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alyakthedorklord · 2 months

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Agent D to watchtower

(Fic)

Flash And Green Lantern, bored, stuck on monitor duty at the watchtower, cheerfully badmouthing batman together when a notification rings through the room.

Hal snaps to attention, because notifications on monitor duty don’t usually mean good things, but at least they’re things.

Oh holy crap that’s Batman’s caller ID.

Green Lantern and the Flash do NOT scramble like kids caught staying up badmouthing a parent at a sleepover, sending chips and cookies flying. They are professional world savers. Incredibly powerful men. Yep.

“Batman!” The Flash squeaks. “Whats- uh. Whats the situation?”

Whatever it is has to be dire. Batman never calls for help, ever. So it has to be a really big problem. Unless he’s spying on them. And is about to growl at them for talking behind his back.

The line is silent for a few moments, just long enough for Hal and Flash to trade terrified looks, and then…

“This is Agent D, reporting in.”

That voice is not Batman.

It’s not Batman’s deep, growly baritone. It’s slightly accented, boyish and light, despite the serious tone to it as whoever the voice belongs to whispers into the communicator.

Too young. Far too young. Thats a kid.

Hal checks the ID- yep, this is Batman’s communicator. How on earth does this kid have it?

“Uh… nice to meet you, Agent D. Can you tell me what’s going on? How are you calling us right now?”

“I’m deep in enemy territory.” The kid whispers, which isn’t really an answer but definitely catches Hal’s attention. The kid is whispering like he’s scared someone- or something- will hear him. “The darkness is endless. Any and all sound travels here- it’s a massive echo chamber. This is his territory. I’m not sure if I’ll make it out of these caves- if he hears me, I’m done for.”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on.” Hal says quickly, eyes wide as he stares at the indicator on the screen. “What’s going on? Where are you? Do you need help?”

“Negative on the extraction.” What the hell? Who is this kid? Who taught him to talk like that? “It’s too late for me. But I have urgent info the Justice League needs to hear!”

Hal and Flash exchange a concerned look. The kid knows he’s got a Justice League communicator. It isn’t just some random thing he’s picked up.

“We’re all ears, kid.” Flash says.

“Alright,” the kid says seriously, taking a breath like he’s bracing himself for the words he’s about to say, Hal and Flash leaning closer to the monitor as they wait for whatever he has to say. “Batman…”

“…is a butthead.”

Hal stares at the monitor.

Flash stares at the monitor.

“…what?”

“Batman is a butthead.” The kid repeats. “A stinky butthead. He’s mean and old and dumb and a big butt.”

Is there something in his ears? Is there something in the Doritos making him hallucinate? Did a kid really steal Batman’s Justice League Communicator to call him a butthead?

“He’s such a big butthead, we should call him Buttman instead of Batman.” The kid is saying, glee seeping into his serious tone. “There goes Buttman, in the Buttmobile.”

“These are-” Hal begins, then has to stop to let out a laugh or else he won’t be able to maintain a serious voice for the game they’re apparently playing. Flash has his hands pressed over his mouth, shaking. “These are serious claims, Agent D. Do you have any proof?”

“Yes!” Agent D announces. “He makes me wear PANTS and do GRAMMAR! And! And last Wednesday he wouldn’t let me have dessert, and he won’t take me on patrol with him, and! He was mean to Agent A! Even though Agent A is just worried about him because he got hit on the head and got a concussion because he doesn’t have a skull to protect his brain and his head is all squishy like a Butt!”

Hal is nearly crying with the effort it takes to hold in his laughter, clutching onto the desk for support. Thankfully, the Flash has recovered enough to play along with a shocked gasp.

“Is that why he wears that Armored Cowl?” He asks Agent D. “To protect his squishy head?”

“Yes.” The kid insists, voice dripping with vicious glee. “I saw him take it off once and he doesn’t have any hair. He’s wearing underpants on his butt head.”

“Is it… is it special underwear? Or just normal?” Flash asks, grinning madly and shaking as well. “He doesn’t have legs on his head to wear it right, so-”

“The ears on his cowl are the legs.” The kid says immediately.

That mental image is enough to bring Flash down to the floor beside Hal, cackling madly. They get ahold of themselves, swallowing down their laughter to get back to the kid, but then they lock eyes, setting them off all over again as Agent D’s giggles echo through the comm line above them.

“I can’t- oh god, I can’t breathe.” Hal gasps, clutching at his chest. “Fu- um, gosh, I needed that.”

“I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.” Flash wheezes. “That’s an image that’s going to stay with me forever.”

“Good. Memorize it: this information will not be repeated.” The kid says seriously, deepening his voice in what is clearly meant to imitate Batman. Flash cackles again.

“In all seriousness, kid.” Hal says, crawling his way up to the desk to stare in bewilderment at Batman’s caller ID. “Where did you get this communicator? It’s meant to be a secure line. Emergencies.”

“Well,” Agent D says, voice lightening out of his Batman imitation and into a tone of sweet, angelic innocence, “he shouldn’t have left it out in the open then.”

“I didn’t.”

Both Hal and the Flash freeze, hearts stopping in their chests at the familiar angry growl.

Batman.

“Uh oh.” Agent D mutters.

The next thing they hear is the flurry of motion- the thump of the communicator being jughled, the scraping of cloth and shoe on stone, the whoosh of the communicator being swung through the air, and the patter of feet running full tilt.

“ROBIN!” Batman’s voice shouts, the only response a cackle of young laughter.

“Run, little man!” The Flash urges, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Go go go!”

“It’s too late!” Agent D shrieks. “It’s too late! The Buttman is coming! Remember me! I sacrificed myself for the greater good! Like the spies who got the death star plans! Remember me!”

“It’s not over yet!” Hal cheers, even if he knows theres no escaping Batman. “Evasive maneuvers! Keep going!”

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!” Agent D bellows, but a moment later the sound of running is cut off with two grunts, one much deeper than the other, and the sound of a scuffle.

Scrabbling and slapping of little kid hands on kevlar armor can be heard between thumps of the microphone hitting something. Finally, the sound settles, enough for Hal and Flash to hear Batman mutter, “you sure about that?” as Agent D groans dramatically.

A moment later, Batman’s voice comes over the communicator clearly for the first time.

“Batman to Watchtower.” he says, voice flat and businesslike as ever despite the kid gighling madly in the background. “Comms have been compromised.”

“We noticed.” Hal smirks. And Batman was the first to let the secure line get infiltrated! He’s never letting him live this down.

“The perpetrator has been apprehended, and will be punished accordingly.”

“Aww, no, Batman, come on.” Flash wheedles on behalf of his new buddy. Hal is kind of worried too- Batman won’t be too hard on the kid, will he? “Agent D was just having some fun!”

“Yeah, don’t be a butthead!” Agent D shouts, before giggling again.

“You know you’re not supposed to be down here alone.” Batman grumbles. “This is probably one of the safer things you could have picked up. And it can send a distress signal that can summon the entire justice league. What would you have done if Superman decided to smash his way through the cave?”

“I know how to use it!” Agent D complains. “I’m not stupid! I’m good with technology, and you showed me how in case of emergencies!”

“And this was an emergency?”

“A boredom emergency.” Oh god, Agent D is sassing Batman.

“Seriously, Spooky.” Hal interrupts, because he’s actually a little worried for Agent D, “whats his sentence?”

Batman huffs, and then there’s a grunt and a small oof like he’s readjusting his grip on Agent D. “Considering this isn’t his first offense of the night…”

“I’ve done nothing! I’m innocent! I want a lawyer!” The sounds of struggling come through the communicator, but Hal doesn’t think it’s working very well. The kid is trying to escape Batman, after all. “You’re always saying we can’t be judge, jury, and executioner! Put your money where your mouth is! I want a lawyer!”

“Alright.” Batman hums, much to Hal’s shock. Is he really playing along with the kid? “Green Lantern. I’m promoting you to Lawyer. Answer my next question carefully.”

Still a little shocked, all Hal can say is, “um… okay?”

“What is twenty-four minus twenty-four?”

Hal frowns. That doesn’t sound like a lawyer question. “Excuse me?”

“Twenty-four minus twenty-four.” Batman repeats.

“Uh… zero?” Why does Batman need him to say this? Doesn’t he know math? Can’t he whip a calculator off that belt of his? It wouldn’t surprise Hal in the slightest. Hardly the weirdest thing Batman’s got on there.

“Lets add some words to that problem.” Batman growls. “If I had twenty-four cookies before someone was left unsupervised in the kitchen, and none after… then how many cookies are currently rallying for a stomachache against Agent D?”

Hal won’t lie. That’s impressive. The kid doesn’t sound grown enough to have a big stomach. “Twenty-four.”

“No!” Agent D shrieks. “No!”

“Sounds like an admission of guilt from your lawyer.” Batman growls. Oops. Hal forgot that was his job! He should have dodged the question!

“No! Leading the witness! Your question was a trick!” Agent D shouts, in an impressive show of melodramatics. “I want a better lawyer! This one sucks! I bet this guy didn’t even go to law school! Also, he wasn’t given all the relevant evidence or time to prepare his arguments! ALSO also he was appointed by the opposition! Rigged jury! I want a retrial!”

How old is this kid?

“Nope, too late. Welcome to Gotham, chum.” Batman huffs. “Now then, stealing a Justice League Communicator, eating all of the cookies, which were meant for both of us and I was very much looking forwards to, and calling me… Buttman.”

He growls the last word, and Hal watches Flashes fist teleport to his mouth to hold in the bark of laughter threatening to escape. The serious way he said that stupid name… even Agent D has stopped his dramatics in the face of the court to cackle!

“Don’t laugh.” Batman growls, in exactly the same tone that made them laugh in the first place. “I am deciding your punishment.”

“You can’t do anything!” Agent D jeers. “I already told the Justice League that you were actually a Butthead! I’ve eaten all the cookies! All twenty-four tasty, tasty cookies and you can’t have any! I’ve won! There’s nothing you can do! You’ll never get your cookies back!”

“Is that so?” Batman hums, and if Hal didn’t know better, he might think Spooky was smiling. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to tickle you until you toss your cookies.”

“Wait- no!” The kid shrieks, and then the communicator breaks off into peals of desperate, full bellied laughter, interspaced with pleas for mercy and one final, deep voiced line.

“Batman, out.”

The comm channel is cut, leaving the Watchtower’s occupants in an echoing, shocked silence.

Tickles? TICKLES? Batman, the hardass of the Justice League, the no-nonsense, work no play, spooky scary bastard… left his communicator where a kid could get it. A kid who stole all of Batman’s cookies. Who Batman retaliated against for stealing his cookies with tickles.

And his voice had been… not non-growly, but lighter than Hal has ever heard it. Ever. The kid had seemed completely at ease with him, mocking him, grumbling about homework and treats. It was almost as if…

“Oh my god Batman is a dad.” Hal whispers into the silent room, eyes wide. “This is the greatest thing to happen to me ever. I’m so glad I decided to stay to keep you company.”

“So am i, so you can tell me later i didn’t hallucinate that.” Flash says fervently. “He’s a dad. He’s a dad to the giggliest kid I have ever heard in my life.”

“He punished his kid with TICKLES.” Hal wheezes. “His kid calls him a butthead for making him do homework- oh my GOD. His kid grabbed a JUSTICE LEAGUE COMMUNICATOR- he knew exactly what that thing was!”

“Came on the line like a proper secret agent!” F agrees, vibrating. “Oh my god, please tell me we have that saved. Do we have that saved?”

“Quick- before spooky deletes it!”

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #robin #justice league shennanigans #found this in my notes app #here you go #enjoy

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shenachigans · 8 months

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LETTER | Signora/Rosalyne

PAIRING: Signora/Rosalyne x Gn!Fatuus!Reader

CW: angst no comfort, character d3aths (two people are implied to pass away), toxic relationship, reader and Signora are only flings, mentions of su!cide, mentions of smut but not explicitly, Scaramouch makes an appearance.

SUMMARY: You were nothing but a fleeting moment in the Fair Lady’s life, but a single letter caused a permanent scar in her heart, far worse than what Rostam left her.

A/N: Ask me why I rewrote a fanfic from 2021 in 2023. It’s because I needed to get out of this damn thing called writer’s block <3 This original fanfic was inspired by a convo I had with Kuro about Signora’s death… :( It’s gender neutral but it was written with a female reader in mind. Her Majesty refers to the Tsaritsa and Rostam is Signora’s late lover btw.

WORDS: 2,413

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

Signora… Rosalyne, rather, is a woman who harbors negative emotions. Rostam’s death brought her so much grief, turning her into the misunderstood Crimson Witch. Love rendered Rosalyne miserable, and the burning fire in her heart was too powerful to extinguish.

It was because of the Tsaritsa that made her who she is today, a cold Harbinger named Signora, the Fair Lady. She devoted herself to the Cyro Archon for vengeance so that she may let her lover rest once and for all. Everything she does is to honor him, and she will continue to do so until she meets him again.

The power of liquid fire gave Signora a longer lifespan. It was useful for revenge, but it was dreadful when she longed for her lover. They have been apart for so many centuries. But amid her life, someone caught her attention.

You were but a simple Fatuus messenger who served the Sixth Harbinger Balladeer. It was rare for Harbingers to cross paths with one another, much less their servants, but Signora saw you — far more than she could remember.

