So I just simultaneously did, and possibly didn't lose my job today :)
Very much did in the sense that I literally do not know where my job is at the moment. But, for the time being I haven't been let go because nobody else including the store owner knows where it is either.
So, I don't wanna risk doxxing myself by posting pictures but goddamn am I tempted because this is not a believable event. This is a cartoon problem. For looneytoons.
But yeah, so, I work(ed?) at a kiosk selling boba tea, right? Freestanding kiosk in the mall with full water and electrical hookups and multiple fridges and sinks and a mini kitchen and the works. Fully functional tea shop. Very important to note that it was there last night, The work chat was discussing another issue last night at closing time. I'll get back to this.
It's been showing signs of being on the way out with how business is being handled lately and I've been considering other options, which is probably why I'm not as torn up about this as I should be, but maybe it just hasn't set in yet, but that's not the point. The point is there's been a lot of shit breaking and not being replaced and nobody mentioning anything about it until I walk into work in the morning and have to figure out why shit like the fucking cash register isn't there today. So I'm kinda used to having to ask questions about big things that nobody bothered to update me on. I was out for two weeks recovering from a surgery, so I came to work this morning assuming there'd be some kind of bullshit, yeah?
So, the question I had to ask the chat this morning was:
Not a text I ever thought I'd have to send in sincerity, but there it is. Because what I found instead was a fenced off patch of discolored tiles and a few holes in the floor where my entire place of employment used to be.
And the answer? Nobody knows! It was there last night when the mall closed, and every single trace of the structure and all its contents including drink making supplies and our safe and cashbox was gone when it opened again. And when I say nobody knows, I mean everyone from last night's closers to the actual (former?) owner of the store jad no fucking clue about this until getting that text from me this morning. For once I am actually the first to know. 🎉.
So. I guess I didn't so much lose my job as had it stolen. Not by AI, but good old fashioned hands-on human beings picking it up and carrying it away somehow. All mall security would tell me was that they were instructed not to tell me anything and have us contact our management. Who also don't know anything. And later on I came across some construction workers around the gravesite of the kiosk discussing filling in the holes, asked them about it, and was told that they "weren't at liberty to say".
So, not only is my job gone in the most literal physical sense of the word, but it was taken in some kind of super secret kiosk extraction in the dead of night without any warning or witnesses and nobody is allowed to speak of it. The store owner said she was gonna figure it out 10 hours ago and still no word back.
I don't know what else to say aside from I've been laughing all day and I'm gonna have a hell of a time explaining Schrodinger's Unemployment to the benefits office.
Update that is not an update because I'm basically certain this isn't what actually happened:
My mother in law thinks the FBI took it.
Not any of the other stores around the state. Just the one little kiosk.
Why? Because she loves a conspiracy and is just a little bit extra.
Also because she was around for the massive crackdown on Yakuza-owned businesses in Waikiki (in her homestate) that did actually involve the FBI seizing stores (no confirmation of making kiosks cleanly disappear in the middle of the night though).
Still no word from my job on what's actually going on, but the most likely theory so far is that maybe the kiosk was on lease and got repossessed? The mystery continues
(also shout out to the person who proposed Carmen Sandiego)
According to the owner, based on what she's been able to find out, the kiosk was not removed legally and they're starting a potentially long process of legal action. I hope she gets to sue the shit out of whoever did it but for now at least I know for sure I'm unemployed.
Really hoping for more details in terms of who/why/how, so I'll keep updating if I learn anything.
For now the summary is: An unnamed entity that is most likely mall management (on account of mall security cooperating with them) stole an entire kiosk and all the contents including money and machinery with barely a trace in the middle of the night grinch-style, with zero warning or explanation, and ensured the silence of both security and the construction crew, in an action that was definitely preplanned and illegal, and as far as I know nobody knows its whereabouts.
So now I'm officially out of a job. Because my workplace was literally stolen in the night.
Actually fuck it let's share some photos cause I wouldn't be inclined to believe this myself. It's not like anyone can stalk me at my job now and I'm not gonna have to see any coworkers that might find my tumblr.
Enjoy the unintentionally funniest text I've ever sent in my life
Aaand a close-up:
The last remains of a once Very Much Solid And Immobile Workplace
If you're writing anything involving cons, scams, heists, or morally questionable characters who are very good at lying, here are some free resources I've been using for research. Saving you the "why is this in my search history" anxiety.
1. The FBI's Famous Cases & Criminals archive (fbi.gov/history/famous-cases) has detailed breakdowns of real fraud cases, Ponzi schemes, and confidence operations. The language they use is clinical and precise, which is perfect for getting the procedural details right.
2. The FTC Consumer Sentinel Network publishes annual reports on the most common fraud tactics in the US. Great for understanding how modern scams actually work and what makes people fall for them.
3. The Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a free digital collection of forgery case studies. If your character forges documents or art, this is gold.
4. Court Listener (courtlistener.com) is a free legal database where you can read actual court transcripts from fraud trials. Want to know how a real con artist talks under oath? This is where you find out.
5. The Internet Archive's collection of old newspaper crime sections. Search for "confidence man" or "swindle" in papers from the 1920s through 1960s and you'll find incredible real stories that would feel too dramatic for fiction.
Bonus: The Psychology of Fraud section on the Association for Psychological Science website has accessible articles about why people trust, how deception works cognitively, and what makes someone a convincing liar. Essential reading if you want your con artist characters to feel psychologically real.
Reblog to save for later. Your WIP will thank you.
I don't know how easy it is to get hold of these days, my library happened to have them, but the Howdunit series is excellent. there are books on poinsons, carnivals, PIs, and scams. A bit dated in terms of technology but they were lots of fun.
I've been reading so many batfamily x neglected reader stories lately, and I would love more crossovers with other heroes and stuff. Now don't get me wrong, I love the superman and spiderman crossovers. There's just so many of them and so many other heroes.
Give me a mutant reader that hides their mutation and runs away to Xavier's school for gifted youngsters.
Give me a reader that learns magic from doctor strange and gets unofficially adopted by him.
Give me a reader that's half-Asgardian and goes on adventures with Thor.
Give me a reader that stumbles onto the waverider and 'accidentally' gets kidnap by the Legends of Tomorrow.
Give me a reader that gains one of the lantern corp rings and goes on space adventures.
Give me a reader that meet the Doctor and becomes their companion. That reader finds so many similarities between them and Bruce, but the biggest difference is that the Doctor wears their hearts on their sleeve. There's no guessing game with them. While they're not the greatest at saying 'I love you', they do show it through their actions, something reader could never see with Bruce.
Give me a reader that gets out of Gotham and see that there is so much more to life, that they can find people that will care about them with no strings attached. Then, when they do go back to Gotham, the batfam sees that their little kid is all grown up and did so without them, that just maybe if they had let them in, treated them like family, they could have been there for them. But now it's almost too late, and they have to figure out how to get back into reader's life if they would ever allow them to.
Okay most of this is reader getting adopted by other heroes, but I love the idea of the batfamily trying so hard to keep one member of the family normal. Due to that, it creates a gap and leads that family member directly to the life they wanted them to avoid.
Solitude can be a sickness, loss damnation, and faith salvation.
Trigger warning: sacrifice, murder, possession, and unwanted touch. Loosely based on Nosferatu (2024)
She was not a wanted child; she knew that much at eight years old. Her father wasn’t mean, but he wasn’t warm either. Her whole life had been the mansion, Alfred, and Father. At first, she didn’t understand the absence of love he gave her.
That changed when twelve-year-old Richard Grayson came into their lives. It didn’t matter how angry Richard got; Father was there for him. And so, her chest ached at the sight, her heart beating fast and painfully against her ribcage.
She didn’t know how to ask to be seen, and she was afraid Father would never learn how to look at her.
She couldn’t count how many times she had sat alone in the little chapel behind the mansion, praying, finding comfort in the chirping birds and the breeze blowing through the leaves.
Since childhood, she had prayed for the city, never feeling close enough to Alfred or Father to pray for them. But solitude was devouring her, and it had never felt as big as it did in the twilight when a heavy storm hit while she was in the chapel. There was no light, so night fell while she surrounded herself with dozens of candles. It was a horrible night: the stained glass trembled under the heavy wind, and the thunder was so powerful that she was afraid one of the big trees outside the chapel could crush the structure.
No one came for her, not Alfred, not Father. She had begged someone, anyone, to love her. She cried, she pleaded, while the storm drowned her voice.
She walked alone the next morning to the mansion.
"It’s quite early to go pray, don’t you think?"
While Richard’s words were not unkind, it still made her feel ashamed, to be so unimportant that no one noticed her missing all night.
She was fourteen when Father and Richard fought, and Jason came into their lives. Richard had never been her brother. But Jason? Jason was. He was her little brother, the one who would seek her out, who whispered in a small voice that he loved her.
Jason was her whole heart, her true first family. His night activity sometimes made it impossible to keep in touch daily, but they put letters in each other’s rooms; reminders of how much the other meant, wishes of good luck, or even simple good mornings or good nights.
About a month before her eighteenth birthday, Jason died while she was away visiting colleges. Bruce said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time; still, she knew it was his fault.
"He chose this," it was barely a whisper from Bruce, but she heard it. "He didn’t hear me."
Rage filled her mind.
"He was a kid," maybe it was the venomous voice that surprised him; maybe it was that she didn’t keep her usual silence. "He wanted to make you proud, and you pushed him over and over to be better, to do better." Bruce looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. "He wanted your love, and all you gave him was your disappointment."
That was the last time they saw each other for a long time. She walked away the next morning and never looked back.
Jason was gone, her family was gone. And once again, she was all by herself.
The grief was so overwhelming that she couldn’t even bear to be in the States, where the Justice League were news at least once a day, where Bruce Wayne or Batman was mentioned without fail. She moved to England, started college in English literature, and used her free time to help in a nearby church.
She graduated with few friends by her side, so the loneliness that had feasted on her since youth came back with full revenge; deeper than before, scratching over the scar Jason’s absence left in her heart.
It was only while she kneeled before God that she felt she could breathe. She asked the reverend mother to join, to let her pledge her life to God.
She didn’t say yes, but she let her stay and help the other novices.
At first, John Constantine was just another congregant, who didn’t stay for long but kept coming back for holy water. One unlucky day, he came just when she was cleaning the stoup. He looked aggravated at her sight and demanded she make him more holy water.
"Just pray!" He demanded, putting a bottle of water in her hands. "Come on, sister. I don’t have all day."
She wanted to say she wasn’t a sister but decided it couldn’t hurt to bear with him just this time. She made a quick prayer, enough to see the man mutter a short thanks and run out.
"You are not a sister," he said a week later.
"Never said I was," she replied.
"I could have died."
His statement confused her.
"Because I gave you back the water you told me to pray at?"
"No, because I need real holy water to do my job," he said. "And somehow your fake water was better than my usual holy water."
She looked bewildered at him. He didn’t wait for her reply before putting his palm over her forehead.
"A priestess," he confirmed in seconds. "Who do you pray to?"
"What?" This man had only confused her with each interaction.
"You must be a favorite if they marked you without your knowledge."
"Sir, if you are drunk, we have coffee next to the confessional."
He laughed at her words.
"I’m tipsy, love. Not drunk." The deep smell of cheap perfume and whiskey hit her nose. "You’re American; it’s more common to find priestesses in Asia," he replied like that meant something to her. "Don’t go around praying for anyone. You’re lucky I’m not that greedy." He warned her before he left.
She hoped not to see him again.
And that hope held true for a while, until a chilly evening in November a somber group came upon the church. There was something wrong in the way they walked or spoke, but the reverend mother received them anyway. Just like her, the other sisters felt nervous around the group, but they followed orders and started to serve bowls of soup.
The food fell to the floor before anyone could taste it; in a moment, sweet Bethany laid on the floor in a pool of blood. Before the blink of an eye, three other sisters fell, and for a moment she comforted herself thinking of Jason.
She had never searched for death, but she was not afraid of it. There was little she held dear in this world, so she thought of how she could hold her little brother again if she held on through a glimpse of pain.
The pain came, but it was not her end.
"Tie her up in the middle," a familiar voice said. "I have kept the little lamb pure; this works better when they are free of vows."
Her vision was blurry. They laid her on the cold floor, and with the tips of her fingers she touched the sticky, clotted blood under her. Her voice was barely a whisper, begging them to stop; they ignored her in favor of drawing some runes on her head and arms.
A cacophony of voices started to rise. The words were confusing, like a bastard version of Latin, full of wrongness, and before she could start to decipher them, an overwhelming heat started to burn her. She could barely hear her own scream over the pain that clouded her mind. It didn’t stop; this pain was not over. It lasted so long she believed herself in hell.
She wanted it to stop.
She had been good.
She had been good all her life.
Was that not enough?
But she was not strong as Bruce.
Or smart enough to follow her instinct.
