#respawn mention

[heliosoll]

I received some comments on an old post about respawning so once again I'd like to explain my stance on it.

I support respawning. I don't care if you want to respawn, literally go ahead. I have a guide in my pinned on how to respawn and a post about the difference between respawning and permashifting if you'd like to try it. There are also other resources out there, just be careful about misinformation.

However, and I believe this is where the confusion starts, I don't support suicide. At all. Please understand how upsetting it is to get asks and comments from people detailing their trauma and how they want to kill themselves. It's not fun. I will not help someone commit. I'm not going to be part of that and if someone tells me they want to, then yes, I will try to dissuade them and give them alternatives.

Respawning does not equal suicide. You can respawn without committing. You can completely forget this reality without committing. You can completely detach your consciousness from this reality without committing. Everything you want to do, you can do without committing.

And again, you can also completely change your life and make it better. This blog is about manifesting and shifting, of course I'm going to tell people they can change things. You can literally respawn and then script/intend that your previous life is 100% better. There's a "solution" for every problem you could think of. Suicide is not necessary to respawn and I'm never going to tell people that they should do it.

Listen, my life wasn't perfect before I got into shifting and manifesting. I won't say exactly what, but I've been through things and I did consider respawning through death for a very long time. I'm telling you now that it's not worth it. Every single reason you have has an alternative solution that doesn't involve hurting yourself. And please, don't come at me with the "painless death" thing - emotional pain counts too. People consider suicide because they think it's the quickest thing that will get them out. They don't consider that every other "method" is also quick and instant. It's not necessary, I will never tell people how to do it, and I'd appreciate it if people stopped telling very emotionally distraught people that they need to commit to have a better life. I don't know how you think that helps more, but it doesn't.

[feyinvestigations]

Quick Question for Respawn fans-- does this little dude have a name? Or even like. A fanname? Is there a group consensus or is it sort of a "name him yourself" thing?

[pinacoladamatata]

Man like. I really hope the theories about 'redeeming Solas' ending being to die/mirror his friend wisdom where he dies but will eventually get respawned as a 'new' him, aren't true. Because ngl that's. A very unappealing ending imo. Like that isn't worth the 10 year wait at all.

[cer-rata]

Fic WIP: "Miniboss"

Talia dabs gently at her eyelids to remove the day's cosmetics. The nights she spent in her youth recklessly falling asleep with a face full of makeup are distant echoes. She has reached a point in her life where the consequences of failing to manage her affairs, even the small ones, weigh heavier than they used to. As one grows, so too does the burden of mortality. It isn't that she doesn't understand her father's desire to transcend those limits, but he taught her through bleak experience what the cost of rejecting one's humanity is. So she chooses to mitigate them though self-care instead.

She finishes cleaning her face and goes to recline on her chaise, intending to sacrifice an hour of sleep to remind herself of the joys of fiction, and the value in dreaming through the perspective of another.

Then comes the voice at her door.

“Mistress Talia! The Lantern is here." They sigh. "…Again.”

Talia groans. She doesn't regret giving the boy her blessing, she is fond of him, and he seems to be just as devoted to her son as he was when he'd been considering killing her. She just…did not expect to see him so often. She spends time with him far more than Damian these days, often without warning, often with questions about history or language or strategy. Damian was also a frequent topic, but that goes without saying. She enjoys the attention, frankly. It has been a long time since she felt valued in that way. She wishes that she could share a similar dynamic with her son, but he doesn't owe her that, and she has neither the desire nor the right to demand it. There's the unspoken hope that Conrad may put in a good word for her, bring Damian with him on a visit perhaps, but she dares not speak that either. She knows that she stands on a lattice of glass and that one unwisely weighed step could lead to ruin.

All that being said, she still does not appreciate him appearing at this late hour. She fixes her robe to ensure modesty, before instructing the orderly to direct him to her chambers.

She feels him before he reaches her door. Since his return from beyond the stars, he's exerted a certain pressure, as if his body can no longer contain his power without it overflowing. It could have been intimidating if he wasn't so goofy still.

So the first thing Talia notices upon seeing him is his his distinct lack of goofiness. His gait is purposeful and businesslike. It is nothing like the vaguely bouncy, idiosyncratically rhythmed, youthful stride that he falls into when he is excited to see her. His face is neutrally pleasant, but the mask still obscures his eyes. He's even hiding his hands behind his back. He's withholding access to his his feelings. He wants her caught off guard for some reason. Her lips tighten.

“Conrad.”

He inclines his head.

“Beloved Mother-in-law.”

Talia rolls her eyes at his cheeky smirk. “I keep telling you, 'Ms. Talia' is fine, 'Lady Talia' is fine, 'Mother Talia' as well…though I do feel that one ages me some. Nevermind, strike that.”

