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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 10 days

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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 4

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5438 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together.

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

Dick stood on the pure white sands of Themyscira, though he did not recall how he got there. But he could not mistake the marble columns and houses higher up the mountain side, nor the crystal blue waters with the odd looking fish swimming. Without ever stepping on the great island before, Dick knew.

It felt like home.

Once Dick realised where he was, he realised another thing. He was alone. Where is everyone? he thought, deciding to walk along the beach in search of someone, anyone.

'Hello?' he called loudly, but the stone walls of the mountainside just echoed his voice back at him. And there were no stairs leading off the beach that he could find. He was truly alone.

Dick stopped when he realised it, accepted it. Devastation threatened to swallow him as the white sand did his feet. The ocean waves lapping the shore quieted for a moment, giving space for laughter and music to dance in their place.

Dick looked longingly up at the buildings on the mountainside. A childish want to join the party overtook him, and his mood soured even more, feeling left out of something huge.

'Nightwing.'

The call of his name cut through all other sounds, silencing the rest of the world so Dick could focus on the source of the call. He swivelled, hope pumping from his heart to the rest of his body, to find the most gorgeous of women standing before him. Only - her face was obscured so he could not make out her exact features.

'Nightwing.' Her voice was like smooth velvet, like soft thunder rumbling his name into the electric air.

'Y-Yes?' Dick wasn't sure how this woman knew his vigilante name. He wasn't in his Nightwing attire, just civvies.

The woman started walking towards him in answer. With each slow, deliberate step she took, her image changed before Dick's eyes. She started off muscular, then grew curves, then was small and petite, then grew to stand taller than Dick himself. One moment she was childish and youthful, the next a frail and wrinkled elderly lady.

Her hair changed colour and texture and style too, as did her skin - as if the light of the sun from different angles highlighted everything this woman was, and what she could be.

She remained faceless all the while, for not just one woman could be every woman all at once and have the same face, the same history.

But by the time she stood before him, she'd shrunk to just under his eyes, her hair morphed and her skin changed shades again until the woman started to look familiar.

Still faceless, the woman reached a hand up behind Dick's neck and brought him down so she could whisper in his ear. 'Wake up.'

'What?' He didn't understand. He was awake - wasn't he? But more importantly, why did the woman sound like Y/N?