She trusted these people needed help.
She was a fool.
But she wasn’t bad.
She wasn’t deserving of this pain.
The fire was festering inside her, like a sickness, almost near her heart... a whisper was all she heard, and all she needed.
"Pray," it said.
Her scream ceased, and with a hoarse voice she started to pray; not like she had learned in that place, but how she used to pray in the small chapel behind Wayne Manor. The fire inside her persisted, but it was tolerable; it faded with each word out of her mouth.
"She is blessed," a voice rose in panic. "Fuck! Fuck!"
"So that means she has even greater power! Keep the ritual!
"And risk being cursed myself? You know what happens when someone kills a favored priestess?" A bitter laugh left one of the men’s lips. "I’m out."
"Come back coward!"
It must have been desperation; they hit her with something heavy on the head. She lost consciousness, and while her mind was far away in darkness, near the veil of death, an entity that had been lurking around her since childhood entered her body.
Her eyes opened; there was no sclera, only deep blackness. Her face was full of joy, and a wide smile bloomed from her lips as her face turned to her captors.
"Oh, reverend mother, I must thank you for opening the path to my beloved." The voice that sprouted from her mouth was masculine, with a roughness like he had been screaming for a long time; it sounded decayed. "Let me pay you," the voice hissed with a delighted laugh.
The shock of this presence was forgotten when the body of the woman they had tried to sacrifice lifted into the air... the possessed body rose first with her chest, like a broken doll lifted by a hand; the smile never left the creature’s face. They screamed, because the entity that had opened its way to her was rotten, and smiling so sweetly that not even fear was enough to describe their horror.
Those who tried to run were the first to break, their ribs opening like a flower and piercing through flesh in a grotesque painting.
"Ah, I fear I’m quite a jealous creature," it laughed. "This little lamb is mine, mother." Her hands traveled from her ribcage to her breast. "And you dared to touch it, but I thank you for bringing her closer to me," it said, while her hands kept traveling to her neck. "So, I will be merciful."
The smile grew so impossibly big that the skin looked about to rip open. Black fire surrounded the reverend mother, turning her to ash in a few seconds. The rest of the attendants looked in fear; the last thing they saw was the creature’s smile while it kept touching its host body.
"Alright, mate, it’s time to go."
The creature turned to see a blond man in a trench coat, his hand glowing with golden energy before he summoned a ball that impacted its beloved’s chest. It burned their connection; he let out a raw scream before cutting himself out of her body. It didn’t matter; he had marked her. All he had to do was wait, and so he would, patiently.
. . .
Her first instinct was to bolt out and scream for help.
"Shhhh, it’s alright, love. You got yourself in quite a mess."
She recognized him as the man who had called her a priestess, and before that night she had called him a crazy drunk.
"A voice," she barely whispered. "A voice told me to pray."
The man studied her in silence.
"Did they hit you when you were praying?" He asked before drinking from the flask hidden in his pocket.
"I think so."
"Then you left a door open to intruders. Untrained priestesses are prone to possession, and one quite powerful like you are even worse. The more power you have, the bigger the risk."
"You didn’t tell me that last time."
"You didn’t believe it, and it’s not my problem."
"No, is not"
Her reply surprised him; more people would have used the opportunity to blame him.
"I could teach you how to close the door, with a lock and everything, but you would have to make lots of holy water, now that my favorite church is a crime scene."
"No money?"
"Got any?"
Maybe it was the skeptical tone, but it made her laugh. She wasn’t in the public scene like the rest of the Waynes, but she had a big trust fund.
She found out his name was John Constantine. He was quite rude, a heavy smoker, and kind of a functional drunk, but weeks later she found herself enjoying his snarky remarks, his bratty attitude over “demon assholes” who didn’t know how to stay in hell, and his rogue, handsome face that looked one blink away from sleeping in the streets.
"Well, I would say your soul is heavily guarded," John said. "Congratulations, love."
He expected her to say goodbye; he had never been very good at keeping friends.
"I would like to stay," she replied. "I want to use this power to help, but more than anything, I wish to stay with you, John."
John knew that if she stayed, he would not be capable of letting her go ever again. He had given her a way out, and he was not a saint, just a functional drunk magician who was way too selfish... so he kissed her, tame at first, but when she replied, he let his arms hold all of her while he deepened the kiss.
He had never liked to do good girls; he had been happier with messy relationships, doomed to fail —quick affairs from job to job— and he couldn’t even remember the last lover who had been human.
But it had been such a long time since he’d had a partner; not just a lover, but someone steady with whom he could be vulnerable. Because she had his back, just like he had hers. Maybe this was his sweet tooth, making its way into his taste in partners.
Who would have thought about it? The Hellblazer suddenly was a force of two people. His love not only had a knack for praying and making holy water, she was quite good at sealing and tying... God, she really was quite good at tying, and he got jealous of the few demons who had gotten the pleasure of feeling her binding them.
And his good girl got quite cheeky over time. At her core she was goodness incarnated, but she and he had lots of fun traveling from city to city before returning to their home in the House of Mystery. The house made sure to show who was its favorite, and it was not John, but he could not blame the sentient property. His sweet love was his favorite too.
So, when he told her that Batman had contacted him, the silence that followed made him worried.
"Are you okay, love?"
"Are you going to accept?"
"It sounds like a drag," he confessed.
"You could do good work."
"Not we?" He asked, confused.
"I have not seen my father in a long time, and I don’t wish to change that." He gasped at her words.
"B-Batman?" He stuttered.
He heard her sigh.
"Yes, but I know him better as Bruce Wayne."
He laughs at that.
"The dumbest millionaire is a facade? Damn, he is good." He halted for a moment. "Love, are you rich?"
"No, I should have some sort of relation with my father for that," she told him. "I have a trust fund, wealthy enough, but not rich."
"Wealthy is fine for me." He lit a cigarette between his lips. "Then we hate the Waynes? And fuck Batman and his justice dummies?"
She laughed at his way to comfort her. John was loyal, at his core he was a good man, but he was egoistic enough to choose her over duty.
"It’s not that deep. I was not a wanted child," she confessed. "I could have lived with his apathy, but I resented him when my younger brother died. Jason was everything." Her voice was barely a whisper, but the deep emotion in her eyes showed her sadness. "He was a bright boy, my only brother, with a love for books and a need for Father’s approval." She had not talked about Jason since leaving Gotham. "I was searching for colleges in New York, far away from Gotham but near enough to visit him. I planned a whole life where my brother would even stay the weekend with me. I was going to rent an apartment with two bedrooms. We would have hit all the big bookstores so he could choose all the books he wanted, have fun without the pressure of being in Gotham... so for a moment he could be a kid and not Robin."
John studied her for a moment.
"Maybe all that life died with him, but not his older sister," he said. "And I’ve got the feeling you lived like a ghost for a long time. You will always love your brother, sweetheart, but it doesn’t make you a bad person choosing happiness."
"I know." Her eyes were red with unfailing tears. "But I couldn’t accept living while my brother was gone." A whimper broke out of her mouth. "But since I started to help you, I have been thinking how terribly happy he would have been to see all the magic, my power as a priestess."
“A fan of magic, uh?” He blows a smoke cloud “My love, you're a priestess, even if death his soul would cherish your blessing”
That got her attention.
“It would reach him?”
“Sure, people underestimated a blessing, but It soak you in good luck. If he was alive, it could help him miss a stray bullet. While it would not avoid death, it can improve the chance to get out from a bad situation” he explains “I imagine your brother must be in heaven, so it would help him feel you near, even get some nice candy”
A shrine got a permanent spot on their home. One day Constantine found himself talking to Jason’s photo.
“I love your sister, so while I can’t ask you, I think the less I can do is informing you that...” He opened the box in his hand “I’m about to commit myself to her, for ever and ever and all that chit chat” he hides the box once again “Wish me luck, Kid”
She says yes, they have a long night of love making, and John starts his own ritual of asking Jason for “luck” on his way to a job.
The years are good for them; danger comes and goes, but they overcome it together.
Sometimes John lends a hand to Justice Dark, Batman grunts his disapproval every time he rejects to form part of it; and while he can be a prick, he is a loyal husband.
No life is perfect, but together the days feel quite unforgettable.
Then, little towns around New Jersey started to get sick, and all clues pointed to Gotham, the city his wife avoided for the longest time becomes hell in a matter of a few days.
Sickness spreads, fog torrent by the streets, and at night electricity wither leaving people turning their desperation to candles.
They have been there for two days when his wife notices her power is getting weak. All these years they have never searched for the source of them but is not hard to figure out they are tied to Gotham. They go to the first place she has ever prayed, to the mansion that never felt like home.
Bruce Wayne’s affairs are very public; they know of his flock of children but when they arrive is made very clear they ignore he had an older daughter.
The reunion is awkward.
Alfred has to take the kids away.
“Constantine, what are you doing here with my daughter?”
“Not surprised to know I know you are Batman?”
“I noticed the second you came here” his sight turned to his daughter “this a dangerous breach of information, I hope you don’t have a tendency of trust everyone you know”
She sent him a dirty look.
“Relax, mate” Constantine pulls himself in front of his women "or would you like if I called father-in-law? She didn’t tell me right away you were Batman, but when you invite me to your super prudes club she had to told me, I’m not down to do business without my wife”
For the first time in his life, he sees Batman gape
“What?”
“Don’t concern yourself with our presence, we are here for a job, not some unwanted family reunion” she told him trying to hide her rage.
His wife's word appears to do the trick; Wayne looks gutted and guilty. Constantine knows he was never the best father to his wife, but to never told any of his other kids she existed? And let's not forget the little entitled Robin believing himself as the only blood kid and trying to stab his wife while calling her a liar.
Yeah, family reunion sucks.
So, they make themself scarce and go straight to the chapel behind the manor.
They step in an every candle light up in seconds.
In the middle a dark form rise, veil hiding her factions.
“I’m Gotham” she tells them “an entity formed by the hopes and fears of the citizens, while my streets are dangerous there is a pride for those than survive the hardness on it, I held dear my people, even those than hurt others, is my nature to love all of you” she confess “Of course I have those that I like more; like my knights, but is you whose I love the most” she smile serene “you were young, but I heard your prayers for the city, I think you believed you prayed for the people on it, but in a way I’m the people of Gotham”
“So, you made her a priestess” spoke Constantine “untrained, by the way”
“It was my mistake; I have never got one before” she walks to them “in my need to soak you in my love, I fear you gained unwanted attention"
“Whose?” she asks
“Unintentionally or not, the city lies on top of an old curse. A being than have been prisoned for centuries; I don’t know if it was insane before or ages of solitude has made them fall in madness, but when you prayed to me, the creature heard you” her voice lower an octave “He couldn’t reach you while you were under my protection, but that night when you were possessed a fracture was created, so tiny that I didn’t feel it waiting there”
“And now he acts” Johns hear his wife speaking “but he spread sickness through towns, why not through me?”
“He fancies himself in love with you” Gotham reveals.
“Oh, fuck no!” curses John “I already put a ring on it, she is taken! Very taken!”
“Please tell me he didn’t fall in love with me when I was a kid, oh my god” his wife made a sound of disgust “It was bad enough I got one possession, but this is way creepier”
“We must act with haste before he regains his full power” Gotham told them “I tried to hold him, but he has acquired help, and something rotten is poisoning me. You must have feel it already, my priestess, our power is fading” she warns “I can’t keep this form for long, call for me if you are in need”
The candles blow out with Gotham leave.
John pulls his wife to him and hugs her desperately.
“We can quit this job” he told her “That horrible family reunion must have been our final warning that this was a bad idea”
“If he breaks free, he will follow me”
He hates that she is right but can’t stop feeling they are at the edge of the cliff.
She takes his face between her hands; they kiss briefly.
“You and me, all that matters”
“You and me” repeat John in a whisper.
All goes to hell in few days.
.
.
.
I have plans for a second part, but I’m a little stuck with my ideas, so any suggestion is welcome. I’m thinking of doing a POV from Jason, but it’s possible this might end like Nosferatu—yeah, not a happy ending. This is the calm before the storm.
And I’m thinking of using Barbatos instead of Nosferatu, or just leaving the monster nameless
I actually hate this chapter lmao. I had to redo it three times because I hated it and I still don't like it but I don't want to be stuck on it anymore so I am so sorry if the quality is bad. I'm a bit sad over a few scenes that I scrapped in the original drafts (mostly sad I got rid of Tim and Reader being mean to each other) but for my sanity I have to move on to another chapter. Also if something seems weird or incomplete please let me know, I might've accidentally left in bits from older drafts but I think I got them all out.
Chapter Three
The first thing you were aware of as you drifted from sleep into consciousness was that you felt like you were starving. Your stomach growled irritably and you reluctantly forced yourself out of bed with a sigh. You got dressed for the day, slowly waking up as you went through your morning routine. You stepped out of your room and automatically your nose scrunched up.