He snorts. “I'm manifesting the future that I want to see.”

“Uh-huh. Well, if you do not have a truly gripping explanation as to why you've come unannounced at midnight, you may be unable to see any future at all.” She allows herself a smirk to match his.

His smile does sour some at that, but she can tell it has nothing to do with her facetious threat.

"It's not midnight in Gotham, to be fair."

"Ah, so I'm the only one sacrificing my leisure hours. Go on then, your gripping excuse?"

He sighs, and she can tell by the way his shoulders shift that he's fidgeting with his hands.

“Gripping might be an understatement. Or too…neutral. I've come across some evidence that a child was artificially created using a mixture of yours and Slade Wilson's DNA.”

He says it so casually that it takes her a moment to fully grasp his words. “...What? How? When?”

“Supposedly about fourteen years ago. He claims that your father created him to use to…harvest organs from and to torture, basically. Has the scars to prove it. A lot of them. Says that he watched Damian from the shadows as he grew.”

Talia shook her head. “Wh…that's…that doesn't make any sense on even the practical level–sorry, ‘he claims?’ The child is alive?”

“Very alive.” His ring glows and constructs a three-dimensional bust of a teenage boy, with stark white hair, tan skin…and her eyes. Her lips.

“Oh my god.”

“Sounds just like Damian, too.”

Talia stands, putting her at a height with Conrad. She looks into his lenses, and he graciously dismisses them so she can see his eyes. They're a little red.

“I've never…I have no knowledge of this. I…what is his name?”

“Respawn.”

“...Pardon?”

“Ra’s didn't name him apparently, so he picked a one he liked.”

Talia grimaces. “...Like I was saying, that doesn't sound right, not from a practicality standpoint for one thing. Growing replacement organs is incredibly easy, there's no reason to create a person just to…my father was not a good man, especially at the end, but that's a level of sadism that I can't see him reaching. Even in his madness the suffering he caused had purpose other than base cruelty. There was always some kind of tangible dividend. “

Conrad nods. “That's what Bruce and I thought too. Respawn is under the impression you were complicit, but he's not sure. Like, I believe you but…there is a complication.”

“What?”

“I looked through his memories of despair and agony. There were…many of them.” His lips tremble and he looks away, taking a moment to regain his composure. Talia thinks she's going to be sick. “Um, sorry. So I looked for evidence of psychic intrusion, chemical alteration, history of the use of substances that could have have made him pliable to suggestion. Nothing. The memories are clear and…and visceral, and correspond to his scars that cover his body. His healing factor wouldn't let him die. Or pass out.”

Talia’s brow knits as she tries to make sense of this information. “So if you can verify the authenticity of his claims, why are you suspicious of the claim and not of me?”

He crosses his arms. “All I know for sure is that he believes his memories and his memories seem real, that his brain wasn't altered. That doesn't mean it happened how he thinks it did. I need a list of doctors your father employed over the past fifteen years.”

“You intend to find people who can corroborate his story.”

“And bring them to justice for their participation.”

Talia holds her chin and thinks for a moment. “I assume Slade is unaware?”

“As far as any of us know.”

Talia grabs her phone from her table and starts pulling up the requested information, forwarding it to Conrad and Bruce when she gets it.

“Alright, you have your list. Is…” She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “Is Damian alright?”

“No.” He replies honestly. She can hear the bitterness on the back of his tongue.

“Right. I'd very much like to meet this, ‘Respawn, and explain to him that I would never have had a hand in this…evil, and that I'm willing to do everything in my power to assist him with–"

Conrad places a gentle hand on her bicep. She can feel the waves of power flowing over his skin. They're roiling, but she knows he's not powered by anger, so he must be charged with... despair? A paternalistic desire to protect? That was the dangerous one for him to pull from, the one that allowed for concerning levels of violence.

“I know, Talia. I know. Um. Let me see what Bruce and Damian want to do and circle back, okay? I'll put in a good word for you, with the kid too. He's...fairly easy to convince if you're kind of him. Which makes everything worse, I think.”

Talia cups his cheek. “Thank you…my…” She sighs. “...Prospective Son-in-law. What…what is your plan if the culprit is not my father, and still lives?”

Conrad looks into her her eyes for a moment before shrugging. "I dunno, I'm kind of a 'crime of passion' guy usually."

[damian-al-ghul-wayne]

abracadabra

*a copy of yourself with same personality and looks appears besides you*

now u have a twin for the day

Oh.

I already have one of these.

But I suppose another will be fine.

[lonewolfinthetardis]

My experience reading Respawn of the Dead

So I decided to read a classic piece of TF2 fan fiction, Respawn of the Dead. It has glowing reviews and it seemed like an interesting idea for a fan fiction, albeit one I've read countless times. I enjoyed the first few chapters, until I came upon something that stayed with me the entire time I read the fic. The characterisation of the mercs.

