More memes while I write part 3
Today's Document
Sweet Seals For You, Always
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
One Nice Bug Per Day

Product Placement


if i look back, i am lost
noise dept.

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Doug Jones
cherry valley forever
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
official daine visual archive
Cosimo Galluzzi

sheepfilms
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
𩵠avery cochrane đŠľ

romaâ
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Armenia

seen from Brazil

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Palestinian Territories

seen from United States
seen from Colombia

seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States

seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Paraguay
seen from United States

seen from Costa Rica
@ariellava
More memes while I write part 3

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
An Icy Winter
Batfam x Neglected Mutant! Reader
Ripple Effects
Warnings: Kinda body horror shortly after the beginning.
Part ( 1 ) - Part 2 (Here)
Humanity often fears the unknown. Rather than face their fears and brave new changes, they would rather force others to conform to their idea of normal, and for those who couldnât adapt, they were driven into the shadows. This worked for humanity for a long time. Unless you knew where to look, for the average person, the idea of aliens, metas, mutants, magic, heroes would have been ridiculous; a bedtime story to tell children.
As technology bloomed, it became much harder for humanity to ignore its growing reality. In a single day, everything changed. Two major alien groups had decided to invade Earth: the Mad Titan and Darkseid. Earth persevered through these battles and was thrust into the Golden Age of Heroes. Humanity could no longer keep its blindfold on, as Earth no longer belonged solely to Homosapiens.
Unfortunately, history has shown that sharing the world has never been humanityâs defining attribute.Â
hiiii, will you do a part 2 for an icy winter? really loved the story
Thanks. I do plan on making a part 2. I am currently writing part 2 and 3 for it right now. I have two different opening ideas that I think need to be in two separate parts from each other. So part 2 and 3 will be posted a lot closer to each other. Once I get through that, I plan to make a rough outline of where I want to go. My outline right now is trying to figure out everybody's ages. The batfam was very easy. The X-Men, on the other hand, have been more difficult. They are not going to exactly line up with their comic/movie/show counterparts, but I'm going to try to keep their age range somewhat similar. Though some are going to be younger.
Right now, I have a lot of scene ideas for this story, and I can't wait till I get to some of them. I already have a meme for Tim's introduction.
Also, in case anybody is still wondering, the taglist is still open for it. I'm currently at 28 people, so feel free to ask.
the concept of bruce having never held any one of his kids when they were a baby đ
Some memes while I figure out part 2 and 3 for An Icy Winter.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
An Icy Winter
Batfam x Neglected Mutant! Reader
Bad Days
Warnings: A bit of gun/police violence near the end.
Part 1 (Here) - Part ( 2 )
There are many theories on what happens after death. Many of them believe that there is something over the great beyond, a heaven, a hell, and something in-between. That there is some kind of reward or punishment for the life you lived. Is it a reward to die and be detached from the life you once knew? Or is it the Gods's greatest punishment, that regardless of where you go in the afterlife, you can never go back home?
When you died, there was nothing. No memories, no bright light, just nothing. You were stuck in a black void of emptiness. It was freezing and endless. You were left all alone with only your thoughts to keep you company. Until suddenly a bright light filled your vision, but you didn't see pearly gates or hell flames. It was fluorescent lights from a hospital room. Before you could even think of what to do, something or someone pushed you forward.
There were so many faces, faces you had never seen before. It was so difficult to understand what was going on. You were so small, and the pain from your death overwhelmed you. Time moved oh so quickly.
For a while, nothing seemed real to you. You had a life, and it was most certainly not this. Your home wasnât a big Gothic mansion. You didnât have a butler to serve you. Gotham doesnât exist. There shouldn't be a Batman. Well, any superheroes for that matter didn't, and shouldn't, exist. None of this is real.
What's even worse is you were all alone; you couldn't find any of your family or friends. There was a man who claimed to be your dad, but you hardly saw him, and he wasn't YOUR dad. He was a stranger to you.
Where are the people you love?
This canât be real
The faces you remember.Â
Why is it harder to remember?