The hallway smelled…weird. Like a bunch of smells were all jumbled out and sprayed into the air. All of them were familiar in some way but you couldn’t quite place where. One of the smells grew stronger and you could hear soft footsteps paired with it. You faced the direction they were coming from just in time to see Dick round the corner. It was a bit unusual for you to be able to hear anyone’s footsteps in the manor, they all seemed to love sneaking around. Dick grinned when he saw you.
“Good morning!” He greeted you cheerfully. Was he talking louder than usual? Or maybe your hearing was more sensitive today? That was a weird thought.
“Morning…did someone spray something?” You decided to ask about the smells. Dick looked confused and paused to sniff the air.
“I don’t think so?”
“Okay…must be my imagination.” You were tempted to ask if he was wearing a new cologne but that felt like a set up to an awkward situation.
“Maybe you’re still tired? It couldn’t hurt for you to rest a little more…” Dick trailed off thoughtfully. His expression was slowly melting into one of concern and you didn’t care much for that. You gave him a reassuring smile and waved a hand dismissively.
“I’m fine. I’m more hungry than anything.”
“Are you sure?” Dick’s eyes followed your hand’s movements and you realized you were waving around your injured arm.
“I am!” You quickly put your arm back down, hoping to get his attention away from it. Not that you were lying. The wound was suspiciously painless but you didn’t have time to think about that right now. “I can smell breakfast, let’s eat.” You began trying to herd him downstairs.
“Alright, alright.” Dick conceded and let you guide him towards the dining room.
It wasn’t unusual for people to be missing from meals, last night was a rare event. So it was understandable that seeing more than one other person at the table surprised you. You repressed a sigh as you took your seat. It looks like you’d be having breakfast with Dick, Damian, and…Tim. “Good morning. How did everyone sleep?” You politely asked, already eyeing the food Alfred had laid out.
“I slept fine.” Damian replied curtly. Tim decided to not bother answering you, not that you expected him to nor particularly cared about how he slept. A silence started to settle over the table so Dick took it upon himself to fill it.
“So…have any plans for the day?” Dick asked, specifically directing the question at you. You immediately felt suspicious. It was unusual for anyone to ask about your plans.
“I was thinking about getting some last minute shopping done for school.” You answered. Dick’s smile widened and you felt like you stepped into a trap.
“Would you mind if we tagged along?”
“We?” You could feel dread twisting your insides. Dick nodded and gestured to himself, Damian, and Tim.
“They need some things too and I could drive all of us. It’d be a nice outing.” He explained as if he didn’t just suggest forcing you and Tim to spend a day together. You could tell from the face Tim pulled he thought the same thing.
“You are the only one that thinks that.” He didn’t hesitate to tell Dick his opinion. You hated that you agreed with him. “We don’t need to all go shopping together like some sad field trip.” Well now he was just being a bit harsh. Dick looked ready to make an argument but Damian spoke first, surprising everyone.
“Why wouldn’t we go together? It would be the most efficient thing to do. We all need our supplies and Grayson is offering a way to get them. Surely you realize that, otherwise you’re dumber than you claim to be.” He calmly pointed out, though it didn’t escape anyone’s attention that he couldn’t resist throwing in an insult as well. You picked up your napkin to wipe your mouth, trying your hardest to hide your smile. Tim went silent, knowing that he couldn’t make an argument to that.
“I think it’s a good idea.” You smiled at Dick as you lied. You hated the idea as much as Tim did, but you would never pass up the opportunity to look better than him. Tim didn’t hesitate to call you on your bluff.
“No you don’t.” He scoffed. You turned your smile to him, completely unbothered.
“I do. I’m sure we can both be mature and put our differences aside for one day, right?” You asked sweetly. You were pretty sure Tim’s eye twitched. He always hated when you used that tone with him.
“Right…” He finally sighed, realizing that he couldn’t get out of this situation.
Thankfully the drive to the store was uneventful and even more fortunate was that a bookstore was right next to the shop you were going to. You were already daydreaming about popping over there for a bit. Preferably without Tim. Stepping into the store, you had to pause and take a moment to reorient yourself. Just like when you stepped into the hall earlier you were hit with a bunch of different smells only this time it was much worse. You could feel your nose crinkle involuntarily and a headache start to creep in.
“What’re you making that face for?” Tim asked, giving you a suspicious look.
“Just a headache.” You replied before starting to walk again. Dick and Damian didn’t seem to notice your brief pause and you didn’t want to get stuck alone with Tim.
“Because of me? Real original.” He scoffed. For once you weren’t calling Tim a headache, but if you explained that to him then he might pry into what’s bothering you and you didn’t feel like dealing with that. You were content enough to let him think that you were being petty.
You walked around the store mostly in a haze. The smells and sounds of your surroundings were proving to be more overwhelming the longer you stayed in there. The strong smells of cleaning products and perfumes muddled into a potent concoction that made your headache grow with what felt like every breath. The chatter of everyone around you seemed to all merge together as well. You could swear you could hear conversations happening all the way across the store from you. Trying to block these sounds out left you with this consistent buzzing in your head. It made it hard for you to think and it was all you could do to make sure you didn’t get left alone in this state.
“What is wrong with you today?” A voice spoke to you, cutting through the buzzing. You blinked and the world came into focus once more. It was just you and Tim standing in an aisle filled with binders.
“What?” You asked, struggling to process his question. Tim opened his mouth to speak again but you cut him off. “What do you mean? I’m acting normal.” Tim rolled his eyes at you.
“You are not acting normal.”
“How so?” Maybe he’d go on a tangent and you could zone out again. Being aware was also making your headache hurt worse. Tim gestured around the aisle.
“First, that headache you got when we walked in. Then you silently following us around and ignoring Dick. And now you following me of all people instead of sticking with the other two.” He listed your behaviors.
“I didn’t ignore Dick.” You felt the need to defend yourself.
“He tried to start a conversation with you several times. The only reason you have any supplies is because we have the same list. You didn’t give him any input. Are you mad at him or something?”
“No…” You couldn’t remember Dick trying to talk to you at all. Tim just stared at you as if he could diagnose what was wrong with you.
“Is this because he made us come here today? Are you really throwing a fit over that?” It seemed he decided to diagnose you with being a brat.
“I’m not throwing a fit. I’m just…tired.” Your excuse was lame but you didn’t know how to tell Tim what was wrong. Even if you did know, you wouldn’t want to tell him anyway. Tim seemed annoyed by your response if the way his jaw tensed meant anything. You mentally braced yourself for a fight. To your surprise, Tim just sighed and his expression shifted to a more neutral one.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Tim was usually just as stubborn as you when it came to arguing. Seeing him relent so easily was a bit unnerving. Tim didn’t reply to you and instead turned to browse through the selection of binders. You couldn’t believe that he just let the topic go but you were relieved nonetheless.
Dick looked nervous when the two of you met back up with him and Damian, he fixed a smile onto his face as you both got closer. “Hey, get everything you need? No fights broke out?” His eyes flickered between you and Tim, as if trying to figure out which one of you he needed to console.
“We’re fine. Can we go check out now?” Tim answered him. Dick focused his attention on you, waiting for your input.
“I’m ready to go.” You hoped you didn’t sound as desperate to leave the store as you felt. Dick relaxed at your answers and his smile became more genuine.
“Let’s go then.” He herded everyone towards check out.
Getting out of the store was a relief. The buzzing noise faded as the doors closed behind you and your headache became more bearable with the lack of smells assaulting your nose. “Let’s get your things in the car and then we can get lunch? There’s a restaurant in this plaza.” Dick offered as your group made its way across the parking lot. You stayed quiet until your bags were tucked away into the car before turning to Dick.
“Can I go to the bookstore? I can meet you guys at the restaurant.” You started to back away from him anticipating him trying to offer to go as a group.
“Are you sure?” Dick hesitated to let you go.
“Yeah, you can order for me.” You waved his concerns off and turned around to speed off to the bookstore, effectively ending the conversation.
Stepping into the bookshop was much less overwhelming compared to the other store. There were a lot of smells here too but most were drowned out by your favorite scent of old books. There was barely anyone in the store as well, making it blissfully quiet. You didn’t realize how tense you’d been until your shoulders relaxed the deeper you went into the store. Your eyes hungrily scanned the shelves, looking for anything to catch your interest.
It didn’t take you long to find something of interest. The book you pulled out to inspect advertised itself as a book of myths and monsters from around the world. You flipped it around to read the back, already leaning towards purchasing it.
“Do you believe in those?” The voice next to you nearly made you jump out of your skin. You snapped your head in the direction so fast you were surprised you didn’t sprain something.
“Damian? Why are you here?” You couldn’t contain your surprise. You shouldn’t be as shocked as you were that he was able to sneak up on you.
“I didn’t want to be left with Drake and Grayson.” He replied, his tone suggested that this should’ve been obvious.
“Why not?” He had seemed fine with Dick alone earlier, what made him unacceptable company now? Was it Tim? In that case you couldn’t blame him.
“They’re obnoxious.” His response was so simple you couldn’t stop the smile from reaching your lips.
“That’s a mean thing to say.” You tried to scold him.
“It’s true. Now answer my question.” You were sure that if anyone else had demanded you answer a question in the same manner you would’ve been annoyed. You didn’t have the heart to be annoyed with Damian though.
“Not really. But wouldn’t it be cool if they were?” You glanced back down at the book in your hands. You weren’t going to admit to Damian that you used to have daydreams about going on adventures and finding monsters. He’d find it silly.
“They’d be dangerous.” Damian pointed out, as practical as always. Part of you was sad about that. At his age you were splashing around in pools pretending to be a sea monster. Or running around in the gardens pretending to be a fairy. It felt weird seeing a ten year old with no sense of whimsy.
“Yeah. But isn’t it fun to pretend?” You turned your attention back to Damian. He gave you an unreadable look.
“Pretending is pointless.” He didn’t deliver the words as harshly as you would’ve expected. He stated them simply. Like it was a fact of life.
“You’ve never played pretend?”
“I had no need to play pretend. Or to play anything for that matter. I had to focus on my training.” Damian didn’t seem sad about this. You on the other hand felt uncomfortable with this information. He was too young to be like this.
“Why don’t you pick out a book? What kind do you like?” You decided to change the topic. Damian turned his attention to the shelves.
“I’ve only read books for studying.” He admitted. You decided that you couldn’t let this stand. Damian needed some semblance of a childhood.
“Can I pick a book out for you?” You asked him.
“I suppose. It better not be a childish one.” He gave you a stern look. You smiled at him and began your search.
To Damian’s dismay, you did end up in the kids section but you assured him you’d stick to older kid books. He didn’t seem pleased regardless and continued to scowl at your back as he followed you. You couldn’t hide your delight when you found one of your favorite books from your childhood. It was a lighthearted fantasy book that had some serious elements which were handled with enough care to not be scarring for children but to also not feel patronizing. You were sure Damian could handle heavier books but the point of this was to help him feel somewhat like the kid he was.
“How about this?” You offered him the book. He scrutinized the synapses.
“It’s a children’s book.” He looked back to you with an unimpressed expression.
“It was one of my favorites when I was your age.” You were a bit surprised when your words made him look back to the book. He inspected it as if it were a completely different book.
“This is acceptable.” He finally decided. You weren’t exactly sure what made him change his mind but you were pleased all the same.
“I hope you like it. We can talk about it after you’ve read it.” You offered, making your way to the counter to purchase the books. Just in time too it seemed because you got a text from Dick asking for you two to head to the restaurant.
The rest of the outing was surprisingly nice and peaceful. It stirred up some difficult feelings in you and you made sure to shove down the ones that longed for more outings like this. You knew this was just because of what happened the other day and that soon things would be back to normal. You decided to turn your thoughts away from your feelings and instead focus on putting your materials together now that you were back home. You were one day closer to returning to school. And one day closer to returning to normalcy.
reader that isn’t a bimbo? Reader that is put together and likes dressing up? Reader that’s older than 18-20? Reader that’s not white-coded??? Reader who doesn’t have daddy issues? Reader who does have daddy issues in a “man hater” way? Reader who’s taller than 4’11-5’0?? Reader who’s quiet and reserved and not in a robotic way or stuttering way? Reader who’s Tina Belcher coded? Reader who gives off the vibe of a creepy barn owl but somehow it’s endearing? Reader who’s charismatic and charming? Reader who’s-
Trigger Warnings: Medical inaccuracies, Graphic descriptions of Dead Bodies, Medical stuff, Blood, Vomit, Mentions of child abuse and Mentions of torture.
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Private conversations are meant to be just that: private.
The concept of privacy was a bit complex for someone like Kon. Having been made inside a test tube and equipped with the knowledge of a grown person, but not the emotional and social understandings of one, made it quite difficult for him to understand what was considered right and wrong under human standards. It was hard to navigate through such simple concepts that came as second nature to his friends, without some type of guidance.