Spoilers below the line

Yes I know that this fic was published only two years after the game came out, therefore we knew basically nothing about the backstories of our beloved mercenaries. But the way these characters were written rubbed me the wrong way. These were not the lovable characters that I've come to know and love (the exception being Pyro). These were characters that I had trouble visualising in my head, I could not see them as the beloved mercenaries of Team Fortress 2 (except Pyro again, and sometimes Heavy).

The author of course went down the route of "Medic and Heavy are German and Russian, let's make them an ex-nazi and a communist!", which is something that has me fuming. Of all the possible backstories for those two, the author had to choose that?! I honestly thought it was a joke at first, but nope, that was the backstories they chose for those two much loved characters.

Don't get me started on Soldier! This man is a raging homophobe and xenophobe (the fic's words, not mine). This fan fiction is also the only time I've read Soldier using racial slurs about Demo. There's other issues with Soldier, but I don't have time for that.

Other issues I found with this fic were the constant outdated terms, derogatory names, racisms, and homophobia. While I understand that this fan fiction was set in the 1960's, and those terms were common then, doesn't mean that readers had to go in without knowing what they were in for. Which brings me to my next point!

The tagging, or the non-existant tagging. This fic contains extremely confronting imagery, scenes, and language. You'd think that there would be at least some tags right? Wrong. The only tag is the Heavy/Medic ship tag. No warning of gore, violence, major character death, or implied non-con. No warnings about the racial slurs, bigotry, or just general tags telling the reader what the fic is about.

I genuinely don't know why no-one else has brought up the horrible mischaracterisation in this fic before (yes I know it's 15 years old), and I don't get why so many are praising how well it's written?! There are no paragraph breaks telling you where one scene ends and another begins, which left me confused until I came across context clues.

All in all, this fan fiction left me fuming. I understand not getting the characterisation right due to how new the game was, but a little imagination would've been nice.

The only good thing about this fic was Pyro. They were a lovely character, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading about them. It was definitely a refreshing part of the reading journey.

Respawn of the Dead had an interesting idea, but was executed poorly in some places. While some may love this part of TF2 fan fiction history, I will gladly leave it in my "never read again pile".

[alg1905]

2 Demons 1 Angel Ch4 Abigail: The Forgotten Past

Abigail

I knew both of their voices. The silly mask covering Damian’s eyes hid nothing from me. I just didn’t say anything about it yet because there were more important things to talk about. His rhythm thumped fast. His looks are similar to Daniel, but I am sure they are complete opposites. The large man next to him, I also knew. Hamia. I knew that this was my hamia. It was so long ago.

Damian asked, “What are you two talking about?” He was looking back and forth at me and Jason.

Jason was still staring at me.

I bit my lip. “It was a long time ago. I was a kid.  I was tortured by… him.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

I hesitated. I was looking at the floor biting my lip, I remembered what Daniel said to me. Damian cared about him.  He did right in Damian’s eyes. He treated Damian differently than us. I could never care about him, the one who caused so much pain.  The one who took… them.

Jason spoke for me “Your grandfather.”

I slowly nodded.  Damian looked utterly annoyed, but he was hiding his confusion well, I could still tell.  I mean I have been studying that face for the better part of my life. 

Damian’s voice turned cold.  “Explain.”

I took a deep breath. “The… the old man took me away and he hurt me … for a long time. At some point Jason found me chained next to the pit.” My voice trembled.

“You were probably three or four.  This was the time when I stayed with the league.  For years I didn’t remember much about my past, so Talia made me her personal babysitter for you Damian.”  This part sounded familiar to Damian as he was nodding to Jason. “You were about seven when my memory started to fully come back, I couldn’t leave as I was bound to serve Talia.  Once I had my memory back, I noticed Ras going down to the pits nearly every night, about every third night he would bring water.  After six months of this I decided to investigate. I waited and followed him down, hiding behind a bolder. What I saw … there are no words.” He said looking at me. “After Ras went back up, I went to get a closer look.  I saw you battered, scared, branded, and when you heard me-“

I cut him off “I thought it was him again. Before that night, I thought me and him were the only things that existed.  I knew nothing else. Then …” my voice trailed off; Jason picked back up.

“You were terrified, and I tried to calm you down.  I asked your name, and you hesitated and said ‘child’.” 

I flinched at the name. No at the brand, I was given that still haunts me till this day. Damian noticed but didn’t say anything, though I am sure he will ask later.  Damian’s face appeared to be stone, but I saw the tells.  ‘His left hand tensed around the table because of rage, the slight quivering of his lip not wanting to believe one thing out of our mouths’. He hid them well, but not enough for me not to notice. His rhythm pounding faster, as if he should be running.

