like hell they will, Danny thinks bitterly. He’s spent pretty much this whole life being compared to the boy in front of him, there’s bound to be some resentment on his part.

“I thought he’d be taller,” he tells his mother, eyeing Damian up and down unimpressed.

Damian actually sputters.

“Talia,” his father says, demands, as if asking twenty questions in that one word.

“You will care for him while I’m away. It isn’t safe for him and I have work to do.”

Danny knew it was coming and yet he still felt the squeeze of panic and betrayal in his chest.

“Mother, don’t leave me here,” he almost whines but just manages to keep his voice steady. “I can stay in Switzerland or the Alps or somewhere else that is not here.”

Mother says his name with that amount of sharpness that lets him know she wasn’t changing her mind. He huffs angrily and glares at the two in front of him like it was their fault his was here in this disgusting city.

They don’t talk for much longer before Danny is following them back to a black suped-up car and Mother is nowhere in sight. The ride is silent, the others’ thoughts loud and leaving the vehicle suffocating.

Danny decides to make the process difficult for them, arguing when they ask for a blood sample to confirm, getting into things he clearly shouldn’t when he got bored, and being a little shit to anyone else that shows up in his path.

He knew nothing of this side of his family, his Mother only telling him how strong and honorable his father is and how proud she is of Damian despite his decision to not become the Demon’s Heir. This was his opportunity to watch and learn and maybe test their patience here and there. He didn’t want to be there, they didn’t want him there, so he was going to make this everyone’s problem and maybe formulate his own opinion of his father and brother in the meantime.

It doesn’t take much for him to tolerate the others Father has brought into his side of the family because he had no prior knowledge of them.

He respects Alfred, he can relate to Tim, Dick is a pun master that Danny can’t help but contribute, Jason is too cool not to like, Cass is kind, Steph is bubbly, Duke is probably the most normal, and Selina has a mischievousness to her that Danny can get behind.

Father is gruff. He always looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t. Danny isn’t used to that. Mother and Grandfather and even himself have the position of power to say what they want without much consequence. What’s stopping him?

It gets to a point where Danny snaps and demands he speak his mind or say what he’s feeling. It doesn’t go well but he thinks there might have been some progress in the days afterwards.

Damian is a different story. Danny doesn’t hate his brother, but he certainly doesn’t like him. He makes a point to show it through pranks on the older boy and trying to outplay him in competitions and bets the other sometimes doesn’t even agree to.

Danny can admire how passionate he is in his art and how devoted he is to caring for his animals, and even how much he reminds him of Sam from his first life, but it doesn’t erase the years of feeling less than the perfect first son.

This doesn’t really change until Damian comes back and goes directly to the medbay after a mission gone wrong. It takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s worried for his big brother. Damian is in pain and Danny does not like it. He wants to go out and kill the men who hurt his brother, make them pay for what they’ve done. He wants to be the one to stitch up his wounds and bring him soup.

It’s truly unfortunate that his obsession is protection, particularly around those he considers friends and family.

Danny tones down on the aggression towards Damian after that. He still pranks the teenager and teases him and challenges him to competitions and duels, but it’s more in a brotherly way than showing resentment. Damian definitely notices, but wisely doesn’t address it. Instead, Damian quietly talks about what he remembers and misses of Nanda Parbat when the two of them are alone, both of them actually having a conversation without raised voices or tense shoulders.

After a while Danny doesn’t even realize he isn’t counting the days anymore.

[magicpiano]

I think there is a missed opportunity with batfam AUs where Bruce finds out about Damian and brings him home way earlier.

Imagine if Damian was brought into the bat family before Jason died, before Tim was Robin. So instead it is Jason Damian tries to kill so he can become Robin. Except, of course, he would be just a little kid. Baby. Only a bit older than a toddler really. It is hard to even be mad about it. Jason finds his stabby assassination attempts kind of cute. Bruce has no idea how to handle this.

[xoxostilinski]

Fuck me like you mad at me baby 😝❤️‍🔥

[marf244]

Ash never got to give her brother his birthday card

[nana-mizu-shiki]

"Yeah. That sounds like Tim."