And he would always appreciate Lois for giving Clark a smack on the head and getting him to try to connect with Kon despite their past differences. The pair had plenty of patience with his questions, no matter how embarrassed he felt when he realized how basic and simple the answers were.
Jon was also of great help, since the boy lacked any sort of malice or judgment towards his cluelessness. His explanations were direct and without the usual dramatic, philosophical speech that Clark tended to drag on and on. The boys would always give each other bored stares when Clark got into one of his rambles about boundaries and stuff like that.
Both Clark and Lois had made it clear to them that boundaries exist and must be respected. Clark stressed this point, understanding that with the powers they possessed, it would be more challenging for them to resist their curiosity.
‘Some things aren’t meant for you to hear, and you must respect that. How would you feel if someone were spying on you while you were talking about something very private?’
‘Isn’t that your and Mom’s job?’
‘What? Of course not!’
‘Spying on people to put it in the newspapers? I don’t know, man. Sounds like a violation of privacy to me.’
‘That is not what I meant, and you know it!’
Kon understood what Clark meant; he just liked to make the man stress over his own words. His panicked face was way too hilarious for Kon to help himself. Plus, it got Jon to giggle without fail every time.
The point is, Kon knew it was wrong to listen to private conversations. He hated it when Jon would try to burst into his room while he was on a call with his friends. There were some things that he was not willing to share with everyone, and that was totally fine.
And Kon knew that what he was doing right now was wrong, but that did not stop him. No matter how much Cassie complained about it.
“If I get benched because of this,” She hissed, standing a couple of feet away with her back turned and arms crossed. “You'd better get me those tickets to Chapell Roan. And you will pay for my next date-”
Bart, who had concluded that climbing over Kon’s back while both of them pressed their ears to the wall was completely effective, hushed at her while waving his arm in her direction.
“Shut up, I can’t listen if you keep whining!”
Cassie glared back at him, nose scrunching up. “You don’t have super hearing, idiot!”
“Well, your voice ain’t helping either!” He snapped back.
Even with his friends going at each other’s throats behind him, Kon found them becoming more of a white noise than a distraction. Turned out that Clark’s lessons on ‘How To Be Human Without Getting Overstimulated’ had been of great help. It wasn’t a surprise to him that most of his annoyance and bad temper were tied to not being able to distinguish the great amounts of noise his auditory receptors processed daily. And now, with more than practiced ease, Kon was able to focus on the sounds he wanted to hear without feeling like his head was getting split open.
But from what he seemed to understand by hearing the hard discussion happening inside the meeting room, there was no way to avoid an upcoming headache.
The meeting had been dismissed shortly after Green Arrow exposed Flash and Green Lantern, with the two of them muttering to each other. Wonder Woman had ordered everyone to return to their tasks and keep an eye on the monitors, while she and Superman remained to get some answers from the two heroes.
Nothing would have prepared them for what those two had been doing behind everyone’s back.
“The League was made to bring unity among heroes,” Wonder Woman proclaimed, “We made a collective compromise to trust and respect each other for the sake of our world and our people. Meaning that if someone has a problem that could risk thousands of lives or is too big to be handled by themselves, they can come to us for help! ”
Flash scoffed humorlessly. “Respect? Unity? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Barry,” Clark warned gently, trying to keep the situation from escalating. “I understand why you did it. I really do. But you should have come to us-”
“For what? To get permission to save lives? To do my job?!”
“Bar,” Green Lantern interrupted. “They didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh, no, they didn’t! But they obviously prefer to give Bats the benefit of the doubt when it’s more than obvious that he is neglecting his job or holding back information that puts people at risk!”
Wonder Woman inhaled sharply. “We are not doing that! Batman will answer for his part in this, I can assure you. But that doesn’t mean that you also broke the rules that we all agreed to follow through-”
“The mutants needed help! The Morlocks asked for my help! I couldn’t just wait for Batman’s permission to just go and help-”
“But you didn’t ask him.” Clark sighed. “You didn’t tell him what was going on. And you didn’t tell us, either. You just went and started acting on your own, and that’s not what we stand for as-”
“They are sick! Mutants are dying, Clark! Someone is poisoning them, and you want me to care about some fucking rules?!”
“You guys haven’t seen how bad it is in there.” Green Lantern chided. “Gotham is killing them. They have no choice but to go underground and pray that Batman doesn’t find them. Since when are people, people in need, scared of heroes?”
Silence reigned for a long moment.
“...You said that the last group of Morlocks was moving out this morning, right?” It was Clark who spoke first.
Barry hesitated for a few seconds, but replied either way. “Yes. They were supposed to take the tunnel to Metropolis. I was going to meet them there, then move them to the refuge back in my city.”
“Good,” Clark said. “Then I will make the proper arrangements to receive them-”
“Clark, you can’t-”
“These people need help first. We can talk about rules and Batman later-”
Cassie’s fist against his shoulder snaps Kon out of the conversation, making him groan and pout at her while rubbing his arm, while Bart yells and balances his body weight over his friend’s back.
“The hell was that for?!”
The blonde rolls her eyes and points at his belt. “Your phone, dude. It’s been going crazy for the past three minutes.”
Now that he wasn’t putting all of his attention on what was happening on the other side of the wall, Kon easily recognized the lyrics to Teenage Dirtbag coming from the built-in pocket on his belt. The cracked screen brightened up his face, making him squint at the ID caller that popped up on the top half of the phone.
Bart fell off Kon’s back with a scream, groaning on the ground for a moment before dashing up and glaring at him. But Kon had already answered the call, a hard frown coming between his brows, and his shoulders tensing up.
“Barb,” He heaved, making his friends perk up at the name. “What is going on? The league has been waiting for hours!”
“I know,” she remarked, sounding a bit out of breath. “It’s crazy over here. The whole team is on the streets, and the power lines have been a big problem. Are you alone right now?”
Kon glanced at Cassie and Bart. “No, it’s just me, Bart, and Cassie.”
“Put me on speaker. I need all three of you.”
The trio huddled up together, surrounding Kon’s phone as he clicked on the speaker button. Barbara didn’t waste a second talking.
“Listen to me very carefully. Batman and the rest of the team are too emotionally invested in this situation to listen to reason. As a vital member of this team, I permit you to come into Gotham as reinforcements. Am I clear enough?”
Bart grimaced. “Won’t you be in trouble for that?”
“People are at risk over here. I can handle a fucking rant after you help me out with the civilians.”
“What do you need us to do?” Cassie asked.
“I’m sending you the coordinates for the affected areas of the power outage. You must evacuate the areas and secure the safety perimeter at the hospitals.” Barbara detailed. “There have been multiple outages already, so I suspect there’s going to be a massive one really soon. The cave runs on its own power source, but the communications lines can still be affected. You’ll be on your own if that happens.”
Kon nodded, despite knowing the woman couldn't see him. “Evacuation and securing the hospitals. What about the League? Should we tell them?”
“No time.” She noted. “They will question my orders. You won’t.”
“Copy that.” He snickered, getting amused looks from his friends. In less than a second, Bart and Cassie were gon from his sight. The red blur that was left as a trail was answer enough.
“Kon. There’s something else.”
Barbara’s cautious tone put him on alert. He could feel his chest constricting, a strong pulse underneath his ribcage.
“What’s wrong?” He questioned, feeling his mouth a bit dry.
“I need you to keep an eye out for someone. Please.” She said in a skittish tone. “We haven’t heard or seen anything yet, and I know that civilians come first, and it’s a selfish request, but I need-”
“She’s okay.”
The line went silent until a shuddering breath filtered through the call.
“I can hear her heartbeat,” Kon added. “It’s fast and very loud. But it’s healthy, and I swear to you that wherever she is, she is safe.”
Barbara released a watery sigh. “Okay, that’s good. That’s good for now.”
“Do you want me to-”
“No,” She interrupted. “Do the evacuation and perimeter. I trust that you are telling me the truth. Once everything is under control, we’ll find her.”
As Kon hung up the call and flew out the nearest window, his mind couldn’t help but settle his priorities to be finished as quickly and as efficiently as possible. It wasn’t hard to do, not with a certain pulsing rhythm pulsing by his ear.
Sometimes, listening to things you shouldn’t, turns out to be the right choice.
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It wasn’t the first time Logan had ever gotten swept by sewer water, surprisingly.
Well, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. With his long track record of getting put in ridiculous situations during his very long life span, sewer water wasn’t even the most disgusting or odd one amongst his list of substances he has been covered with. And that’s with counting using carcasses as camouflage. But it didn’t stop him from disliking the horrid smell and having to spit out the water from his lungs.
A while ago, he wouldn’t have cared about reeking like a walking trash bag. He didn’t even care or worry about waking up after feeling the floating darkness invade his mind.
Funny how his life had taken a turn in the past few years. Now all he cared about was to crawl back home to his team and drag his brats with him just so they would stop getting into fucking trouble.
His claws had engraved themselves into the raised cement of whatever tunnel he had ended up in. Waiting until the current slowed to rise from the water and finally get some air, letting his heavy body lie on the cold piece of concrete and gather up in his surroundings.
It was way colder than the other tunnel he had ventured into. And darker too. He could tell by the heavy air that filled in through his nose that he was way deeper into the sewers, maybe even miles underground. The lack of sound made him stay on alert, thinking that the red and blue idiots could have been swept down with him.
The scents of gunpowder and Kevlar were nowhere near him, which meant he didn’t have to worry about them. However, Logan caught another scent that made him stand up quickly and push himself back against the nearest brick wall.
With small, quiet steps, avoiding stirring up the water lapping around his legs, he reached the worn stone corner and stayed pressed against the wall for a moment. Letting his ears tune it to any sound and pushing down the growl rising on his throat.
He could recognize that mix of plastic and circuits anywhere. Even while unconscious. His nose never failed him.
And he was more than familiar with the smell of rotting flesh and dried blood.
Sneaking a glimpse as he crouched down, a pit of fury and dread dropped down his chest to his stomach once he saw the eyesore coloring of a human-sized Sentinel, with its back towards Logan, standing in front of what seemed to be a pile of decomposing bodies.
But as he squinted, Logan realized that the bodies weren’t actually piled up. Strangely enough, they were lying down on some sort of wooden platform in a horizontal position, so that they weren’t making contact with the stream of water going down the tunnel, and put one beside the other, and so on and on. All of them, covered from feet to the chest in torn and patched cloths as if they were blankets.
The Sentinel remained at the front, its head inclined as if fascinated by the morbid cemetery before it. A yellowish light came from its eyes, scanning down the bodies one by one. Logan remained still, stiffening his shoulders once the light blipped off and the Sentinel straightened up.
“Target: Unidentified.” It informed out loud, that detached tone making his skin crawl and bare his teeth even if Logan was out of its field of vision. “Request: Moving forward to the next tunnel for further reckoning.”
Logan couldn’t help the wicked grin splitting over his lips when the damned machine turned around at the sound of his claws splitting out of his knuckles, standing a couple of feet behind it.
Maybe the can of plastic wasn’t after him. Maybe it was after a completely unknown mutant. But there was the slightest chance that it could be after one of his brats. And one thing Logan would never risk was his brats’ safety, so the Sentinel had to go.
It totally didn’t have to do with him realising some of his pent-up anger. Of course not.
That was just a plus.
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“How much do you know about triage?”
Out of all the things that Maximoff could come up with about what Ms. Lorna could ask her, that wasn’t among the list.
She thought that it would go with something like ‘Is your family willing to pay for ransom?’ or ‘Are you always this much of a crybaby?’ or ‘What was it like almost getting opened up on an examination table by a madman?’, y’know, normal stuff! Things that could be easy to answer with either snapping at her or just ignoring them by pretending she was deaf.
But not something like that.
“Um,” She dumbly uttered, blinking at the woman’s back as she rumaged inside a shopping cart that had seen better days. “You mean, like, in theory? Because all I have seen are from books and about eight episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. And a bit of The Pitt, but that’s mostly because the cast is really hot, and my friend Bobby is obsessed with it. But, yeah, that’s pretty much it. I guess?”
Ms. Lorna hums to herself, clicking her tongue as she pulls out a worn box of blue gloves and takes two pairs out of it. She turns around, shoving the box into the girl’s fumbling hands and walking off as she snaps on a pair.
“Put those on,” She orders without sparing a glance. “Two pairs, one over the other. You can tell me the categories as we walk.”
Maximoff dashed after her, eyes wide and sticking close to the doctor as she put on the gloves in the exact order she said.
They made their way down the tight tunnel where the patients were, the girl struggling not to stumble or hit the improvised stretchers while Ms. Lorna moved with ease through them. Maximoff felt her throat tighten up at the sounds of coughing, moans of pain, and the metallic scent of blood.