She observed you from afar out of pure interest. Perhaps she was bored. Perhaps she found you suspicious, for you were too naive and pure to work for an organization like this. But you were skilled in your field. Your talent juxtaposed your looks, she admits. And so she asked the Tsaritsa to place you in her division, deeming you would be more fit under her wing.

The Fair Lady wanted to keep you.

The reason: unknown.

The ambiguity of why Signora took you in soon disappeared. She found herself seeing a part of Rostam in your nature. It was more apparent when she learned of your feelings toward her. Just like Rostam, she would say, of course, not in your presence. She became infatuated with you over time. It wasn’t the same infatuation as your previous lovers, but you welcomed her with open arms.

How could you deny the woman, who was clearly out of your league?

When Inazuma closed its borders, your relationship as lovers became official, albeit a secret from the others, though everyone can sense a rather unusual intimate atmosphere between you two.

You two weren’t like others, not because you were in a relationship with your superior, but because she was indifferent and sought your affection, not you. It may be because of her past — that you didn’t know of — but you pushed the heavy feelings aside as you were grateful to have the privilege to call Signora yours.

You did everything you could to make her feel loved, and Signora felt like her old self, the young maiden from Mondstadt, Rosalyne: the young woman who was in love with a knight named Rostam. But your time together was fleeting.

The demise of your relationship started when she was assigned to collect the Gnoses per the Tsaritsa’s command. You two became equally busy. Signora became more distant and tense, too focused on the mission as if she had been waiting for this moment. She has, but you didn’t know why.

Other Fatuus turned their backs on you upon learning your relationship with the Harbinger. It was understandable, but you didn’t receive special treatment. You worked harder than everyone else, and Signora was harsher toward you, pinning every mistake your peers committed.

Thoughts filled your head, wondering if your relationship with Signora was normal for lovers. All she does is take, take, and take, but not once has she given you the same affection. You tried to understand her, but you were hurting yourself. Even so, you still loved her, because love comes with pain, does it not? Surely, this is only a bumpy road in your relationship.

You were wrong. You knew your relationship was over when Signora requested Her Majesty to place you back in Balladeer’s unit. She didn’t say anything, but her actions told you of her intentions. It hurt how cold she was to you that day as if you weren’t the person she shared her bed with, entangled in each other’s bodies. She acted like your time together meant nothing to her.

As you readjusted to being under Balladeer’s command, not once have you seen Signora. You knew she didn’t want to see you anymore, but your heart did not waver, rather, your heart ached from not seeing her. You were holding onto false hope — hoping she was only distant to remain professional, but you knew she was too busy, or did not bother, to officialize your parting.

Everything you did was for her, just as everything Signora did was for Rostam. You realized you knew nothing of her past, save for having a lover. You did not know him, what their story was, and how they parted. But you saw longing and love in Signora’s eyes.

There were times when Signora looked at you with an unrecognizable gaze. Only now did you learn what it was. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing you were just someone to fill the hole in her heart, the hole Rostam left. She didn’t love you like you loved her. It hurt so much. But you were meant to be utilized, for you were a tool. A tool has various purposes. Signora merely took advantage of your love to fulfill her needs.

It was hard to accept, but you tried to, for this was reality. After all, the Fair Lady gave you, a mere Fatuus, an opportunity to become part of her private life. A Harbinger cannot be romantically involved with an underling. Although you can no longer call her yours, it was a privilege you had, and you will forever cherish your time together, because everything you do is for her, regardless of what she saw you as. You were only flings, but your feelings for her will remain eternal.

You just hope she will remember you, even when you no longer live…

“What uselessness. Your lover, rather, ex-lover, tried to attack the blonde due to some personal grudge. My plans would’ve gone smoothly if not for their interruption,” Scaramouche grumbled, crossing his arms with a petty scoff. “It wasn’t even a big injury; they bled to death. Her Majesty would’ve had them disposed of were they to survive anyway.”

Signora was too engrossed in your state to process his words as horrified eyes gazed at your lifeless body before her. Cuts and bruises decorated your skin, and the shine in your eyes was now dull. She had realized you were dead. But somehow, you looked more at peace, as though she could see you smiling at her with glimmering eyes. She felt her heart sink from the thought.

“I could’ve left them where they were, so you owe me, Signora. Alas, you better not linger for too long, you have yet to meet the Shogun,” are the words the puppet told her before swinging the sliding the shoji doors and disappearing to who-knows-where.

It was a déjà vu, a familiar feeling, yet it was different. Signora’s feelings didn’t make sense. You were nothing but a fleeting moment in her life, but the impact you had on her was great. You passed away fighting someone, like Rostam when he fought in the war and lost his life. Only this time, there was a corpse presented before her.

Signora didn’t know how long she towered over your body and bore into your soulless eyes, but it must’ve been a while for salty tears pooled on the bloody tatami mat. And so she fell on her knees as her sobs grew louder. Trembling fingers carefully mounted your head on her chest, cradling you like a newborn child. The growing pool of blood tainted everything around you, including Signora’s precious dress.

Your body was losing warmth each second, and she was desperately holding onto everything that was left. Signora received everything you had. She wishes you keep your warmth. You can’t throw it away like some fool, but she knew it was too late. Your fingertips were as cold as her delusion’s powers.

The last time she cried, tears of amber rolled down her cheeks, turning her into the Crimson Witch as liquid fire consumed her. But here she was, weeping salty tears like a human being. Does a part of her humanity still linger within her? Was this your doing? It was a bittersweet feeling, she admits. But she remembers you’re no longer with her. Your bright soul is gone because of her.

“You fool! I… I couldn’t even say goodbye…”

The woman you gave your heart to let her walls down as she grieved, her heart tightening from the pain.

But didn’t she use you? Why would she grieve for a pawn she used? She couldn’t possibly have the right to mourn for you when your death is the consequence of her actions, her indifference.

Signora hugs you close as she rocks on her knees like a mother hushing her crying child. But she was crying, and you were hushed, still and cold, stinging her skin. Only your blood remained warm, but it was soon drying up, becoming as cold as you, further bringing pain to her heart.

Is this Celestia’s punishment for going against the heavenly principles? Must her life be full of woe?

Signora’s sobs resonated around the room, grief apparent in her cries, hugging you tighter and tighter, refusing to let you go until her fingers brushed against a tattered letter from your coat’s pocket. Tears soaked her attire to clear her vision and grab the letter.

Her stomach churned as she saw to whom it was for. It was for her.

Dear Signora,

I never got to know your real name, My Lady. I didn’t want to pry by asking, but your name must be beautiful. It’s a shame, really. I would’ve loved for your name to fall from my lips. It would’ve been intimate of us, don’t you think? Alas, we weren’t meant to be. I understand you have your reasons for being distant and for using me. It was painful — for the woman I love does not reciprocate my feelings — but I hold no grudge, nor regret giving my life to you. I’m honored to have been able to give you my love. I will forever cherish the fleeting moments we shared.

I’m writing you this letter to officialize the goodbye we never had. The moment I was brought back to my unit, I knew we were over, but I hoped you would come back for me. It was a foolish thought, I know, but it’s funny now that I think about it. I really am in love. And I keep hoping for something impossible because my feelings are strong for you, My Lady. Please don’t feel burdened. I say this because, as much as you try to hide it, and it may be presumptuous of me, but you care. You may not love me, but I can feel your caringness toward me. I’m grateful. I truly am.

Now, if ever you read this letter, it means I’m no longer alive. I made sure of it. It would be a miracle if you even found this letter. Please don’t misunderstand the situation. I wavered a duel with the traveler for a reason. Even if I came back unscathed, which would be another miracle, my life would be terminated by Her Majesty for my disobedience. I don’t dare to take my own life. Frankly, I wish to say I’m tired, My Lady. I simply do not find joy in being alive anymore and wish to rest. I’ve been planning for this moment for a long time, even before I met you, so please don’t blame yourself for my death. I admire how you still have that will within you. The reason must be to avenge someone you loved, no? I apologize for doing some background work on your history, albeit not finding much, but I wanted to know more about you.

I hope you succeed, My Lady. I wish for you to lay off your burdens and find peace. I want to thank you for making my life bloom with color before I left. Therefore, I have no regrets in life. Although without your permission, allow me to say I love you. I may have never said these words in front of you, and have been contemplating whether or not to say them, but I was too late to decide. Thus, I end my letter with my declaration of love and parting.

I love you so much, My Fair Lady.

— Your former Fatuus underling.

The letter fell from her grasp as she drowned in grief, the ink drowning in her tears, rendering the paragraphs illegible. Was she so distant that you dared not sign your letter intimately? You even addressed her formally, as if it was a report. Why did you stay with someone like her? She knew why, but she refused to acknowledge it. You loved her so much that you put yourself and your pain aside to please her and let yourself get used.

Signora cups your face, gently pressing her warm lips against your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, until your cold lips meet with hers. How your lips cuddled against hers, oh so perfectly. Only now did she realize how warm your kisses were, how you would smile and blush, even if it was a quick peck. Those kisses were your kisses, they weren’t Rostam’s.

She was responsible for your death, Signora assures. You may have been planning it for a long time, but her ignorance caused the last blow. Had she not exploited you, you might've still been breathing, and happy with someone who deserves you, someone who would devote their life to you, someone who would love you as you loved her. You were the flower she poisoned and left to wither due to her actions…

Signora truly did not deserve someone like you.

“My name is Rosalyne. Please say it, my name. Please speak, please…”

A blood-chilling cry of grief filled the room when you remained silent, unable to utter the name you yearned to say. You were gone, truly gone. She killed you.

Rosalyne didn’t choose you because you were an image of Rostam. She chose you because you made her feel human. But she was blinded, not realizing the truth behind her emotions.

“Rosalyne!”

It wasn’t you; it was Rostam.

A/N: For those confused with the ending, Signora follows canon events, which means she's...

#la signora #signora angst #fatui signora #genshin signora #signora x reader #genshin impact signora #la signora angst #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact drabbles #fem reader #genshin impact smut #gender neutral reader

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is2katiemccard · 5 months

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ᅟᅟᅟ vacation & love at the first sight | leah williamson x brazilian!reader

Summary: With the Olympics drawing ever closer, the lionesses decide to take time out to enjoy the Spanish summer, but Leah didn't expect to see a familiar face there, or... When Leah meets a friend again and ends up falling in love with one of her team-mates.

* The hyperlinks guide you to the profile of some Brazilian players since most may not know them and a very famous song here, in case anyone is interested in knowing what it is like and what it is about.

ᅟ After a difficult season with even greater challenges ahead, Leah, as captain, made the decision to take her team to relax a little. The Lionesses had landed in Ibiza just over a day ago and it was already possible to feel the team's spirits lighter.

ᅟ The blonde was lying on the sofa with her legs on Georgia's lap, bored out of her mind while she scrolled through her Instagram feed when one post in particular caught her attention. Apparently, Rafa, her former Arsenal teammate and the rest of the Brazilian team had a similar idea and were also enjoying the pre-Olympic period in the Spanish paradise.

ᅟ Her fingers were quick to slide over to the other defender's profile and send her a few messages. Leah and Rafaelle talked for a few minutes before the Brazilian invited her and the other Lionesses to join them for lunch and a pleasant afternoon in their style as both captains thought it would be a good idea for their teams to get together.

ᅟ “Girls!” She caught the attention of the others who were spread throughout the living room and kitchen of the house. “We received an invitation to join another team for the rest of the day and after thinking about it a bit I decided that we would go, so get out of your pajamas and wear something comfortable. The Brazilian team awaits us.” Everyone was confused by the sudden announcement but they knew that once the blonde was determined to do something, nothing could change her mind.

ᅟ England and Brazil have met a few times on the women's football scene, with the biggest clash between the two teams being the Finalissíma played at Wembley and won by the European team after a tense and hard-fought game. Some players knew each other because they had faced each other in clubs or even played together on some occasion, however it was still new territory for them. With the change in the technical committee of the South American team, many new players ended up appearing in the new coach's squad, with the majority of them playing in national football and due to the Brazilian league being very subjugated, they and their skills were almost completely unknown. They all knew the big names like Marta and Cristiane who still remained in that cycle to share their experiences with the younger players as they were legends and great pioneers in the field of women's football, one of them being the winner of 6 Ballon d'Or, five of which won them consecutively.

ᅟ About an hour later the Lionesses arrived at the place where the other girls were staying, and they could already hear an unknown song playing loudly in addition to the sound of their laughter and the unmistakable smell of barbecue in the air. Rafelle, Gio and Geyse were already waiting for them outside with warm smiles on their lips, reassuring some of the players. Lucy was one of the first to run towards them, pulling the now United player into a hug despite Ella's protests telling her to leave her teammate alone. With that pleasant reception, the British already felt more comfortable in that environment, but when they arrived in the backyard where the “party” was taking place and the others were, Leah felt butterflies in her stomach, feeling a little nervous - something that was very unusual. for her -.

ᅟ The vast majority of them were gathered on the deck around the pool with a drink in their hands and excitedly singing a song in their language, barely noticing the presence of the other women, however, everything changed when one of them came running towards Rafa.