[sulfies]

🌊Sweet Slumber✨

———————————

Shh dont wake him up, he is resting…finnally

[spookberry]

God Nagisa's backstory is so fucking sad oh my god, I keep expecting ridiculous anime nonsense and then I'm gut punched by how depressingly human most the kids in class E really are

[dclovesdanny]

Dc x dp

Dead on main 5/5

Jason never wanted to see his family die again. He could still hear the replace- Tim’s screams. He could still feel Damian’s blood coating his hands as he desperately tried to put pressure on the wound, could see Dick’s wide yet unseeing eyes.

Everyone had died, except for him. He was alone.

Then he and Danny made a plan.

Danny had been his friend for a few years, and knew loss as intimately as he did. Jason had held his friend as he sobbed not too long ago over his clone/daughter Ellie. He knew that sometimes, you couldn’t come back.

Instead, he and Danny promised each other that if they could do it again, they’d be better. They would save their family. They wouldn’t let themselves loose everything again. They just wished they could do it again.

They were both so drunk that neither of them heard Desiree’s whispered “So you wish it, so it shall be.” Neither of them saw her exchange a glance with Clockwork.

Next Morning, Jason woke up to his phone ringing off the hook.

“What!”

“Jason, it’s Danny. You need to look in the mirror or at a calendar or something!”

Jason checked the date on his phone, and stared.

It was two months before he left the league. As he surveyed himself, everything was the same as the past except his jacket. It was the only thing that was the same. Wait, Danny!

“Danny, what happened with you? Why the hell is this happening?”

Danny looked around his old room. The only thing that wasn’t fitting with the past was his phone, which he had woken up with clutched in his hand. He could hear his parents downstairs. He looked like he did before. Then, he noticed a familiar green sticky note on his mirror.

Here is your chance to save them. Your consort can help you.

Only you two shall remember, but your abilities remain.

Danny clutched the note.

“ I think Clockwork just gave us a second chance.”

[quotidian-oblivion]

I am a poor starving child in need of nourishment.

Please send Lazarus Pit Tim Drake fic recs, I am begging, on my knees, malnourished and neglected.

[vivwritesfics]

Saviour

Oscar is the best assassin out there, and she hates him for it. But sometimes the best of the best need a little help

Warnings: guns and weapons and injury and killing (nobody important dies)

She watched as he moved around the party. This seemed to come so easy to him, making polite conversation and interacting with people.

She hated him, hated how good at his job he was. He was the reason she was second best at her job. Assignments together were the worst. It was bad enough knowing that he was the best, but seeing it happen in front of her eyes was so much worse.

She sipped her champagne as she watched him across the room. He said something had had the small crowd gathered around him laughing. All he had to do was drop the poison into the glass and walk away.

But he wasn't. Why wasn't he?

She could feel the backup vial of poison strapped to her leg. If he didn't do something soon, she was going to have to. She grabbed another glass of champagne and moved across the dance floor, heading over to her partner.

He said something else accidentally charming and it had several people laughing. Women were attempting to hang off of his arm, but he didn't care. Or he didn't notice.

Finishing her champagne, she plastered a pretty smile on her face and walked over to him. She pushed several women away and slotted herself under his arm.

"Introduce me to your new friends, honey," she said and let her hand settle on his chest.

Oscar tightened his arm around her as he introduced her (with a fake name, of course) to the senator and people in varying positions of political power. Shd didn't know or care to remember who they were. They had the senator in front of them, and that was who they had to kill.

Oscar slipped the poison into her hand. She got the message, she knew what she had to do.

Oscar distracted them. He had them throwing their heads back in laughter as she slipped the poison into the senators glass. It dissolved quickly, left no trace. Well, no trace to the untrained eye. Anybody who knew what they were looking for would have seen the sediment settling in the bottom of the glass.

"Honey, we should get going," she said to Oscar, wearing a slight pout.

He squeezed her hip, the way a loving husband would. "Kids at home, ay?" The senator asked. He spoke with his hands, moving his hands about in a way that better mixed the poison in.

Oscar leaned in and kissed her cheek, holding her tight. "Can't keep my hands off of this one," he said. Polite and pleasant goodbyes were exchanged as they made their way out of the hall.

As soon as they were outside, they were in the shadows, making their way back to Keep.