'Nightwing.' Now that she was talking right into his ear, her voice was clear as day. 'Wake. Up.'

~~~

Dick's eyes flew open as he gasped, as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. He blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness flooding his vision. He quickly realised it was nightfall, and he was staring up at the night sky through a circular hole in the ceiling.

He sat up quickly and realised that was a mistake, as a throbbing pain pounded in his right temple. He hissed as he laid back down, gently brushing his fingers against the sizeable egg that had formed above the injury.

He was briefly distracted as someone removed his hand from his temple, and placed a cool cloth in his hand, then pressed it back on the source of his pain. Dick released a relieved sigh as the coolness eased the throbbing slightly.

'Thank you,' he half said, half whispered, tilting his head to the left to see his saviour.

The only light that filled the room were bowls of fire situated atop pillars all around the circular room. There was a slight breeze, making their flames dance and cast a myriad of shadows around the room. But from what Dick could make out, there were other beds like the one he was situated on - ones of stone, pillows and fabrics - and a table of instruments and tools beside each one.

He didn't recognise the place, which had him searching the face of the person at his bedside more earnestly, wanting answers. But he was not met with the gentle smile nor the soothing voice of an angel.

Instead, he made eye contact with a very stoic and silent Y/N, her bright (e/c) eyes cold and unfeeling. Not even the firelight could cast a flicker of warmth on the expression she looked down at Dick with.

'Y/N,' he groaned, trying to sit up.

'You shouldn't do that,' she said, and her voice was just as stoic and monotone. 'You were hit... quite hard.'

Dick ignored her and pulled himself into a seated position so his back pressed against the back wall. He was relieved to find he was still in his civvies from when he arrived on the island.

'You mean you hit me quite hard,' he countered, pressing the cloth once more to his temple with a slight hiss. 'Not the kind of welcome I was thinking of...'

'Well I certainly hope you didn't expect a big parade or fireworks in your name,' Y/N bit back, keeping her voice low and contained, something she never used to do before. 'Besides, Themyscira doesn't usually get visitors. let alone male ones.'

'In that case, I'm sorry to... disappoint?' Dick wasn't sure what to say. This was a far cry from how he imagined seeing Y/N again.

'A bit too late to be apologising now, isn't it?' Y/N asked, and Dick couldn't help but feel she was indicating to something else. But before he could answer, she continued, stoically, 'Don't worry about it now. Rest up. The Queen wants to speak with you as soon as you wake up. And believe me when I say she is not so easily charmed as other women.'

Dick's heart thumped faster with confusion and fear. This was all going so wrong. Where were the hugs, or even the slaps to the face and the screaming? Anything but this... coldness.

Just as Y/N was walking to the doors of the infirmary, Dick called out to her. 'Hey, wait.'

To his surprise, Y/N did stop, though she only gave him a slight turn of her head so she looked over her shoulder at him. He didn't care. He would take anything. 'It's good to see you.'

Y/N didn't respond straight away, but when she did, Dick questioned whether or not he should've listened to his friends' warnings.

'A sentiment that, I must say, is not shared,' she replied coldly, then proceeded to walk out of the room, giant wooden doors clanging shut after she left.

Dick suddenly became unaware of his throbbing temple as he stared at the doors where Y/N just was. Instead, he became increasingly aware of the twisted feeling growing in his stomach.

He wasn't sure what it was, but it kept him up until the early hours before sunrise, into which he had three hours of dreamless sleep before some women in white robes and pinned or braided back hair woke him up.

They greeted him with gentle smiles and soothing voices, checking he was all right before they prepped him for his chat with the Queen. Any other occasion he would've tried to charm the beautiful women who did not praise him, but treated him with an innocent kindness that he imagined they treated any and all with.

But he still felt as if he was going to throw up, and his mind was preoccupied by the startling image of Y/N's cold, unfeeling eyes staring back at him the previous night. She'd never looked at him that way before. Similar to M'gann, Dick wasn't even sure Y/N was capable of such indifference.

And yet, she'd looked at him just that way, and it stung more than any injury he could imagine.

He'd been allowed to wash and dry himself, and put his dirty civvies of jeans, boots, white t-shirt, and black bomber jacket back on. Then the women sat him in front of a mirror and combed his dark hair, tidying him up one final time before a guard of six strong women came to collect him from the infirmary.

The six women flanked him as they led Dick through the palace made of white marble. If it weren't for the rich colours in the rugs and the wall dressings, the place would be as cold as the sea water lapping the shoreline. Women of different sizes, skin colours, and ages milled about the palace, each of them greeting the guards warmly before looking curiously and even fearfully at Dick as they walked by.

Dick did not let their looks distract him from the real worry ahead of him, though.

Soon enough, the guards and Dick reached a giant set of doors with gold intricately painted over the door and on the archway around it. The front two guards stepped up to open the doors, and stepped aside to allow the rest of the party to enter a spacious room.

Actually, a room wasn't the accurate description for it. There was a ceiling and a floor, but the walls constituted of a few pillars holding the ceiling above the floor, allowing a stroking view of the rest of Themyscira to surround anyone in the room. From the city just below, to the mountainside further along, and then the sand and ocean at the bottom.

Every aspect of Themyscira could be witnessed from what Dick assumed was the throne room, for at the far side of the room was a simple but intimidating throne made of marble, intricately designed to have vines and fruit pop out along the arm rests, and swords and shields to support the back of the throne. Only two people occupied the room other than Dick and the six guards: Y/N - who stood beside the throne in the same leather uniform as the other guards, sword strapped to her hip - and a regal looking women with with ebony hair that billowed out behind and over her white cladded shoulders.

Grey streaks striped through her hair, and Dick could make out a few smile wrinkles on her forehead from where he stood. She wore a white cloth that wrapped around her body as she sat on the throne, pinched by a golden belt that matched the golden leaf crown holding back her hair from her face.

Though she sat down and looked smaller than Dick, she radiated a power that he even recognised to be respected. As the soon as the doors closed, the six guards kneeled to the floor and placed one arm over the chest as they bowed their heads.

'Our Queen,' the said in unison, and suddenly Dick felt very self-conscious as he looked around at the women then looked up at the Queen herself made eye contact with him.

Dick looked around at the women kneeling before their queen. Either he was hit harder in the head than he thought and he could somehow understand Greek suddenly, or they somehow knew English this whole time.

Either way, Dick rushed into a flimsy kneeling position. 'Y-Your Majesty,' he stuttered, hiding his cringe as he kneeled. The first time you meet a queen and you stutter? Good work Grayson, he internally berated.

The Queen offered a kind but hard smile. 'Please, rise, young man. Any friend of my granddaughter is a welcomed guest here on Themyscira.'

Dick's eyes widened, looking to Y/N for confirmation. 'Granddaughter? So... So that would make Y/N-'

'A princess of Themyscira,' Y/N answered monotone. 'But I can assure you, Nightwing, that I do not consider myself exempt from work because of the newfound title. I believe in strong connections, on working with others and creating a strong unit with which to fight alongside.'

Y/N looked directly at Dick, her eyes piercing his as if asking a silent question. What about you? Do you believe in the same?

Dick didn't know why he felt slightly ashamed, but he did, and feeling a great need to be rid of such a compressive feeling, he stood upright once more and addressed the Queen directly. 'I was informed by your Princess that you wanted to speak with me, Your Majesty.' Dick dialled up the charm - opened his arms in offer, and let a loose and charming smile curl his lips upward. 'I am yours to question.'

But the Queen only offered a half-smile in return, amusement never quite reaching her eyes like Dick was used to when charming other women.

'How... noble of you to think you are helping us out,' the Queen said, arms resting peacefully on the throne's armrests, but her eyes locked Dick to the ground with their intensity and fire. 'But let me make one thing clear. You are our guest because I deem it so. I'm sure you are well aware that our island isn't meant for man or mere mortals. You are not meant to be here, so it would be wise of you not to take our hospitality for absolute fondness or security.'

While always the usual jokester, Dick had always understood from a young age when someone was being serious with him. And especially when he wasn't the one in power in a situation such as this.

Dick nodded his head solemnly, and mustered up his most serious expression and voice to express his sincerity. 'Of course, Your Majesty. How can I help you?'

'Well, to begin with,' she said, pleased with his new compliant demeanour, 'you can start by telling us how you found Themyscira.'

'Through old sailing legends and odd encounters fisherman have had in this area,' Dick answered, briefly looking at Y/N as he continued. 'My friends and I collaborated and researched and came to the conclusion that this area - an area which has no volcanic or underwater mapping of any kind - would be my best bet at finding the island. That, and some reporting of odd-looking fish.'

Dick couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. 'I'll admit that was a stretch, but one of my friends comes from the sea himself. I trust his judgement on all things sea-related.'

The Queen nodded her head thoughtfully, and Dick wondered if she was impressed by his deduction. 'But if others have been swayed for hundreds and thousands of years by our defences, how come you were not?'

Dick went to answer but quickly stopped himself. Blinked once. Twice. It was a good question.

'I-I don't know, Your Majesty,' he admitted. 'All I know is that, one moment I was talking with Alfred - a guardian of sorts, but he's pretty much family - and then I hit something invisible, twice actually, and my line to him was cut.

His gaze flickered between her and Y/N, who looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. 'We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here, that's all.'

'Is that why you've come, then?' the Queen asked. 'To speak to my granddaughter.'

'Well, not just speak, Your Majesty,' Dick said. 'I wanted to recruit her for a mission back home.' He spoke directly to Y/N then, eyes locking. 'We could really use your help. I could really use your help, Y/N.'

One of the guards beside him raised her spear to point at his neck. The tip of the blade was a hair's breadth away from his bobbing Adam's apple.

'How dare you talk to our Princess directly,' she growled. 'Show some respect.'

Y/N raised a hand up. 'Easy, Calliope,' Y/N said with a soft but commanding voice that resonated like a melody through the room. The guard - Calliope - looked long and hard at Dick until she eventually returned to her post beside him, quiet and still.

Dick allowed himself a steadying breath. How many times can I be almost killed in the shortest span of time? he asked himself, before looking back to Y/N.

'If talk is what you want, Nightwing,' Y/N said for the whole room to hear, 'then talk is all you shall get. But if you intend to take me back with you, then I am afraid your breath will be wasted on words I will not hear.'

'But, Y/N, you don't even know what I am going to say,' Dick objected, disbelieving that Y/N Prince - Wonderess, his best friend for nearly a decade, the one person he always thought would be there when he needed her - was looking down at him now with no warmth, no familiarity, no room for hope and belief.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, perhaps berate him and shun him more, but the Queen interrupted. 'He has a point, dearest,' she said, and gracefully rose from her throne.

Immediately, a guard was there helping her down the few steps from the dais that held the throne. Now that she was standing, Dick saw how her robes drowned her, and imagined how frail she was underneath it all. She spoke and appeared strong, but obviously immortality had its limits. Even the strong had to age at one point.

'We shall leave you and our guest to discuss your... personal matters,' the Queen explained further, looking between Dick and Y/N with scrutinising eyes. But she was quickly hurried out of the throne room, leaving Dick and Y/N alone together for the first time in two years.

Dick hated the silence that seemed to suffocate them, but he couldn't find the words to breathe new air into the space. So he just looked at her. She was both entirely the same and entirely different at the same time. She'd gained more muscle in her arms and legs, her face had sharpened with maturity but not to the point she looked harsh. She looked fierce, and the leather skirt, sandals, and plated armour top alongside her sword certainly added to that effect.

Dick had always found her fierce, the most fierce out of their entire team when they first formed. It had sometimes just got lost when she laughed, when she smiled, when she didn't know modern world slang because her mother never knew either.

But she wasn't smiling now, nor laughing. Now, she stood before Dick, the picture-perfect warrior, as if she was born to be as such.

As if it were her destiny.

'So...' Dick started, hoping Y/N would set the ball rolling.

'So,' she echoed back, her tone unamused and bored.

'So...' Dick found himself repeating, then realised she was never going to continue, so he did. 'There is a huge problem with the illegal trade of meta-humans and meta-human testing globally-'

'I am aware, I was fighting it when I was still with the team,' Y/N interrupted, her words unfazed, unfeeling almost.

Dick internally winced at his mistake. 'Of course you were, sorry. So anyways, there is this royal family who-'

'I don't care to hear about your problem, Nightwing,' Y/N cut in again, this time with annoyance and anger threatening to sharpen her words. 'Nor do I care that you infiltrated our island, crashed on our beaches, and waltzed into my people's home with swagger and self righteousness.'

Now Dick was getting annoyed. 'Stop calling me Nightwing, Y/N. You know my name, and I'm not even in uniform right now-'

'You've waltzed into my home,' Y/N interrupted, and finally, a spark of ire igniting in her previously cold e/c eyes, 'and have demanded I help you, when you couldn't even spare me one word over the past two years.'

Suddenly sheepish, Dick didn't know how to respond. Y/N finally stepped down from the dais and walked over to him. She only stopped when she was two steps away from him, and he could see it then, how she was straining against something internally. It was in her tight jaw - clenching and unclenching - and it was in her stiff posture.

'We might've been friends when you left,' she said softly, heatedly, 'but I found a new purpose, a new family - one that will never abandon me when times get tough or when I need them.' Y/N looked Dick up and down, then took a half step towards him so he could feel her breath. 'If you expected me to sit around waiting for you to come back like some lost puppy, you never knew me at all.'

Dick swallowed thickly as he kept eye contact with her. 'We were more than just friends,' he said softly, causing her angry facade to drop for a moment in confusion. 'We were best friends, Y/N, and I am sorry. For everything that I didn't do these past two years.'

The anger returned, and Y/N just pushed past him, knocking his shoulder hard in the process as she strutted towards the doors to exit. 'Best friends or not, sorry doesn't make up for your ignorance, Nightwing. Nor does it endear me to want to help you anymore than when you did when you entered this room.'

'Please, Y/N,' Dick said, racing after her and clasping his fingers around her wrist. He winced at how she tensed at his touched, but continued. 'I know I messed up. Believe me, everyone made me more than aware of it before I came here. But however you felt about me, I knew I had to come see you. Try and get you to come home.'

Y/N flung around with furious eyes, her h/l, h/c hair flinging as she did. 'This is my home,' she said with absolute resolve and conviction. 'This is my home, and by sundown tomorrow, you will be on a boat headed back to Gotham City or wherever you call home these days, and out of my life. For good.'

Dick's heart cracked at the insinuation. Had he really done this to her? His precious Y/N - kindhearted, welcoming, fun-loving, protective Y/N. Was he the reason for such coldness, such animosity?

'But, Y/N, the team-'

'The team were the ones who encouraged me to leave,' she answered. 'They saw I was meant for something more than just silly little missions that got us nowhere. They saw how much I'd given to the team, and saw I needed to go find myself again. They saw, because they were there.'

Y/N ripped her wrist away from Dick's reach. 'I am not some girl you can charm into thinking she is special and wanted. I know I am, and I know my place is here, with people who actually care about me. So do me and everyone on the island a favour and stay in the infirmary until your departure where you can't lie and hurt anyone ever again.'

Before he could reach out again - he wasn't sure what he'd say if he got her to stop anyways - she was opening the doors and slamming them shut again, leaving Dick alone in the throne room, the crashing of waves and the rush of wind the only sounds to be heard.

Dick stood looking at the door for a little while longer, the image of Y/N's hurt and angry eyes imprinted in his brain. He'd been warned, boy had he been warned. By Kaldur, Connor, M'gann. But he never could've expected Y/N to be so... hostile.

Are you really doing this for Y/N's sake, or for yours?

Connor's question echoed in his head as turned his attention to the ocean that lay outside of the room. Maybe he was right, Dick thought. Maybe this was all a big mistake. The biggest indicator had been in her eyes. She'd never looked at him, let alone anyone, like that before. Like she'd rather be anywhere in the world than be in the same room as him.

You're my best friend...

He raised his little finger to the door, though he was sure she was long gone. 'Alway have been,' Dick whispered, and some inner hope of his was waiting for Y/N to come back and finish their vow.

But she never did, and so he dropped his hand entirely.

After some time, his party of guards from before came back in to collect him and take him back to the infirmary. Feeling deflated and having no other reason to be there, he silently complied.