ᅟ “Graças a Deus tu voltou! A Marta estava te procurando feito doida. (Thank God you're back! Marta was looking for you like crazy)” An unknown girl began to speak, only then noticing the presence of the other women behind their captain. “Eita, eu nem vi vocês aí! Sejam bem-vindas, eu sou a Gabi, mas todo mundo me chama de Portilho. (Wow, I didn't even see you there! I'm Gabi, but everyone calls me Portilho)” She greeted excitedly, aware of the confused look on the Euro winners' faces as they didn't understand anything she was saying. When she didn't receive any response, the ward looked at the brunette in confusion. “Rafa, por que elas estão olhando pra mim como se eu fosse de outro mundo? (Rafa, why are they staring at me like I'm from another world?)”

ᅟ Since that was one of the first times that Portilho met a foreign player, she spoke in Portuguese as always, completely oblivious to the fact that the other women did not understand the language. Noticing this, the Brazilian captain was quick to correct her posture and translate what the other was saying to the British.

ᅟ “I apologize, I completely forgot that different languages could be a problem between us.” She said a little embarrassed by what had happened. “But, translating the previous statement, this one here is Gabi Portilho, she is one of our wingers and she basically welcomed you guys here.”

ᅟWith that clarification, they all smiled at the nice girl and greeted her with a handshake, saying their names to introduce themselves. As they continued walking around the yard and meeting the other women, They noticed that some had a certain trouble with English language, but they didn't let this affect them and did everything they could to try to communicate with the England squad. They were all a little shaken when Rafaelle guided them towards Marta, looking at her with total admiration and affection. Leah even stuttered a few times and was embarrassed when she was praised by the women's football legend for her defensive skills.

ᅟ The defender continued to explain to them a little more about the personalities of her teammates, finding it easier to separate them into groups. Antonia, Gabi Nunes, Portilho, Kerolin and Ary Borges were the most lively and extroverted. Marta, Tamires and Cristiane were the “mothers” of the group, Geyse, Lelê, Luana, Duda Sampaio, Zaneratto and Y/N were part of the more shy and reserved group and would certainly need some time to become completely comfortable in the presence of the European champions, but they were still as nice as everyone else and although she liked them all, Leah's eyes fell on you, marveling at your appearance.

ᅟ You were talking and laughing with someone Leah quickly identified as Duda, noting how close the pair seemed to be. The blonde was on the other side of the yard with Alessia, Mary and Gio, who were talking animatedly about something and despite wanting to interact with the others, her attention was focused on the young player. As if you were able to feel the blue eyes on your body, you turned your head towards the English defender and noticed that all her attention was on you, which resulted in a sudden wave of shyness and flushed cheeks.

ᅟ Despite the difficulty imposed by the language barrier, it was possible to say that the two groups got along very well and were having a very pleasant day, both introducing their own cultures in that peaceful environment and expanding their knowledge. At a certain point Leah learned that Y/N was 22 years old and that she played for a national club called Corinthians as a midfielder alongside Duda, the two being considered great promises in women's football but that they didn't have much intention of having a international career since they loved and identified a lot with the team from the east of São Paulo.

ᅟ Your shyness did not tend to last for long and this was proven when a little more alcohol was consumed. Now you sang and danced freely, having even more fun and creating a bond with some English players like Alessia, having tried to teach the clumsy striker how to dance, something that didn't work out very well, by the way.

ᅟ At that moment Marta was sitting in a chair with a guitar in hand, ready to show a little more of Brazil to the Lionesses. The oldest had already explained a little about the different styles of music that her country had and spoke proudly about MPB (Brazilian Popular Music) and was about to sing one of the biggest hits by one of the biggest names in Brazilian music. The song was ‘Carolina’ by Seu Jorge.

ᅟ “Carolina é uma menina muito difícil de esquecer, andar bonito e um brilho no olhar, tem um jeito adolescente que me faz enlouquecer e um molejo que eu não vou te enganar…” Most of them sing along with Marta, but in a more subtle way, while the rest just watched and listened carefully, loving the style of that song and getting into the mood, following the example of some players like Geyse and moving their bodies in movements. subtle. Despite her focus on the spectacle in front of her, Leah noticed your absence among the Brazilian players, frowning and wondering where you had gone when she saw a silhouette coming out of the house with something in her hands. It was only when that figure got closer that she understood that it was you carrying a tambourine, soon starting to play and joining the group again. “Maravilha feminina, meu docinho de pavê, inteligente, ela é muito sensual. Te confesso que estou apaixonado por você, ô Carolina isso é muito natural. Ô Carolina eu preciso de você, ô Carolina eu não vou suportar não te ver, Carolina eu preciso te falar, ô Carolina eu vou amar você.”

ᅟ The blonde wasn't sure if this was possible, but she felt even more mesmerized by you, every movement in sync with the music, moving your feet and hips in a graceful way that the defender had never seen and didn't even think she was capable of for someone to do. Due to the heat and burning sun of Ibiza, your tanned body was only covered by a white bikini and a thin layer of sweat. Your hair was still wet from the pool and adorned her face and delicate features to perfection. It was obvious to everyone there that she was attracted to you like a magnet is attracted to iron and you seemed to take advantage of that situation.

ᅟ None of the girls on the British team had ever seen their captain like that, so… helpless. It was as if the situations had reversed, suddenly Leah was the only one blushing at the slightest glance of your gaze on her. Rafaelle and Gio were talking to Georgia, Keira, Lucy and Mary about how painful it was to watch that while Ella and some other girls just took that opportunity to make fun of the blonde, who was just grumbling and threatening the young United player.

ᅟ At a certain point she saw an opportunity to get away from all those provocations and went to a place further away from that small crowd to put her thoughts in order, but she didn't count on the fact that you, among all those people, would be the one who would go after her.

ᅟ “Hey, capi. Everything is fine?" Your voice was sweet and carried the Brazilian accent that she found so adorable and that was almost enough to make her calm down. “Sorry if I'm intruding where I shouldn't, but you looked so good a few minutes ago and now you're seem annoyed... Did something happen?” Leah could tell your concern for her was genuine and felt her body relax even more at that.

ᅟ “Yes, everything is fine. I'm just feeling a little dizzy from the drinks, I'm not used to drinking that much alcohol, even though I have very good resistance. Your caipirinhas are definitely different from anything I’ve ever consumed.” With that, you laughed and Leah swore her heart sped up even more at that sound she had barely known but already loved.

ᅟ With the confirmation that it wasn't any bother, you got even closer to her, noticing that the blonde was admiring the view that the house's backyard had of the beach. Your thoughts were a million, having different ideas but still afraid of being inconvenient or being dismissed by her. In search of help, you looked over your shoulder, looking for Rafa in the expectation that she would give you some advice about that and ended up being surprised by everyone's attention on the two of you and several positive signs from you and Leah's companions.

ᅟ “Um, Leah, what do you think about getting out of here for a bit and taking a walk on the beach? I’m sure this can help you sober up.” Upon hearing your invitation, a huge smile lit up her expression and she said a very excited “yes” before gently taking your hand and walking towards the beach beside her.

ᅟ The sand was warm beneath your bare feet and the breeze blew a few strands of hair as you walked side by side in the middle of a casual conversation, taking advantage of the calm of the beach and the moment to get to know each other a little better. To both of your surprises, you had a lot in common on and off the field. Just like Leah, you were always a fan and always played for the same team since youth and you couldn't see yourself playing for any other club in the world other than him and despite identifying with your sentence and admiring the passion that you had for the sport and the club that created it, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed since even with so little time spent talking she already imagined herself playing alongside you on the field.

ᅟ You seemed like the perfect person for her, a woman that Leah only believed existed in her wildest dreams but who was suddenly in front of her. The blonde felt like a teenager in love and, in a way, stupid for having given her heart so quickly to someone she barely knew. Damn, she didn't even know if you liked girls, how the hell could that work? Her thoughts were very confused and she was so caught up in her own head that she didn't even notice your gaze on her, staring as if the captain was a work of art.

ᅟ It took a long time for the British girl to find enough courage to ask you about your love life, but when she finally asked you if you were single, your first response was not something verbal, but rather a smile so bright that the defender thought be able to illuminate the entire world.

ᅟ “Why? Are you interested?" Your voice was provocative and the phrase had a great effect on the captain, who opened and closed her mouth without making any sound. “Hey, relax, I'm just messing with you! But to answer your question, yes, I am single.” With that answer, the blonde with flushed cheeks gave a small smile, muttering something to herself. She still needed time to compose herself and to plan her next move, but she was startled when she felt the wet sand on her feet. Leah was so oblivious that she hadn't even noticed that you were walking closer and closer to the sea and when she was about to say something her sweet voice interrupted her. “Wait, what is that?” You asked, pointing to something that was apparently in the water, causing the British girl to walk in that direction and start looking for what you had seen, but there didn't seem to be anything there.

ᅟ “What, love? I don't see anythin-” Just as she was about to finish her sentence you gave her a push, causing the poor girl to lose her balance and fall into the water. As she stood up with an irritated frown, you laughed louder and louder. Besides this, you were still able to notice her coming towards her with a serious expression that indicated that she wanted revenge.

ᅟ The two of you ran along the beach as if you were two children and the only thing audible was the sound of your laughter, her heavy breathing and the blonde's threats. Despite being a very well-trained athlete, your legs were already tired and it was no surprise that Leah caught up to you so quickly, but you definitely didn't expect her to throw herself at you.

ᅟ Despite the uncomfortable fall, you were loving the feel of her body on top of yours and when she gave you enough space for you to turn around and face her, the same roguish smile from minutes ago adorned your lips. Having Leah Williamson on top of you was quite a sight, her blonde locks were a little messy but still looked so beautiful and different from before, her blue eyes seemed to be a few shades darker and even more mesmerizing and carried a kind of determination and confidence. You could tell that she was as focused on admiring you as you were doing with her, it seemed like the whole world around yourselves had stopped and the only thing you were able to see was each other's presence.

ᅟ The attraction at that moment was so much that Leah barely noticed that their lips were just inches away. Kissing you seemed like the right thing to do at that moment, but she was still hesitant, but once again that afternoon, you surprised her. Your chest rose from the sand and now the distance between you, which was already minimal, became even smaller. The blonde licked her lips and looked at you expectantly, ready to reciprocate anything you did.

ᅟ “You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment all afternoon.” You confided, speaking so quietly that the other woman was barely able to hear. “But I have to tell you something, I don’t kiss before the first date.” And with that, your lips moved a little away from hers and rested on her cheek. Once again the captain was paralyzed and didn't know how to act while you freed yourself from her body and walked away laughing. It took a few minutes for the defender to recover and when she did you were already far away, but that didn't stop her from getting up and running away.

ᅟ“Y/N! WAIT"

[A/N: I'm definitely thinking about making a second part of this :)]

ᅟ

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #wlw love #imagines #lionesses #women football #x reader #woso

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flyingwargle · 1 month

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there are two ends of the table, and adriah is caught in between both.

one end is where he usually frequents, with his english-speaking teammates. they share a common tongue, an understanding of how it feels to live overseas and play for a foreign league. but when they start talking about their spouses and kids, that's when the commonalities stop, because at 28, adriah has only had one relationship that ended because his partner didn’t want to go long-distant.

so, he turns to the other end, where the younger, rowdier players congregate, except there's one problem: they speak japanese, and his own comprehension is similar to watching anime without subs - enough to understand the context, but not enough to respond intelligently.

and then there's inunaki, who sits across from him, alternating between gushing about his fiancée with meian and barnes, and egging hinata and bokuto to drink more. oh, to be bilingual enough to have such finesse over language. if adriah knew he'd play in japan, he would've studied japanese instead of french.

he looks at his phone, then at his glass, beer foam left along the rim. bar nights with the team can either be the most fun all week or the most isolating thing in the world. tonight, it’s the latter.

he stands. inunaki watches him. “bathroom?”

“just need some air.”

“okay.” laughter catches the libero’s attention, and he switches to japanese when he addresses miya. it’s frightening how he can easily code switch. adriah stuffs his hands in his pockets and slinks out of the izakaya.

the sky is dark, stars dimmed. he finds a bench not too far away and sits, phone out. it’s around 4 am back home. all the messages that he last sent to his friends and family were from him. he probably won’t hear back from them until the next morning. his sigh is long, throwing his head back to stare at the clouds.

when he’d gotten word that the black jackals accepted him, his family was overjoyed. they’d known how hard he’d trained to break into overseas teams, and to get accepted into a division 1 team after the first tryout is impressive. management helped him secure an apartment, prepared his papers, welcomed him to osaka. for the first few months, he got by using japanese that he picked up here and there, relied on the team’s bilingual staff, got close to the other players that spoke english. for the others, they managed to find some middle ground using gestures and simple words from both languages. it was fine.

and it still mostly is. some days, it’s easy. some days, it’s hard.

the izakaya door slides open and sounds of drunken salarymen and rowdy customers drift outside. he hears another voice that shouts over them. “adriah!”

he straightens as his newest teammate bounces over. he was immediately jealous of hinata when he first joined, already familiar with bokuto, miya, and sakusa, and he was fluent enough to converse everyone else, even mistakenly speaking in portuguese from time to time. he’s a whirlwind with an unpredictable path.