Where did everyone go?
Why is this happening?
You determined that this place was hell, and you hoped to move on quickly from this nightmare. This theory of yours came crashing down when you were five years old.
One afternoon, the butler took you to this room after lunch. The man who claimed to be your father was there with this young boy. He looked so familiar. They introduced you to this boy, who turned out to be his new ward. This ward had just lost everything, and so this generous stranger father had to take him in to give him a new path that wouldn't lead him down darkness so that he wouldnât turn out like him. This ward's name was 'Richard Grayson.â
Richard didnât sound right to you. Thatâs not what he prefers to be called. It was the flying Grayson. No, thatâs not a name. Nightwing? No, itâs too early. Robin? But he wasnât in the right clothes.
âDick,â pop out of your mouth.
The three men froze and looked at you in bewilderment.Â
âNo, little one, itâs Richard. Richâard.â The butler tried to correct you.
âDick,â you now said while pointing at the young boy.
The butler started lightly scolding you and trying to figure out where you learned that word. Your father. The stranger and his ward were both attempting to hold in laughter. The conversation had continued, but at that point you were no longer listening.Â
Slowly you were making connections. Pieces that were mismatching are now finally connecting.Â
Batman was real and in front of you.
You would never go home again.
This world is real.Â
Everybody, everything you knew was gone and gone forever.
These people were real.
You donât want any of this; you would rather not be here. You want to go home.
And you had died only to be reborn here all alone.
There would be no waking from this nightmare.
Tears fell down your face as this realization hit you. The people around you were saying something, but you couldnât hear them. The butler, or Alfred as you remember, brought you to bed. He thought that maybe it was all a bit much for you and naptime would solve it. It was all too much for you in this tiny body, but not in any way he could believe.
As soon as Alfred closed the door, you had gotten back up. If you were going to survive this world, you would need to make sure you had every little thing about this fictional world down. Memories are quick to disappear, and you couldnât let everything you once knew be forgotten. You grab every paper and journal you can find. The pages quickly became full of your old life and every bit of information you could remember. When you were done, you hid them in a shoebox. Your plan was to keep this hidden and only look when absolutely necessary. In the wrong hands, this could destroy everything. People could get hurt. In your hands, you could use your information to save people, to save heroes. You could be useful to this family, to Batman. Nobody has to die in this universe.Â
Time continued forward. Slowly you warmed up to the idea of these people as your family. That just maybe you have a spot here. Bruce became more active in your life, and your older brother Dick was always so helpful. Being reborn as a billionaireâs kid was not a bad set of hands youâve been dealt with. You could have ended up in much worse places, especially in a universe like this one. Not to mention you lived with the Batman and Robin. You knew so much about them and their stories. They were your heroes, and now you could be their family. You could be a hero yourself. What about your old family? Will you forget them? They havenât told you yet about their nightly activities, but they will one day, right? When they do, you can help. You will save people, change some of their fates. Make it so they donât have to go through as many hardships.
Jason entered the family when you were about 9, and for a short two years, everything was perfect. You had a family. You had a father, two older brothers, and a grandpa butler who cared for you. While yes, they still were hiding things from you, they still cared. They were heroes after all, so of course they would care about you. You were so young at that moment, but when they think youâre ready, theyâll tell you everything. They wouldnât hide it from you forever, right? All good things must come to an end.
XX - XX - 2013
It was a rainy day like any normal day in Gotham, with no thunder, thankfully. You had taken a spot in the library, passing the time by reading a book. Jason walked in with a cup of tea. Slight bags rested under his eyes. He was very tiny to you. He looked a lot better than when he first got here, but he was smaller than you had ever imagined him to be. It was difficult to imagine this tiny boy beating up guys twice his size. Not a word was passed between you two until he handed you the cup.
âItâs from Alfred. Wanted to make sure you stayed warm.â
âThanks.â
Jason fidgeted with his hands as he watched you take a sip. Something was on his mind, something he wanted to say. He was always a bit nervous around you. Tried so hard to not say the wrong thing. Tried so hard not to disappoint Batman.