Jason continued, “I knew she couldn’t live without a name, something to call her own. I thought and gave you the name Abigail. I told you my name was Jason, and I wasn’t there to hurt you. You were so scared. I quickly undid your chains and picked you up, I couldn’t… leave you there. When we came up, alarms went off and I tried to get you out of there. There were assassins on our tail, and they hit me with something.”

“Metal stars.” I whispered. “Many hit you, you were still running. Finally, he came and stabbed you before we could escape. There were others trapping us, he was… about to kill you when a woman came to us with a kid trailing behind.  She told him no, that she would decide your punishment.” Hot tears rushed down my face, “I thought he still took you and killed you. I don’t remember anything after that other than pain.”

They were both staring at me, Damian was visibly showing his shock. “I am going to check on Daniel”. I said, walking into the other room.  I had told them the first part of my story, I needed to breathe before I brought up anything else.

[cybers-multiverse-mansion]

Tw ; Gore, blood, violence(?) and torture, possibly.

Goretober day 4, Gut Spill

It was quiet, the brunette gripped his sword tightly. He hid behind a corner, the person hunting him called his name.

His body shook slightly, they were going to kill him if they found him.

"Wilheellmmm, where are you? You can't hide forever, you know I have a stronger nose than normal people." Their voice echoes throughout the small village. The fog was thick today and the grass was wet, the smell of wet dirt filled the air.

Suddenly there's a hand pulling him out of his hiding place, it startled him. A wicked smile plastered on the others face.

"Found you." They held a dagger to Wilhelm's throat, demanding that he toss his weapons aside. Wilhelm did as he was told because by the gods he was terrified.

"Good, you're obedient. You always have been." They said, slightly pressing the cold metal of the dagger into Wilhelm's throat. It wasn't enough to cause bleeding or major damage.

"Laurence please, you don't- you don't have to do all this. It- it was an accident!!" Wilhelm begged, he was afraid of Laurence. He always has been.

Laurence kicked Wilhelm's knees, making him kneel. He tipped his chin up with the dagger.

"We both know that it wasn't an accident and you deserve worse than death, and I'm willing to deliver your punishment." Laurence said, pulling Wilhelm by his hair to a secluded area. Wilhelm tried to escape their grasp but it was no use.

Laurence tossed Wilhelm against a tree, getting their sword from their inventory and pinning the other to it with the blade.

Wilhelm Held his breath as the sword was plunged into his chest, it hurt so much but he knew he wouldn't escape this.

"I want you to know I'm really sorry Laurence. I really didn't mean to kill him- but he- Laurence he wasn't himself! He attacked me!" Wilhelm tried to explain, but Laurence wasn't having it.

"Shut up!!!" Laurence shouted, pointing the dagger at him. "Y'know Wilhelm. I've always fucking hated you. You've always made things worse for Christian and I, I wish you would have died sooner. He shouldn't have fucking saved you!!" He steps closer, the dagger getting dangerously close to Wilhelm's face.

There were a few beats of silence as Laurence thought of what to do with him. It came to him quickly though.

"I know what I'm going to do with you." He says, lowering the dagger to Wilhelm's stomach. He saw the panic in the others eyes. "You're going to die a slow and painful death, and I hope to never see you again." He said, beginning to cut Wilhelm open, just enough for him to take his organs out.

Wilhelm screamed in terror, Wilhelm felt sick. He tried to get Laurence away from him but the other just stabbed his thigh with the dagger, causing another scream.

Shit, he's losing hearts, he's losing hearts quickly. It was making him feel sicker.

"I already removed your bed from our house. Have fun at respawn." Laurence stands, pulling his sword from Wilhelm's chest. He turns on his heel and leaves.

Wilhelm watched his intestines pour out of him, Laurence only took the smaller parts to let bigger ones fall out.

He was starting to feel light headed, seeing this much blood and all of his insides just- fall out and pool under him made him feel horrible mentally.

He probably looked really pathetic right now. Everything went dark and quiet for about an hour.

Then Respawn.

[lafoget]

post @upswings made me remember about this last year edit 😅

i'm still pretty sure that samian would have reacted to the news about his new “brother” somehow like this lol

[givenscribbles]

Just played the UltraKill demo and uh

Wow

is this what it feels like to be a darksouls fan?

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay this WILL BE SPOILERS. For totk.

THE GREAT PLATEAU IS CURSED I DONT LIKE IT ToT.

Made it here fine! Easy cruising altitude got the map landed no problem. Minimal enemies. There's a YIGA camped in MY MFING SHRINE OF RESURRECTION. It's all overgrown, that's fine ig, but the YIGA?? Get tf. Out.