“hey.” adriah gives him a small smile. “did you need some air, too?”

hinata nods. “can i sit with you?” his accent is heavy, though not as bad as bokuto, who apparently struggles enough with japanese. miya usually acts as his translator, although his kansai accent makes it difficult to understand him at times.

adriah nods, and his teammate sits. for a while, they just stare into the darkness, listen to the train rattle in the distance, watch the lights wink in and out of existence. hinata speaks. “i know how it feels to be left out.”

he stares at him. hinata keeps his eyes forward, arms leaned on his knees. “i didn’t know any portuguese when i went to brazil. i wasn’t good at english either, and i didn’t speak japanese often. some days, it got so confusing that i’d speak japanese instead of english, or portuguese instead of japanese.” his chuckle is soft. “but i was still able to talk with the others, even if i didn’t understand everything.”

hinata straightens, catches his eye, gives him a smile. “if you want to join the conversation, just jump in. the others won’t mind. none of us are very good at english, so we speak japanese, but don’t let it stop you.”

“i think you’re doing fine,” adriah blurts out. “your accent, i mean. it’s good.”

“your japanese is good, too! we can help you learn.” hinata jumps to his feet. “wanna head back in?”

adriah blinks at him. even in the night, he’s still as radiant as the sun. “okay.”

back inside the izakaya they go. many of their teammates’ glasses are refilled, including adriah’s. they sit down, and hinata turns to the others, speaking in english. “bokuto-san! tell us the story again. adriah wants to hear.”

“huh?” the owl-haired wing spiker looks at adriah, surprise in his golden eyes. hinata gives him an encouraging nod. “okay! tsum-tsum, you help translate!”

“ugh, bokkun, what happened to yer daily practice?” miya grumbles, his kansai accent sharpening his vowels.

sakusa rolls his eyes, glancing at adriah. “it’s not an interesting story. just some dumb thing he mistakenly saw on his run.” out of everyone, he knows the most english. apparently, it’s because he spends a lot of time online reading about overseas cleaning products to import.

“i’d like to hear it, anyway,” adriah says, smiling.

and so, bokuto tells the story again, speaking in english, backtracking in japanese, correcting himself when he’s provided a proper translation. adriah helps fill in the blanks, offers alternate vocabulary options, repeats some of the japanese words for himself. it’s a process, but he stitches together the narrative in both languages, and by the end of it, he’s laughing with hinata, while bokuto yells that it isn’t funny.

adriah might not have the finesse to move seamlessly from one end to the next, but he’s confident that no matter which side he ends up at, he’ll be accepted with open arms.

#flyingwargle original #haikyuu!!#drabble #haikyuu drabble #adriah thomas #hinata shoyo #bokuto koutarou #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #inunaki shion #msby black jackal #dude had like one line in the manga #and i just ran with it

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little-pondhead · 1 month

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The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

#dpxdc #pondhead writes #the folly of men fic #no beta we die like danny #long post #really long post #I asked myself how many titles i can give people and my hands took that as a challenge #the reason undergrowth and vortex go by those weird ass names is because the words for their name don't exist in the dc world #add that to ghost speech and basically it's easier to give themselves a title over the centuries #clockwork is just dramatic

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profounddestinyrebel · 10 months

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Pretty much my ideal dcxdp coexisting world

Danny had all his canon happen before Bruce and the JL started their vigilante careers

Before Bruce was born or Martha and Thomas even got married

Phantom Planet never happened and the world never realized that they were almost dead in the first place (I apologize for mentioning it)

Danny retires after blowing up the portal and designing a new system of gov for the Infinite Realms (why the hell is that a monarchy anyway? Fighting being a way of communicating AND the way of determining a ruler does not make sense so I'll choose the better one)

Danny still visits the Infinite Realms but mostly lives his life

He still has interesting things happen to him but more because he apparently has a curse placed on him than anything else 'may you live in interesting times'

Danny manipulates the curse by getting into situations on purpose and then resolving them without getting attention drawn to his civilian id and normal life

He keeps track of immortals and big names that deal with death magic so as to lower the chances of being summoned

The more powerful the Realm Being the more powerful the summoner has to be to summon them and with how powerful Danny is there aren't many he has to keep an eye on

Ra's has been losing Lazarus water at a steady rate for over a decade but only now has it become a noticeable loss. The day the that he notices is a Very Bad Day for the League of Assassins (the day Danny lets himself get caught satisfies his curse for 2 whole months)

Danny hasn't aged much at all since he left Amity at 17. He's still short but mimics the effects of age with stage makeup and other tools used by actors to look older they actually are. This is how he meets a certain Alfred P. who remains a good friend even though they never really meet in person.

His parents blow themselves up and wipe their house off the map when tinkering with a device designed to lure realm beings to them. Danny isn't really sorry they're gone. He finds out after leaving Amity that he wasn't really their kid and he wasn't even adopted. They made him in their lab while distracted from their obsession with ghosts then completely forgot they had done so when they refocused on ghosts. His growth chamber (terrible name) was coated in ecto which allowed the device to reactivate and allow Danny to finish incubating into a toddler then (suspicious) it mysteriously popped him out before his the fentons noticed the growth chambers success.

His parents never took any notes on the clone experiment out of the house due to it being a (perceived) failure. After going back to their ghost obsession they completely forgot about it so no one knows. Jazz only found after Danny told her and he only found out after growing older and continuing to look less and less like either of his parents.

Danny finds the notes and that's what inspires him to leave Amity, to start looking for his bio parent. The Fenton's had no clue that the clone they grew was Danny. They dismantled the growth chamber when Danny was four (actually two) and never realized that the toddler they adopted was the clone of wonder woman they made. They never said anything to anyone about Danny being adopted so Vlad has no idea that Danny isn't Maddie's child.

Vlad starts to age drastically after the portals are destroyed and Danny figures out that Vlad isn't a halfa after all. He's just a normal ghost who can prey on people like spectra but with an obsession directed at Maddie originally and then Danny. Afterwards Vlad gets shunted off into Walker's prison because of all the toxic and human crimes he's committed among them brainwashing, mind control and mind wiping various wealthy and not so wealthy individuals into giving Vlad their money and companies.

Ellie has to explore the Infinite Realms (literally Infinite though so she's not confined) only because she can't really produce her own ecto. She has to absorb it from her surroundings so she can wander safely all over the Infinite Realms (so long as she calls for help when she gets in over her head) but not the human realms unless she takes a buddy who can produce a steady stream of ecto for her.

Vlad makes Danny his heir so now he's rich enough to travel even after giving all the people Vlad stole from their money back. It turns out that Vlad was good with making more money once he had it.

just Danny being a crptoid for the entire magical community and them being unable to talk about it if they even know of him

while danny runs a NASA and space account where he talks about NASA's recent achievements, newly discovered stars, planets and new alien races that Earth has been in contact with

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flamingpudding · 10 months

Text

DPxDC Family Week June 23 (Day 6)

Prompt: Grandparents | Lost

A/N: I felt like writing something with some Angst I guess, tho I don't know what all I need to TW so if I forgot something please tell me.

TW: Grieving Danny, mentions of accidental mass Genocide, Mentions of Character Death

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

Danny sat on the roof of Wayne Manor staring longingly at the smog and light polluted sky. Trying to get at least the smallest glimpse of the stars above him and ignoring the two ghostly presences that he knew were watching him worriedly. He didn't want to feel like this anymore but at this very moment he resented Gotham. Despite Lady Gotham being welcoming to him and despite the warm welcome the Wayne's were attempting to give him Danny couldn't help but feel like he just wanted everything to end.

Amity had gone up in an ectoplasm powered explosion. The entire town was gone. And so were his parents, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Valery, Wes, and everyone else he had ever known. Even Ellie had gotten caught up in it just when she had gotten officially adopted by his parents. All because he told his parents about Phantom. They accepted him, Ancients, they were even starting to change their ways. Their research was no longer biased and rather filled with the truth Danny was able to provide them. His parents had turned from Ghost Hunters to Ghost Defenders. Helping him and Ellie in sending them back to the Ghost Zone as well as rescuing them from the GIW. It was so nice not having to worry about them hunting him or injuring him any longer.

But of course everything couldn't have stayed like that. His life was doomed to not let him have good and peaceful things. Because the moment his parents changed they also stopped providing their weaponry to the GIW. Apparently that was the only thing that stopped these people from attempting to develop their own stuff. Which resulted in them creating their own highly dangerous arsenal.

Danny drew in his knees and buried his face in them, eyes stinging. Everything has gone to shit then. He knew that Jazz and probably everyone else too, would tell him that it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't help it. If he had never told his parents the truth, they wouldn't have stopped their deal with the GIW, then they wouldn't have started developing their own stuff. And then they wouldn't have come up with a nuclear level kind of ecto-bomb that was supposed to clean out Amity of all the ghosts but ended up destroying and killing everyone in town while leaving Danny as the only survivor just because he had been called by Clockwork for some stupid royal duties.

He remembered screaming, yelling and cursing once he returned and realized that his entire home town was gone. Accusing Clockwork of everything and nothing, demanding for him to send him back at least a couple of hours so he could prevent it from happening, but the other only shook his head telling Danny that even he didn't expect that change to the timeline and that it would be useless to try and prevent it from happening. Danny hadn't believed him at all as he broke down in the rumble place that used to be his home.

Of course that level of an explosion would also finally gain the Justice Leagues attention after all the failed calls he and his friends had made. He had wanted to scream at them too, blame them for so many things when they never offered their help before, but he didn't. His screaming at clockwork already had trained him of all the energy he had left. Besides one of the people coming by to check what happened was Batman and of course when they found him Batman would arrange for Danny to probably get taken care of which meant Bruce Wayne showing up and taking him in.

He guessed Bruce Wayne taking him in was still better than Vlad at this point, if that other halfa had survived that was.

Danny only went with the man because Clockwork had told him too, despite the anger still bubbling in his core whenever the ancient ghost contacted him, he listened albeit reluctantly. Because Clockwork told him that he could still avoid a Dan Timeline by going with that man but the ghostly teenager didn't know how. He had lost everything and right now he felt like he understood Dan better than he had ever before. His core hurt so much and he wasn't sure how long he could hold onto his sanity.

Sure he mimed the good kid for the Waynes, yet it had all been an act at the beginning. He got along with Jason just fine, probably because he could feel something familiar from him. Something he hadn't really paid enough attention to figure it out. Damien was nice company and he liked how the boy reminded him of Sam. Sure the kid had been a bit stabby but that was nothing compared to the time his parents spent hunting him when they hadn't known. Tim also reminded him of Tucker in a way, brilliant and adept to technology like no one else but the guy needed a better sleep schedule. Though Danny could relate to the coffee addiction they both appear to have. He kept his distance from Dick though. The eldest Wayne kid reminded him way too much of Jazz with the oldest sibling energy that came from him. Cass on the other hand was a nice and calming presence, she didn't talk much and sometimes that was all that Danny needed, just a silent presence next to him that didn't try to do something or talk about anything with him. Duke also was nice to be around though the other boy had kept his distance at first he now appeared more curious about him than before, Duke also had subtitly asked if Danny was a Meta, but luckily for the halfa, he had been able to redirect that question without answering it.

Still no matter how nice they were or how much he got along with them. It felt wrong, wrong to be here, wrong to accept their kindness, wrong, wrong, wrong. He could feel how his core fell into the chaos of is emotions as ice slowly spread around him.

"There you are, little Danny." He tensed but didn't look up. A cold wisp left passed his lips as he breathed out and he felt a ghostly presence 'sit' next to him on the roof; one was still watching him from a distance. His ice receded not wanting to end up making that other presence an ice block despite his need of wanting to be alone.

"You know, my son and his kids are pretty worried down there. I am sure that little Jason is currently tearing through every hidden nog and cranny he used to use. And little Damien is just seconds away from stabbing someone in his ire, he gave Titus one of your shirts Alfred hasn't washed yet in an attempt to find you and I believe little Tim is speed watching every video from all the cameras my son has installed. Sweet little Cass and little Duke are slinking along and using the shadows to look for you and little Dick appears to have become a headless chicken while simultaneously trying to calm down my son."

Danny didn't answer nor did he acknowledge Thomas Wayne's presence next to him. This was another thing he would have to get used to. Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of the ghosts that stuck to the Manor had taken to him the same way Lady Gotham had. But for some reasons the two were rather protective of Danny, referring to him as their newest grandchild. Something he just couldn't understand.

He was sure that if Jazz was here she could explain it to him. Ancients, he missed his sister.

"They are postponing their patrol until you're found, you know."

"I didn't ask them to." The halfa muttered lowly, still not looking up. The ghost next to him chuckled. Danny had figured out pretty quickly that the entire Wayne Family were vigilantes. In fact they were the Bat-Clan. If he hadn't figured it out by going around invisible and intangible during his first night here because he was suspicious of Bruce being another fruitloop then Danny was pretty sure that either Martha or Thomas would have spilled the truth to him sooner or later.

They had gushed so much about how proud they were of their child and grandchildren and how Danny would perfectly fit in with them. How they would give him the support he needed and the protection he deserved. He didn't want it, he was not going to replace the support he had before.

"They mean well. I know that my son can be…" Danny peaked up from his knees to see Thomas hand waving in a way that he couldn't interpret but had seen Jazz do too whenever their parents were being difficult. "... but he tries to be a good Dad."