“What you got?” The woman says, suddenly crouching down next to a sleeping patient. It was a girl with pink hair, pale skin, and a forehead glistening with sweat.
Maximoff swallowed, fingers pulling at the sleeve of the gloves. Eyes wandering over the patient's face. “There are four levels.” The words just flew out of her mouth, as if reciting whatever popped into her head. “You classify the patients with the START system. It takes up to thirty seconds.”
Ms. Lorna nodded. Then she reached up her hand, pulling the girl down to crouch by her side so she could be closer to the pink-haired girl. Maximoff barely resisted, only having her attention on the patient.
“Tell me, how do you classify her?”
Her heart pounded, and her throat was dry, but Maximoff just took a deep breath and observed for the signs.
The number of books about medicine and first response emergencies that she had found in the manor’s libraries was absolutely ridiculous. She wasn’t even sure why she had picked one up when she was more than aware that science was one of her least favorite subjects at school (Math had taken the first place), and that she had flunked on the last pop quiz. It was simpler to lie to herself and blame her boredom for making her sit on the old loveseat and read the whole book in the span of 8 minutes.
The real reason why she even paid attention to them was a lot harder to explain.
It was kind of like a pull. Or maybe even a need. She wasn’t sure what the correct words were or what she could use to explain it, but she could compare it to something. Because this pull, this small spark of interest she felt when she read the title, was nearly as similar as the need she felt to just run whenever she was in the track field at school.
It had felt right to hold it, to open it, and to read through the pages, taking her time with the words and feeling intrigued with all these complex words and terms. Like the click of a lock inside her head.
And now, having to put all of those words into practice, it had her nerves flowing with adrenaline and millions of what-ifs that could go wrong by just an off mistake. But it also left her with a bit of what she recognized as excitement.
Which was a terrifying thought.
“Her chest is moving. Respiration is good.” She noted. Then, with a careful touch, she put two fingers between the wrist bone and the tendon on the thumb side of her wrist and pressed there. Counting on her head up to 3 and nodding. “Radial pulse is there, but it’s faster than it should be.”
Then, Maximoff snapped her fingers by the patient’s ears, getting a groan and a one-eyed glare from her. Maximoff gave her an awkward smile and shrugged. “Mind turning to the other side.”
“Ugh, shut up.” The girl groaned, but still turned around.
“Following commands, so mental status is good!” She chirped. “I think she can be delayed, but we need to watch over her pulse… and her fever.”
“Good.” Ms. Lorna huffs as she stands up. “That’s pretty much what I’ll have you doing with everyone.”
Maximoff looks up at her in panic. “What?”
“You got speed powers, right?” She drawls, giving her a raised eyebrow. “Do what you just did with everyone in here, too. There are some papers on the cart for you to write down what you get from each patient, and then you’ll give me the reports. Flag me up if you have any immediate patients. Any questions?”
“Um, I don’t think so?” Maximoff hesitates.
Ms. Lorna snaps her fingers at her, lips thin. “Then why are you still sitting there? Go.”
The girl was gone in an instant, the gush of wind she left on her way making Lorna chuckle as her curls swept over her face. Brushing her hair back, using the black scrunchy on her wrist to tie it up in a high tail, Lorna moved to the mouth of the tunnel to watch how much the girl could handle.
Lorna was sure that it would be a perfect exercise for her. She knew at first hand how much speedsters needed to release their energy. Pietro, for example, had the bad habit of relying too much on his mutation.
He would use his speed to do the most mundane and outrageous stuff. From folding the laundry to taking a quick trip to Paris just because he had a craving for croissants. Lorna could also recall how much trouble he would get with his teammates because of his kleptomanic tendencies. He just had this need to take stuff without people noticing, just because he liked to test how fast he was.
In response, his body rarely shut down. His sleeping cycles were a mess. And his irritable ass was just a consequence of perceiving the world around him as going slower than him. It had taken years and countless talks to get him to take his health seriously, and thankfully, they had found some sort of balance that could fit with his standards.
With this girl, Lorna had noticed that it was the opposite case. Maybe she is just getting used to them, or she doesn’t know her limits yet, but Lorna knows there’s more to something like that.
After all, Lorna had also been afraid of using her powers. A long time ago, just around the same age as this girl.
She had seen that fear plenty of times before, especially down here in the camp. Even during her days at the institute. Kids suppressing themselves, just so they felt safe. Hiding from everyone so they wouldn’t be judged or become some sort of target.
Lorna had noticed from the moment she had set eyes on her. That this girl didn’t have the space to be herself, or hold enough baggage on her own to realize how far her gift could get her.
Was she by herself? Did her family not realize how heavy her shoulders looked?
Or were they absent? Neglectful? Hostile? Was she afraid of them?
In this whole time, she hadn’t demanded any relative or guardian. No mother. No father. No siblings. Nothing. Children, no matter the teenage stage, would always call for their family no matter what. Even the group she had come with had asked for their families, though Lorna didn’t have enough answers for them aside from what had been put on the news.
She was intrigued. She needed to know more about this girl. Why was she this afraid? Why did she, somehow, feel safer miles underground and away from what she is familiar with? Did she have a home? Did she have a family? Someone she missed? There had to be someone out there looking for her.
Is this how Wanda and Pietro felt? Back when they found out about her existence? Did they feel this need to just wrap her up and take her far away from all harm?
And why did she feel like this? Lorna didn’t even know this girl for more than four hours. Hell, even less!
What was happening? She doesn’t understand it. What is going on-
“How busy you be, Doc?”
Lorna jumped to her feet, glaring up at the towering form of Waylon Jones, who looked a bit too pleased in her opinion. Probably satisfied with having caught her off guard for once.
“A bit of a warning would have been nice,” She grumbled, crossing her arms with a huff. “What is it? Callisto finally got on your last nerve, so you now have to get on mine?”
Waylon’s throat made a noise that sounded similar to a scratchy laugh. “Nah. She doin’ just fine. But dat same ol’ speech get tired, y’know?”
Lorna scoffed. “You mean raising a rebellion against the surface to claim our oh so rightful place amongst the humans? I thought you would be full on board with her idea.”
“Not like dis.” The scaled mutant looks over the lines of stretches before him. “Doin’ dat? That suicide. We can’t fight like dis.”
“You shouldn’t be fighting at all.” She snaps. “Nobody should be fighting anything. These are normal people, not fighters! I’m tired of explaining this to you and her. Not everyone wants to die for a cause; some of us want to just live!”
Waylon growled at her, baring his teeth and making his tail move around behind him in warning. They glared at each other for a while, until he was the one to back down with a snarl. His glowing eyes drifted to the side.
“Go check on Amara.” He croaked, maw twitching and shoulders tensing. “She been throwin’ up… longer than I like-”
“Did you just say Amara?”
The girl’s breathless voice snapped them out of their talk. Her state was a bit frazzled, with wide eyes and windswept curls. There were some traces of blood on her gloves and clothes, even on her reports. But nothing too alarming for her, apparently. Not when her attention had centered on something else entirely.
“She is here?” She blurted, stepping closer to them. “Is she okay? Is she hurt?”
“Hey, relax,” Lorna soothed, putting a hand on her shoulder and making her take some slow breaths. “How’s the triage? Anything out of place?”
“There’s just a huge variety of symptoms.” The girl informed, shoving the papers into Lorna’s hands with a slight tremor on her shoulders.
“Vomit, fever, cold sweat, weakened limbs. There were a few with injuries that needed to change their dressings, so I helped with that. Nice exposure therapy, by the way.” Her fist tightened up at her sides for a moment. “Other than that, about fourteen are under the minor category. Ten in can be delayed for the next half an hour. And then twenty-five with high fever and vomiting, so they should be checked within fifteen to twenty minutes from now. Now, tell me about Amara.”
Maximoff frowned deeply at the sudden silence. She could feel the thoughts running through their heads by how they stared at her. It made her want to take back her snapping tone and apologize. But instead, she held it back by biting the inside of her cheek and glaring back at them.
She wasn’t going to back down on this. Not now. Not when they knew something about Amara.
Her classmate hadn’t slipped out of her mind. She knew that she had been connected to this whole drama since she started to investigate on her own. The patterns of the disappearances. This whole thing with the crazy scientist. There was no way Amara wasn’t one of many possible targets.
But she wasn’t in the trailer with the others. There was no mention of her between the conversations she had been listening to while making their way down to the camp. Which meant several things:
Amara was kept away from the group for some reason. Maybe another facility or something. Maximoff needed to search deeper into that. Maybe ask the others what they could recall from their stay with Wannabe-Frankenstein.
Or maybe Amara was kidnapped by someone else instead. It was apparently quite common for kids in Gotham to get kidnapped every once in a while. God, she wanted to be out of this city so fucking bad-
“She is sick.”
Ms. Lorna simply said, getting a confused sound from the young girl. The woman cleared her throat and began walking in another direction, away from the tunnel. Maximoff followed her slowly, glancing at the giant crocodile that also walked alongside her.
Reaching Ms. Lorna’s side, Maximoff dared to push for more answers. “How did she get here? Was she taken? Like me? Why is she sick?”
“She was taken, yes.” Ms. Lorna explained with a watchful tone, looking over the papers in her hands. “But our resident guarding reptile stopped them. They just took the wrong turn on the tunnels. Lucky bastards.”
Ms. Lorna stooped for a moment. Then she stared down at Maximoff, which put the girl on the edge until Ms. Lorna spoke.
“Never repeat those words.” She stressed. “You never heard it from me. You don’t know those words, got it?”
Maximoff gave her an unimpressed look, rolling her eyes when the woman raised her eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” She sighed. “Don’t change the subject. What happened? Did she catch something down here? Is it the same thing that the patients have?”
“Everybody start gettin’ sick soon as she got heah,” Waylon grumbled, keeping his stomping as light as possible as they walked down another tunnel, hidden off behind a torn shower curtain. Maximoff looked over her shoulder, ready to fire questions at him, but the crocodile continued talking.
“When I found dem fuckers,” He ignored Ms. Lorna’s loud cough.“One of ‘em took a shot at the kid. Some kinda dart. Metal. Look like the kind they use for huntin’. We figured tranquilizer…or somethin’ like dat. She dropped soon as it hit her.”
Ms. Lorna sighed heavily. “It’s been barely a week since then. And half of the camp, including Amara, have the same symptoms. Vomit, high fever, just as you saw back there. I don’t have the proper equipment here, and I can’t just burst through the hospital and demand help. So, we planned to move the camp out of Gotham to somewhere safer.”
Maximoff stayed quiet. Mind running through this new information and trying not to throw herself into a new type of headache.
“When were you guys going to move?” She asked.
“Dis very mornin’,” Waylon answered. “Den boom- up above us. Right over the tunnel we was gonna take out.”
“...So, we are trapped in Gotham, underground with an unknown virus that has rapidly spread its symptoms and is clearly contagious for everyone, and also being hunted by some maniac that has some obsession with mutants. Did I miss something else?”
“Yeah, actually.” Ms. Lorna taunted. “The virus is not contagious to everyone. Just to mutants.”
“See that? I was being sarcastic. I did not need to know that.”
“You asked, I just answered.”
“I said I was being sarcastic!”
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
‘Within the last few hours, Gotham City has faced one of its biggest power outages recorded to date. According to the head of the police department, they’re doing everything they can to avoid a massive blackout that could affect the whole city.
On another note, there have been multiple speculations about who could have been behind the attacks that happened earlier today. Many are inclined to believe it could be related to the last Arkaham breakout that happened just last week, but word on the streets says that mutants could be the ones to blame for these attacks.
There hasn’t been any evidence to support this theory, but since there haven’t been any updates on the current missing heiress of the Wayne family, who was taken during one of the attacks by what viewers described as two boys with meta-abilities, the public has been inclined to believe that mutants are-
“Turn it off,” Two-Face grumbled, jaw tight and glaring at the radio from his place in the back seat.
Bobby remained silent as he drove, keeping his eyes on the dark street of Park Row while glancing through the rear-view mirror. He could hear Nygma, who had taken over the passenger seat as soon as they jumped in his truck, munching on the snacks he had started to put in the compartment so Maximoff could always have something to eat when they were hanging out.
The grip on the wheel tightened up, frost crawling slowly over the worn leather.
“We have to stay updated, Harv,” Nygma said, mouth full of pretzels and shoving more in. “There’s nowhere we could even start. Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m tagging along. I don’t even care-”
A hard kick to the back of his seat made Nygma bite on his tongue, his face hitting the hard plastic surface of the counter of the truck. Bobby swore, slamming on the brake suddenly, feeling how Warren, who had been sitting right behind him, hit his seat from the back as well with a yell.
“What the fuck, Harvey?!” Nygma grugled, blood spitting out of his mouth and swiping back at the older man with his free hand as he covered his face with the other. “What was that for?!”
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth!”