~~~

Y/N slammed the doors to the throne room so loud she was sure the whole island heard them.

She let out a controlled but shaky breath as tears threatened to burst from her eyes. Thank Athena Y/N escaped when she did, or she wasn't sure how much more slander she could throw at Dick.

She'd decided as soon as she saw him at the training field that she wanted nothing to do with him. That the best way to handle him was to give him no room to charm, to speak, to be his usual self and get under her skin. So she'd knocked him unconscious, been curt and unfeeling with him, denied him passage to her mind again.

She'd convinced herself that Dick Grayson was nothing more than a lying, self-centred and self-righteous boy - and yet she found her hands yearning to embrace him, her eyes wanting to inspect him and note all his changes, and her heart yearning for the unconditional love she knew Dick to be capable of.

'Princess?'

Y/N jumped at the call of her title, but when she noticed it was only Calliope, she relaxed. 'Yes, Calliope, what is it?'

'Queen Hippolyta would like to see you in her personal chambers.'

Y/N nodded. 'Of course, thank you.'

She quickly made her way to her grandmother's personal chambers. The first half of the chambers doubled as a meeting place on more than one occasion for Y/N and her grandmother, usually preferring to discuss important matters in the comfort of lounge chairs as opposed to stiff and cold meeting rooms made of stone.

Y/N entered the Queen's chambers, walking into an open floor-plan lounge and foyer entrance, with lounges and chairs draped in fine and rich velvets and satins. Attached to the lounge was a big balcony overlooking the city of Themyscira.

She found her grandmother leaning against the balcony's edge, looking over the island, when she walked out to join her.

Y/N braced for her grandmother's first words. Would they be harsh? Would they be enraged? Disappointed even? But they didn't come initially, and Y/N welcomed the peace that came with the silence. She looked over the balcony to the city below, and the forestry and ocean below that.

This is my home, she reiterated to herself, unlike how she'd talked to Dick just moments before. Even then, her gaze slipped to the horizon line far off in the distance where it became almost indistinguishable where the sky and sea met.

If she were being honest with herself, she hadn't thought about her old life, her old friends since she stepped foot on Themyscira. Guilt tugged at her heart, but she reminded herself that it was them that encouraged her to leave, to find herself again.

Even so, with Dick's unexpected arrival, Y/N realised one thing. She missed them all dearly.

But not Dick Grayson. Absolutely not.

'Your friend,' Queen Hippolyta finally said, eyes never leaving the view in front of her, 'he is... charming, to say the least.'

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. 'So he likes to think. And he's not my friend. Not anymore.'

It was silent again for a moment, and Y/N wondered for a moment if her grandmother had heard her at all. 'Either way,' her grandmother continued casually, 'he has certainly highlighted some weaknesses in our defences that we will need to remedy straight away.'

'I can get Cora and the rest of the Guard onto that right away,' Y/n said, grateful for the escape.

'Not just yet,' Queen Hippolyta said, bringing Y/N back to the balcony begrudgingly. 'Are you okay, dearest?'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'I'm... fine? Why do you ask?'

Queen Hippolyta gave Y/N a knowing look that silently said Don't play dumb with me. 'Isn't he the boy who broke your heart?'

Embarrassment flooded Y/N's cheeks in a wave of red heat as Y/N shook her head furiously. 'He didn't break my heart. He made me realise I was better off without him.'

'Perhaps, but you are not better off without friends.'

The gentle touch of a hand on her arm brought Y/N's attention solely on her grandmother, who looked at her knowingly.

'I can see your love for this place, dearest,' the Queen said. 'From the moment you have arrived, you have thrown yourself into our way of life, into our community and given it your all.'

'Because this is where I come from, grandmother,' Y/N said. 'This is where I belong.'

'Right now it is, but it is not your home, Y/N.' When Y/N gave a confused expression, the Queen continued. 'The women all love you, so do the children, but they do not know you, you do not let them see you - the real you. Only the you that is Princess of Themyscira.'

Queen Hippolyta's hand travelled down to clasp one of Y/N's tightly, looking at her earnestly. 'Your real friends are the friends you left behind, the ones who have fought and lost and loved and laughed with you.' Her gaze flickered to the doorway briefly then returned to Y/N knowingly. 'And one of them came all the way across the world to find you, on the word of sailor stories and a lucky scientific guess.'

Y/N rolled her eyes again, and pulled her hand out of her grandmother's grasp. 'He is not my friend,' she repeated, turning her attention back to the sea, trying to focus on anything by Dick Grayson's stupid smiling face. 'He only came here to make himself feel better, not because he actually cares about me. Maybe once I needed his validation, but I know who I am now. And if he is what a friend is meant to be, then I think I am better off without them.'

'Y/N, dearest, just-'

'I would kindly ask that we never talk about Nightwing again, grandmother,' Y/N interrupted. 'Soon enough, he will be out of our lives - out of my life - forever...'

Queen Hippolyta remained silent for a moment, until she blew out a defeated sigh. 'If that is your wish,' she said, deflated.

'Yes, it is,' Y/N said with conviction, ignoring the painful tugging of her heart, ignoring the inner voice that wanted to scream otherwise. If Y/N was going to leave Dick Grayson behind, she needed to stop listening to her stupid heart and listen to reason. Like Athena, who was technically her ancestor in some respect.

Y/N turned back to the Queen and bowed a farewell. 'If you don't mind, I will go talk with Cora to discuss how to fix our defences right away.'

Queen Hippolyta gave a small nod, which Y/N took as dismissal enough, and so set a quick stride to the chamber doors. But just as she was about exit the balcony, her grandmother stopped her again.

'It's odd, don't you think,' she started, her tone coy, 'how, not even for a moment, he forgot his mission as he neared our island. Not once did he get deterred by our magic.'

Y/N turned around to face her grandmother, who gave a small knowing smile to her. 'He must have a strong will to resist such forces, or was motivated by something of equal power, don't you think?'

Y/N didn't say anything, her thoughts taking her back to the conversation they all had back in the throne room, when Dick was questioned about how he resisted the defences.

We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here...

Y/N rushed to exit the chambers, not even bothering to close the doors on her way out to fresh air.

What did Grandmother mean by that? she asked herself, and felt the tell tale signs of hope blooming in her. The increase heart rate, the tingles at the ends of her fingers, the small but warm ball sitting heavily in her chest. Surely she didn't mean...

Y/N shook her head; the tingles faded, the ball dissipated. I will not be tricked again, she told herself, proceeding to find her way to the training grounds, where she stayed until dusk fighting out her fears and squashing her childish hopes.

---------------

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homelanderbutbig · 7 months

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His Favourite Pet Name (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1102 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander is a professional couch cuddler.

It's a lazy afternoon in Homelander's penthouse, a rare occasion where you both have a bit of time off to unwind. His gloves are resting on the coffee table as he is sprawled across his couch, with his head held up on the armrest. You're cuddling on top of his huge body, with your head perched on his chest.

Homelander's left arm is draped around you as he contently grasps onto your petite form, while his right arm is down next to you so you can hold his bare hand. You draw pictures in the softness of his palm, doodling various animals and scenery. Entirely fixated, he watches you use his skin as your personal canvas, cherishing the feeling of your fingers. Writing 'I love you' into his palm, you glance up to spot him grinning so wide you can see his pearly white fangs. He wishes he could do the same to your own hand, but just one of his large fingers could barely draw a circle in your tiny palm.