"I don't need them trying to replace Mom and Dad." Was his grief, frustration and resentment leaking through his voice? Because if Thomas was going to give him the 'My son is a good Dad talk' he would not hesitate to change and fly away for good. He had played with the thought of running away before but Martha, bless her ghost, had convinced him to stay longer. How she had done it Danny didn't know but that woman could be very persuasive when she wanted to be or at least that was what Thomas told him.

"No one is trying to replace anyone." He felt Thomas' ghostly hand motion over his head like he was stroking Danny's hair. It took Danny a moment until he actually felt the motion, allowing the others ghostly touch to reach him and ignoring how his core painfully hummed at that action.

"Really, cause it sure feels like it with how they 'care'." Maybe that had been a low blow but the halfa was getting fessed up and bitter with the Waynes. It wasn't like they were mistreating him. No, in fact they were treating him very well despite Danny always drawing a line. Never getting too personal with any of them despite how well he could get along with them. Martha and Thomas kept encouraging him, assuring him that they were all honest with him even when he didn't want to hear that.

Because even if he denied it with his mind, his core knew, he had already stopped pretending to like them after the first week with them. Martha and Thomas constantly sought him out, claiming it as their duty as his grandparents. Checking in on him and how he was settling in, asking how he was feeling. And when Danny would refuse to acknowledge them, the two ghostly resistances would just laugh and start telling him about their family, trying to help him understand. About their son and their grandchildren. About random things the two had seen happening that the rest of the family didn't, like Alfred the cat and Batcow taking a walk around the Manor unnoticed by everyone.

Unwillingly he had learned a lot of embarrassing stories like that about the Waynes all during his first week. Dicks escapades with chandeliers, Jason's special book collection no one knew about, Tim sleep deprived action he thought no one knew about, Cass little pranks she liked to pull and no one ever traced back to her, Duke's hero speech practices and Damian's constant attempts to smuggle new animals into the Manor. His core had ached, lamenting the fact that he would never be able to share stories like that with his sisters or his best friends anymore. Rationally thinking he knew these ghostly grandparents only meant well but it only made him miss Amity more.

He curled up again, once more burying his face in his knees.

Would his core ever stop hurting? He had failed his entire hometown? What was his obsession worth now? He hadn't been able to protect anyone. Would… would his core stop hurting if he let insanity take him? If he became like Dan after all? Was that how Dan came to be? It made sense, didn't it? Dan did come from a timeline where he had lost everything.

"Oh little Danny." The pressure on his eyes became too much and the halfa could feel how wet tears soaked the fabric of jeans as he pressed his eyes against his knees. A cold touch lay across his shoulder and he was sure that Thomas was giving him a hug, he could feel his core calling out to his self proclaimed ghostly grandparents but he ignored it. "Let it out, there is no fault in grieving. Ancients know how nearly everyone in this family had gone and dealt with grief. There is no need to rush, we all will be there for you."

A sob escaped him as his shoulders started shaking.

He didn't know how much time passed as he didn't even register how the cold touch on his shoulders changed to a warm one. How it became more grounding as someone rubbed his back. The ghostly presence that had been next to him had disappeared but instead there were six other warm presences around him and a seventh one not too far away.

Danny didn't look up but he knew, he knew that the Wayne's had joined him on the roof and he was pretty sure that the arm around his shoulder probably belonged to Dick and that the one rubbing his back was Duke. The one sitting close to his legs was most likely Damien as it was the smallest and Tim was probably the presence to his right. There was another silent presence behind him, Cass most likely as well as Jason's sort of ghostly but not presence. He could even sense Bruce close by.

No one said anything and the halfa was fine with that. His core didn't warm at their silent actions but it did hurt just a little bit less. For a brief moment Danny thought that maybe he wouldn't have to become like Dan after all for it to stop hurting. Maybe Thomas and Martha were right that staying here would help him heal.

Thomas watched all his grandchildren silently giving their support and help when his newest grandchild was lost in his grief. He was still worried about the little guy, he wasn't the youngest among them but he was carrying a lot on his shoulders. His trauma and grief are so different yet so similar to the rest of their family and his core ached with that knowledge. Couldn't the children just be happy without any difficulties throwing rocks in their paths?

At the moment Lady Gotham was making sure that no other ghosts would come to bother his grandchild. Apparently little Danny already had his own little group of rogues that were eagerly awaiting to check on him. Thanks to the city's spirit though, he and his wife could make sure that the little halfa was settling in well with his new family without them trying to fight his newest grandchild.

"Don't worry dear." His wife floated over to him, laying her head on his shoulder as they watched the children. "They will help him with his grief and once they have he will fit right in with the lot of them."

A chuckle escaped him as he watched the eldest helping up the grieving boy who was doing his best to bury himself in his oversized hoodie. The second oldest ruffled the halfa's hair when they passed him on their way back into the manor, the youngest hot on their heels, sticking close to the grieving teen. His granddaughter taking the chance to hug the boy and not looking like she would let go anytime soon while the third oldest boy followed rambling about an observatory he would like to take Danny too.

"I know they will. I am just wondering how our son will deal with our grandchild's special status as well as counting as a royal family once little Danny opens up."

His wife giggled. "Well that is a problem for another day, dear. I am sure our Brucie will know how to deal with it and if not Alfred is still with him to support."

Thomas nodded. "And if everything fails, we will be here to help guide them?"

"Of course my dear."

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deapax · 5 months

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All eyes on her

Characters: neighbour!agatha harkness x fem!reader

Summary: Your new neighbour caught your eyes.

Warnings: 18+ smut, masturbation (r), magic use, fingering (r receiving), choking

A/N: Thanks for the good feedback on my first fic, hope you’ll enjoy this as well :)

Originally posted by deapax

You’d noticed her before she noticed you. Your eyes had been glued to her since. You’d been living here for a couple years already, you’d seen people come and go, yet you hoped the woman who’d apparently purchased the house across the street would never dare to move away again.

When you made your way to your mailbox to empty it you heard the door of your new neighbour opening. The sound of heels hitting asphalt that grew louder the longer it went on indicated that she’d the same idea. “Oh well hello there, darling! I don’t think I’ve seen you around yet. I’ve been considering ringing the bell to say hello but I didn’t want to disturb you.” The sound of her voice immediately shot straight to your core as your head shot up and met the eyes of the gorgeous woman waving across the street, trying to get your attention. She was stunning to say the least, she was all you ever wanted in person. The way her hair was put up in a messy bun, the way she smiled at you with her red lips. It all made your heart skip a beat.

—————————————————————————

After that encounter your mind was busy with her at all times. It drove you mad, maybe a little bit obsessed even. It was wrong, you knew it, she was out of your league yet you simply couldn’t help but daydreaming about her.

You stood at the stove, making dinner while looking out of the kitchen window that was facing the bedroom across the street. When you saw the lights turning on your jaw dropped. You had the perfect view on Agatha now, who was walking up to her bed and unbuttoning the blouse she’d been wearing today. It didn’t take you long to realise what you were about to witness. You felt your mouth watering when she took off the blouse, revealing what was hiding underneath. Your eyes were glued to the beautiful curves and full breasts as the bra went off after. Right as she unbuttoned her pants something started smelling extremely burnt. You looked down at what was supposed to be your dinner, just to see that it had turned all black. Well, luckily you still had leftover pizza in the fridge. Once you’d cleaned up your mess you decided to risk another look out of the window but to your demise the curtains had been closed.

Frustrated you headed to bed that night, yet you couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much you tried, your mind running wild as the image of the goddess across the street kept replaying in your head. Before you knew it your hand made its way into your panties, slowly circling your bundle of nerves as you closed your eyes, your lips forming an O. You dipped two fingers inside you, starting to move them in and out as you imagined her taking care of you.

Her lips were on yours, you two were sharing a deep fiery kiss as she got rid of your clothing rather quickly. She moaned softly into the kiss when you kneaded her breasts through her bra while she spread your legs until suddenly-

You were close to your orgasm already when your imagination came to a quick end. As you wanted to move you noticed that you were like frozen in place. A soft chuckle from across the room made you lose all colour of your face. The woman you’ve been fantasising about during those past minutes was standing in your bedroom, watching you in your quite vulnerable state. You wondered how long she’d been watching you and how the hell she even got there in the first place. Panic arose inside you, you needed to move, cover yourself up and ask questions but when the woman came closer and gently cupped her cheek, running her thumb over your reddened skin you calmed down.

“Shh, hun. Don’t panic. I’m just here to help a neighbour out, that’s what good neighbours do no? You’re lucky you accidentally left your keys in the welcome basket you gave me.” She spoke softly, her voice sending a shiver through your spine as you suddenly were able to move again. Quickly you covered your nude body with the duvet and sat up. You couldn’t remember that your keys were missing, in fact you were certain that they were hanging by the door but the little detail somehow just vanished from your mind as quickly as it had entered it.

“Miss Harkness I am so incredibly sorry for the inconvenience. If I knew I-“ You tried to explain yourself but she cut you off immediately. “I think we’re past formalities, Y/N. Call me Agatha, Ags, Aggy. Whatever you wanna scream out later.” Your jaw dropped once again at the last comment. “Tell me who’ve got your mind so busy all night, hun. Let me who gets you so worked up you can’t sleep because of it.” By now you knew you’d crossed the line of needing to be shy, you looked up at her, her cheeks glowing bright red as you answered. “Ever since I’ve laid my eyes on you I couldn’t help but think about you every second.” The witch smirked, enjoying how innocent you were while she’d been planning all this’s since the past days.

You were sure you were dreaming, there was no way that the woman of your dreams now setting down next to you on your bed, her hand grabbing the duvet and slowly moving it off you without you even trying to stop her as you were enjoying this way too much. Something made you stop worrying your pretty little head as she leaned down to kiss you passionately, her cold metal of her necklace hitting your skin in the process, making you shiver as it brushed over your already erected nipple. Focused on the kiss and the tongue that was now exploring your mouth made you completely miss the hand that was moving up your inner thigh, resting close to your core before running a finger through your soaked folds, gathering the wetness. “Someone’s got a bit excited hm? How sweet. I’m flattered.” She winked as she brought her finger up to her lips and licked it clean, a soft main leaving her mouth at the taste. “God you’re absolutely divine my dear, I should visit you at night more often.” Not that you’d complain about that at all, you’d probably even leave your door wide open for her. Not just the door in fact.

The witch was less distracted, she ran her fingers through your folds before sliding two of her wicked fingers inside you while she used her thumb to rub circles over your clit, pulling moan after moan from you. You closed your eyes as Agatha’s lips found their way to your neck, licking and kissing the soft skin until she finally found your pulse point, biting right down on it, making you cry out her name, her arms wrapping around the witch’s body tightly as she added another finger, thrusting them in and out of you with a quick pace that didn’t slow down even after minutes of keep it up. It was like Agatha didn’t tire. You felt her marking up your neck before she pulled with a smirk to have a look at her artwork. “God your gorgeous like that baby, now everyone know you’re my little slut to pleasure. I don’t like sharing, keep that in mind. I want your eyes on me.” The commanding tone made your crotch tingle as your walls started clenching around her fingers, you enjoyed the attention she gave you, the way she claimed you as hers like it was nothing. She proud her free hand up to your neck, choking you softly as she her eyes pierced your own, the wet sounds of your cunt filling the room as she curled her fingers to hit your g spot with her nails. “Can I cum? Please I need it so much, I can’t hold it back much longer!” You cried softly but she just laughed wickedly, her fingers continued working inside you as she put slightly more pressure on your throat. “I know you can hold on a little longer baby, gonna make me so very proud.” She whispered in your ear as she you dug her nails into the suit she was wearing. Yet she didn’t make it any easier for you, she licked done your chest to your breasts, wrapping her mouth around your nipple to bit and pull it gently before starting to suck, leaving red lipstick marks all over them. You moved your hand up to her messy bun, holding her head close as she switched to the other breast to give it the same attention. “Aggy please I need to cum! ‘M gonna be so good but please!” You begged her and she finally gave in. “That’s my good girl, been doing so well for me. Now make me proud and cum for me, make a mess on my fingers.” And you did right as the words left the woman’s mouth. You came with a loud scream of her name, releasing your cum all over her fingers and your bed, the grip on the witch’s suit loosening as your arched your back, taking deep breaths to come down from your high while she helped you riding out your orgasm. “Thank you, miss- I mean Agatha.”

The older witch pulled out her fingers, licking off every single drop of your cum before she used the momentum of you catching your breath to bury her head in between your legs to clean you up, running her tongues over your wet thighs and folds, gathering every drop of cum she could find to not let any go to waste. Once she was satisfied she kissed up your body until she reached your lips, leaving another soft kiss on them before getting up from your bed and straightening her suit and redoing her bun. “You should rest now, Y/N. Now that you’ve enlightened the flame I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from stopping by more often now. Until then, hun.” After a single blink she was gone, all you could see was a bit of purple mist at the place where she’d stood just seconds ago. She left you lying there, confused but satisfied. And you were certain you’d now have many more opportunities to pay back the favour and ask your burning questions.

#marvel #agatha: darkhold diaries #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #coven of chaos #smut #x reader

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nelkcats · 10 months

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A Little bird told me

Danny knew his dimension didn't need him. It had been a long time since it stopped needing him, a long time since he had to be content to spend most of his days in the Infinite Realms. His sister and friends were too busy these days to pay attention to him; Danny understood, it's not like he could work or have a job, considering he'd stopped growing at 21 and people would start asking questions eventually.