The angry rogue grabbed his arm, twisting it back until Nygma screamed. The boys tried to push themselves as far away from them, the doors poking at them uncomfortably as they avoided getting any hits or blood on them.
It took a couple of moments for Warren to explode on them.
“Get a fucking grip!” He screeched, his wings flaring up until he hit the roof of the truck. His nails, sharpening against the material of the seats and the plastic of the door, left claw marks and created a sound that left the cabin in silence.
His chest heaved with each breath he took. His glare was sharp and indignant, directed at the frozen men on the right side of the vehicle.
“With every second you asshats waste on arguing over useless shit,” He snarled. “It’s another second that the girls are in trouble. So get your shit together, and act like two grown adults instead of wasting time!”
Nygma scoffed, though it sounded more like a wheeze. “You got balls now, kid? Where were they back in the asylum, huh?”
Bobby bristled at those words, his arms covered in ice as he grabbed Nygma by the front of his shirt. Harvey shot up, pushing the boy back by the chest while still holding onto Nygma’s arm. But Bobby still held onto the man’s shirt.
“Shut up!” He snapped, trying to shove Harvey back. “He doesn’t have-”
“Kid, leave it! He is trying to-”
“I’ll freeze your balls, how about that?!”
“Go ahead-”
“Shut the fuck up, Nygma-”
“Say sorry, asshole-”
“Stay down!”
“I’m just saying Bird Boy knows something!”
Bobby, who now had Harvey holding him back by pushing him from the shoulders, pulled Nygma by the shirt. The worn fabric was becoming cold under his grip as he growled in Nygma’s smug, bloody face.
“You don’t know shit about him!” He spat. “If he knew something then-”
“He’s right.”
All three of them turned to look at the blonde boy, whose eyes remained downcast. Bobby slowly released Nygma’s shirt, turning his upper body towards Warren with a wide look. The other two remained silent.
“I never,” Warren hesitated. “I never thought that he would bring others into it. I just- I thought it was only me. That's all he did was to me and nobody else-”
Bobby breathed softly. “War, what do you mean?”
He passed a hand roughly through his face, shoulders shaking and feathers fluttering. Warren’s lips were bitten red, and his eyes shook with something related to shame.
“My father,” he heaved. “He hated- he hated my wings. He hated it whenever I tried to use them around the house. So he tried to make me stop using them- to be normal. To hide them or- or even get rid of-”
Warren choked, gluping dryly. He could feel Bobby trying to reach for him, soothe him, or stop him from continuing. But he moved away from his reach, taking deep breaths. If he stopped talking, there would be no help for Maximoff. There would be no help for Wayne.
So he braced himself and started talking.
“It began with Dr. Crane.” A shiver went down his spine. “He was hired to be my therapist. My mother didn’t know, not until she saw me trying to cut them off.”
Harvey sighed roughly, dropping his weight back on his seat. Nygam was oddly quiet.
“No matter how many times I tried, they always grew back,” Warren added. “I was terrified of them, so I agreed to put on the harness. And now, after years of getting over it, thinking that I got over it- there’s something else.”
The blonde boy pushed a sigh, fighting back the tremors and trying to gather himself together. “I can’t remember it well. I’m not even sure it’s accurate- or even real, but I think my father has something to do with all of this.”
Bobby thought for a moment, trying to make sense of things before speaking up. “What exactly do you think your father is doing?”
Warren stayed quiet, then shook his head with an empty expression on his face. “I don't know. My head… comes up blank.”
A hard knock on the roof of the truck startled them out of their seats, quickly rising in defense as they looked around for the source of the noise.
“The fuck was that?!” Harvey snarled out.
Suddenly, a small body slammed into the front of the truck, getting a few pitched screams from inside.
A boy, not older than twelve, with bright clothes and a red cape, grinned at them as he floated up and stood in front of the front glass. He laughed at Bobby’s slackened face, who also made some high-pitched noises as he grabbed onto whatever was near him. Then, a hard knock at the driver’s window startled them again.
Bobby rolled down the window, sharing a shocked expression with the rest of the people inside the cabin as they stared down at the glaring vigilante before them.
“Tt,” Robin muttered, nose curling in disdain. “This is a new type of low.”
“Are we having the same hallucination, War?” Bobby whispered.
“No way I could ever get this high.” He uttered
Nygma coughed, shoving Bobby’s face to the side, getting complaints and pushes from the boy in response. “Got a napkin over there, Boy Wonder? I wouldn’t want to stain my favorite prison clothes!”
Robin jumped through the window with a yell, starting a new round of screams inside the cabin.
Jon preferred to watch and observe. He knew Damian needed to release some of that tension.
He’ll stop him before it gets too far.
Eventually.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
Author's note: HEyyyyy, how yall doing?
I swear, my life has become a rollercoaster. This past month, I struggled a lot with my mental health and it was hard picking up writing again. College has been a bitch too, but thankfully, things are finally looking up!!
First news!! I got a scholarship for an internship in London, I'll be taking theater classes with the Royal Shakespear Company. I'm really excited about it!! And I also made my debut as a professional actress last week, so this is a huge milestone for me💖✨
Other than that, please stay tuned for the anniversary of Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land!! I'll be posting a one-shot of a What if of the main story (where Harvey got to be Reader's legal guardion from the very start!) and Im so excited for it as well!!
Please remember, comments and asks motivate me a LOT. It keeps me inspired and I always love to see what you guys think or what theories you got. It reminds me that people still read this silly story and you have no idea how much it fills me with joy getting the notifications. So please, no matter how small, keep commenting and sending love💖💖
I'll try to update more often, at least posting another chapter before the one-shot special. I'll tell you guys how it goes!!
Sending you lots of love and hugs,
GG✨
As the civilian middle child of the Wayne family, you tend to get brushed aside, which leaves very little room for excitement. In effort to spice up your life before your last semester at GCU, and maybe gain the attention of your busy family, you decide to take a road trip across the United States. But things don't really go as planned when you start to learn a bitter truth. Is there truly a light at the end of the tunnel, or will the bonds you thought you had remain broken?
a/n: This is a working masterlist of all the chapters. This note will be deleted when the fic is completed.
You would stay by your rotting corpse, gently brushing your hair out of your face or just starting at it in general. Your corpse was becoming stiff and extremely cold, at times you tried to warm it by holding it.
A soft sigh left your mouth as you give up on trying to warmth the body display infront of you.
"How much longer do I have to wait...?"
You've been thinking alot, wondering why your body is still chained to Earth and you realised your physical body never got the rest it deserves.
The body laying on your coffin underground was a decoy made by your father, as twisted as it sound he only did it in hope of putting your soul back into the body.
Alfred and Bruce knew that, they knew that your current physical body was hidden inside the batcave. Alfred was hesitant at first but Bruce assure him that what he was doing might be morally wrong but it was the best option they have, if they want a new start.
Even after death nothing was better, your life only change slightly and it was for the worst. No one could see or interact with you, but you can uncover all the secrets which was alot more depressing than you expected.
You've found out how your mother died recently after a drug overdose... She was found stiff and unresponsive in her motel and a foam seeping out her mouth, surprisingly everything was clean, no missing things or any sing of struggle.
It was ruled as a sucide, the media claimed it as 'Woman killed herself after her daughter died of her neglection' it was Ironic... You couldn't help but stump your feet a little at that information, first your mother would never neglect you... and Second she was the best mother you could wish for.
You couldn't bear the silence inside the room so you decided to go outside to check on a particular individual.
Dick Grayson.
He was sitting infront of your grave cleaning it with his bare hand, replacing the previous flowers with Rose's. Since your relationship with him was on the edge when you died he doesn't even know your particular taste in flowers , as a result he would pick out new flowers everyday and replace them each day.
Your ghostly figure sit next to his watching him clean your grave once again, atleast he was being productive. Some especially Tim was coping in an unhealthy way.
Locked himself and barely ate anything, everything reminded him of you... His favourite coffee was now leaving an extremely bitter taste on his tongue, it was only because he realised how involved you were in his life and how without you his daily routine weren't the same.
Tim have also started to spiral into madness, doing research on you instead of his usual detective work. Who have hurt you and who have been nasty to you, he was willing to do anything but blame himself for your death or the family.
He's been looking back at every video footage of you and him and storing it into new files each file were specifically made for each video.
"Im sorry little wing... I couldn't find anything new today, so you'll have to take this for today"
Grayson gently murmured as he pluck out the old Lily's- old by one day - Wiping the vase carefully, holding as if it were the most fragile vase in the word.
"Life been abit hard... I know I shouldn't burden you with my problem especially when... You never had them. But, Kory and I took a break..."
His voice was more high-pitched than normal... Yet he continues to look after your grave, dealing it with great tenderness.
His mind flashing back to everything he had done wrong, prioritising joker over you... He remembered how he left you inside a burning building and instead saved the joker, as a result you got a nasty burn mark on your left hand.
Although he doesn't know who to blame you or the joker. Cause you're a hero, he thought you could save yourself... It doesn't matter that you were like what 7? Thought he did half heartily apologise after being lectured by Bruce.
"If you were back... Everything would be fine, im not blaming you of course... Just, I don't know anything good from bad especially after you left us"
"I do not know what possess you to be so reckless... I can't imagine what you must have felt but it's selfish"
"If you were here, Kory and I would take you before any of those... people could. It'll be just the three of us, I'll be the one you will depend on... You won't need to worry anymore, We'll never let you get hurt. Never again"
Dick continues to pour his heart out and slowly he began to smile, his mood began to shift from gloomy to thrilled, suggesting places and activities as if you were still alive.
If anybody was to come across this interaction it's either they'll lable him as mentally challenged or is high on sadness that they ended up talking to a grave.
You stood up getting ready to walk away, it's abit hard to pity them. They never acknowledged you when you were breathing and it's messed up that they only care after realising their mistakes.
"...Huh?"
A mysterious man was standing infront of you, you wouldn't be startled if he wasn't staring right into your eyes. A white lantern...?
You know him only because of the file you would read when you were bored out of your mind. Bruce must have called him, afterall he was a very new and surprising face to see in Gotham.
"...Nice to meet you?"
After your short introduction and your very long introduction on why he must not interfere at all, because as much as it suck being a ghost being alive with your current family would be hell.
Thought he does not seem to value your opinion at all, directly telling Bruce about your presence.
"You can speak... she can hear you"
Deadman informed Bruce.
"I apologise for my negligence and your mother unexpected death. She was a great woman just like you... I don't expect you to forgive so easily but, I want to see you smile again"
You didn't utter a word. You wanted to comfort him yet it was hard pitting the same man who avoid your presence when you were alive.
"Can't you bring her back...?"
"No, she's too far gone"
Your corpse look fine from outside but your inside were rotting and molding. Bruce tried his best yo preserve your body but what's gone is gone. All you want is for your body to rest.
"I refuse to believe. There must be a way for her to be back."
"I have no saying in logic. But there are artifact's that allows one to see ghost"
"I will do anything to see that smile again... I want to apologise to her face to face as well"
Your Father was one of the rare people in the family taking the responsibility in your death, this wasn't the first time he utter an apology. He would slept in your bed missing you, crying or talking in his sleep apologising it seem as the guilt never stopped chasing him.
Though he was the same man who left you unattended during gala surrounded by random man while you were a child. The same one who lecture your brother for leaving you in a fire only because he would have to explain why the burnt mark was there and not because it was wrong.
It was only natural for guilt to cling onto him the longest, he already lost Jason. But you were different, Jason died while having a somewhat happy memories. You died with nothing but bitterness and salty tears.
As much as you would love to fulfill your father's dream you couldn't help but be uncomfortable.
You've overhead Bruce and Jason conversation once and you regretted it. Jason being the most experienced in dying suggested the worst thing possible.
A new bedroom, made just for your liking.
A dingy room with chains to restrain you. All the window must have bars, even if you somehow managed to broke the iron chain you wouldn't be able to jump out and possibly risk breaking a bone.
"It's a necessity, I went mad when I came back, what gives you the idea that she won't be the same and in our case you'll be her first victim"
Jason harshly spit out. You couldn't help but disagree you wouldn't dare to hurt your family, even if they have hurt you in unexplainable ways. Your heart still ache for them in vain.
"Even if she dare to break out I have another method, far more wise and useful but I rather we use it as a last resort"
The last resort was, smashing your ankle. It was simple and Jason already have experience to make sure you won't be in more pain than necessary.
To put anything between your foot and for that object to be used as a support, tying the foot and arm's to restrain you. With a hammer all they have to do was to smash the bone into pieces, you wouldn't be able to walk at all but it was also necessary to treat the bone to avoid disability.
If the bone was to be left to heal by itself it would reconstruct themselves wrong leaving you to excruciating pain, not being able to depend on your foot and you might need to cut your foot off.
Another reason why you dread to be brought back, no amount of convincing or pleading would make them understand... They'll break you and rebuild you as if that was nothing.