Go see the temple, a new message from hylia! Very ominous, but yes ma'am! Off we go to free her from the water under the stone gate. Which gate? Well my first thought was the main blocked off entrance that's now a pond. But let's get a shrine first.

Shrine?? Hello???!

So not only is each original shiekah shrine now a pit to tartarus, there's only one new shrine tucked in the back end of the plateau where a goblin camp used to be. Fine! I'll just run everywhere on foot with my +1 stamina, shall I??

No! It's time for a wtf to hunt you down! The air will turn red with racing clouds, the sky is dark, music is playing backwards, I'm launching myself up the nearest tree and it still isn't fast enough. This is literally the fifth or sixth time I've encountered these, at least two directly ending in my death. They don't even get a question mark from the camera unlike any other miasma monster (for example the depth enemies). I've filled them with bomb arrows and it's made a fraction of a dent in one of them. Hateful hydra eye arm things. They're FAST and TALL. It's like the spindly flesh monster from oot but a hundred times worse. They nearly managed to reach me in the tallest tree!

They eventually leave - whatever triggers their disappearance I truly cannot tell - and grab the dark shards they leave. Okay! Cool! Unappreciated! I go into the pit by the lake, it is VERY SCARY, I get some light roots and reveal a whole civilisation! Giant zelda statues point to an enormous building in the shadows, I pluck up my courage and go over. ???? It's a poe eater statue. Enormous. Full bodied. Stretching down below the bridge I'm on. It's got six sunken eyes and they're all looking at me. I'm absolutely begging this thing not to move, I'm literally inching closer. This isn't a zonai carving at all, this isn't even a zonai room. They've dug into the rock, they DISCOVERED it.

It says the same thing.

I'm terrified. I'm beginning to think that whatever talked to me through the hylia statue, in the temple of time, with her voice and her light, isn't hylia.

Still, I've come too far to back out. I don't think denying this thing is wise.

Up I go! Run all the way from the shrine, off the edge, detour to find a new type of cave goblin or two, blow up the blocked entrance to the plateau. Through the carvings I can make out sort of a face? Hope it's hylia!

It. It isn't. It's the six eyed triangle face that eats souls :). Tells me to go back to the temple. I run onto the plateau (!!! Botw me would be so excited), get ambushed by four black armoured Bokoblins in a row, see 'hylia'. It tells me to bring its body in the depths stones from the four ex shrine pits 'for a reward'.

Nintendo.

What did you do?

[konakoro]

Yeah, we all know the exes respawn after their defeat, but my favorite little detail was that they specifically respawn on the couch at their mom's place.

Imagining the likes of Lucas and Todd and fucking Gideon just waking up on a couch in a basement and their mom's are like "what the fuck is going on how did you get here" and have to explain that they got their ass handed to them by some Canadian twink

[anechomirrored]

Prompt:     "It's not too late, let's go."

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions death, angst/comfort

Scout sat breathing hard just outside the respawn. His back was pressed against the unforgiving concrete wall and his hands pressed into the grit on the floor, his legs stretched out before him.

It was never easy.

Dying.

Sure you didn't die for real or anything. Whether you'd taken a shotgun to the chest or gone down in a rain of bullets the world went black and a quick blink later you were stepping out of respawn as good as new .

That knowledge didn't make it any easier, though.

Well, maybe a little but after a particularly bloody end, Scout still found his mind reeling just as much as it had the first match they'd run.

This last one had been bad.

His limbs stil twitched with phantom pain that his newly reknitted muscles remembered.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the texture under his palms in an attempt to pull himself back together before the end of the round.

On the other side of the wall the chamber hummed to life, heralding another of his teammates.

"Shit." Scout recognized the voice as Sniper's.

The other man stumbled out of the respawn room rifle slung over his shoulder and pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut behind his glasses.

Scout made to stand but found himself drawing his legs in closer to him instead, resting a hand on his knee in a way that he hoped looked casual.

Opening his eyes, Sniper finally noticed he wasn't alone in the hallway.

"We really pissed 'em off last match, eh?" He adjusted his shades and turned to face Scout more fully.

Scout made an effort to laugh but it sounded hollow even in his own ears. Sniper quirked a brow.

"You alright, mate?" He asked hand coming to rest at his side.

"Oh, yeah! Yeah, just...catching my breath..." Scout chuckled weakly.

Sniper gave him a dubious look.

"That was terrible, even for you," Stepping forward He held out a hand. "Come on, up ya get."

Scout eyed the offered hand before taking it and pulling himself to his feet. A hand found his shoulder steadying him and he focused on that in favour of how foreign his own legs felt right now.

