Lilykins

LILY ✿ 20 ✿ AUS ᴠɪʀɪᴅɪᴛʏ (ɴ.) ɴᴀɪᴠᴇᴛʏ ᴏʀ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

[epione-xx]

˗ˏˋ LUCENT ˎˊ˗

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This wasn't meant to happen, i wasn't meant to be anything special. i never wanted this, i was happy who i was....now im someone knew and i don't know how to be them.

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CHAPTER GUIDE....

↝ CHAPTER 1 - A fly on the wall

↝ CHAPTER 2 - The luck of five

↝ CHAPTER 3 - The last customer

↝ CHAPTER 4 - Electric

↝ CHAPTER 5 - 7/11 at 11:45om

[epione-xx]

LUCENT

(ADJ.) softly bright or radiant

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CHAPTER 5 - 7/11 at 11:45pm

PREV - electric

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I am aware that going to 7/11 at 11:45 at night is probably not a good idea. I don't need to be told that Gotham city + night time + a 7/11 that I'm sure is an undercover spot for selling drugs does not equate to a good ending but…I'm hungry.

The door slides open with its usual ding, letting the store clerk know that someone has come in. My crocs squeak, filling the silent convenience store as I look over the shelf of instant ramen. I grab a packet, cheap, probably about $3 after tax and move to the slurpee machine. Nothing will ever beat a no sugar cherry and coke slurpee, never. 

Maybe I should be paying more attention and not letting my mind drift off to an internal debate over the best flurpee flavours because I hit a wall of human that makes me fall to the ground.. 

Their shoulders are buff, I can notice by the sheer force of these dudes' muscles hitting my shoulder and how I fall back, I drop my poor instant noodles. They are the true victim here as I hear them give me a sickening crack. I gap for a moment and finally look up at the guy “well excuse you” i sneer as i look up.

His eyes are vivid green, almost hypnotic. They look annoyed, squinted and staring at me in my grey hoodie and dirty sweat pants, he stares at me like I am the gum that had the audacity to stick myself to his shoe. I look at him again, paying attention to his other features, dark hair and brows, name brand gym clothes as well.. I finally look down and spot the protein bar in his hand and I can conclude that this guy is rich, snobby and 100% coming from the gym. 

“Im not the one staring off, is your head empty?” he sneered back in return, nose upturned as he crossed his arm and stepped to the side, watching as I got up and grabbed the packet of now crushed noodles. “Well aren't you just a bundle of joy” I muttered sarcastically as I rolled my eyes and then looked at my phone.

He scoffs again as he turns around “watch where you're going next time and maybe your instant noodles won't be caught in the cross fire” he sounds disgusted at the idea of something cheap. Average rich guy I suppose. I watch his back as he leaves before I shake my head and go to my original plan, cherry cola slurpee. 

The minutes pass, I fill my cup and pay. As I walk out, I hear someone call out to me. “Hey baby!” This guy sounds drunk and I'm pretty sure he's calling out to me. I take a breath, I have to follow my survival rules. 1. Keep my head down, don't give them the time of day 2. Don't reply, replying is engaging, it's giving them what they want 3. Go a different way home in hopes you will lose him. 

I do as my rules state and I follow a different way home, I walk into a dark alleyway, washing lines and fire escapes decorate overheads as I speedwalk down the alleyway. He keeps talking, yelling even, as he follows me. “Hey baby! Slow down! We can have some fun!” he calls with a slur to his voice. 

I hit a barbed wire fence and curse, normally I would just jump it but my arm is bad and I'm sure trying to jump a fence in crocs is a terrible idea. Finally, I have to turn around and face him. He's tall, lanky and his thin blonde hair is definitely making him look like he's more bald then he probably is and if we were friends I would honestly just offer him the advice to just own the shaved head and accept that he is in fact bald now. 

He grabs my wrist and I shudder, his slimey hands are on me and I hate it. “Let go of me” I say, almost weakly. As I try to pull my arm away, he tugs me forward and the aching, tingly feeling comes back. My heart is beating at a million miles a minute and I take panicked breaths “let me go!” I scream.

He doesn't and tears spring to my eyes as he leaned in, keeping my hands restrained so I can't pull away. Suddenly I feel trapped. I feel like I'm suffocating and like whatever is about to happen is outside of my control and no matter what I do, I can't stop it. 