They can't treat you like a daughter or a sister even tho they seem so willing... To you they only love you because of the guilt and not because they understand.
Damian was a reason itself, didn't even let a single tear drop during your funeral and the visit at the hospital. He did cry in secret which was pleasant to watch.
He's either beating people into pulp for the smallest crime or is actively trying to bring you back in another form. He have asked Raven to assist him but even the girl found it inhuman, suggesting for him to just mourn you and let your soul be in peace.
It was now noon the whole family jam inside the living room discussing.
"She can't be brought back? Jason died, the Lazarus pit can and must brought her back"
Damian argued, as much as he doesn't wanted to be emotional your absence was taking a toll on him.
You were the first to treat him like a human and he took that for granted. When he realised others weren't as understanding as you were he would get bothered... As much as he hate you that was just the crust of his heart, to him the core matter more... It was totally not an excuse for his horrible behaviour.
"You haven't tried that, father we must try before coming into conclusion!"
"I have tried Damian, nothing worked. Her body was rotting from the inside I was not aware"
Finally Barbara spoke up.
"You have tried? I have been visiting her grave everyday when did you di-"
"It was a decoy"
Jason decided to told the truth. The room felt into a long silence and suddenly shouting and names. They weren't happy that Bruce didn't tell them about the decoy, to them that was a breach of trust Bruce desperately tried to build after your death.
"Silence! There is another way we can see her, Deadman suggested using special artifact's that allows people to see ghost... We will us that as a temporary comfort and we'll find a way to bring her back... with us "
Everybody agreed, unknowns to them you were contemplating life whether you should leave your family and risk the chance of being brought back to life against your will or... Leave.
platonic batfam x neglected! (gender neutral; not specified) reader
warning: i know nothing about college applications or how college even works (junior), possibly OOC, i probably made a promise about adding something and forgot to add it so sorry!!!
.ᐟ — you, (name) (last name) Wayne are the most average person.
wordcount: 3,551
a.n. /// this is ending one, a more realistic approach to how an actual person would react to the neglect... sorry it took so long, school has been kicking my ass (2-3 months in btw)... PSAT, drivers permit, marching band, chem, math, the list goes on...
part 1 . . . part 2 . . .
You had a nice day out— especially after a group of exams. The study was rigorous; by the end, you wanted nothing more than just to put yourself in a coffin. Instead, you decided to go out with friends on a cold night in Boston. To a cafe, a catch-up night.
You'd turned your phone off, wanting to enjoy the moment rather than being distracted by notifications.
With friends, you took a circular table near the window seat, facing the street. You were having fun, listening to stories your friends were telling. From sibling fights to silly, petty dramas between family members.
You wish you had a story to tell about family.
"Order for…" the barista looks at the large order of goods, "(Name) (last name)?"
"Oh," You slowly start to get up, "I'll get them!" beginning to walk towards the counter. You needed a slight moment ot just… get away. Just a few minutes.
(Truth is, it hurts to talk about family. (Name) (last name) Wayne is insanely jealous when it comes to family.)
Picking up the tray, you start to walk back to your group, while admiring the decoration of the cafe. It was cute, a cozy feeling. Indoor plants in some corners, large sofas surrounding a coffee table, and people enjoying small talk or working.
Eyes glance over to a corner of the place: people picking out books to read, Cassandra waiting at a table, commissioned paintings on the walls—
You stop, almost spilling everything on the tray. You look over your shoulder again. Cassandra. Cassandra Cain, sort-of-maybe-daughter to Bruce Wayne. Your mouth gapes open slightly.
What the hell is she doing here?!
Before Cassandra even gazes upon you, you turn around and flee to your friends.
"What took you so long?" One of them giggled, saying a quick 'Thank you, (naaaame)!' before taking their coffee. The others chide in with agreements, slipping money to you in exchange for their coffees.
You awkwardly laugh, "Oh, didn't want to spill anything!" You grab your drink, putting it against your lips and taking a big gulp.
"You've never told us about your family, y'know?" One of the boys says. A girl nudges him, "What?! I'm right!"
She tuts, before looking at you with soft eyes, "We don't mean to intrude, if you don't want to tell us, it's fine! We're just a bit curious, is all!" She moves in closer to the table, whispering: "Since you're… Like, Wayne's kid…"
You put the drink down, chuckling a little, "I mean, I'm cool with tell you guys."
(No, the hell I'm not. You think in exasperation, Why the hell did I say that?)
"So there's Alfred, the butler of practically the entire house, and like a grandpa to me." You earn a bit of 'aw's from your friends, "He makes arugably the best food, and spoiled me with it!"
"There's Duke—"
"New adoptee, right?"
You shake your head, "Nah, just temporarily at the manor for a while. Fostering, type thing." The others nod.
"Anyways, Duke is pretty awesome. A year younger. He's pretty funny and fun to hang around; good at puzzles and stuff. I think you guys would get along with him really well." You pause. How would you address the others?
"Um, Dick… he's there! Nice, takes people places, you know the whole 'I love family!' thing.
Tim is pretty busy, being CEO or whatever he is for W.E., kinda addicted to staying awake.
Damian is a bit of a menace, but he's alright for a rude kid. He likes animals and art. I think.
Cassandra does dance, ballet. I've seen her a few times; she's really good at it."
You ignore the feeling that someone is staring at you, focusing on your friends.
You get to your dorm quite late. You were lucky enough not to have a roommate, rather getting one of those single-person dorms.
After closing the door behind you and slipping off your shoes, you fall onto your bed. You rummage in your jacket pockets before taking out your phone. You turn it on.
Notifications start to pour in from Instagram, TikTok, emails, messages, and everywhere.
You press on the emails. Eyes scanning over the names. You pause at two of the emails, both coming around the same time.
Your heart stutters at the sender.
Dick motherfucking Grayson and Jason motherfucking Todd.
I saw you on Boston University's Instagram account! I tried contacting you, but your old number wasn't letting me through. Why didn't you tell me about your number changing? Anyways, congrats! We should celebrate together, you know, hang out! Let me know~
From,
Richard Wayne
Was wondering where you're at. We haven't seen each other in a long time. Wanna know what's going on in your life, catch-up, y'know? You probably look so grown-up now.
Jason T.
What the hell. How did they remember this email? Did they even know this email?
You sit up, switching from one email to the other. The words are blurring and turning into one. You swipe out of the app and close your phone.
Sleep. Sleep will fix this. The phone is thrown across the room, and the blanket is pulled over outside clothing.
The next morning— luckily a weekend— you wake up slowly, the first rays of the sun filter through the window.
Your half-asleep mind first reminds you of being outside with your friends yesterday, the coffee, the talks. You smile softly as you groggily look at the clothes you slept in.
Then, the emails are reminded next. Your mood sours.
How Jason and Dick emailed you like they've never left contact with you, how they want to "hang out" seemingly forgetting the lost promises of "I'll go with you somewhere, next time, okay?"
(Every time someone would say that, you would know in your heart that they would forget. Mainly Dick. Especially Dick. He had the Bruce, Tim, and the Titans, and any other thing he's in. They would always be more important than you.
Jason forgot about you after he came back. The few times he was in the manor, he didn't even try to do something with you. Hell, he wouldn't even come to greet you. It was as if the only reason he came to the manor was to make Bruce's life hell, and yours too. You missed the old Jason.)
You stumble over to where your phone is. It lay near the closet door, its screen illuminating new messages. After all, you have a life outside of the Wayne family. And probably the only life, since you weren't truly a Wayne; it was just by name.
God, were you always this depressive?
You shake your head, crouching down to your phone. You hesitantly pick it up, face ID recognizing you and opening it up.
"I need to text Duke about this…," you mutter, still crouched. You quickly swipe into your messages to see multiple numbers trying to get you to respond to them. And two of them were ones you didn't want to see.
Your father — Bruce Wayne, and Tim Drake. How they even knew your new number was beyond you.
(You always kept their numbers saved, because maybe they would reach out. You didn't want that anymore.)
Bruce Wayne: Hey, kiddo, heard you got into Boston University. Congrats. Why didn't you tell me?
sent 4:30 am
Tim Drake: Hey, (name), haven't seen you in a while, what's the happs?
sent 4:56 am
Your heart drops further when you see Duke's recent texts.
Duke: Hello, this is Damian. I wanted to say congrats on your new educational pursuit. Father must be very proud.
sent yesterday, 10:09 pm
Duke: I would like to apologize for my past actions. It was not fair what I had done to you. It may not seem much, after all, you've been having to deal with my behaviours for the past few years. I'm truly sorry for the way I treated you.
sent yesterday 10:11 pm | deleted for Duke Thomas
Groaning, you start to text Duke back.
You: Duke, wtf.
Duke: ?
You: why the hell is everyone texting me all of a sudden?
Duke: idk, dick asked for your number on the family gc but i gave them the email u dont use
You: So, i didn't want you to give them ANYTHING about me. But whatever. Tell Damian i forgive him or whatever
Duke: oops, sorry… mkay, any reason to tell him orrrrrrrrrrrrrr
You: well, he is younger… an assassin child at that. I accept his apology cause it looks like he actually means it. he's a baby with no sense of direction, at the end of the day.
You: Also if you meet with the others, tell them to leave me alone. they can talk to me when i come over for vacations, which i doubt ill even come.
Duke: r u sure…? you've been wanting to reconnect with them for a while…
You: that was in the past, ive moved on and don't want them holding me back emotionally anymore.
Duke: okay, sorry about that…
You: its fine.
Fingers press on Alfred's contact. You start a call.
"Mx. (Name)?"
"Alfred."
"Mx. (Name) has informed me that they are not interested in talking with you at the moment." Alfred starts, "They believe they would benefit from focusing on their studies as of right now, rather than on other issues."
Bruce's eyes focus onto Alfred's face in the dark of the Batcave. "What?"
Alfred looks at him with a face Bruce can't quite place, "Mx. (Name) wants to focus on what they are doing, and reccomend that you do the same. They will talk to you when they are ready. Please relay this message to the others, is also what they said."
Calloused hanfs drop away from the keyboard, "Why would they say that?" he murmurs, "I'd thought… they would want to reconcile after so many years…"
"They do not wish to." Alfred starts to walk away, "Safe patrol, Master Bruce."
The Wayne takes out his phone and presses on your contact.
Bruce Wayne: Is there a specific reason as to why you do not wish to talk to me?
message not received
Bruce Wayne: (Name)?
message not received
Five— six children, and he couldn't manage to have a good relationship with any of them. A failure of a father, really.
A gasp echoes through the living area. Heads snap towards the voice, ready to jump into action for whatever happened.
"(Name) blocked me on Gmail!" Dick stares at his phone with wide eyes, "I didn't even know that was possible!"
Everyone sighs, not expecting such a trivial matter.
"They blocked me on messages and Gmail. I don't know how they found my stalker account on TikTok and Insta, but they blocked me on that too." Tim mutters, eyes already slinking back to the laptop in front of him.
Steph sits up from the couch, raising her right hand, "Oh, Oh! I saw them in Boston a few days ago!" Cass nods.
"They were with friends at a cafe." She pauses, "I was gonna say hi to them, but Cass said no."
"We do not know them well enough to interfere talking between their friends."
Dick sits up straighter, "You should've told me! I would've come so fast…" he whines, his gaze still on your contact information. "I'll just text them on—"
"They've probably already blocked you." Tim remarks, "I'm pretty sure they've blocked all of us on any accounts and numbers."
"You never know!" Dick insists instead, furiously typing on his phone. A few minutes later and his posture deflates. "You're right. They blocked me on social media too…"
"I think…" Three sets of eyes go to Cassandra, "We should take the hint and leave them alone. It is clear that is what they want."
Dick shakes his head, "They're our sibling, we have to connect with them," he claims.
Cass frowns, "We should not go past their boundaries if that is what they want. We must respect them."
The older man gets up, his eyes furrowed as though he was going to say something. His face in a scowl. Ultimately, Dick leaves it at that, muttering a 'whatever' before leaving the room. Tim watches from the corner of his eye as the oldest leaves.
"I do not believe I said anything wrong," Cass says with confusion, "No?"
Tim disagrees, "No. You didn't. Dick is just a bit… nosy."
'And I am too.'
(In the end, after a long day of contemplating, Dick doesn't try to contact you again. You'll come around when you want to, even Dick hopes that you'll do it now.)
Was wondering where you're at. We haven't seen each other in a long time. Wanna know what's going on in your life, catch-up, y'know? You probably look so grown-up now.
I saw you got into BU, congrats. At least someone in this family will be a college graduate, haha.
Jason T.
Jason sits in his dingy apartment, a blanket over his lap as he reads a book. Every so often, his eyes would wander over to his phone, sitting in front of him on the coffee table, screen up. His hopes are high for a notification from you.