"Last one was bad, huh?" Sniper's voice was a bit quieter.

Scout looked up to see the other's consern.

"Yeah, it was." He said, the words shaking a bit at the end.

He rarely talked to Sniper. The guy usually kept to himself on and off the field. He was friendly enough but to say Scout knew anything about Sniper would be a lie.

That said, the way he was looking at Scout right now?

Even Scout could tell that question hadn't been Sniper just being polite. The pinch of his eyebrows said he knew.

That thought was comforting in an odd way. It left him feeling more grounded than he had a moment ago.

It also made him realize that he was staring. With an embarassed huff he looked away.

"Ah, it's nothing I can't walk off, ya know. Just hope it don't cost us the match." He tried for a confident smile and was happy to find it feeling almost natural.

Sniper returned it with a wry smirk of his his own. He looked down the hallway and then back at Scout.

"It's not too late. Let's go." He stepped back, letting go of Scout's shoulder as he did.

"Give me a minute to find a perch and I'll cover ya."

Watching Sniper walk away, Scout nodded.

"Alright, sure! Uh, thanks." He picked up his bat and gave it a test swing.

Dying was still hard, but at least he wasn't alone.

[noctiispiri]

is it just me but i can't play in/see 2fort the same way after watching emesis blue

what could be an average 8 hours on 2fort suddenly feels eerie and weird. everytime i go to a certain area my mind just flashes to a scene tied to it, its insane

probably just brainrot taking over again

[sargetblu]

What do you appreciate of one of the members of the enemy team?

I think the enemy Demo’s improvement in the field is worth pointing out!

He is shaping up to be a worthy opponent!

[alg1905]

2 Demons 1 Angel Ch9 Daniel: Family Introductions

Note: W.E. is Wayne Industries with an E. Spell correct doesn’t like it.

Daniel

We entered the large doors and saw a huge room. A large set of stairs were in front of us, to the left a large sunroom, to the right leading off to a hallway. The stairs, walls, and floors were all made of a dark wood that shown in the sunlight. The stairs were covered in a red fabric, a rug?  The room was beautiful, but it felt empty. Dust covered the art along the walls, the rich red beginning to fade. It felt like this was once well tended, now it was left. No one to care about the once grand beauty anymore.

Abby clutched at my arm, her hand reaching my wrist, her bag in the other hand. She was seeking comfort from my heartbeat. Yes, she can hear heartbeats, but feeling a heartbeat often calms her down much faster. With her black hood down over her eyes, she looked almost like the first time I saw her. Scared, heartbroken, searching for someone to love and someone to love her.

“Ok, you two don’t come out till you hear your cue.” Jason said.

“Our cue?” I asked, reshouldering my own bag.

Actually, it was a large rucksack that I had found in the garbage. Abby had mended it, which now carries the cooking things, most of our weapons, majority of our clothes, and a couple lengths of rope. Abby is carrying medical equipment and smaller items like fishhooks, water bottles, and string.

“You’ll know. Just stay here.” Jason apparently wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

Me and Abby waited in the hallway; the door was left ajar. I heard many voices. “Ab’s” I whispered; she squeezed my wrist to show she was listening to me. “How many people are in there?”

“Umm... with Damian and Jason, nine people in total.”

Who are all those people? Was it necessary to meet so many people at once?

People were talking. A man’s voice said, “Little D, where have you been?”

“TT, Richard. Do not refer to me by that insufferable nickname. Now release me before I make you.”

I frowned at Abby. She had a slight smile on her lips, her eyes were covered. “Damian got a hug.” I had to grin myself. I just wished I could’ve seen it.

“So, do you mind explaining why we’re here? I was in the middle of an important case when Dick picked me up.” A woman’s voice asked. The woman sounded annoyed but not harsh.

“Yeah, I was in an important call during a board meeting at W.E.” Another male voice.

Jason spoke up. “Yeah. Sorry that we took time away from your such busy lives.”

“Damian, is the reason for this meeting the reason you didn’t return last night from patrol?” A deep male voice, familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Yes father.” Father. Batman. Great, just great.

“Then please explain.”

“I was patrolling last night when I discovered two adolescents about to be torn apart by thugs. I intervened before that occurred.”

“How bad are the thugs? In the hospital or worse?” The voice complaining about the W.E. meeting spoke up.

“TIM!” The voice who called Damian ‘Little D’ chastised.

“TT, for your information Drake, the thugs fled as soon as I made myself known. I then discovered that one of the two adolescents had been stabbed and proceeded to take the two to the closest safe house, which was unfortunately occupied by Todd.”

“Why didn’t you call in back up?” a new male’s voice. Gentle and curious, he sounded almost concerned.

“I wanted to get a statement myself.”