âIâŚum⌠Iâm going to be gone for the weekend.â
âWhere are you going?â
âI canât say, but when I get back, thereâs something I want to tell you. Something I think you deserved to know.âÂ
A slight smile escapes your lips; youâve been waiting for this, waiting to be fully let into the family. You never thought it would be Jason telling you, but itâs better than being kept in the dark. His tiredness worried you slightly. It couldnât be that time yetâŚright? No, itâs supposed to happen when heâs 15, after a couple of years of being Robin.Â
âYou promise to be safe?â You couldnât help but worry about him before every mission.
âOf course. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. Your brother is super strong.â
He flexes his tiny bicep at you, and you can't help but laugh at him. His smile widens at you; he always loved making you laugh. The moment is ruined when Dick calls for Jason down the hallway.
âI have to go, but I'll be back, okay? I promise.âÂ
âOkay, Iâll hold you to that. Love you.âÂ
âLove you too.â
Jason waves goodbye as he leaves the library. The mansion was colder when he left, and that warmth never really came back.
The weekend passed by, and they still hadnât returned. Every chance you got, you waited by the front door. The days turned into weeks. Until on another painful rainy day, they were back.
You were doodling when Bruce and Dick walked through the front door. Both were soaked to the bone. The mansion was silent except for the squeaking of their boots.
âWhereâs Jason?â You quietly ask. No, you had time.
Bruce looked right past you. Did he not hear you?
âGuys, this isnât funny. Where is he?â You said it louder. Bruce froze. It couldnât be. You're wrong; you had to be.
âGone.â That was all Bruce would tell you.
No
NO
NO
not againÂ
Please donât leave me here alone.
Why now? Why didnât you have more time? You should have had more time.Â
If you could, you would go back to that moment in the library. You would have held onto him and never let go. Would have begged him to stay home, to stay with you. How could you have known that this version of him died so quickly after becoming Robin? But you knew he was going to die. You could have said something or stopped him or anything. You could have saved him. Itâs your fault that heâs dead. How could you lose another family member?
Everything changed with his death. You hardly saw Bruce and Dick when they got back. For a while, nobody said anything, but you knew what happened. They wouldnât even tell you how Jason died, just that heâs gone and never coming back. Just like everyone else you knew. Why wonât they tell you anything? Were you not family to them? Were you ever family or just a burden to take care of?
You got your answer when Alfred told you that you were being sent to a boarding school in a different state a month after Jasonâs funeral. Hearing that you decided you wouldnât be their burden anymore. Your family is gone. You held in your feelings; how could you cry when you could have stopped this, could have changed this outcome? Itâs all your fault.
Your decision was only cemented more when neither Bruce nor Dick said goodbye to you, and Alfred could hardly say a word as he dropped you off at the airport.Â
You never made it to that school. Truly, you were planning to. Alas, fate wasnât done with you yet.Â
Those bottled-up feelings you had from all this finally burst as you left the airport and waited at pickup. Mentally, you may have been much older, but physically you were a child. A child who had lost everything, more than anyone could imagine. A child who just wanted to be held and told that it wasnât your fault, that everything will be okay. At first it was silent tears that couldnât help but get worse as you got lost in your thoughts.
Why are you here?
Why are you alone?
Somebody else would have been better.
The tears turned into sobs.
Somebody else would have been loved
Would have been told the truth
The weather was getting colder around you.Â
Would have saved Jason
People around you were whispering.Â
You donât belong here
Cameras were being taken out.
Itâs your fault this is happening.
âHey! You need to stop what youâre doing and put your hands up.â A police officer yelled at you with a gun in his hands.
âAre you talking to me?â You choke out. Your voice sounded different, sounded colder. When you look down, your body is covered in ice, and there is a good five-foot circle of frost around you.
âYes. You need to stop and put your hands up. I can and will use force if necessary.âÂ
An audience had built around you. People were whispering louder, camera flashes were going off, and you couldnât turn off your newfound ability. Panic now rises within you. It was getting harder to breathe. Tears clouded your vision.