They were silent, nothing to say to each other as they moved through the shadows. They could hear the commotion from the hall they left behind as the Senator undoubtedly dropped to the floor, dead.

The two of them entered the Keep. The minute the door was shut behind them, she grabbed Oscar and pushed him up against the wall. "Touch me again-" she grabbed a letter opener from the table in the hall. "And you're dead."'

Oscar held his hands up. But he wore a smile. It wasn't a grin, wasn't a smirk, just a smile.

Jobs with her didn't suck. At least, not in Oscar's opinion. He loved the jobs where she ended up in his arms, even if it was all pretend.

He knew she hated him, even if he didn't know what he'd done to evoke that reaction.

She dropped him and threw the letter opener back onto the table. Oscar released a breath as he watched her walk down the hallway, heading towards her bedroom.

***

Oscar was missing.

They'd left it a day, figured he knew what he was doing. Nobody at the Keep thought to be worried about him. Why should they? He was the best of the best.

But it was getting later, and no sign of Oscar had surfaced. She wasn't getting worried, but it was weird. Why hadn't he given them any sign that he was alive?

Grabbing her gun, she marched towards Lando. "Where was Oscar's last job?" She demanded as she slammed her gun down in front of him.

At the sound of the gun hitting the table, Lando jumped. "Fuck if I know," he said, holding his chest.

"Well, give me his files!" She insisted.

Lando handed over what she needed. She flipped through his files until she found where his latest job was. "Fuck," she hissed as she shut the file. "Why the hell did he take that job?"

"What job?"

She held the file out towards him.

"Fuck."

It was the kind of job Oscar would take, she told herself as she made her way there. The most dangerous job available to them. The worst part about it was that he wasn't big headed about it. He was taking the most dangerous job because he genuinely could do it.

On the second story window, she perched. It was dark inside, she couldn't see. But Oscar had to be in there. She slowly opened the window and eased herself in.

Making no sound, she dropped onto the floor and made her way towards the door.

The hallways was lit, but it was empty. She could hear talking, but that was from another room. Grabbing her gun, she began making her way down the hall. If she was going to find Oscar alive, she was going to find him in the basement.

It was easy enough to get there. The house was grand and filled with artifacts, suits of armour and such. She hid behind those when she had to, and slowly made her way down to the basement.

There, in the middle of the basement, was Oscar. He looked awful, gunshot wound in his leg, face bruised and bloody. She sucked in a breath as she took in the sight of him. "Shit, Piastri," she mumbled as she crouched down beside him.

He tried to smile, but it wasn't easy. "I was wondering when you'd come save me," he said as she took in the injury on his leg.

"Fuck," she hissed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Shit, can you walk?" She asked as she tried to get him to his feet.

Oscar let out a moan. He wobbled as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him steady.

He breathed deeply, breath shuddering. "I didn't think anybody was coming for me," he mumbled.

"I'd get bored without you," she grunted as she started up the steps and out of the basement.

Suddenly, the basement door began to open. She moved as quickly as she could to get Oscar down the stairs and somewhere hidden.

The little space beneath the stairs. It was small, Oscar laying beneath her. She held her hand over his mouth, tried to keep him quiet. If they were caught, it was game over.

She shifted slightly, allowed herself to get into a better position. Oscar went to cry out in pain from the movement, but she pressed her lips to his, shutting him up.

It didn't alleviate the pain, but it did keep Oscar quiet. His eyes fell shut and wrapped his arms around her, keeping her there. The both of them were listening out to the people in the basement, frantically looking for Oscar.

They ran up the stairs, but neither of them pulled away. "Did... did you mean to do that?" Oscar whispered as she climbed off of him.

"I did, Piastri," she said as she pulled him to his feet again. She kept him leaning against him and started up the basement stairs. "Let's get you back to the Keep."

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Bruce regrets sound proofing all his children’s rooms

There are some things parents don’t want to know or hear when it comes to their children and it seemed like a great idea at the time.

That being said, as he looked down at his tired youngest, bottle feeding a baby in a way that seems to be half muscle memory, with a look on his face that can only be encompassed by the sentence “oh shit.”

Bruce was suddenly wondering if he made the right call.