“Did you? Who are they? Where are they?” Damian’s father asked. A silence went over the room. Abigail frowned. Before I could ask, Batman spoke again, sounding angry. “Is this true?”

“Yes father.”

“In fact, they are right outside the door.” Jason said casually. “Come on in you two.”

I froze. How did they know? Abby’s grip tightened around my wrist. “Daniel.” Abby’s soft voice was filled with worry, doubt, fear.  Her forehead pressing into my shoulder blade.

Distinct thuds, someone walking to the door. Abby didn’t relax as the person got closer; however, she wasn’t becoming more tense. The door that had been left a jar was pushed towards us, revealing Jason. His eyes were scanning the pair of us, trying to determine what the issue was. The smell of take-out food wafted behind him. I couldn’t see anything or anyone in the room as Jason’s wide frame was blocking the doorway. His brown leather jacket open across a simple black T-shirt, and blue jeans. 

After a moment or two, Jason spoke. “Come on. These guys won’t bite you. Well, Damian might. But you already met him, so you’re already doing pretty well.” His joke, even if it wasn’t the best, was enough to make me move again.

I can see why Abby immediately took to the man. Yes, he tried to rescue her first, and he gave Abby her name. Besides that, there is something in this man’s stance, personality, aura? That just felt safe. I wonder if this is how Abby sees me.

Jason held the door open, standing to the side. He raised his hand a little, as if he wanted to put it on one of our backs, but he thought better of it. Good. Yes, he has a good record with Abby, still doesn’t mean either of us completely trust him. We barely know the man.

The room itself was grand, though also a slight gloom hung in the air, just like when we first stepped into the place. Three long, leather, couches formed three sides of a square. Two of the couches were facing each other, while the other faced a large fireplace. A couple of armchairs, of the same leather, were placed in opposing corners. A large dark wooden table occupies the space in front of all the couches, currently covered in takeout food. It smells like Mexican. Behind the couches, were glass doors that led outside to a garden. Above the fireplace, hung a family portrait, ten people in all. All the people in the portrait were right in front of us, except one elderly regal man.

Jason gestured for Abby and me to sit, but we didn’t. We stood in front of the fireplace; it seemed that a fire hadn’t been lit there in years, adding to the gloom of the house. Jason stayed standing once he figured out that we weren’t sitting. Abby still had her head pressed into my back, and holding my arm, though not quite as tight. Damian was in the closest armchair to our right, looking relaxed for once with a large black dog by his side, and a black and white cat on his lap. Who knew Damian likes animals?

The eldest man in the room appeared to be about 40 to 45 years old. Hair as black as night, light skin, deep sapphire blue eyes. He was Damian’s mirror image, just 30 plus years older. A black turtleneck, and black jeans. His face was unreadable, glaring at me and Ab’s. Is Abby having better luck at reading this man? He was the only other person in the room sitting in an armchair, in the best position to look at us head on. I would’ve thought he was a king if he didn’t have takeout food in front of him.

On the couch to our left, closer to the older man, was a tall man probably in his late twenties or early thirties. Raven black hair, tan skin, a lighter shade of blue eyes than the middle-aged man. Almost sky blue. He wore a questioning grin, obviously confused about us. Lean, though his shoulders are somewhat built, muscular. Shorts and a light blue T-shirt.

At the other end of the couch, was a blonde girl who seemed to be physically late teens or early twenties, dressed in purple. Purple shirt, purple pants, purple shoes. Currently, her mouth is stuffed with food, making her look like a purple chipmunk. Light skin and lounging on the couch like a monkey in a tree. Blue eyes grew wide when we entered.

On the couch to our right, a red head was sitting, also in her late twenties, a wheelchair behind the couch. Her green eyes sparkled in curiosity and intelligence, behind simple glasses. Light, freckled, skin. A grey shirt, blue jeans, and a black jacket. She seemed like a normal girl, but anyone who knows Damian can’t be normal.

Another young man, this one younger than Jason, but older than Damian, so early twenties tops. He was thin and lanky, but muscles could be seen under his baggy clothes, which wasn’t helping with the skinny effect. Baggy red shirt, baggy grey sweatpants.  Black hair, crystal blue eyes which were sharp, intelligence clear in his eyes. Light skin, clutching a mug for dear life. Dark circles hung under the man’s eyes. He apparently doesn’t get a lot of sleep.

On the couch directly in front of us, two more people sat. The man closer to the left side of the couch had dark skin, the darkest in the room. Caring brown eyes, coal black hair, a yellow shirt, and blue jeans. His frame wasn’t extremely built, but it was obvious he didn’t waste his time sitting around. His head was cocked a little to the side like a curious dog.