âI canât. Iâm sorry. I donât know how. I donât know what to do. Please help me.â You move forward, and the crowd gasps while moving away from you.
âStay back.â The cop raises his gun higher, finger resting on the trigger. You raised your hands.
âPlease. Please, I donât⌠I donât know what Iâm doing.â Your voice cracks as you try to talk. Sobs were happening between every other word.
People looked terrified of you. Terrified of an 11-year-old child who only wanted to go home, who wanted their loved ones. They couldnât see that child anymore; they only saw a mutant. A mutant with powers that could hurt them.
âThis is your last warning.â Before you could respond, they pulled the trigger.
The bullet cracks the edge of your stomach and bounces right off. Only to then hit somebody in the crowd. Screams filled the air, and people started running. In the commotion, you took this chance to run, leaving behind your frozen items.
You ran for what seemed like hours and finally stopped in an alleyway. You didnât know what to do. Furthermore, you were hurt, and you had no money, no food, no clothes, and what's worse is your ice still wasnât turning off. Maybe you could find a phone to borrow, but would you even be able to hold it? Would anybody answer? The ice broke the clothes you were wearing, so how can you even hold a phone in this condition?Â
You sat next to the dumpster. Pain was shooting through your body. Perhaps this was all meant to happen. Jasonâs fate couldnât be changed, and you never belonged with that family in the first place. You were an anomaly, an unknown factor in this universe. Would the universe really allow you to mess around with its fixed fates?
A door slammed open on the other side of the dumpster. Some people were thrown out, but you couldnât see. You didnât want to see, didnât want to risk being seen.
âAnd stay out of here.â The door slams shut. You put a hand over your mouth and tried to stay as close to the wall as possible. They werenât leaving.
âYou couldnât have been less obvious, cajun.â The voice was rough but familiar in a way.
âHow was I supposed to know the guy had x-ray vision?â This other voice had an accent that you could almost place.
âWell, you shouldnât have hidden cards in your sleeve. Canât you count cards or something?â
âCounting cards is so much harder than moving some cards around. Besides, you worsened it by punching that guy.âÂ
âThey started it!â
You need help; that much is obvious, but would they do anything? Your memories seemed so far away, but you know these voices somehow. You decided to take a chance and peek around the dumpster. Your eyes landed on a short man who had moved in front of you. The guy had a brown leather jacket with fur on the top, and his hair stood up like devil horns.Â
âWhat are you doing over here, bub?â While his voice was still rough, it had a softness to it. He was kneeling on the ground so he could meet your eyes better. You knew him, but how? He didnât seem like a bad guy at the very least.
âIâm sorry. I don't know where Iâm at. A cop shot me, and I ran and ran until I got here. I donât know what to do.â You started rambling off your story, and your tears threatened to fall down again. The man's face turns into a scowl.
âLogan, youâre going to scare the poor kid.â The other voice popped around and knelt beside you. His striking red hair with red eyes to match stood out to you. âHey, itâs okay. Youâre safe with us. Iâm Remy. Logan over here may look angry, but I promise heâs a real sweetheart underneath.â
âShut it, cajun.â Logan grabbed some tissues from his pockets and tried to hand them to you. As soon as your hand touched the tissue, it turned into ice.Â
âOh wow, letâs see if we can figure this situation out first. Any way you can turn it off?â
âNo, I donât know how.â
âWhen your ability started, was there anything that triggered it?â Remy's voice stayed low and soft.
âI was just sad, lost in my thoughts. Then suddenly I was being yelled at, and ice was everywhere.â
âOkay, so if sadness was your trigger, then maybe a happy memory could reverse this. Do you have a good memory you could latch onto? Or possibly a friend or family member who made you happy?â
âMy brother made me happy.â
âGreat then-â
âBut heâs gone now.â Everybody was gone, you thought. Tears started to fall again.
âNo, please donât cry, chère.â Remy's eyes went big.