Seeing his pleased expression suddenly gives you an idea. Fascinated, he watches as you gradually flip over so your stomach is on his chest. His smile disappears as he swallows in anticipation, staring as you reach both your hands out to scratch his undercut. The second you make contact with his hair, he is fluttering his eyes shut and sighing heartily.

"Mmmmm…" Homelander purrs, completely undone by your loving touch. His voice is so deep that you practically feel your whole body vibrate from the rumbling in his chest. It's a weird sensation, almost as if you're lying on a massage chair. Yet it's something you've grown to appreciate, all the little noises he makes when you drag your nails along his scalp. You know that he only does this for you, because you're the only one who can make him feel that heavenly.

Homelander can't fight the urge to clutch your body a little tighter than he'd prefer, but you know he just wants to feel closer to you. Besides, he would never hurt you. You giggle as he practically whimpers when you scratch just the right spot, wishing he could bury himself in your masterful fingers.

It's a funny sight seeing him like this. At work, he's a totally different person; a beast disguised as a man in a superhero suit, striking fear and awe into the hearts of millions. Once he is alone with you, any masquerade he was previously wearing disintegrates to reveal the kind, tender boy Homelander tries so hard to conceal. Sure, he could just pay some random schmuck to pet his head, but it wouldn't be the same. No one else would understand his needs like you do, and how much he craves to be doted on with your unconditional devotion. You do this for him, because you love him as much as he loves you.

Enveloping your small frame around both hands, he gently lifts you nearer to his face. His expression is so serene from how relaxed you’ve made him, his worries completely forgotten from your heartfelt affections. He brings you in for a kiss, involuntarily keening as he savours your warmth.

"Mmmph… love you… love you…" Homelander whispers in between kisses, repeating himself until he's drowning in your plush lips.

"Love you too, big boy," you hum as you bring your hands to his cheeks, feeling a smile spread across his lips while he exhales deeply through his nose.

Although he would never admit it to anyone, Homelander has always been self-conscious about his height. He has only ever heard the word 'big' used to describe him in a negative context… a big freak, a big monster, a big demonic goliath. Even if he killed everybody who insulted him like that, it would never heal the scars that were carved into his psyche. He knows the truth, that his 'adoring public' sees him as an inhuman giant.

When you first started giving him pet names, he was enthralled at everything you would call him. Each name was just as special as the last. He beamed at every 'sweetheart', 'honey' and 'darling' that rolled off your tongue so easily, solely for his ears.

One day you happened to test out a new name, 'big boy'. At first you were worried you made a mistake upon seeing his face twitch and his eyes turn glassy, like you brought back some terrible memories. In reality, Homelander was so utterly overwhelmed to hear someone not use his height in a derogatory way, for what felt like the first time in his life. From then on it became his favourite pet name, and he always smiles at hearing those sweet words you speak so earnestly. There is nothing that makes him more proud than to hear that he is your big boy.

Eventually, you both break from your passionate kisses, but stay close to nuzzle your noses together. You stroke along his jawline with your thumbs, admiring the tranquil silence of the penthouse as if nothing else matters in this world except for you and Homelander.

"I never did thank you," he remarks, dreamily gazing into your eyes. He still has both of his hands on you, resuming his dainty touches along your back.

"For what, sweetie?" you question, unable to mask the slight confusion on your face. Lightly chuckling at the way you tilt your head at his words, he moves one of his hands to caress your face with his enormous thumb and finger.

"For the pet name," he tells you candidly, loving how perfectly your face fits in his hand, like it was always meant to be there. "You really have no idea how much it means to me. I wish I could show you."

"You already have," you promise him, kissing him delicately on his nose. "My big boy."

You laugh as Homelander peppers your face with more kisses, the both of you smiling as he showers you with his neverending appreciation.

There are days where he wishes that he was shorter, so he wouldn't have to deal with the horrified looks and isolation he felt from the general population. The way they perceive him to be a gigantic killing machine. But then, there are days where you are the shining beacon breaking through his dark and stormy mind. You let him feel glad that he is the way he is, otherwise he could never live up to your pet name.

It doesn't matter what the peons have to say, as long as Homelander gets to be your big boy.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing

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lilies-of-the-fields · 3 months

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Stand in solidarity with the Miccosukee:

Big Cypress Preserve is part of the Everglades, one of the largest remaining tracts of wetlands on Turtle Island (North America).

The Miccosukee Tribe have lived there since time immemorial and their care for their home has shaped it into the beautiful swamp we know today.

The National Parks Service is trying to rush a change in Big Cypress' designation from a Preserve to a Wilderness area. [plain text: The National Parks Service is trying to rush a change in Big Cypress' designation from a Preserve to a Wilderness area.]

This would give the area stronger protections for water quality, but would significantly limit the Tribe's access to their homelands and completely ignores how their stewardship of the lands and waters was and is crucial in maintaining the health of ecosystems.

There hasn't been a good faith effort to include the Miccosukee in a meaningful way (ie free informed prior consent & input!!!) on this change to their sovereign territory.

If you want to practice allyship, here's a chance. Sign the petition to show your support / solidarity with the Miccosukee. [plain text: Sign the petition to show your support / solidarity with the Miccosukee.]

Personalize it even just a little, even if it's just adding your own name or hometown. If you're able, print it out sign it and mail it. The Tribe and organizers working on this have a goal of getting 500 letters to the NPS/Secretary of the Interior. The online petition is almost at its goal! Just over 2,000 signatures left (as of Mar.16th 2024 21:30EST).

Please please share! I have it on good word that the NPS is trying to push this through before folks really have a chance to hear about what they're doing or make a fuss. So make a fuss we must.

The mailing addresses are below the cut for anyone who can send a physical letter!

Mail to:

Charles F. "Chuck" Sams III, Director

National Park Service 1849 C Street NW Washington, DC 20240

Secretary Deb Haaland

Department of the Interior 1849 C Street, N.W. Washington DC 20240

#landback #decolonization #indigenous rights #ways to help #how to be a better ally #accomplice activities #miccosukee #big cypress preserve #everglades #environmental activism #environmental justice #intersectionality #turtle island #plain text #water is life #us politics #i literally cant think of any other tags and idr how many tumblr actually tracks anymore lmao.#more info to come!! including possible ways to help the miccosukee ensure that this never happens again :)

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cute-bag-of-bones · 11 months

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Can't Trust A Supe

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Masterlist

Part 1: "Uncle" Billy

Part 2: Ma Petite Poulette

Part 3: I'm scared

Part 4: You Got My Eyes

Part 5: No Running Away

Part 6: Angel Face

Part 7: Skin

Part 8: Pen and Paper

Part 9: Get Well Soon

Part 10: Blind

Part 11: Blush

Part 12: Homelander Apology

Part 13: Pepper Spray

Part 14: Milk

#billy butcher #homelander #the boys #fanfic #hughie campbell #oc stuff #frenchie #mothers milk #the female #slight yandere #yandere homelander #platonic yandere

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months

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I’m confused. Why would he get deported? He’s married to (presumably) a US citizen already. Not sure if I missed something?

Well, the simplest explanation is that everyone who immigrates/emigrates to the US has to fill out paperwork to stay here. Doesn't matter who you are, who your family is, who you're married to, where you're from, what money you have. Everyone fills out the paperwork.

Being married to a US citizen only affects the type of visa (Spouse of US Citizen) you get and which application (Form I-130, the Petition for Alien Relative) your sponsor fills out to start the process.

The longer/more detailed explanation of the process, and the background for the lawsuit about Harry's visa application, is this:

(Apologies for how small the text is. I didn't want it to be a multi-page thing.) I'll describe it below the jump.

But essentially, Harry's process to become a legal permanent resident through his marriage to a US citizen is:

Sponsor/Meghan submits Form I-130 to the US Citizenship and Immigration Service (USCIS), requesting approval to bring her spouse to live with her in the US.

USCIS reviews the form and will approve (left green circle) or deny (left red circle) the application. If they deny it, that ends the process. They can try again later. If they approve it, then:

Sponsor/Meghan pays a bunch of fees and a visa case is opened.

(The big giant square text) More paperwork and documents are submitted. Meghan and Harry do this together. (I'll explain this in a bit.)

The Spouse/Harry has his immigration interview.

USCIS will review the visa case file and make a decision on whether to approve or deny the visa request. If they deny the visa, then depending on the justification for denial, the Spouse/Harry may request a waiver or he can submit additional documentation for further consideration. If the visa is approved, then the Spouse/Harry is given approval to travel to the US and once he's here, he gets permanent residency - aka "the green card."