Honestly, it was a relief that he'd even been able to grow up to that age, Clockwork's knowing look told him he had help with it.

So, he distracted himself by learning things from the other ghosts in the Realms, who were definitely as bored as he was. He even managed to get Vlad to teach him duplication, but it wasn't that interesting after a while. Though he had become interested in the different dimensions that Clockwork watched over.

The problem was that there was one dimension that had caught his attention (one full of heroes and magic) but they always made the worst decisions. There came a point where he decided to interfere, Clockwork seemed amused so he figured he wasn't going to stop him.

As he thought about how to infiltrate (definitely not as a hero, he loved his retirement, thank you very much), he remembered a rather...odd power he had recently discovered.

Danny had discovered that he could shapeshift. The problem was that he could only shapeshift into dead animals and well, while it was fun to scare others, he didn't know how well people would take a ghost crow with ectoplasm coming out of it's wounds.

Figuring it was better than nothing, he transformed into a bird and flew through the portal; he flew towards John Constantine, who seemed fed up with his life. Constantine knew the bird was fucking weird the moment it sit on his shoulders but he had better things to take care of, like the demon in front of him.

Said bird apparently knew the way to defeat the demon, because he started naming the ingredients needed to banish it. Constantine saw it with narrowed eyes and asked if he wanted his soul, the bird pecked him, looking annoyed.

From there, seeing that the dead bird was doing no harm, Constantine let it stay. It was oddly useful and he had sold his soul for less.

Danny spent his days whispering things to Constantine to defeat enemies and the hellbazer gave him cookies in return (the halfa really wanted to be offended), when the League saw Constantine with a dead crow on his shoulder they wondered if he had finally lost his mind.

John commented that his name was Ghosty (he was pecked again) and that he was useful, unfortunately for the superhero community, Constantine had never been that useful and therefore they couldn't complain (but why did he suddenly know all the existing gossip?, he kept bribing them with it! His crow looked amused too).

Every time Constantine won a battle without explanation, someone would make the mistake of asking how he did it. With a shit-eating grin, Constantine would point to his shoulder and say "a little bird told me."

Danny was so tempted to shape-shift just to bite his head off, but the cookies were good.

#dpxdc #Basically Danny became Constantine sidekick #but not really #he just give information and gossip #and Constantine give him cookies in return #Danny stayed as a crow at first #but he started changing to different birds just to confuse the heroes #Constantine doesn't care #he should probably be worried about the unknown entity in his shoulder #but he sold his soul for less #dp x dc #dc x dp #immortal danny #he changed the dimension destiny via Constantine #Constantine is having fun for once #Clockwork is too #Danny is starting to like cookies a lot #he wonders if it's a bird thing

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super-paper · 2 years

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Highlights Summary of the new event in MHUI

The LOV gets a fancy new hideout!

They immediately take out a load bearing wall and cost the PLF hundreds of thousands in property damage. :)

The chaos begins bc Twice made a bunch of clones for the league to beat up spar with-- Twice thinks they should be able to mop the floor with their clones because they all powered up during their fight with the MLA (with Compress futilely attempting to point out that Twice’s clones all have the same exact combat ability as the originals), and Spinner is a little mean and asks the clones to just go away (lmao). Clone!Dabi and Clone!Tomura’s feelings get hurt, Clone!Tomura retaliates by decaying part of the PLF villa and Clone!Dabi just starts setting stuff on fire. Completely healthy expressions of sadness as always, boys!

The league eventually defeats their wildin’ clones, but are left with a very-large-very-noticeable-very-on-brand hole in the side of the PLF villa. They decide to do the logical, forthcoming, and responsible thing and hide all evidence of their involvement.

The League: >talk about how good and experienced they are at hiding evidence

>They proceed to get caught immediately.

Rather than own up to anything, they all run away and hide in a dark room. These are the guys that destabilized all of Japan.

Side note: Tomura’s blasé reaction to whatever hijinks the LOV instigate is one of the best things about their group dynamic. Like yeah, Tomura, this might as well happen. they’re having fun so what the fuck ever right. no matter what insane bullshit they get up to, he just hopes it kills him first.

“Are you The League of Morons!?” D... Do you want a serious answer.

They encounter Skeptic, who was apparently just…. Sitting alone in that dark room, monitoring the league through hidden cameras this whole time?? Most of the league is understandably creeped out. Noticeably, Tomura doesn’t have any real reaction to his privacy being invaded by either the LOV (who barged into his room without knocking at the start of the event) or Skeptic (who again, basically admitted to monitoring him in his bedroom through surveillance cameras) at any point during this event— which fits with his lore about growing up under constant video surveillance by AFO. :’) Let’s give the MHUI devs a round of applause for their canon compliant fridge horror!

Skeptic diverts attention away from his voyeurism by calling the league out for destroying PLF property. ReDestro and Trumpet also appear, much like ineffective chaperones on a middle school field trip, and scold the LOV for their wanton property damage (this is made funnier when you remember that Tomura absolutely cratered the base of their operations like a week ago-- ya’ll knew what he was about). Trumpet asks the LOV if any of them are able to use their quirks to fix the damaged wall.

Tomura’s suggestion for fixing the wall? Just destroy the entire villa and rebuild it from scratch (smart). He even offers to lend a hand returning the settings to zero (kind). He gently but firmly emphasizes that the LOV is a team and reminds Trumpet that there is no “I” in anarchy (patient)-- Destruction is OUR thing. :)

Trumpet knows a landmine when he sees one and immediately changes the subject from “fixing the wall” to just having the LOV clean up their own damn mess.

The league spends a good few minutes talking about the best way to clean up the debris and lamenting that the pieces of rubble are too big for Mister C to compress… with all of them casually forgetting that Tomura can just decay the pieces of rubble, until he chimes in at the last minute while seeming kind of offended that they forgot (thanks, Boss!).

Tomura reminds them that he is an honors student in destroying things and that he can totally decay pieces of building with one hand and that if sensei had been here he would have TOTALLY given him a good grade in senseless property damage-- >:(

Ujiko appears at the end of the event and spoils the fun immediately with his usual ominous bullshit-- because we know it’s not a *real* LOV-centric event unless we’re reminded about the Constant Unspeakable Horrors surrounding Tomura’s whole existence somehow. The end!

TL;DR: Everyone say thank you to MHUI for continuing to capitalize on the LOV’s potential for whimsical and mildly unhinged hijinks.

Bonus cute LOV found family + shipping crumb stuff under the readmore:

The event started with Tomura confined to bed in the PLF villa, recovering from the injuries he sustained fighting Machia and the MLA. He’s hurt pretty badly, but relieved that the MLA/PLF has loads of money bc it means he can recover his HP in peace, quiet, and comfort--

--Just Kidding ☆ The League decides that he can Sleep When He’s Dead and barges into his room without knocking. Tellingly, instead of getting angry or telling them to get out of his room, Tomura is just resigns himself to the fact that he’ll never have peace or quiet with the league in his life and immediately joins in on their hijinks. The amount of affection he has for the league is palpable. Rest in chaos, Shigaraki Tomura.

Tomura broke his leg in the fight with ReDestro, and it’s become difficult for him to move around as a result. The league decides to strong arm ReDestro into making Tomura a wheelchair so he can play with them explore the PLF villa with them. The painkillers possessing Shigaraki Tomura think this is a great idea, so he tells ReDestro make him one. ReDestro folds like a lawn chair and agrees immediately while Skeptic shrieks about budget restrictions in the background. It’s all very fun.

There’s also something mildly amusing about Compress being the only one to call ReDestro by name, while the other members just call him “that guy” or “baldy” or “PIGGYBANK WHO BUYS ME NICE THINGS AND OINKS ON DEMAND That CEO.” Further evidence that the LOV is just a group of disaffected teenagers, part 5ive hundred sixty seven--

Tomura nearly collapses from his injuries, and Twice quickly clones himself and catches Tomura before he falls (this is somehow faster and more efficient than original!Twice just catching Tomura himself-- just admit that you wanted Tomura to praise you for cloning yourself again, Twice). Their relationship remains tooth rottingly adorable.

Spinner is also still riding the high of his gay awakening, for those who are into ShigSpin, and he spends most of the event fussing over Tomura’s injuries.

We also get a Dadpress moment when the LOV reflects on how they’ve gotten stronger, and he mentions that Toga’s fight-to-the-death with Curious “warmed his heart” (Compress?? Bro??? She almost died????). Toga immediately channels the spirit of a bratty teenage daughter and she tells him to stuff it.

#my hero academia #league of villains #Shigaraki Tomura #bubaigawara jin #toga himiko #long post #live bloggin #kinda #mhui blogging

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 6 months

Note

What if Bam and fem reader made a sex tape like the shitty one he made with Jenn. Maybe it would be a little better in quality lol, “but babe, it’s art”

Kinky Dealbreakers

Y/N and Bam make a home movie ;)

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

1.1k Words

Warnings: Very suggestive content, accidental voyeurism, mention of sex toys, crude language

An: Thank you for this request!! Apologies for taking a bit of a break but I’m back and better than ever! XD I have yet to stumble upon actual footage of these sex tapes, but from what I’ve heard about them online I hope to keep it that way! Anyways, please keep sending in requests!

Neither you nor Bam were really paying attention to the tv as the two of you laid on the couch together, the only light in the room coming from the screen cascading over you. Laying against his warm chest, you lazily traced the dark, swirling ink of the heartagram tattoo on his lower stomach, humming softly to yourself. He watched you through half lidded eyes, running a hand through your hair affectionately. Bam suddenly broke the hour’s long silence, startling you a little, “Hey, Y/N.” You jumped, but after you caught your breath, you could pick up on a hint of mischief in his voice as your boyfriend continued, “I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin…” Consider your curiosity piqued, “What?” Glancing up at him, you saw a little glimmer in his eye as he turned to get a little close to you, his voice almost a whisper. “Wanna make a sex tape?”

And boy, were you paying attention now. Of course, you weren’t surprised- Bam had made a handful of pornos before so it was only a matter of time he asked you to do one. Honestly, you’d be all gung-ho to hop in front of the camera with him if it wasn’t for one thing- all of them were god awful. He could sense your apprehension and, reading your mind, he reached a hand down, speaking softly as he held your cheek and reassured you, “C’mon…you’re way prettier than those other chicks. Besides, nobody but us is gonna see it.” Your eyes met his cautiously, “Really? None of your idiot friends?” Bam chuckled, “Of course.” His hand returned to your hair, gently massaging your scalp, “Don’t worry, babe. This is gonna be a work of art.”

“But,” You stipulated, “I have some rules.” Your boyfriend shrugged, apparently very pleased at himself from the grin plastered on his face. He did a ‘lay it on me’ gesture with one hand, “Alright, lemme hear ‘em.” After thinking for a moment, you held up a finger and began, “One: You can’t slap my ass.” As the words fell from your lips, a grin spread across your face as your boyfriend groaned, his head falling to one side as he nodded. You were very pleased at how much power you held over him, “Two- and I cannot stress this enough- this is gonna be seen by nobody but us, understand? I don't want us screwing to end up as a DVD extra.”

He nodded, “Okay, okay- got it. Listen, I've already got everything all planned out, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.” You felt his hand stroking your back, his palm feeling so warm on your skin. Bam leaned closer to you, so near that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your ear as he spoke into your ear, his words slow and filled with intention, “Nothin’ too fancy- just you and me on the bed…little touching, little making out…some nipple clamps-“ You stopped him there, “Okay, third thing! No kinky shit like- like nipple clamps!”

Of course, after all the fun is over, that just leaves the work in the editing room, which was, more often than not, very tedious. For example, the two of you had spent the past twenty arguing over what song would be in the background. Predictably, Bam wanted to go with a H.I.M song, which you shut down because A, all his other pornos had H.I.M songs in the background and B, your idea was leagues better. “Come on, Bam!” You pleaded, holding out the Rammstein CD to him, “Rein Raus is perfect for this! I mean- are you even listening to me?” He groaned in response, still hunched over his computer. Fingers clicking away, the blue tinted screen glowed against his pale skin as he replied, not even turning to look at you, “C’mon. It’s not that deep, babe.”

“Yeah?” You scoffed, “Well you’re not the one showin’ off their tits, Mr. Blur-My-Dick!” He was caught off guard, his fingers stilling on the keyboard as his eyes went wide. After a bit, he sighed and held his hand out, “You got me there…” You giggled to yourself, handing him the disc. Curriously, you peered at the screen as he worked “Almost done?” Bam nodded as he slipped the disc into one of the many computer apparatuses that littered his desk. It was a wonder he knew what anything was amongst the winding tangle of wires and ports. There were two gray computers that each weighed at least forty pounds a piece, not to mention the thick, silver tv monster on one table he usually used to review footage. This was what you were staring at when you caught something out of the corner of your eye. Squinting in the low light, you didn’t believe what you thought you saw in the window. “What the fuck…?”