âDonât listen to Remy. Heâs an idiot.â
âHey! Iâm trying to help here.âÂ
âFocus on where youâre at. Think about who you are and what you look like.â Logan took over, his eyes completely focused on you. âWhat can you hear?â
âThe passing cars.âÂ
Who you are is a good question.Â
Youâre not a Wayne.
âGood. What can you see?â
âThe alleyway, the dumpster, you, Remy.â
Youâre not the old you, not anymore.
âWhat can you feel?â
âThe concrete. Itâs cold and gross.â
Youâre just you.
âWhatâs your name, kid?â
âItâs (y/n).âÂ
And always will be.
âGot a last name?â Logan wrapped his jacket around you and zipped it up.
âNo.â You didnât hesitate.
âWell then (y/n), letâs get you patched up. Then get you some clothes and food. Thereâs this school not far from here, where we can get that for you.â
âAnd there are plenty of rooms for you, so you can take a moment to rest.â Remy chimed in.
âIs it alright if I carry you to my car?â Logan held out his hands. As you reach out, you notice your hands are no longer covered in ice. You didnât even realize it turned off. You simply nodded back at Logan. Now that you have a clearer head, you can tell that you're running out of steam, and so can they.
He carefully picks you up, trying his best not to put pressure on your stomach. The ice seemed to block most of the damage. Whatâs left now is a big purple bruise and a lot of pain.Â
âIt wasnât your fault, bud. People get terrified of things they donât understand.â Logan puts you down in the backseat of a black pickup truck. âYouâll be safe at the school.â
âHow long can I stay at this school?â Your voice was quiet, almost scared of the answer.
âAs long as you need to.â Logan squeezed your shoulder before closing the door.
Exhaustion quickly hits you. Your eyes dipped as the car was turned on, and you quickly fell asleep. For a moment you could rest. For a moment the weight of the world isnât on your shoulders. But time will continue moving forward. This world isnât done with you yet.
âŚ
Haven't written in a while, but this has been in my drafts for a hot moment. I really like isekai stories, but I feel like a lot of them donât go into the trauma of dying. I plan to show more of that, but this was getting a bit long. I donât have a full plan for this right now, but I have ideas of where I want to go. I wonât stay too long in the child phase, as I donât particularly care for those phases, but I do plan to do some flashbacks. Anyway, here is a little bonus thing.
Bonus -
1 unread email ~
Subject Line: Regarding Your Childâs Enrollment Here
Dear Mr. Wayne.
We have been informed of an incident that took place at the airport with your child.Â
Your child used their mutant abilities to terrify people at the airport. A lawful police officer tried to stop them, but they got away. Authorities are still trying to locate them.
Due to this and due to our no mutant policy, we are withdrawing your child from this school, nor will they be allowed to attend any schools in our district. If your child does show up here, we will get the proper authorities involved.
Weâre sorry if this causes any inconvenience and wish you the best of luck with your child.Â
Best wishes,
Superintendent Smith
Are you sure you want to delete all unread emails? ~
All unread emails deleted. ~
bitches be sucking farts there
Found the source of the infographic that explains how the results were obtained!
thereâs sixteen Colorado counties that their most searched was âwolf furryâ, plus thirty-odd counties (not counting either Arapahoe or any of the ones marked here as âInsufficient Dataâ) which may well have had plenty of searches for âwolf furryâ, just fewer than for whatever theyâre labeled here
and âskunk furryâ searches in Arapahoe County outnumbered âwolf furryâ searches in the entire state of Colorado
something tells me Skunks Georg
we did it, we created furry gerrymandering
Losing track of the tears I cry || Neglected batfam reader x Xaviers school for gifted children
You were 12 when your abilities manifested.
Damian's mother had sent assassins after him and found you outside his door. You had slept there, worried about him after a bad patrol.
The footsteps had woken you.
Then the blinding headache hit.
As far as you could tell, you could edit entropy. Slowing down or speeding up the decay of something.
You figured this out when you turned the assassins to dust.
You were terrified.
You didn't know what to do. What to say?