Now, getting back to the giant text block and the "more paperwork" requirement. In this phase of the process for a spousal visa, the couple must provide:

An affadavit of support from the Sponsor/Meghan (this basically says that she has enough income to support Harry and they won't need government assistance)

Supporting financial documents (probably tax declarations)

Harry's passport

Additional photographs of Harry

Form DS-260, the Immigrant Visa and Alien Registration Application from Harry (this is Harry's application for residency)

Harry's birth certificate

Their marriage certificate

Harry's military records (the US requires anyone with military service in any country to submit)

Harry's police certificate (information about whether he has been arrested or charged with crimes/what kinds)

Harry's Medical Examination form (which sometimes is done after the interview)

Form DS-260 is the big one. It basically asks the immigrant (Harry, in this case) about everything in his life: his childhood, his work history, his social media accounts, where he's lived, his family of origin, his children, previous travel to the US, medical and health details (including history of substance abuse. communicable diseases, and vaccination record), criminal history, security and background details, and social security.

If you're found to have lied about anything on this form - for instance, something pops on the background check that isn't disclosed or your answers in the interview are inconsistent with what's reported on the form or your social media tells a totally different story - it's grounds for your application to be denied and, if you're already here in the US, you to be deported.

This is what the DHS/Homeland Security lawsuit is about. The DS-260 has a question about drug use. The Heritage Foundation (the plaintiff in the case) is suing DHS to find out what Harry reported about his drug use on the form and in his medical history because historically, the US does not allow people with drug addictions or past drug use into the country. After Harry's admissions in Spare that he's basically a functioning addict, the Heritage Foundation assumed that Harry said "no" on the drug use question (which would be a lie) and they want to find out if he was given special treatment because of being Queen Elizabeth's grandson. (I also suspect the Heritage Foundation wants to find out if Harry has a regular passport or is traveling/living in the US on a diplomatic passport as well.)

So going back to your original question, yes, Harry can still be deported even if he is the spouse of a US citizen and even if he is a permanent resident. All the marriage to a US citizen means is what forms get filled out and what supporting documentation is submitted. That's all; there aren't any other protections involved in being married to a US citizen.

But there is a benefit to immigrating via a "green card marriage" - if you come to the US on any other kind of visa, the requirements are much stricter and the waiting period for eligibility can sometimes take much longer. Particularly on the latter, the US actually has requirements on how many people per country can immigrate/travel in a given a year, even if you're sponsored by a business or a friend or a family member (eg a brother or uncle). So some people end up waiting years to move to the US; that's just the demand on the system. But with a "green card marriage," you get to jump most of the queues and your waiting period for eligibility disappears in an instant. You can literally begin your application to move to the US the day you get engaged to a US citizen or the day you get married.

But you still have to go through all the hoops and fill out all the paperwork anyway. No way around that. No matter who your grandmother is.

Now for the part that makes all of this even more complicated: COVID.

A lot of rules government-wide were relaxed because of the COVID national emergency. One of the areas in which a lot of rules, standards, and regulations were relaxed is immigration, which caused an enormous backlog of paperwork and cases. Why? Because we're the goverment, y'all, and we move at slower-than-glacial-pace. In March 2020, we still processed a million things by hand on actual physical paper. (Remember, I'm a fed. I've got horror stories for days about this.) So part of the issue with everyone going home is that the paperwork didn't come home with us. It just kept stacking up and stacking up and stacking up in the office because we were still using paper systems and there hadn't been enough time to automate processes or digitize systems when we were ordered to work from home on March 16th. (Particularly in the DC area, talks/plans to send us all home started literally the week before, on March 9th. That was zero time to do anything but scale up the VPN and give everyone a laptop so whole entire agencies can work from home - because remember, before March 2020, it wasn't a thing for us in government to work from home.) So in June/July 2020 when the local stay-at-home orders were finally lifted, we all went back to the office to huge backlogs of paperwork and casework. Backlogs that were still growing by the day, and backlogs that needed to be handled quickly. As a result, there were a lot of decisions made to just "rubber-stamp" everything as quickly as possible. In DHS/USCIS, that meant citizenship and visa applications weren't as closely reviewed as they may have been in the past because the bosses were telling us "just get it done" because the Trump Administration was breathing down everyone's necks to deliver results that they could use in his re-election campaign.

So there's speculation now that Harry's visa/immigration application is one of those cases that got "rubber stamped" to get through the backlog. And part of that speculation is an attempt to understand when exactly did the visa paperwork get processed and whether there was undue special treatment in doing so. Was he part of the backlog that was grandfathered/rubber-stamped into the US? Or was his application processed before that?

Because if his application was processed before he moved here in March 2020, well, then the Sussexes aren't telling the truth about where they lived or what they were doing. Reason being that typically on a spousal visa, you usually can't already be living here in the US when you apply for it. You apply from your home country and come to the US only once your visa request has been granted.

So did the Sussexes apply for Harry's visa when they were living in Canada, starting the process as early as November 2019 when the BRF forced them into a vacation and panicking in February 2020 when COVID started closing borders? In that case, did the Sussexes apply diplomatic pressure to expedite DHS's review of Harry's case so they could be in the US before borders closed? Or did they say "screw it" and moved to the US without waiting for a decision and then applied diplomatic pressure to have Harry's case approved retroactively?

Or did the Sussexes apply for Harry's visa much earlier, when they were still living in the UK/working as full-time royals? And if that's the case, then did they really go to Canada like they said they did, or did they just hide out in the US for a bit so Harry could pick up his green card, and then they traveled to Vancouver/Canada for New Year's?

Or - perhaps the more tinhatty scenario - did the Sussexes apply for Harry's visa right after the marriage, at the earliest opportunity Meghan could've filed the paperwork? In which case, their secret honeymoon could really potentially have been a trip to the US so Harry could claim his green card.

Option 3 is incredibly farfetched. We know the Sussexes can't keep their stories straight so I feel like if that's what had actually happened, there would've been holes poked into their "fleeing to Canada" narrative already.

I probably lean towards Option 1 (they exploited COVID to move here) but Option 2 is pretty plausible too.

Anyway, that's a ton more than you/anon probably expected. (It's a whole lot more than I expected to write about too.) But hopefully this clears up some confusion about what exactly is happening with Harry's immigration status, why it's possible he can still be deported, and sheds a little light on the Homeland Security lawsuit.

Edit: added some clarification (see bolded part under the flowchart)

#ask #sussexes #theories

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sleepymall0w · 7 months

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https://ceasefiretoday.com

Please go to this website to help the people in Palestine!!!

Make sure you're still calling and emailing your reps daily!

And this linktree to help Tigray!!

https://linktr.ee/how2helptigray

A good video I found talking about the Tigray genocide.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRvybH4v/

Video + playlist (?) Talking about Congo

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8yUxQPW/

Some Email links for your reps to tell them to stand against the Palestinian genocide.

https://fcnl.quorum.us/campaign/51886/

https://www.jewishvoiceforpeace.org/resource/email-congress-to-stop-fueling-violence/

VERY IMPORTANT!!! Please read this and put pressure on the occupation authorities!!! Also, check out this website as a whole! It has a lot of good info.

Donation links for indigenous people.

Link to a post with things to help Palestine

https://www.tumblr.com/sleepymall0w/734910899582877696

https://www.amnesty.org/en/petition/demand-full-humanitarian-access-into-tigray/

Letter to send for Tigray!

Keep up to date with Al Jazeera

Linktree with resources for various issues!

Another linktree!

Please do not forget your daily clicks! Any myth of this NOT going to Palestine has been debunked, and it doesn't take any time to simply click one button!

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queen-shiba · 1 year

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1. I love your blog description!

2. I noticed you take requests for headcanons, could I please get ruggie, epel, and cater with a S/O who’s much taller than them? Feel free to cut or skip whoever, thank you for your time!

Welcome in! Hope you enjoy yourself here! There's no limit to requests, so if you ever wanna make another, I'd be happy to oblige :3

Hope these are long enough for ya

Tall s/o!

Ruggie Bucchi

He isn't surprised be you male or female.

In his homeland, women are naturally larger than the men when it comes to hyena beastmen, and he isn't exactly the biggest man, so he isn't really bothered by your height

He likes to make use of your height to help him work, since he's not the tallest and can't reach everything.

He asks politely before pulling you down for kisses, or he asks you to lean down.

Ruggie is a respectful young man.

Until you disrespect him

You're always big spooning since it doesn't hurt Ruggie's pride to be held and he quite likes it.

Cuddles are his go to if you're feeling sad.

He just comes up to you and hugs your torso or whatever he can reach.