The burning feeling in my arm gets worse, I can't tell if it feels like my arm is having the skin twisted or if I've stuck my hand in the oven. 

Suddenly, the pain is gone and a purple flash happens before my eyes accompanied by a buzzing sound, almost like…electricity? After a few seconds, shock wears off and I slowly look down to see the man below me screaming in agony, his arm fried and he's on the ground clutching the fried limb tightly. 

Wait, did I do that?

No, there's no possible way, I dont, I dont have powers!

But…this would explain the power outlet blowing up…

No! Crazy, this is crazy! 

A tightness surrounded my ankle and I gasped as the dude grabbed my ankle with his good hand “you bitch!” He screams as he tries to take me down. I kick away and another flash of lightning happens and his face is burnt.

Oh my god..its me…its 100% me! I'm doing this! 

My eyes tear up and I take off running down the street, pulling my hood over my head as I panic if I'm going to be taken away for attempted murder or not.

What was happening to me?! 

I'm breathless as I run the four blocks to my apartment. I slam the old wooden door and do up the five different locks of the apartment door. They jingle and click into place like a sickening lullaby and then when I'm done, exhaustion hits. I slide down the wood slowly, hood still over my head…maybe this is all a bad dream, maybe I need to go to bed. Forget dinner and just have a nice old sleep for dinner. 

I shove the couch in front of the door, paranoia creeping down my spine like a sticky tar that will stick to me no matter what I do. I walk to my room slowly, making sure to close and lock every single window as I do

Surely, this is just anxiety and a lack of sleep.

I crawl into bed, under my duvet and rest my head onto my pillow. Taking deep breaths as I slowly begin to drift off to dream land. My heart still beats a million miles an hour but at least, right now, I feel safe.

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A/N we finally met a side character, hell yeah gang (im sorry its taken so long i am trying to write one chapter a week but also lowkey have been playing a lot of palword and working :[ )

[epione-xx]

LUCENT

(ADJ.) softly bright or radiant

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CHAPTER 4 Electric

PREV The last customer

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I am 20, 20 years old and I feel like I'm 60 due to the chronic pain I suffered after my accident. My arm is in so much pain that part of me wants to rip it off and throw it out and down into the gutters of Gotham city because of the dull achy pain that just never seems to stop. 

The pain is changing, it changes every five minutes from dull and achy to prickly sensation, like when you wake up from a nap and your arm is numb from laying on it. The prickly feeling, it's almost like vibrations under my skin, almost like electricity. 

I reach weakly for my phone with my good arm, my bad one tucked under myself as I try to distract myself from the pain. I grip it quietly and begin to scroll tiktok. I get a couple of minutes where the pain is manageable and then a sharp pain hits me elbow to wrist and my phone…flickers? It's flickering and I frown deeply as I try to turn it off and then back on.

It takes a moment and full resets, i look at it and examine it carefully and it seems to be…normal? Maybe the phone is too old? My wonderful Samsung galaxy S23, in pink too…im not willing to let this phone go. 

Pain shoots through me again and I take a heavy breath before I put my phone down and get up. Distractions aren't working, aren't taking the pain away. I feel like i could try more, i could grip the comb like people suggest, take the pan to a different area. I could go on 101 drugs that will make the pain go away but also my sense of self. I could use breathing techniques but they never seem to work for me. Everything I do feels stupid and useless and like a mockery of what my pain actually is.  

Shower, I should shower. Maybe it's a circulation issue, maybe the hot water will make it better. The pipes bang, making the weird but usual noises as the water starts and begins to heat up. Quickly, I strip my shirt and sweat pants off, letting the hot water hit my skin. It runs down my back and the pain starts to ease a little. I take deep breaths, steam fills my lungs and slowly I release it. 

After a while in the shower and doing what I need to do (washing my hair and body) I finally step out, grabbing the towel on the wall hook and wrapping it around my body. I stare at myself in the cabinet mirror, my eyes trailing down my body and finally onto the left side of my body and chest, ugly spiral like scars crawling up from the dip of my chest and to my armpit. I hate them, the nurses told me that i most likely got them when i was thrown out the bus window and i skidded along the pavement but i just..dont understand how it causes THIS pattern of all patterns. 