You had seen your father. You knew he was putting together his own list of mutants to submit to the Justice League, just as a contingency. You also knew that he was scaring every mutant in Gotham out of Gotham.
Didn't matter the age.
He was trying to keep his city as it was. Even if they weren't harmful.
Because the unknown to him was more dangerous than anything else.
Anyways back to your abilities.
This was the first one that showed.
You had 3 different abilities you could figure out, first was, as you said, the entropy editing. The second was memory projecting.
Anything you had experienced, you could morph your room into a recreation of. Not necessarily changing the environment, but changing how it all looked.
Your final one was the most useful to you.
You had the ability to fold surfaces. You practiced this one often in your room.
It let you cross it in an instant.
Really cool.
You were 13 the first time you tried to tell your father.
But even as Bruce, he didn't have time for you.
No one did.
You tried telling Dick, but he was too preoccupied with Kori, Damian, or the titans who were suddenly getting more calls because of the mutants everywhere.
Next, you tried going the opposite route, telling Jason.
You sought him out, made your way to Crime Alley.
The second he saw you, he gripped your arm, shoving you into an alley and out of sight. "It's not safe here, kid. There've been more mutants popping up around here; it's not safe for you; you're not even trained-"
"Jason, that's what I'm trying to say-"
"What do you know about a mutant? They're dangerous, you need to stay away from them-"
"Jason, listen to me-"
"No, you need to go home, right now. I'll call B to get you."
He wasn't much of a help either.
Tim was the next logical choice.
That was till you saw what he was doing.
When you approached him to talk about it, he was yelling on the phone.
Apparently, someone from the company had been found to be a mutant.
You heard him curse her, how difficult she made things, then he sealed his fate with a sentence, "I wish these mutants had never come about, things were fine before when it was less common, now there are too many of them, we need a way to regulate them."
Fear struck your heart.
Your last try was Alfred. Too afraid of going to Damian.
You had sat yourself in the kitchen while he was cooking.
"I have... I have something I need to talk to you about."
His eyes glanced back to yours with curiosity.
"Could this wait, young miss? Are there things to be done?"
Your shoulders slumped, curling in on yourself.
"I- It's important."
His eyes flicked back to the pot he was stirring, then to you again.
"Have you tried talking to the others? I'm sure they would be happy to make time for your concerns."
Your heart felt like it was cracking.
"They're busy..."
He let out a breath, "If it is so low on their list of priorities, maybe it isn't really that important then, young miss? Is it truly so important that you must disrupt dinner preparations?"
It hurt.
You had never felt so unimportant.
Tears brimmed in your eyes.
"I'm sorry..."
"Very well, miss, if you might excuse me."
You jumped up, making your way out of the kitchen.
Tears brimmed in your eyes.
That's when you ran into Damian in the hallway.
His gaze was harsh, "Why are you so weak?"
You wiped the tears under your eyes.
"I'm not."
He scoffed, "Then why are you shedding useless tears?"
You tried to brush past him. "Why do you care?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Tell me."
"Why should I? You'll probably just make fun of me or something."
He stared quietly.
"Guess we'll never know."
As he turned to walk away, you grabbed his wrist.
The room morphed into the day your abilities were awakened.
He stared with a mouth shut and quiet.
When it finished playing out, he looked back at you.
"You're one of them. How awful."
Your heart was crushed.
He pulled his wrist away, and you turned running to your room.
You slammed the door, locking it before running to your closet and packing a bag.
You threw several outfits in the bag, then grabbed the photo of your real family from your desk.
They had died when you were 7.
You shoved it in your bag carefully. doing a sweep of your room before rushing to your nightstand, where you had kept every cash present you had ever received.
Dumping them all into your bag, gift cards included, you zipped the bag, and tears fell from your eyes.
Then you made your escape.
Walking out your door, head down, you made swift work of the house till you got to the door.
Opening it, a hand clamped down on your shoulder.
Dick.
Your eyes shot to his tears falling.
"Whoa, are you alright-"
You threw open the door, bending the space between here and the end of the driveway before beginning to run.