He does not care if people make fun of you both for the height difference if you're a woman, but if it bothers you, trust and believe he's throwing hands

Epel Felmier

His pride is a lil hurt if you're a lady, ngl

He doesn't bother with asking for help, wanting to show he's just as capable of doing tall people things as you are

You have to force the help or watch him struggle until he asks

Epel does his best to show that he can protect you or be just as strong as you if you're the strong type.

If you're a gentle giant and you actually hide behind him (I do that with my short friends) then he's always ready to fight for you

You could literally activate his inner gremlin by doing that.

He'd even fight Vil if you hide behind him while Vil is talking to you

The cuddles...

He wanted big spoon.

He gets it sometimes

Sometimes he doesn't

He will pout about being the little spoon.

Cater Diamond

Taller man? He's not that affected.

Taller woman? Bro is trembling at first.

Literally everywhere but the Afterglow(sunset savannah) is based on societies where women are expected to be short and petite.

The treatment that goes both ways is the pictures being taken constantly.

Really, Cater doesn't change much with a male's height in terms of romance, but a tall woman, Cater is slightly intimidated by because he's never seen a woman his age that is taller.

At first, when he wanted to ask you out, he wasn't even sure he was worthy of you because you seemed almost foreign to the guy.

Like- you seemed like an extraterrestrial being to him in the best way possible

He tries his best for you, and tries, much like Epel, to be of use to you in some way, even if it isn't height related.

Cater with a tall s/o is a Cater that likes to jump on your back and hitch a few rides to see if you can hold him

He quite enjoys little spooning, but sometimes he big spoons when you need comfort

If h can't get something down and you're right there, he will ask you for help.

#ruggie bucchi #cater diamond #epel felmier #pomefiore #savanaclaw #heartslabyul #twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #epel felmier x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #cater diamond x reader #pomefiore x reader #heartslaybul x reader #savanaclaw x reader

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writeroutoftime · 8 months

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whumptober day 3 - blackmailed

pairing: frenchie (the boys) x reader

words: 0.8k

a/n: oh my goodness, I am so nervous to be posting a frenchie story because I love his character so much I really want to make sure I got it right! now, I'm feeling pretty confident with this story, so I would LOVE to hear what you think! please enjoy and have a fabulous day!

oOoOo

It was a fairly straightforward plan. Frenchie would infiltrate Vaught Towers, locate the computers belonging to their damage control department, and download any and all incriminating evidence that could help take Vaught, Homelander, and the rest of The Seven down. Meanwhile, you and Hughie would wait in the getaway van, monitoring the situation from the ground.

At first, you had argued and pushed back. It was too dangerous for Frenchie to be going in alone. But he reasoned with you it was easier to disguise and sneak in one person, and that he would feel much better knowing you were out of harm's way.

“It will all be fine, ma cherie?” he promised. “I will feel much better if you stay with Petit Hughie in the van.”

And so, Frenchie found himself patrolling the building in a security uniform, arms crossed and eyes forward like he belonged among the rank of corrupted Vaught employees. He waited for an opportune moment to duck into the tech room and sync the files to his harddrive. Once the floor was clear, he slipped into the room and got to work.

His fingers flew across the keys, scanning through lines and lines of code looking for any hidden data. With each minute that passed, Frenchie felt his heart beating faster and faster, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder every few moments for good measure. He let out a triumphant cry when he finally found the files and began to download them to his hard drive. His leg twitched in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to be done with the mission and back with you once more.

However, when Frenchie glanced up, he let out a gasp and jumped back when he saw Homelander standing in the shadows with his arms crossed and a bored, yet amused, expression drawn across his features. Whereas Frenchie’s heart had previously been beating quickly with adrenaline, the fear stopped his heart completely in that moment.

This had to be it, Frenchie thought to himself. There was no way he would survive this encounter with the strongest Supe in the world. His mind tried to compute all sorts of escape routes, but he came up blank with each passing minute.

“Now, now, Serge. Let’s be civil here.” Homelander said, slowly closing the distance between himself and Frenchie. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“As if I would believe that.” Frenchie spat, pulling his pistol from the waistband of his pants, holding it tightly even if it was useless against Homelander.

Gone were the fake smiles and placating words he projected to the masses. Frenchie could tell that Homelander wasn’t fooling around anymore. “I’m tired of you and your little motley crew trying to sabotage us. I tried to make Butcher understand the severity of your involvement, but it looks like it didn’t take, so I’m going to try a new approach.” he explained, now inches away from Frenchie’s face.

“Here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to give me that hard drive, walk out of here. But that isn’t where this arrangement ends. I don’t trust that you will stop your investigation, so I want you to be a leak for me. Everything that Butcher, Hughie, or anyone else talks about gets reported back to me.”

“And why would I do that?” Frenchie shot back in a moment of bravery.

Homelander merely chuckled as if Frenchie had told him a mildly amusing joke. “Because if you don’t, then y/n down there,” he glanced towards the window. “is going to pay the price for your ineptitude.” he threatened, eyes flashing a pulsing red.

“W-why would I care?” Frenchie stammered out, trying and failing to hold in his emotions. Instantly, his heart was brought back to life at the thought of you in any sort of danger.

“Don’t play dumb, Serge. It’s not a good look for you.” Homelander chided. “You might think you and your crew are so sneaky, but I’ve seen how you act around y/n. The linger touches, the longing gazes. I know how much y/n means to your group, especially you. And I don’t think you want to test how serious I am.”

There was a deep silence between the two men as Frenchie simply stared at the Supe. He knew, deep down, that Homelander wasn’t bluffing, and either way Frenchie wasn’t willing to risk your life on a chance. Reluctantly, and with slightly shaking hands, he handed over the hard drive, flinching when Homelander crushed the device to dust with a simple fist.

“Glad you could see reason.” Homelander mocked, gesturing for Frenchie to walk out and leave, but added on before he could fully leave. “Oh, and if you mention any word of this conversation to your group, the press, or anyone else I will know, and y/n will pay the price.”

Frenchie left the room, his spine pin straight and nerves shot. He walked out of Vaught Tower, shame running through him. Could he really go through with this betrayal of the group? But, at the same time, could he ever put your life in danger? Even if the two of you weren’t officially an item, he would never risk your safety - even if it meant being a slimy rat for Homelander.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #frenchie x reader #frenchie imagine #the boys frenchie x reader #the boys x reader #the boys imagine #rita writes

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mamaangiwine · 11 months

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To Be A Saint's God Child:

Patron Saints as Ancestors

The Patron Saint of Portugal, St. Anthony of Lisbon and The Patron Saint of Hungary St. Stephen.

Most countries, sometimes even counties and towns, have a Patron Saint. A Saint who has been given the task to protect the land and its people. A Saint that our ancestors may have carried with them when they left their homelands.

Within my own understanding this favor, this protection and affection, given to our ancestors by this Saint is extended to their children and their children's children. Making those born under their care akin to god children they have sworn to watch over and provide spiritual guidance to.

It is a powerful and intimate connection that brings equally powerful results while working magic- though, in my experience, results still depend on the Saint's expertise and domain.

However, respect and love is a two way street and if one is to acknowledge this connection, then they must treat that Saint with the same care and veneration one would give an ancestor.

Acts of devotion can/may include:

- Researching the Saint's History and Myths, as well as Folklore from your ancestors' homeland.

- Researching how the Saint is venerated in said homeland.

- Acknowledging their Feast Day through simple prayer or other devotional acts. As well as preparing food traditionally eaten on the day.

- Simple prayers in the language of your ancestors or researching prayers that were written specifically to petition said Saint (sometimes there are even whole chaplets you can pray).

- Researching plants, colors or items connected to the Saint and using them as offerings.

In this way, by acknowledging the Patron Saint as a kind of god parent, we are acknowledging not only our immediate and present connection to the Saint, but also acknowledging their spiritual connection to our ancestors and the ways in which they may have shaped their lives. I don't necessarily think this role is purely extended to those who practiced a strict form of catholicism either. Personally, I feel, the Saint being made the Patron of the land gave something inherent to the land a Spiritual Form it could inhabit. That it gave an already exisisting face to the values and qualities inherent to its people. By praying to a Patron Saint, we are therefore praying to a representitive, and ideal, of those values that may have once shaped our ancestors and their culture. The Saint becomes apart of the land, and likewise aspects of the land are given a conscious form through the Saint. Therefore, we are equally honoring those aspects, and the land they come from, as an ancestor.

#magic #folk magic #spirituality #magic practitioners #witchblr #folklore #ritual magic #wizards #sorcerers #saint magic #christian folk magic #upg #ancestry #ancestor work #ancestor worship #ancestor magic

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piizunn · 3 months

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not your founding father (mouthpiece)

My thoughts on Louis Riel being named first premier of Manitoba.