The last person in the room was a girl with short black hair, cobalt blue eyes, and light skin as well, but in a different way from most of the others in the room. Her face seems shaped different too, like a mixture of oriental with something I couldn’t quite place. She seemed about the same age as the blonde. Though her posture was relaxed, her eyes were moving too fast, looking us over, too fast to be considered normal. A grey sweater, with blue jeans covered her build, though I wasn’t going to put her down any lower on my list of wariness.

The middle-aged man spoke, in a bit of a growl. “Son. Why exactly did you bring these two adolescents here? Putting our family at risk?” That voice. I had only heard it once before, on a rooftop where Damian and I fought each other, but I couldn't forget that voice. Batman.

“Tt. Father, I thought you trusted me.” If Batman relaxed at Damian’s words I couldn’t tell.

The blonde chipmunk managed to swallow the food in her cheeks, “Umm, Dami, who are they?”

Damian looked over to me and nodded. I sighed. “I’m Daniel. This is my little sister, Abigail.” Damian’s eyes narrowed when I called Abby my little sister. I lifted my left hand to take off my hood, as Abby was still clutching my right arm. She hasn’t changed her position since we’ve entered the room.

I closed my eyes then I tugged my hood off. Just waiting for what is going to happen next. The feeling of eternity passed within a moment. I heard nothing other than Abby’s breathing. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I opened my eyes.

Only three people in front of didn’t seem shocked. Jason, Damian, and Batman. Even the dog seemed shocked. Was Batman’s face born in stone? No one moved for another couple of minutes. If this is how they react to me, wait till they see Abby.

Finally, the girl with short black hair right in front of us moved. She… didn’t speak but she used her hands to talk. Sign language. Of course, now it makes sense why there was silence before. I know some signs, though apparently not enough to keep up with this girl. The girl noticed that we didn’t understand, and she looked towards the only red head in the room.

“Can we please see your face, Abigail?” The red head translated.

Abby tightened her grip, letting lose a small whimper. I looked over my shoulder at her, she was so tense. Why…? Oh, she didn’t know any of these people. We don't know their names. To quote Abby, ‘How can you trust someone if you don’t know their name?’

I was about to explain this when the same girl who signed seemed to read my or Abby’s mind. “Cass.” The girl pointed to herself.

Most of the rest of the family seemed shocked that Cass willingly told us her name. Cass looked over to the dark-skinned boy on the same couch as her.  Dawning reached his eyes. “Hi. I’m Duke Thomas. This is Cassandra Cain, though she likes being called Cass.” He pointed to Cass, making sure we understood the point.

I could feel Abby relax a little, just by knowing two names she didn’t before. Cass smiled, seeing Abby’s posture relax a little as well.

“Duke, Cassandra? What are you two doing?” Batman asked, more ice in his voice than before. He clearly wasn’t happy that these people were telling us anything.

Cass started to sign, and this time Duke translated for us. “Daniel already said their names and revealed his face. Abigail doesn’t trust us. Names help.”

“There is no reason to trust them, Cassandra.” Batman’s voice is becoming harder. Abby tensed again at his voice. “We do not who know either of them are or who they are working for. I met Respawn briefly working with his father. They could be working for the league or worse!”

I know Abby was clenching her teeth. Whatever small trust started to bond with these people just shattered because of this man. I spoke up before Batman could say anything else. “We. Will. Never. Work. For. The. League. Willingly.” I put as much venom in my voice as I could. Stressing every word to make the point crystal clear. “And my name is Daniel. Not Respawn.”

Cass and Duke seemed to be the only ones on our side. Well, Jason and Damian may be too. I was ready to walk out of that room, my sister in tow, when the blonde spoke up again. “I’m Stephaine Brown, you can call me Steph. Everyone but B and Damian do.” She gave us a small smile. She is cautious yes, but she is trying to help. Apparently, they call Batman, B. Maybe B stands for b!tch.

The red head spoke up. “I am Barbra Gordan. Call me Babs or Barb. Me and Steph are the only people here not officially apart of this family.” Her green eyes, still calculating, softened once she realized what Cass and Duke were trying to do for us.

“I’m Richard Grayson.” The tall, sky-blue eyes, man said. “But everyone but little D calls me Dick.” I gave the man a strange look. Why? Just why? Why would he call himself that? He just grinned at my confusion, giving me no answer.

The young man holding the mug, looked cautious. However, a glare from Cass, he sighed then spoke. “Timothy Drake. Call me Tim.”

Batman still glared at us, giving us no comfort or reason to trust him. Abby took a deep breath. Knowing the only way for Batman to trust us was for her to take her hood down first. Her hand went shakily up to her head.

“It’s ok Ab’s.” I whispered. Making sure she would be the only person to hear it. With my small reassurance she pulled her hood off of her head. I did not expect what came next.