The towel drops to the floor, body now dry. I take a glob of moisturiser and slowly move it up and down the scars. The skin causes me to shiver from how horrible I hate it, it makes me nauseous. My eyes flick away and instead opt to focus on my bathroom rug instead as I finish my skincare. 

Because everytime i look at myself, i think back to the accident, to what i missed out on, to the regret of getting on that bus and also the guilt of being one of two very free survivors because if anyone should of had to continue their lives, it should have been someone who wasn't miserable, someone who didn't feel like very move they made put them two steps back, someone who had more to live for and who felt like they were going to achieve something. 

Not me, not someone whose most notable achievement is winning a writing competition at the age of 13. Not someone who is rotting away now, chronic pain eating at their soul and debt trapping them in a cage where every next turn leads them back to the same place. I moved here to stay anew, yet I feel like I've only gone further back, straying from the promises I made myself. 

I think I need a diet coke with coke with a slice of lime, maybe with a side of vodka. 

Walking to the kitchen, the air feels staticy, like when it's about to storm and you can see the big dark clouds rolling in. My heart is pumping blood faster than it ever has, palpitations reaching my ears and creating a rhythm of thumps. I take a breath and steady myself because this is just anxiety right? My hands brush against the outlet of the kettle as I move to the fridge.

A fizzle and then a loud bang rocks the apartment and I slowly look back to the outlet that I had just touched, now blackened and dark from soot and the remains of what I'll guess is it short circuiting. There is no way my hand was that sweaty right? Anxiety doesn't cause your hand to be that moist…Maybe it's bad wiring? maybe it was just dumb luck and someone was plugging something else in at the exact same time which caused a power surge? Can that happen? 

My heart is no longer beating at a million miles a minute, which is weird because I definitely feel more anxious because I now have to tell the landlord that my power outlet is shot. I can't help but wonder why because arguably, that should not have happened and if it WAS to happen, shouldn't it have happened at some other point before?

I shake my head, the base of my skull pounding suddenly. I rub my next and then my hands move to take my hair out. This is a problem for the landlord…not me…and at least it didn't cut power to the entire apartment. 

So I saunter back to my bedroom, glass in hand, and thoughts clouding my mind, pain now gone but im not sure for how long because that's the funny thing about chronic pain, it can come and go, almost like waves rolling over your body at the beach.

[epione-xx]

LUCENT

(ADJ.) softly bright or radiant

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CHAPTER 3 The last customer

PREV CHAPTER: The luck of five

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Life moved on.

No one ever expects it, but life moves on after an event like that. Three weeks of waking up in hospital, three months of physical therapy to learn how to move my left hand again, three months of the annoying roommate I had who decided to watch youtube, full volume and full brightness at whatever time in the morning.

Nurses said I was lucky, one of 5 survivors in an event that killed over 100, I don't feel lucky at all. I almost lost my apartment, my job, my life. My hand still hurts when I hold a pencil for too long. I was lucky, lucky for my life and for the Wayne foundation to save my ass from being out on the street. 

“Hi, how are you going? Did you want a paper bag today?” 

Now I'm back here, at a posh grocery store on the upper side of Gotham. No one here knows me, they don't know that the last four months of my life have been hell. They probably don't even remember what happened 5 months ago. 

My hands organise items into bags, I try to maintain my friendly customer service voice, I chitchat with old rich ladies who don’t even look at the price of the items they are buying and then offer me a rock hard toffee out of their designer handbags. I suppose some things are universal, old ladies no matter their tax bracket will always have hard candy in their bags.

I take it, not to be polite, but because one small act of kindness at the moment is what is keeping me from walking out and into oncoming traffic. 

“Next please”

Items land on the counter, i don't look up, instead i gaze at the clock and see ive only got another 5 minutes and this guy will probably be my last customer. “How are you going? Would you like a paper bag?”

Finally, I looked up, meeting the eyes of the one and only Bruce Wayne and oddly enough he looked nothing like the media photos full of smug, smirking and sharp looking. Instead he smiles at you, he looks..kind?

And then he utters the words "Weren't you one of the survivors from the incident a couple months ago?” and I want the world to swallow me whole, because of course if ANYONE remembers that, it's him. 