Taanshi kiyawow, Riel dishinikashoon. I descend maternally from seven Métis families from the historic Red River Settlement in Manitoba and Batoche, Saskatchewan. Notably, my Berthelett ancestors worked for the North West Company and were community leaders in the Métis settlement of Pointe a Grouette before it was systemically overtaken by French settlers who claim we formed no roots in the area (St. Onge). My Caron ancestors from Batoche fought in the North West Resistance alongside Louis Riel and Gabriel Dumont. My fifth-great-uncle Jean Caron Sr. fought alongside his sons at the age of 52; his house still stands in Batoche to this day, where thousands of Métis make pilgrimages every year to remember the events of 1885.

What do you know about Louis Riel?

I can only read his words and imagine what guidance he would have provided had he lived longer than 41 years. Or imagine myself in his place as he walked to the gallows on November 16th, 1885. As a child when I visited Manitoba my grandpa and my kokum would take me to visit his grave, just as they did with my mother, who named me ‘Riel’.

We are inextricably linked through time and across our homelands. What’s in a name? Unasked for? Not yet earned? I do not yet know who I am to my people but I carry an important name and the trickster’s spirit, and with these comes the responsibility of understanding and revealing cultural and societal truths (Stimson).

I am still growing into my name

Today I am a mouthpiece

An interpreter of the past

What do you know about the trial of Louis Riel?

July 31st, 1885, Riel gives his final speech. Historical weather data shows that it was a hot day in Regina. Cooler than the days before but still hot with the swelter of the plains. He spoke long, in English, not the language of his birth.

“The day of my birth I was helpless and my mother took care of me although she was not able to do it alone; there was someone to help her to take care of me and I lived. Today, although a man, I am as helpless before this court, in the Dominion of Canada and in this world, as I was helpless on the knees of my mother the day of my birth. The Northwest is also my mother; it is my mother country and although my mother country is sick and confirmed in a certain way, there are some from Lower Canada who came to help her to take care of me during her sickness and I am sure that my mother country will not kill me more than my mother did forty years ago when I came into the world, because a mother is always a mother, and even if I have my faults, if she can see I am true, she will be full of love for me.”

“When I came into the Northwest in July, the 1st of July 1884, I found the Indians suffering. I found the half-breeds eating the rotten pork of the Hudson Bay Company and getting sick and weak every day. Although a half-breed, and having no pretension to help the whites, I also paid attention to them. [...] We have made petitions, I have made petitions with others to the Canadian government asking to relieve the condition of this country.”

“We have taken time; we have tried to unite all classes, even may speak, all parties.”

“During my life I have aimed at practical results. I have writings, and after my death I hope that my spirit will bring practical results.”

“When we sent petitions to the Government, they used to answer us by sending police [...] There are papers which the Crown has in its hands, and which show that demoralisation exists among the police, if you will allow me to say it in the court, as I have said it in writing.”

“If I am blessed without measure I can see something into the future, we all see into the future more or less.”

“The only things I would like to call your attention to before you retire to deliberate are:

1st That the House of Commons, Senate and Ministers of the Dominion, and who make laws for this land and govern it, are no representation whatever of the people of the North-West.

2nd That the North-West Council generated by the Federal Government has the great defect of its parent.

3rd The number of members elected for the Council by the people make it only a sham representative legislature and no representative government at all.”

“I have never had any pay. It has always been my hope to have a fair living one day. It will be for you to pronounce - if you say I was right, you can conscientiously acquit me, as I hope through the help of God you will. You will console those who have been fifteen years around me only partaking in my sufferings. What you will do in justice to me, in justice to my family, in justice to my friends, in justice to the North-West, will be rendered a hundred times to you in this world, and to use a sacred expression, life everlasting in the other.”

What do you know about Louis Riel?

I have done this walk in my mind so many times that I have lost count. Historical accounts of the day note that it was a chill, clear, autumn morning. The prairies stretched out, silver frost bathed in sunlight. He faced it all and was brave until the end. Despite reports of it being destroyed, former premier of Manitoba Duff Roblin and his family, and the RCMP gloat over the supposed fragments of the rope that hanged the traitor, and I wonder how long the rope would be if you lined up every single scrap of twine rumoured to be the noose that killed Riel?

Does it make you feel less guilty to call him a founding father? Canadians are only able to remember him through his murder and not through his words that can still animate his presence. Written words and objects once owned are ghosts, extensions of our bodies and spirits. When I read his letters and journals I see the urgency in his penmanship, and I think about the sweat and invisible oils of his skin becoming a part of each page as he wrote and wrote and wrote. I wonder where each journal travelled with him during his exile, and why he chose each book. There is one with an illustration of a guardian angel watching over two children, and I wonder if he thought of himself as one of them being shepherded through life by his ancestors.

Canadians argue about whether or not Riel should have been hanged instead of talking about what he had believed and said and accomplished, and what he wanted to do with the rest of his life had it not been cut short.

No one talks about his dreams or his fears, and he did not live long enough to answer the question of if he would have wanted to be revered as the first premier of Manitoba. Or, in response would he ask for clean water for all, to stop the sweeps, and starlight tours? Would he ask for the Winnipeg police to search the landfills for our murdered women instead of brutalizing and killing us? Would he call for an end to all colonialism and genocide? Or would he simply ask for a place to smudge and be in peace for a while?

When we send petitions to the government they still answer us by sending the police, before turning around and calling Louis Riel a founding father (Riel).

Canada cannot answer these questions for him by giving him that title posthumously, only sit with the discomfort of blood-soaked hands, and wonder how different things would have been had that sacred fire not been snuffed out in 1885.

I cannot answer these questions for him either

And I am still growing into our name.

Works Cited

Riel, Louis. Excerpts from his final statement in court on trial, July 31st, 1885

Stimson, Adrian, “Buffalo Boy: Then and Now.” Fuse Magazine, vol. 32, no. 2, 2009, pp. 18-25.

St-Onge, Nicole J.M. “The Dissolution of a Métis Community: Pointe à Grouette, 1860–1885.” Studies in Political Economy 18.1 (1985): 149–172. Web.

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ishomieokay · 4 months

Text

Masks We Wear (Chapter 1)

Teen and Up. 2.1k, canon-typical violence, ptsd, mental health issues, mentions of murder, morally grey!john, non-sexy-choking, anger issues, hints of mallory/john if you squint. part 1/44. AO3 link. part 2, part 3.

Right before turning eighteen, John Vogelbaum escapes the clutches of Vought. Always under the radar, he manages to live as a regular Joe for the next couple of years. Until one day, trouble comes knocking at his door in the shape of Grace Mallory. What does the CIA want to do with him, anyway?

Or, the one where Homelander is never born. A traumatized, socially-awkward John wanders through life trying to work out what to do with himself, and somehow becomes a member of The Boys.

Taglist: @discowizard88 Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Before there was a knock on his door, John already knew that he would have an unwanted visitor that night. He could sense it in the air. A peach-laced floral scent with woody notes. Middle-aged, definitely a female, and with a good-paying job. Most ladies around that part of town couldn’t afford such a luxurious brand of perfume. Unsure of what to expect, John opened the door slowly. He came face to face with a petite, gray-haired woman, quite unremarkable in appearance. This just made him all the more suspicious.

“Good evening,” the stranger said as if she hadn’t just shown up at his home in the middle of the woods, late at night and uninvited. “It’s Johnny, isn’t it?”

“John,” he corrected, voice sharp.

“Just John, then.” The stranger’s lips twitched subtly. “I’m Colonel Grace Mallory. I thought maybe it was time we had a talk.”

It would be quite easy, John mused, to laser this frail-looking woman into a pile of ashes and sweep her off his porch. Then again, she may not be alone. He had learned to be careful when it came to leaving witnesses behind. The last time he let his emotions get the better of him, John got thrown into a quite bothersome murder investigation and ended up taking on a new identity. Again.

At least his handlers had bestowed him with a generic enough name. One that allowed him to go unnoticed almost everywhere he went. These days he was always John, though never Vogelbaum. Not anymore.

“Colonel, you said? May I see an ID?”

“Naturally.”

Grace Mallory pulled out a laminated card that included her name and rank, as well as a picture of her. In the upper left corner was written CIA, and that gave him pause. It seemed this time it was not the local police he needed to worry about.

“Wowza, who would have thought? A tiny old thin’ like ya,” John said, letting through that subtle southern accent he’d developed for this particular persona. “So sorry, ma’am. One can never be too careful ‘round these parts, ya know? How may I help you?”

“I rather think it’s us who can help you, John,” Mallory replied, and he could tell by the twinkle in her eye that she was not fooled by his everyday-joe act. “We’ve been watching you for some time.”