Bam looked over your shoulder, his eyes going wide, “Fucking Dico!” Before you knew it, his silver flip phone was already opened and turned to speaker. Luckily, the man on the other line picked up fast, “Oh, hey dude.” Bam barely gave him time to get those words out, leaning back in his chair, “Dude, what the fuck! I’m- im making this video,” He looked over at you as he phrased it carefully, “an’im watching the thing back, and you’re in the fuckin’ background!” Dico chuckled and you could practically see that dorky grin on his face through the phone, “Oh, you mean Saturday?” Yep, he knew. Your boyfriend’s eyes shot back to the monitor, his brow furrowing, “Yes, Saturday! What the hell were you doing?!” He glared down at the phone as if was really in the same room with him as he listened to the explanation, “Well, you weren’t picking up your phone, so I came over- but you weren’t opening the door either, so I went to check the window!” Shaking his head, Bam sighed, exasperated, “Fine..how long were you there for?” Dico seemed unbothered, shrugging, “Only a couple minutes.”

After a long silence from you, you felt compelled to speak, leaning closer to Bam’s phone, “Yeah, I can see you were there for a couple minutes! Your ugly fuckin’ mug’s right there!” A laugh echoed through the tinny speakers of the flip phone. You were about to tell him how not funny this was. Dico spoke first, trying to fix the situation in a very Dico way, “C,mon, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it! Hell, if you really want, you two could always just shoot another one!”

#jackass #bam margera #brandon dicamillo #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader

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my-names-angel-but-im-not-one · 1 year

Text

Mc That's like Wednesday

First Meet

Pairing: Obey me character x mc! That's like Wednesday !!

Tw warning: mention of gore?

Part-1 Part-2

The brothers.

You were lying on the cold floor... No you're not poor infact you're far from it. You were sleeping on the bed but you suddenly felt that something's wrong and found out you were on the floor , there were voices around you saying 'is she dead'

'oh looks like the exchange program will have to wait' .

'I'm kidnapped...not that i didn't expected that' you thought.

You were still pretending to be asleep so you can find out more but then you heard footsteps approaching probably coming to check upon you whoever that was removed a piece of hair from your face the moment they touched you , you grabbed their hand pulled them down and pushed your little knife near their throat that you keep hidden in your locket. It's small but useful . You heard people gasps and looked down it was a very handsome man with Ruby eyes and raven hair. But you weren't the one to be phased by good looks .

"Where am I? You all better start speaking if you want this little friend of yours alive" you demanded without fearing......

Shocked , surprised, stunt!!

Human how!?

And you didn't got up till Diavolo explained everything!! When you got up you didn't even apologize..even after being told he's the Lucifer.

Poor Lucifer prided got hurt

"Human I'd have you apologize for the stunt"

"And i you, for kidnapping me"

"Apologize"

"I'd rather stuck needles in my eyes"

Diavolo have to stop you guys , you're like another incarnate of pride.

But no one has the audacity to stuck up to Lucifer so he kinda becomes a simp NGL.

But still his poor pride is still hurt.

Do you not enjoy living human? You must have a death wish 😃?

No like really stop arguing with Lucifer but like SIMP no:2.

Cause he was since he saw you pretending to be asleep!!

Look Mammon is easily distracted but you caught his attention now.

Congrats!!

Will try to talk to you but you genuinely don't give a shit 😃.

"Lucifer i don't wanna babysit a human!!"

"Yes i don't want to be baby sit by someone whose face scream 'help me I'm getting bullied '"

"Hey human you don't get to insult The Great Mamm-"

" i wish i could mold my consciousness to give a shit but i apologize i can't"

Mammon didn't even understand that because too much grammar and fancy language.

He'll stick with you thou.....cause he's a simp.

Didn't knew what was going on and didn't care .

Though was slightly concern for you when you talk back to Lucifer.

Was impressed when you roasted mammon.

He was like "LOLMRRRR" (I still don't know what that means)

Blushed really hard when you sent him a glare .

"You know you look like the main character of 'i invited my crush to hell now they're roasting all of my brothers and making them fall in love'"

"No i look like Wednesday from Wednesday " you said and went away.

He looked it up at first he was like what a normie but then he saw it and immediately found out the similarity.

Simp No: 3

You are his favourite now .

Crown you to be the leader of Anti-Lucifer League.

"i refuse"

"You're seriously turning me down?"

"Can you believe it"

But you'd be mostly found with him through.

He'll read listening to your calming taps of type writer.

One can say you go along the best with him

Lucifer don't like it though.

You'll not take part in his pranks cause apparently "if there's no blood there's no fun"

Satan found you a bit disturbing cause from books he learnt this behaviour isn't normal amoung humans but he also found you intriguing.

Congrats satan taking interest means you better run.

He saw a new fashion

He took interest

You're his now!!

"sweetie! You're so unique!!"

"Distance would be appreciated, and if dropping the bodies of your victims infront of their family rather than disposing them is unique then thanks"

Asmo exp. Has stop working *windos shut down music*

He still try to gain his composure back

"uh why the distance sweetie! Would you not rather see this beauty*winks winks*'

"I'm alergic to color , i go insane and scrape the flesh of my bones"

Ok Asmo accept his defeat and sulked away

Mc-1, Asmo-0

Thinks you're threat for what you did to Lucifer.

But gets that's just your chaotic personality.

Thinks your like belphie.

"Belphie?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE- "

Otherwise no thoughts head empty beel will just continue enjoying his meal

For you beel is the most decent.

(I love him)

"Please save me I'm a human just like you Lucifer has captured me!!"

"You smell *sniff* like a demon . Nice to meet you belphegor ."

"How !?"

"Humans are usually scared of me "

"Well you still gotta help me even if I'm a demon "

"Got two words"

"Bet they won't be helpful"

"Your problem"

"I was right "

But you still sometimes bring him blankets and read him your novels when Lucifer isn't looking.

He likes you . No like really.

Safe to say you are not going to face the same fate as the game's mc now .

He still hate humans

But so do you.

So y'all like besties now!!

[A/N]: First obey me headcannon . Hehe! I hope you all enjoyed it !!

If there's something you don't like let me know in DM!

Thank you for reading!!

#obey me shall we date #obey me short fic #obey me gn!reader #shall we date lucifer #the great mammon #levi om #obey me satan #om! asmodeus #beel x reader #belphieobeyme

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militantinremission · 2 months

Text

What does being 'Black' really mean?

I have thought about this for a long time. Over the years, I spoke w/ Moors, Israelites, Indigenous, & Pan Afrikans about 'Blackness' & what it means to them. I also looked at Separate but Equal (Jim Crow) Laws, The Black Codes, The Fugitive Slave Act, Dred Scott, & related documents dating back to the Colonial Era. Writing on this Subject was always in the back of My Mind, but now I feel compelled to give an opinion. Dane Calloway & Yvette Carnell don't agree on much, but they're both in agreement about 'Blackness in America'; their perspectives intrigued Me. Cam'ron's Declaration of Blackness, followed by responses from Marc Lamont Hill & Umar Johnson inspired Me to chime in on the Subject.

Recently, Dane Calloway & Yvette Carnell both went into detail about 'Blackness' on their individual Channels. Both have expressed their view in the past, but the timing of their latest opinions caught My attention. They essentially agree that this 'designation' refers to a Bottom Caste status that sets Us up for Social Inequality as a Collective. They also agree that identifying as 'Black American' only clouds Our identity as a Lineage Group. The denial of (promised) resources to 'Black' Farmers, & the repeal of Affirmative Action on College Campuses were both done in the name of 'Race Neutrality'. Apparently, Whitefolk & Brownfolk thought that these (long overdue) measures offered too much(?)

I was still digesting Dane & Yvette's perspective, when Cam'ron declared that he prefers being called 'Black' over Afrikan American, citing a schism between Black Americans & Continental Afrikans. This prompted Dr. Marc Lamont Hill & Dr. Umar Johnson to respond- in the name of Pan Afrikanism. Over the last 5Yrs, Pan Afrikans have been very vocal about Reparations & who should be entitled. Groups like N'COBRA, NAARC, The NAACP, & The Urban League have pushed for Trans Atlantic based Reparations; but they favor Social Programs over cash payments. Grassroots Organizations like the ADOS Advocacy Foundation, stress the need for cash payments to American Descendants Of Chattel Slavery.

It's curious how the same U.S. Constitution that used Our skin color to classify Us as 3/5ths of Humanity, still uses Our skin color as a 'Racial identity' to restrict Our access to resources. Somehow, this skin color classification doesn't stop 'Minority Groups' (i.e. White Women, White LGBTQ..., People Of Color [POC/ BIPOC]) from getting the resources that They want & need. Maybe it's just Me, but I see a double standard playing out. Edward Blum & his 'Minority Coalition' are hell bent on weaponizing Race as a means of maintaining Black Oppression. He recently resorted to applying the Civil Rights Law of 1866 against Black Women; meanwhile, ADOS was unsuccessful in their attempt to apply the Same Law to (naively?) support Byron Allen's Case against Comcast Communications.

I understand where Family is coming from, when they refer to dictionary definitions of 'Black'. In a 'White' Society, Blackness is depicted as antithetical. It's not unusual, when we consider the way Afrikan Tribes associate 'Whiteness' w/ Death & Disease (i.e. Leprosy). Historically, this attitude towards Blackness goes back to Our 1st Contact w/ Northern/ Step Europeans (Vikings, Scandanavians, ect...) who traditionally burned their dead. Our mummification process spooked them! Those bodies took on a dark hue, & hardened into a crystal like structure; the Europeans called it a 'Crust'. From this, came the word 'Curse'. The Europeans migrated south into Western Asia & transported their ideology w/ them. This fear of Black Mummies was shared w/ Mongolians & other Indo- European Tribes, like the Turks & Huns. In the same way that Afrikans came to associate Whiteness negatively, the Asiatics came to associate Blackness similarly. Today, We STILL hear Koreans, Japanese, & Chinese refer to a 'Black Devil'.

The modern regard for Blackness is a Social Construct created by 15th Century Castilians & Portugese. These beliefs were sanctioned by the Catholic Church, by way of Papal Bulls & adopted by Dutch, English, & French Colonizers. That's not to say Anti Black sentiment didn't exist; Maimonides (Musa Ibn Maimon) wrote 'The Curse of Ham' centuries earlier... Spain, Portugal, & Italy appeared tired of Moorish Rule, & took advantage of the waning years of their influence. Current Reparations discussions have included the prominence of Afrikan Slave Trading, & how Afrikan Kingdoms, like Mali & Kongo actually traded Slaves w/ Europeans; until they were also Colonized. Afrikan Kingdoms became dependent on the profits, decadent lifestyle, & overall efficacy of trading away their 'enemies'. They didn't concern themselves w/ Europe's intentions for these people.

European Colonizers told themselves that they were 'On a Mission' to Christianize the heathens. I don't know what THAT had to do w/ raping & pillaging Societies in 'The Americas' (Amaru Ca, Turtle Island, Atlantis). In 'Capitalism & Slavery' Eric Williams explains how Europeans rationalized their barbarism to offset the guilt of violating fellow Human Beings. The Fruits of Exploration clouded the moral judgement of Many. Thinking Men, like Samuel George Morton began to concoct a number Theories (Religious & Scientific) to condone their actions. It wasn't limited to Afrika or The Americas; ANY non- Christian was a potential target. Truth be told, Latin America had more Slaves coming from The Pacific, than The Atlantic. Many of the Illegal Immigrants that (so called) Native Americans in The Dakotas are calling 'Indigenous People', are descendants of 'Negritos' transported from The Philippines & the South Pacific Islands. Spanish & Portugese Conquistadors adopted Colorism from the Arabs, & used it as a tool for Divide & Conquer (Blanqueamiento/ Branqueamiento).

The Portugese & Spanish brought Colorism to the (so called) New World, but it was The English who refined it into the System of Racism. Benjamin Franklin was credited w/ using the term 'White' in 1751, but Black Codes were already in play for decades. Bacon's Rebellion of 1675- 1676 resulted in 'Racial' (Chattel) Slavery in Virginia. White Indentured Servants that were treated no differently than their Black counterparts, were elevated to Overseers & Slave Hunters; later to become Militiamen & Police Officers. Legally, 'White' represented the Wealthy Class of Land Owners & Bankers (Gentlemen of Property & Standing). 'Black' represented Indigenous Americans- Free & Enslaved; Poor Whites were stuck in the middle. The Lessons of Bacon's Rebellion brought Laws that ensured that the average White Person had a better lifestyle than the average Black Person.

Dictionaries define 'Whiteness' as: Fair & Pure. 'Blackness' is defined as: Ugly & Evil. All of this helped perpetuate Indigenous/ Aboriginal People as inferior to the European. The 1790 Census brought the first reclassification of American Indians to 'Negro' & 'Colored'. This reclassification continued w/ each subsequent Census. Census Enumerators were not just instructed, but encouraged to use their personal judgement when making Racial Assignments; particularly when making classifications of Negro & Colored. In 1924, Dr. Walter A. Plecker pushed 'The (Preservation of) Racial Integrity Act' in Virginia. This Act sought to reclassify ALL Indigenous People in Virginia as Colored or Negro, & penalized them (w/ violence or death). The 'One Drop Rule' was added in 1930. The Census completed it's reclassification w/ designations of 'Black' in 1970, & 'Afrikan American'(?) in 1990... Chris Rock once joked: "Have you ever seen an American Indian Family in an IHOP?" He probably didn't know that depending on which IHOP, he may have been SURROUNDED by them!