Meekly, i nod, unsure of what to say, should i really be bringing this up at work? But his surprisingly calm aura makes me want to talk (maybe it's because he's a dad of 4). “I am…i was told your charity helped me out quite a bit…thank you a lot”  i sound so meek and scared, it makes me question if it's really me talking. I never really sound like this. 

He nods in reply “of course, when i heard about what had happened…its horrible, im sorry” 

He is the first person who has said sorry to me since the incident. He is single handley doing what no-one else has done. Acknowledged it. Everyone else just avoids the topic, acts like it never happened and while it never seemed to bother me, someone acknowledging it? Someone who realises that you are still dealing with the consequences MONTHS later? It makes me tear up. 

He still has that gentle smile on his face as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a packet of tissues before he offers me one. It's soft between my fingers, nothing I'm used to and all I can think is that this single tissue probably costs 4 times the amount of regular tissues. “It seems you're getting back to normal?” he asks gently. 

I wipe my eyes and nod, beginning to go back to work with packing his bags “i am, im very lucky they kept my job here….ive moved back home and out of hospital now, but i still have to do physical therapy once a week”  i end it with a small pathetic laugh and he nods. 

We make idle chitchat, talking about what's happening in Gotham, about the weather. Who knew Bruce Wayne was actually down to earth? Maybe its because of the tragedies he had also faced. The transaction ends, he pays but before he leaves, he turns to me and offers a sleek black card. 

I stared at it unsure, what was it? A bill for all the help his charity has given me perhaps? No, charities don't give bills. Finally, he says “Call my office if you need anything ok? Being on your own, it must be difficult.” I take it, it would be rude not to and finally the interaction ends and I watch his back as he walks away.

Wait, did bruce wayne just give me a card with his office phone on it? I have a direct line to THE Bruce Wayne?

Wait. How did he know I lived on my own? 

It doesn't matter, shift over! I walk to the breakroom, grabbing my jacket and bag before leaving for the day, questions circling my mind about what had just happened.

[epione-xx]

LUCENT

(ADJ.) softly bright or radiant

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CHAPTER TWO : The luck of five.

PREV CHAPTER 1: A Fly on the wall

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‘Beep….Beep….Beep…’

It continues on rhythmicly, almost like it's hypnotising me to stay asleep because of how familiar it is. I’ve been aware, or conscious, of this noise for the past hour but unconsciously? I'm not sure, maybe hours? Maybe weeks? Even though I swear I heard it before, I can't seem to remember when.

Where am I even? 

This bed doesn't feel like home, the smell of the room is…clean, way too clean to be my apartment, it's chemically and reminds me a little of death. I hear the city but it's quieter..more tamed, unlike my place which always has some neighbour yelling or someone beeping their horn frantically (Usually over a stolen car spot on the curb).

The sun is warm on my skin, breeze flutters through and finally I gain the strength to crack my eyes open. The first thing I see is white. The crisp white paint of an expensive ceiling. My eyes begin to flicker and search the room, finally landing on what's around me and seeing the machines and wires that decorate the spaces near me. 

I try to move and I feel wires tugging at my skin making me feel more panicked. What is happening? The beeping, what is now recognised as the ECG machine, is beeping frantically and I hear doors open and people talking loudly in codes that I do not recognise. I feel them moving things as I begin to feel drowsy again, had they given me a sedative? 

The doctors shine lights in my eyes and test my reflexes and even though the tests go well and I pass them all, I don't seem to register what I am doing or being asked to do. I do, however, register the pain of the tube coming out of my throat and the relief that follows soon afterwards when they give me a drink of water for my dry throat. 

It takes time, but soon enough only a few doctors remain and I'm lucid enough to finally talk to them. ‘W..what happened?” My voice is dry, scratchy almost, like it hadn't been used in weeks…the stutter makes me cringe and I have to take a deep breath before I swallow some more water.

You know it's never a good sign when a doctor pulls a chair over to sit at eye level with you. “You were in an accident” he starts off “two weeks ago, do you remember?” The bus, that's right! I was on my way home after my morning classes in hopes of having some lunch before work ... .wait…it's been two weeks? 

The doctor rests a hand on my shoulder, so gentle to not put anymore pressure on me. “Bane… he was attacking the city…he had grabbed the bus you were commuting on and threw it…you were very lucky..” 