“Oh,” John said, eyebrows shooting up to the top of his forehead, “that’s… not a creepy thing to say. At all.”

He silently reviewed some incidents from the past few weeks. A big, hairy guy tagging along behind him whenever he went on his morning jog. An Asian girl staring at him a bit too intently while he was fishing around for the best Avocado at the supermarket. What appeared to be a French tourist stopping to ask him for directions, as if it was just every day that a European decided to go on holiday to Des Moines, of all places.

For some time now John had been aware that he was being followed, but by whom and for what purposes was beyond him. He’d had his suspicions and was relieved to find he’d been wrong. “So, those weird folks who keep taggin’ along whenever I go downtown are all you, guys?” He asked, going for nonchalance. “Well, ain’t that something. Thought I was getting paranoid for a sec there.”

Mallory looked unapologetic. “Ah, you could tell. How embarrassing. Perhaps my agents need a bit more training.”

“Perhaps,” John replied, smiling thinly.

“You’re a very resourceful man, I have to say,” Mallory continued. “You’ve got a full set of records as John Gillman. An ID, a passport, a birth certificate, even a driver’s license. After doing a little digging, it’s quite easy to find that less than a year ago you didn’t exist, though. John Baldwin, John Harrison, and oh, John Freeman, isn’t that creative? - also sprung out of thin air.”

John’s hands flexed at his sides.

“Oh, heck, where are my manners?” he said, taking a step back to clear the doorway. "Would you like to come in? I was just about to brew some coffee!"

“Of course,” Mallory replied. Right when she was about to cross the threshold, she stopped. “Oh, I should say. The information I manage is also in the hands of all my associates. Killing me won’t help you keep your secrets under wraps. Quite the contrary, actually.”

John stared into the woman’s sharp hazel eyes. Getting rid of her would be quite easy. If he put a hand around her neck and squeezed just so, he could break her like a stick. It wouldn’t even make a mess.

“Now, that’s just rude, ma’am,” he said, offering his most disarming smile. “I'd never raise my hand to a woman. Especially one of your advanced age.”

Mallory’s eye twitched, but otherwise, she failed to react. She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her. John closed the door and she followed him inside. He watched her through the corner of his eye as he poured coffee for them both. She took it black and with no sugar, which he found oddly fitting. John sipped at his cup and waited. The woman was watching him with a serenity that he found slightly unnerving.

“I’m here representing an independent group working under CIA supervision,” she said finally. “We call ourselves The Boys.”

“The Boys,” John repeated, blinking. “Uh, who came up with that?”

“I did,” Mallory shot back, unruffled. “We know who you are, John, and we are very interested in your talents.”

“My… talents?” John said, smile frozen in place. His tongue felt like it was made out of lead.

“You’re a supe, aren’t you?” There was an air of impatience around Mallory, now. As if she were getting tired of walking around the bush. “Don’t try to deny it, we’ve got a whole file on you. We know about Vought and the lab. About Compound V. We know about Jonah Vogelbaum and the others.”

There was a familiar prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. John closed them, covering them with his hand. He took a couple of deep breaths, hoping it would go away. The air tasted like ashes and metal. It was a challenge to get the lasers under control but he did. He always did. He had a lifetime of practice.

“Fuck off.” John’s voice came out guttural and strange to even his own ears. He stared at Mallory through the cage his hand had formed. There was a curious look in her eyes. “You think you know shit ‘cause you read some file? You’ve no idea what happened in that lab. Not a goddam clue! ”

“You’re right,” Mallory conceded. “I don’t.”

John adverted his gaze, feeling his mouth twitching. “The fuck does the CIA want to do with me? If it’s a supe you’re looking for, go to Vought. They’ve got a whole fuckin' parade of 'em.”

“Would if we could.” Mallory leaned back, crossing her arms. “The government isn’t all too happy with Vought these days. They’ve gotten sloppy. There’s blood on their hands and it’s gotten to the point the bosses can no longer ignore it. The purpose of our group is to take the company down.”

“Take Vought down,” John repeated, blankly. He stared at Mallory for a long moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “You want to take Vought down? You? Right, course you can. I mean, it’s just the most powerful, dangerous, and corrupt organization in the whole wide world. Easy peasy.”

“How skeptical,” Mallory said, seeming unconcerned by the mockery. “I assure you it can be done, although I can see why you wouldn’t think so. It's normal for you to be afraid of them, after what they did to you.”

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One second, John was sitting at the table, laughing at her and sipping at his cup of coffee, and the next one he had Mallory hanging by the throat, feet dangling a few good inches off the ground. She took him by the wrist, instinctively trying to pry his hand off.

“You’re real fuckin’ ballsy for a woman, you know?” John said, staring at her icily. “That file you have on me - does it say what I can do? It must. My handlers were so very diligent about documenting my progress.”

“Yes, it does,” Mallory said, and his grip tightened.

“And still you came here alone, no backup, and with that goddam holier-than-thou attitude. I can’t decide whether you're being mighty brave or just plain ol' stupid, Colonel Mallory.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mallory choked out, “it’s a very fine line.”

Something about her answer must have pleased John, because he smiled thinly and then let go of her. Mallory stumbled awkwardly to the ground. She struggled to catch her breath, hand clutching at her throat. “Whatever makes you think I'd be interested in your itty-bitty venture?” John asked, hovering over her. Mallory raised her eyes to look up at him, defiant even then.

“Revenge,” she said, voice low and rough. “We figured you may want to take revenge. On Vought. On Vogelbaum, and Stillwell, and fucking Stan Edgar. On all those people who tortured you and experimented on you before you’d even learned how to walk. Even if you were to tell your story, you and I both know they wouldn't face any repercussions. They get to live their lives freely, as rich and powerful as they’ve ever been. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

John considered her from above, frowning.

“… it does,” he conceded. “Perhaps I just wanna forget about it, though. Perhaps I’m at a point where I no longer give a hoot ‘bout gettin’ even. Did it ever cross your mind, or anyone’s in that sweet little clique of yours, that I might just wanna be left alone?”

“I think…” Mallory said, fixing John with a hard stare. There were already red stripes forming along the skin of her throat. “… that you’ve just proven you are a man with a lot of anger inside. There’s a dark, ugly thing festering inside you, isn’t there? I don’t blame you. I would be angry too, if I were in your shoes. I’m offering you a chance to unleash that anger on the ones who deserve it.”

There was a strange, watery sensation in John’s chest – a sense of exposure he wasn’t at all used to. When he’d decided to build his new life at a cabin deep in the woods, far from people, and noise, and the hustle and bustle of the city, it was to keep this sort of thing from happening. To have people peering inside and getting a glimpse of the real him.

“You sure make a whole lotta assumptions, old hag,” John said, throat dry.

“Maybe. You haven’t killed me yet, though,” Mallory said, eerily calm. "And I know that’s not for lack of ability. I think I managed to catch your attention.”

“And if you had? What then?” John asked, his every word slow and precise. He noticed how Mallory’s expression relaxed ever so slightly.

“I’d ask you to come with me to talk a few things over.”

Ah, I see what you are playing at, John thought bitterly. He felt his lips pulling backward and struggled very hard to suppress his grimace. You really think I’d let you box me up that easily?

“No, thanks. Ah’m not interested,” John said, smiling brightly at his visitor. Mallory’s disappointed look, however brief, was slightly satisfying. He turned around and started picking up the dirty dishware from the table. “Well, it’s gotten real late. You just go and mosey outta here, would ya?”

“Well,” Mallory said, standing up. “It was worth a try.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card. “You can reach me through this number if you change your mind.”

Then she turned around, heading towards the door. John stared at her retreating figure. Just before walking out, Mallory paused. “I’m sorry if I brought back unpleasant memories,” she said without turning to look at him, “have a good night.” She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her.

John waited, perfectly still, but she did not reappear. After a few moments, he bent down and picked up the card she left behind. Agent Grace Mallory, it read - Colonel, CIA, Special Operations, and a number. He considered throwing it away but decided against it just as he was about to drop it into the bin. Instead, John put it in a small wooden box he kept in the living room. Hours after her departure, the flowery scent of Grace Mallory’s perfume persisted in his home.

#homelander fanfiction #the boys fanfic #homelander #antony starr #homelander fic #homelander the boys #billy butcher #grace mallory #kimiko miyashiro #frenchie #frenchie the boys #the boys #my babygirl #fine i'll create my own content #this has been posted on my ao3 for a while but i decided to upload it here since idolatry was so well received 💕#don't stare at my my young homelander edit for too long im new at this #lena writes #john escapes the lab and joins the boys au

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