The U.S. Government has been persistent in their efforts to erase America's 'Copper- toned Aborigines'. In addition to Local, State, & Federal Laws designed to keep Us out of contention, they also used Anthropology to prove the inferiority of Indigenous People, compared to Europeans. W.E.B. Du Bois countered, w/ the help of Franz Boas & a new generation of Anthropologists. Melville Herskovits, like Boas contributed to the Anti Black counter narrative; playing a role in setting up the Harlem History Club at the 135th Street YMCA. This is the same Club that inspired Ho Chi Minh... Since 1990, (Indigenous) Black Americans have been on a Pan Afrikan Crusade that sought to embrace EVERY melanated individual as 'Black'. Haitians, Dominicans, Columbians, Somalis & Nigerians have been very vocal about NOT being Black; they're right! Family thinks that they either want to be White, or at least avoid the negativity associated w/ Blackness. Regardless of their reason, they have a Right Of Expression.

History has been purposely skewed, to prop up self righteous White Men & their Female cohorts (WASPs) over Everyone Else. Their advanced weaponry & barbarism has motivated many to fall in line w/ the Western Agenda over the last 500 Years, but Indigenous/ Black Americans have been fighting them every step of the way. Despite the effort to "Kill the Indian & keep The Man", We continued to search for Our Truth. 100Yrs ago, that led Us into an extensive search on the Afrikan Continent. DuBois, Boas, & Herskovits ALL espoused Out of Afrika Theory; & in some shape or form, molded the Minds of many of Our Master Teachers & Scholars. Their search for Roots in Afrika (Alkebu- Lan) was a noble & fruitful endeavor. As Students, We learned of glorious Civilizations that predated Europe, Rome, & Greece by several millennia. We learned that The Kamau, Nubian, & Kushite referred to themselves as 'Black People'. They were the 'Children of The Sun'- Blessed by The Most High w/ Blackness (Melanin/ Ka Nu). The 'Afu Ra Ka Nu' & 'Afu Rat Kat Nut' are the First Born of The Most High; molded out of Primordial Blackness (CERN calls it: The 'God Particle') & assigned as Caretakers of Planet Earth (Geb). In a Nation that marginalizes the very Concept of Blackness, We were inspired to shout: "I'm Black & I'm Proud!".

Today We live in The Information Age, & as such, Our Generation(s) have access to sources that few of Our Elders had. As We put the pieces together, We discover that:

North America had a population of roughly 100 Million Indigenous People when the Colonizers arrived 500Yrs ago.

These People had highly functional Societies that existed for millennia.

They traded w/ The Moors & other Afrikan Kingdoms for Centuries, & They spoke the Lingua Franca.

They have a Legacy of Brick Making & Mound Building. Billy Carson & Walter Williams both say that Our Indigenous Ancestors have a direct connection to the Kamau. Archeological digs in Southern Illinois & Ohio uncovered Kamitic Ritual material & Pre Phoenician 'Proto- Hebraic Script' among the artifacts. Quiet as it's kept, North America has a plethora of Mounds & Pyramids; St. Louis is nicknamed 'Mound City'.

ALL of the European visitors admitted the 'Copper- toned Aboriginines' or Indios practiced a higher Culture than ANY Culture in Europe.

Benjamin Franklin, Patrick Henry, John Hancock, et al were students of Indigenous American Culture. They adopted the Articles Of Confederacy & The U.S. Constitution from the existing Confederacy Of The 5 Nations (The Iroquois Constitution), written around 1200 A.C.E... The Iroquois are the True Founders of the 'American Democratic Experiment'. Remember, ALL of the European Colonizers hailed from Monarchies, so it stands to reason...

The possibility of transporting 12 Million Afrikans to North America from 1619- 1865 is highly improbable. Dane Calloway already broke down the logistics of Trans Atlantic Shipping, & personally compelled The State of Virginia to reduce their 'Afrikan Slave' count by more than 90%. Depending on who you talk to, the number of 'Afrikans' transported to North America ranges from 90,000- 300,000 individuals. At best, this accounts for less than 10% of the 4 Million Individuals that were emancipated. The 20 Young Women that arrived at Point Comfort in 1619, were originally called 'Negresses', not Afrikans. American Indians were called Negroes almost interchangeably.

Dane Calloway, Kurimeo Ahau, & The Research Guy have all pointed out how Europeans transported North American Indians to 'Slave Seasoning' (Buck Breaking) Camps in The Caribbean. Afterwards, they were either shipped back to America, or transported to Europe, & later West Afrika; from Sierra Leone, to Angola. The English & French used Caribbean Maroons in their assault on Afrikan Kingdoms.

All of this new information about Our Ancestors has led many to revisit their Family Genealogy. Many of Us recall a Story or two about the Family connection to a particular Tribe. I personally can't remember hearing an Afrikan Origin Story, before the airing of Alex Haley's 'Roots'. My family taught Us about Our Indian Roots; We don't have a Slave Ship Story in Our History. Most of the Blackfolk claiming Afrikan Tribes, have taken so called Genetic Swab Tests that are advertised as 'Entertainment'. Black Historians & Genealogists, like Dr. Henry Louis Gates have refuted the accuracy of these 'Tests' for years. NO ONE can determine their ancestry from a mouth swab; you need the actual DNA of an Ancestor to make an accurate analysis. Most people don't know that their genetic material is being held (& utilized) by proponents of the [Mormon] Church Of Latter Day Saints. The largest Genealogy Library on Earth, is in Salt Lake City, Ut.

As We put the pieces together, We can clearly see the ongoing process of Colonization. AmeriKKKa cannot be as bold as Israel in their removal of Indigenous Black Americans, so The U.S. Government uses a trickbag of classifications & legislative measures to keep Blackfolk in a state of 'Arrested Development'. They hope that We 'migrate' to Afrika, but most of Us can't afford to visit; let alone relocate. Meanwhile, The Government continues to Flood the Zone w/ immigrants (for 175Yrs & counting). The Mainstream Media speaks about Venezuelan 'migrants' daily, but We hear nothing about the 100,000 Afghani & 100,000 Ukrainian immigrants they prepared for. These people are literally White on arrival. If illegal Venezuelans are getting 5 Star treatment, what are these folk getting?

I felt obligated to go in-depth on this topic, because so many cling to a definition created by Colonizers & Oppressors. How does someone define themselves using the language of their Oppressor? It's the same as someone saying: "A N-- like me", or "A B-- like me". We have been programmed into accepting a wretched (ratchet) image of Ourselves. Some of the people refusing to use the term 'Black', have No Problem referring to themselves as 'N--s' & 'B--s'. I question their logic. Richard Pryor said 40Yrs ago, in 'Here & Now' that he was wrong about using The N- Word. He went on to say that it was a Word that describes Our Wretchedness. He vowed never to use that Word again, but since his declaration, there has been an explosion of 'N-- Comics' over the last 40Yrs. Use of The N- Word is more prevalent than wearing that dress, but few talk about this particular assault on Our Culture. Is it just a coincidence that many of these N- Comics have 'funny looking Wives', as Katt Williams described them?

The lion's share of Our Master Teachers & Scholars were literally spoon-fed Out Of Afrika Theory, so We were primed for Pan Afrikanism. Marcus Garvey was actually 'fishing in a barrel' on those Harlem Streets. This isn't a bad thing in itself. Our Problem has been giving Our 'Cousins' too much access to Our Cultural Mores. Many of the Celebrities, Athletes, & Entertainers being spotlighted & engaging in miscegenation, are descendants of Black Immigrants. They're the Same Ones misrepresenting Our Culture, while telling Us that We're 'Culturally Lost'. Like Hindi/ Bangladeshi/ & Pakistani/ Americans, these folk are situational about their Blackness. They relish being 'Afrikan American' when it's profitable, but are quick to remind you of their Nationality (in a thick accent) when it isn't... It's time to delineate. EVERY melanated group has an identifiable lineage, except Black America. We had a clear identity, until We allowed Jesse Jackson to reclassify Us as 'Afrikan American'. To quote Dane Calloway: "We're named after 2 Continents". Now We're being amalgamated into an 'Afrikan/ Black Diaspora' that is looking to fleece Us like Everyone Else. Most of these folks are 'Black' Capitalists looking for a quick buck. The commercialization of Kwanzaa is a prime example. Our argument for Lineage Based Reparations has revealed this well kept secret.

The (current) Reparations discussion has brought important issues to the conversation. ADOS, FBA, Freemen, & Indigenous Family all agree that We're a specific Lineage Group w/ a specific Experience. No other group has endured what We have endured in America. Some Black Immigrants make a valid point that They have endured over 100Yrs of White Supremacy in America; few admit that They also had more autonomy & opportunity than We had. Many of the 'First Faces' that We tout, aren't Us, but Our Cousins. Colin Powell, Eric Holder, & Susan Rice aren't just descendants of Immigrants, they're also Cousins! Barack Obama was Harvard's 1st Black Law Review Editor & Claudine Gay was their 1st Black President, but NEITHER have Indigenous Black Roots. BOTH have more in common w/ the descendants of Slave Holders, than those Enslaved on Harvard's properties. We have far too many of their Faces in Our Spaces. 'Afrikan American' is not working for Us. It skews perspectives regarding Wealth & Inequality, while rewarding newcomers for their 'proximity to Blackness'.

I have to go back to The Black Power Movement, to get a clear understanding of what Blackness truly means. During that Era, 'Blackness' was an American Phenomenon that was Globally acknowledged. No One else said: 'I'm Black & I'm Proud' w/ as much authority. John Carlos & Tommie Smith proudly threw up their Black fists, knowing they would pay a price. Muhammad Ali lost his Prime Boxing Years to make a point. The Culture of Blackness permeated Music & Cinema; We were doing Our Thing, Our Way. The Culture was distinctly Ours. It WAS a Black Thang, & No One understood it; but EVERYONE respected it. As We travelled The World, We were called Soul Brothers & Soul Sisters, but most called Us Black American. We have a distinct Pedigree. The World knows WHO We are. If we're being honest, Black Culture & Music was generally more respectable before 1990, when We became 'Afrikan American'. Hollywood has been denigrating Us since 'Birth Of A Nation', but their images contradicted who We are. We're a Righteous & Noble People. Our Love of Our Collective progeny is unrivaled. The Slave Experience stripped Us of Our individual lineage, but it also eliminated any Tribalism. Indigenous Black Americans- from New York to Oakland, & from Detroit to Houston refer to each other as: 'Family from...' We compete against each other, & toss The Dozens; but when it's time to Put in The Work- We're ALL On Code.

I laugh at this notion of 'Race Neutrality'. What exactly is meant by Race? Chief Justice John Roberts & Justice Clarence Thomas both lean on this term pretty heavily, but how? Black, White, Asian, & Latinx aren't Racial Groups, they're Socio- Demographic Classifications. Every Middle School Student has learned by 8th Grade of 3 Races: Negroid, Mongoloid, & Caucasoid. This 'Racial Re- tread' only seems to affect Indigenous Black Americans/ Copper-toned Aborigines on the basis of Our skin color. Everyone Else, including Black Immigrants have a Right of Expression under the current demographic structure. This is the Same System that holds Black America stagnant at 13% of the population since Emancipation, while bringing Ethnic Europeans (Caucasians, Catholics) & Asians under the umbrella of Whiteness; to offset the declining birth rate in their demographic. The Biden Administration has implied the same thing is being done w/ Latinx. I STILL ask: What is a 'Latino/ Hispanic'- are they a specific Nationality? No, they're a Socially Engineered Group (Buffer Class) created to marginalize the Indigenous Black American Population. Our Collective, is not a grouping of different Ethnicities & Nationalities under a particular demographic- We're One Nationality. As We search for a uniform description of Our specific Lineage Group, 'Black American' is a No Brainer... Cam'ron is correct.

'Black American' actually describes a specific Ethnic Group w/ a specific Culture & Experience that NO OTHER GROUP can tout. It describes a Group of People in a specific Region, not a (Global) Racial Group. We are as distinct, as Australian Aborigines. Other than Our Cousins- the 'Black Brits', melanated People tend to describe themselves Tribally or Nationally. They only identify as 'Black', when they Come to America. Meanwhile, Native (Siberian) Americans have used the Dawes Rolls to appropriate Our Ancestral [Tribal] Identity, forcing Us to Collectively reestablish Ourselves from scratch. Indigenous, Aboriginal, or American Indian describes Our connection to The Land. The Blood & Bones of Our Ancestors are buried Here, not in Afrika. Black American, describes who We are today. It defines Us as a unique Nationality. This description makes it easier for Us to point out Centuries of legislative policy crafted & used against Us as a specific Lineage Group. Afrikan American, is a monolithic classification that ignores the diverse Cultural experiences & Tribalism of the Collective. Ultimately, Our Name may change, but The Culture stays the Same.

In a nutshell, Black American IS Our Tribal Identity. We're World renowned for Standing Out & Standing Our Ground, & NO ONE does it better. As Professor Black Truth puts it: 'We create Icons'.

-Just making My Case

#B1 #ADOS #FBA #Freemen #The13Percent #LineageMatters #RecalibrateTheCulture #TheProud&NoblePeople #OftenImitatedNeverDuplicated #LiberationRock #FarmersBoulevard #UnapologeticallyBlack #AgeOfProphecy #CultureOfResistance

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