I feel sick, so sick that my mouth, once as dry as the desert, begins to water and bile toss’ around in my stomach in a way that makes me feel so queasy that I want to throw up but I can't because of the lack of food. Im lucky? What does luck mean in this situation? Because I'm still here, waking up in the hospital with two weeks gone from my memory, two weeks blank of my life, two weeks of no working, no classes, no assignments being turned in and no feeding the stray cats who come up to my fire escape. 

Oh man…my poor stray babies must be starving….

The doctor continues with a sympathetic look and I try to keep looking at the details of his face to make sure i dont cry. “You were thrown from the bus” he says “you crashed through the window before he threw it and were thrown onto the street….” He's got dark curly hair, it's in a mullet. “Paramedics found you soon after the accident…you were 1 of 5 survours” 

5 survivors? 5 SURVIVORS? Out of how many? How many lives were lost to be told I was 1 in 5? My breath is sharp, cold against the back of my dry throat as I take notice to his black wire frame glasses to keep myself grounded. 

“43 people were casualties” 

Why would he tell me this? It seems stupid to tell someone who is comatosed from an accident this information? Is he hoping to gauge my reaction> can he not believe the news himself? Or has he become so numb to telling people this that he cant gauge when it is, or is not, a good time to talk about it. Yet,despite my thoughts, tears rise to my eyes, they sting and burn and I try to hold them back as I look to scan over his eyes, praying that he was making some sick joke, but all I see is the dark blue, almost emerald green of his iris’. 

“We need to talk about the consequences of your luckiness” he starts and i snap out of the grief i'm experiencing for people i never knew, people i probably only pass by on the street. “You survived, but not without consequences…weve done some scans to see what has been the outcome of your accident…the nerves in your neck have become compressed because of the accident….you have cervical radiculopathy”

I stare, I don't know what else to do but stare, I feel numb because the doctor is delivering me bad news that I don't even understand the meaning of. In my silence, he chooses to continue “the nerves on your neck are compressed… it connects to your shoulders, arms and hands…unfortunately this is the reason why you are experiencing tingling or weakness in your hand” only now do i recognise that my left arm does not feel normal, that it feels oddly numb and heavy. 

I grasp at straws on what to say, only being able to ask “is it permanent?” 

He sighed, it was obviously the question he was dreading I asked him. “We don't know” that's not good to say to a patient with chronic anxiety and I'm sure the only reason I'm not panicking is because of the amount of drugs I am. “In many cases, people recover well and inflammation will settle as the body heals. The fact that you can move your arm at all-” he gently tapes a nerve on my left hand with his pen and my finger twitches “-and we will start physio soon” 

“sounds…exspensive… “ is all I can manage to say as he nods. 

“Very..but the Wayne charity has agreed to cover your stay plus any physio you will need and medications….you live alone correct?” I nod, slightly dazed, a million thoughts in my mind, one sticks out though and that is the overwhelming thought about how I am going to survive this? How will I work? 

“Then we will get you to stay longer so as to not strain yourself more then you have too” he finally stands up and looks down at me and i can't help but notice how he stares at me with a small amount of pity.

I hate it. The look of pity makes me sick. 

I watch him go and walk out the door before finally falling back into my bed and letting out the longest sigh I can, why me? Why did I not just buy lunch out and not be a tightass? Maybe if I had done that then I wouldn't be here…

I looked out onto the city skyline and tried to breathe, I just had to be strong and everything would be fine. It feels like a silent prayer to say to myself, especially in a moment like this. I’m making myself a promise that I'm not sure I can keep. I dont know if everything is going to be ok, i dont know what unintended consequences await for me the minute i am allowed out of this hospital room. My life feels like it's falling to pieces, but I am lucky, because I survived right? I will live. I may have lost my job, my course at college, my scholarships and my friends, but I'm lucky because currently, I’m still breathing with the help of medical intervention. 

Maybe, I am ungrateful, but i wish i had never woken up.

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WHATS UP GANG, yes, i managed to release another chapter, yes, it may be a bit of filler, BUT BUT BUT, it is veryyyyy important to the plot because it describes what the reader is actually dealing with medical wise, uhm, havent really decided on other characters to include so LMK!!