He keeps reading. Jason's mind takes the words on the pages, no processing what the words are saying. He rereads that page. He still doesn't understand, so he rereads a second time—
Ding! Jason reaches for the phone with speed, unlocking it with face ID. A smile playing on his face.
Please just leave me alone. I do not want to talk to you. Take the hint!
Jason's heart drops at the email; any sense of good mood leaves him. He was hoping— he thought you would want to reconnect. The two of you used to be so… close-knit together.
(Jason remembers attending your extracurriculars, remembers you saying good-bye to him before patrol, and remembers the way you tried to mediate between him and the others.
Eyes that held innocence, and hands that felt soft as a pillow.
That's the past, and Jason can't do anything to go back.)
He puts his phone down and goes back to reading. If you don't want to, that's fine. Jason will not force you to be siblings— friends again.
(He ends up patrolling his area. Fighting crime till his heart raced and his hands sweat under the gloves. Jason will get over your rejection, he will. He's rejected you, so it's his turn to be rejected.)
"(Name) says they forgive you," Duke says out of the blue one day, sitting at the counter with cereal in his hand.
Damian blinks. Far too early in the morning for his brain to be functioning, "Excuse me?"
Duke chuckles, restating himself, "(Name) says they forgive you."
The younger boy lets the words process in his head before a small smile plays at his lips, and his posture straightens up, "Really?" he whispers silently. As if afraid that someone might see this soft moment.
"Yep," Duke pops, "They said they'll be glad to talk to you about stuff. I'll send their number to you, ya?"
Damian nods, "Yes, I would appreciate that…"
Duke finishes his cereal before reaching out his hand to tousle the boy, "You did the right think," he starts as he puts the bowl into the sink, "They've been wanting to connect with you for a long time now."
"I am glad that they are willing to give me a chance at redemption."
Duke smiles at him, glancing at the clock, "Better get going now, Signal doesn't wait for anything!"
"Good patrol, Thomas."
(The first time Damain texts you, he feels his giddy feeling in the chest. As if something were roaming around in his ribcage, tickling him.
You reply kindly, asking how his day has been going and how school is.
He responds with the same amount of enthusiasm a child his age should have.
Damain apologizes again, and you accept the apology again.
Now, every time the two of you text, his mood lightens up. Posture is getting lazy rather than the strict-straight back he learned to have. Damian appreciates your presence. He adores your presence.)
You came for Christmas break, rather than staying in the dormitory. Your friends had asked you to come, but you didn't want to intrude on family time.
The visit was… awkward to say the least. There were the 'hello's and the 'how are you doing's. Unlike when you lived in the manor, however, everyone seemed very into your business.
"How's college going?" Bruce asks one day during breakfast, or atleast breakfast time for the manor.
You glance at him from your phone, "Good."
"Any classes you like?"
"Um… foundations of education is going good, I guess."
Bruce hums, "Mind telling me what that's about?"
You check the clock, "I gotta go, I promised Damian something."
(You used to be so young, following Bruce around. The man recalls. From his office to the Batcave. What he wouldn't do for you to do that now.)
"Do you want to join me in the Batcave?" Tim mumbles in your general area.
You squint at him, "Huh?"
He takes in a deep breath, "Do you want to join me in the Batcave? I have some questions."
The phone slips from your hand and onto your lap, "Uh, the Batcave is lowkey cold, so…"
"There's a heater there."
You stare at him, "Alright, sure, I guess." You shrug, getting up from the couch in the living room.
He ends up going to patrol just a few minutes later, leaving you in the Batcave.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't think I had patrol today—"
You wave it off, simply lying: "It's cool, I guess. I have something to do anyway." You did not have anything to do.
(Tim leaves the Batcave, guilty as ever. He doesn't want to do what he did in the past. He really doesn't, but duty calls. He hopes you will forgive him like you used to when you were younger.)
Dick waltzes into your room, "Want to go to the Zoo?"
You sit up on your bed, "Not particularly, no."
His smile falters a bit, "Come on! Sibling bonding time!"
"I'm a bit busy with catch-up work right now… sorry."
"You can do that later, can't you?"
You shake your head, "I want to get it done with fast."
(Dick remembers how you used to bug him to teach you gymnastics. But it feels like he's the one doing the bugging, now. How the tables have turned...)
"Jason?" You say with confusion, trying to focus on the figure in the dark.
The lights flick on in the kitchen, Red Hood standing at the counter with a box in hand, "Yeah, that's me."
"Oh, okay, cool." You start to walk away before a forced cough calls you.
Jason clears his throat, "I made you cookies," he gestures at a big box sitting in front of him, "The ones you like."
You raise both eyebrows, "Thanks."
"Yeah."
A silence falls between the two of you, eyes wandering around the kitchen. Jason starts, "I guess I should be going."
"Yeah."
(As Jason leaves, he takes a glance back at you. You always loved these types of cookies--- straight up loaded with sugar. You would also share them with him. Will you share these?)
"What're you drawing this time?" You ask with your mouth full of cookies.
Damain scratches furiously in his sketchpad, "Nothing."
You roll your eyes, reaching across the table to pick up his pad right out of his hands. "Hey!" he yells.
There, on the white sheet, lay a picture of… you. Smooth and rigid lines mix to create your facial features, and harsher pencil density to outline. You can't help but laugh, "Damian! This is so cute!"
His face turns a bright red, "Give that back, this instant, or Alfred shall be informed about this… bullying."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you're talented." You wink, "Also, give me the paper when you're done. I have to show my friends the talent my sibling holds, no?"
"How's the break going for you?" Duke asks, lying on your room's floor.
You sigh, turning around on your chair to face him, "It's awkward."
"Everyone's all of a sudden really interested in what I do and stuff. It's annoying. Besides Damian."
Duke shrugs, "It's to be expected."
"Nuh-uh, it feels weird."
"They're trying to build something with you."
"Well, I want to focus on myself right now."
Alfred sets a plate in front of you, "I believe this break is treating you well?"
"Thanks, Alfie!" you take a bite of the food, "And I guess."
He raises an eyebrow.
"It's just awkward. I'm in the spotlight after so long."
"I believe that it's for the best."
"I don't like it."
"You must give them a chance."
You huff, "I will after I'm settled."
You made a goal. Graduate, become a teacher, live in an apartment and have fun teaching.
And it is what you will do. Any other issues will have to wait. You were your main priority.
You understand that they're trying to fix the past, but they don't seem to understand that it will take time. Time that you don't have. Time that is going towards your occupation.
So when you're done, you will also try. But they have to try in the meantime. After all, you've been trying your whole life.
It's their turn. You're no longer the child who followed for praise and recognition.
HOLD ON TO REASON (or fall for the Illusion) ─── masterlist.
╰───➤ yandere?batfam x neglected!healer!reader
❝I want it to stop! I want to close my eyes and hear no more screams! Nor feel any more hot blood on my hands.❞
── y/n, to masashi during the war.
WARNINGS. neglect, abuse, victim blaming, stockholm syndrome, self-deception, war, body descriptions, death, minor character death, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, suicide, kidnapping, dissociation, depersonalization, medical trauma, panic attacks, isolation, post-traumatic stress disorder, extreme low self-esteem, flashbacks, nightmares, marginalization, dehumanization, emotional censorship, depression, delusions.
💉────────── premise.
when you discovered your powers, you didn’t know how to feel. healing, mending, bringing life back… it sounded like a gift— but in your hands, was it really? you had no purpose, no reason to exist.
you were always different. too aware. too broken. you felt like the world had no place for you, like your presence was a mistake.
until he appeared.
masashi gave you direction. he made you feel useful, needed. he taught you that saving lives was the one thing you could do without failing, without breaking anything else. you became addicted to the power you once doubted you deserved.
too bad your family showed up too late to help you see the truth.
or maybe… you didn’t want to see it anymore.
💉────────── chapters.
┆ ✐; OO : doctor i can’t tell if i’m not me.
┆ ✐; O1 : oh doctor, that’s too honest! then pretend you don’t hear me.
┆ ✐; O2 : doctor, i'm chasin' a ghost, do I look like him?
┆ ✐; O3 : did you get enough love, my little dove, why do you cry?
┆ ✐; O4 : doctor, i feel like no one wants me, and i hate the way i’m perceived.
┆ ✐; O5 : doctor, close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.
┆ ✐; O6 : a good dog for him, never forgets their leash.
┆ ✐; O7 : what it means to be a good brother.
┆ ✐; O8 : are you man enough to take the blame for this?
┆ ✐; O9 : this could be the end of everything.
┆ ✐; 1O : you are a good child, you are a good weapon.
┆ ✐; 11 : correct.
┆ ✐; 12 : nothing yet.
┆ ✐; 13 : nothing yet.
┆ ✐; O1 : she looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen
┆ ✐; O2: nothing yet.
💉────────── asks & extras.
┆ ✐; OO . does the doctor use healer!reader as a weapon? / the doctor's manipulation of healer!reader through her need to heal
┆ ✐; O1 . why did the batfam ignore healer!reader, and how does that lead them to become yanderes?
┆ ✐; O2 . what happens when the batfam realizes they can’t heal the one who always healed them? / can anyone heal the healer?
┆ ✐; O3 . what makes healer!reader’s healing so different, and why damian can’t replicate it / healer!reader’s methods in gotham
┆ ✐; O4 . how does healer!reader feel about duke being accepted as a meta?
┆ ✐; O5 . does healer!reader secretly go out at night to heal people in gotham?
┆ ✐; O6 . is masashi based on mori?
┆ ✐; O7 . will there be a version of fukuzawa and ranpo?
┆ ✐; O8 . about charlotte as elise
┆ ✐; O9 . will there be an armed detective agency?
┆ ✐; 1O . does Dazai appear in the story + other bsd characters?
┆ ✐; 11 . why does healer!reader see duke as someone unreachable?
┆ ✐; 12 . how did masashi fake healer!reader’s foster care background? + was healer!reader ever really in foster care?
┆ ✐; 13 . what does healer!reader think about the fake records in her past? + is healer!reader aware that masashi invented her foster care history?
┆ ✐; 14 . what do cass and healer!reader have in common?
┆ ✐; 15 . why doesn’t barbara notice something’s wrong with healer!reader?
┆ ✐; 16 . who is the best option for healer!reader to stay with?
┆ ✐; 17 . what kind of relationship do healer!reader and charlotte have?
┆ ✐; 18 . does healer!reader talk in her sleep?
┆ ✐; 19 . how does healer!reader’s healing ability actually work?
┆ ✐; 20 . would healer!reader use anesthesia if she had access to it?
┆ ✐; 21 . could a patient’s heart give out during healer!reader’s treatment? / can healer!reader’s power truly stop death every time?
Batfam x Neglected Spider!Reader
Pairing: GN!Reader x Miguel O'hara
It had been 5 years since that night, since you had seen your family. However, after a rather unfortunate event, you are taken back to the city of Gotham and forced to see them again, with your husband alongside you.
Disclaimer(s): Canon typical violence, mentions of neglect, strained relationships with family, angst galore, more to be added
Based off this idea
Rewrite
Prologue | 『Someone I Have Loved, But Never Known』
Ch 1 | 『For We're All That We Need』
Ch 2 | 『Wanna see you, wanna see you but I gotta resist』
Welcome to the masterlist of my DC series Into the Batverse! A Platonic! Yandere! Batfam x Spider venom! Reader series! This will contain links to all chapters + anything related to the series, including the taglist and asks! <3
TAGLIST IS CLOSED
Pairings: Platonic! Yandere! Batfamily x Spider Venom! Reader
Summary: Let's do this one more time! Your name is Y/N Wayne, and you were bitten by a radioactive spider, which then gave you powers that may include the ability to stick to any surface, shooting webs front your wrists, and super senses! You also may have accidently attached an alien life form to yourself. All of this is turning you from the confident Wayne kid everyone knew you as to a self-deprecating and self-conscious young adult who carries the weight of both the superhero world and civilian world on your shoulders, leaving the Wayne family shouldn't have been an issue, nobody ever saw you anyway too busy to ever notice you, but it seems as you try and start a new life your family has a change of heart.
Warnings: Neglect | Self doubt/Self worth Self-consciousness | Self Harm | Talks of mental issues/disorders | Stalking | Spying | Talks of death | Torture | Kidnapping | Fighting | Sex mentioned a few times mainly just one night stands | (will be updated)
TAGS:
Into the Batverse - Chapters / Extra side stories
Into the Batverse: Extra - Asks / Anything that isn't canon most likely
Original Blurb - 10/6/2025
Season One: Before the Storm
Chapter One: Worst Day Ever - 10-17-2025
Chapter Two: Changed Person - 10-24-2025
Chapter Three: Life Changing - 11-11-2025
Chapter Four: Family Dynamic - 01-02-2026
Chapter Five: Stranger In My Own Home - 01-17-2026