[epione-xx]

LUCENT

(ADJ.) softly bright or radiant -----------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE: A FLY ON THE WALL

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------There is nothing extraordinary about me.

im not 9, i dont need to be told i am special when i know i am not and to be honest, part of me likes that.

part of me likes that i am me, that i am average and that no one will cast a second look my way because why would they? if they casted a first look i would be surprised.

i am average, I wake up early enough to take the early bus to university, when the morning frost is still crunchy and bus drivers are still in a good mood because no one has ruined their day yet.

I find that wearing my baggy cargo jeans is easier because I lose my lip balm in my tote bag too often, because it's easier to grab my gum from one of the pockets on the side of my legs.

I choose to stay quiet because I believe I have nothing good to say and that my voice will only disturb the murmurs of society. That my voice is uneven and scratchy and will only hurt the ears of the people around me.

Life was meant to be normal, I was meant to be a fly on the wall. The most extraordinary thing about me was that i was an international student from down under (but no one would have guessed that due to the lack of accent i seemed to have)

And yet, on the crisp Thursday morning (which, may I add, is the most bland day) I somehow ended up in an accident that will change my life forever.

Man, I hate this fuckass city.

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"Move! Find survivors! Find-"

Everything is blurry, haze even, is the world moving slow? Or am I moving at an inhuman pace? And why do I feel wet?

I shift my fingers, at least I think I do, as I try to get a grasp on what's happening. My eyes hurt, my head hurt. Eventually, I manage to peel my eyes half open and I slowly move them around to see what's going on.

The scene can only be described as chaos, the bus I was on had been flipped upside down, petrol and oil mixing with glass shards and spilling everywhere alongside the pavement. There are more cars around it, some of which have been sent into each other. The noise of car alarms and police sirens rack my brain, making my headache even worse.

I spot my tote a few meters away, my laptop smashed and notes scattered and part of me cringes knowing that one of the most expensive things i own, is now gone and unfortunately probably wont be replaced without the help of overtime at my grocery store job.

Everything goes hazy again, and my head falls back and i stare up at the very blue sky before i close my eyes...finally a sunny day in gotham autumn and this happens.

A paramedic bends down, i feel his shadow over me and so my eyes half open again. I can vaugly make out his face, hes got brown hair and a round, slightly chubby face. He leans over me and he's close enough that I can see the zit he forgot to cover this morning. He's talking but I can't hear him, or maybe I can and im choosing not too because of how much pain I am in.

He slaps my cheek a few times, checking for consciousness. My eyes which were half open, snap open, meeting his own and he calls out to another paramedic. The pain in my body is agonising, it feels like every bone is broken and my blood is fried.

The second paramedic comes over, I feel them moving me onto a stretcher. Slowly, I begin to close my eyes again as I'm loaded into an ambulance. A prick into the vein of my arm and everything goes numb, the pain dulls from sharp and agonising to dull and numb. I feel hands on my body, pulling and cutting at my clothes. I try to move my hand up, to ask them to stop, but its like my hand is led and before I know it, it all goes dark.

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whats up gangstas, im back, maybe, lol, idk, hopefully? (i have also written the next chapter so uh, if this goes well i will realease it)

[epione-xx]

MINECRAFT

Just a short little one today <33

“Damian, what the fuck?”

You stared at the monitor, eyes squinted as you watched all the Minecraft animals walk around and make their normal animal sounds. “Why is there so many?! We need these for the game- and materials- like wool!”

“No way beloved” he argued “that may be real life but in Minecraft I can have as many animals as I want-“ so he kept spawning them, cows, sheep, pigs, cats- spiders even!

It has gotten so bad that Damian literally had a book of names in hand to name them all.

“Damian! That’s not how the game works!” You argued “it’s a life stimulator-“

“No way.” Was all he replied

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment “don’t you wanna put your Minecraft bed next to mine?”

He perked up “we can Make a second bed?” He asks, you smirk knowing you had got him.

“Yeah- but we need wool..” she hummed “do you think you can-“

One sheep had died already in order for greater purpose, and that was a Minecraft bed.

“Thank you dami”

[thesuperiorrobin]

Damian being so interested in putting beds together is so cute

[b4tm4nn]

No hesitation to kill that sheep

[epione-xx]

APPARENTLY YOU CAN SHAVE THEM⁉️⁉️ IM A MINECRAFT NOOB ANS SOBBING ABT HOW MMAY SHEEP IVE KILLED 😭