You could only make it so far each time.
It was exhausting.
You kept going, though.
Street after street, neighborhood after neighborhood.
By the time you made it out of Gotham, it was dark out.
You spent the next week drifting.
Till one day you ran into a girl, she was close to your age.
16. Both of you.
She was doing light shows in a mall.
You had stopped there to scour a food court when you saw her, and something told you she was a mutant.
The next few days were fun; you and she got along very well.
She did her tricks, and you sat on the sidelines ready to make a run with her if needed.
She often shoplifted, telling you to save your money for a real emergency while you both bonded.
You trusted her guidance to a fault.
Which eventually had you end up in this situation, after being chased by mutant hunters, saved by a woman, and going through a portal.
You found yourself curled up against a wall, sneaking behind Jubilee through a strange building.
She poked her head through one door, and I followed suit as we pushed past.
"How do we get out of here?"
My eyes flickered between her and the next door way.
Peaking in, I saw a man watching TV before he started to... shapeshift?
Oh shit.
We're in a mutant hideout or something.
Oh gosh.
This isn't good.
We made our way into a different room, this time I pressed myself back up against one of the walls, taking a deep breath.
It looks like the incident in the mall was caught on camera. Jubilee and I were allegedly 'kidnapped' by the mutants or something.
Which isn't true.
We're in a mess of our own making.
"I think we're in some kind of mutant hangout."
"Maybe they're a gang."
You narrow your eyes at her, "I hope they're not dangerous."
"As opposed to the mutant hunters?" Jubilee whispered.
"...Fair."
A floorboard creaked.
Both of you froze.
Another. Someone knew you were here.
Jubilee reached for your wrist.
"Run?"
"Run where?"
"...Good point."
You held her hand tightly, backing up against a wall, preparing to use your ability and bolt through a door.
A deep voice spoke from the hallway.
"You know..."
There was no anger in it.
"No one's actually supposed to sneak into the mansion."
Jubilee squeezed your hand tighter.
A massive man stepped into view.
Blue fur.
Broad shoulders.
Small round spectacles perched neatly on his nose.
"...Hello."
Neither of you answered.
He looked between the pair of you before slowly raising both hands.
"I realize I may appear... startling."
"A little," Jubilee admitted.
"Quite understandable."
Your eyes flickered past him to the hallway.
"My name is Dr. Henry McCoy."
He put his hands down carefully.
"You've wandered a rather long way from the front entrance."
"...Is this... your gang?"
The blue man's eyebrows climbed.
"...My gang?"
Jubilee nodded cautiously.
"The mutant gang."
"I'm afraid we're rather lacking in gang qualifications."
"You have a secret base."
"A school, actually."
"You can say that."
"I assure you, it truly is a school."
Your eyes went to Jubilee behind you, then to Hank in front of you.
"Hank?"
A woman stepped into view.
White hair flowed over her shoulders.
Her cape drifted behind her almost as though the air itself carried it.
Her eyes settled on the two of you.
"There you are."
She smiled warmly.
"I was beginning to wonder where our guests had disappeared to."
What.
Jubilee frowned.
"...You knew we were here?"
Storm's smile widened ever so slightly.
"My dear, you arrived through the front lawn in quite spectacular fashion."
"...Oh."
"There was very little sneaking involved."
You looked at Jubilee.
"...You said nobody saw us."
"I thought nobody saw us."
Leaning against the wall stood a man with wild black hair and sideburns that looked sharp enough to cut steel.
He folded his arms.
"Kids thought they were invisible."
"We were being careful," Jubilee defended.
"You walked past three security cameras."
"..."
"...Four," Beast corrected.
Jubilee looked horrified.
"There were four?"
Storm shot him a look before he sighed.
"You two hungry?"
The question caught you completely off guard.
"...What?"
"I asked if you're hungry."
You hadn't expected your first interrogation to be about food.
Jubilee answered first.
"...Maybe."
Logan nodded once.
"Cafeteria's this way."
"...That's it?" you asked.
"No handcuffs?" Jubilee added.
"No cells?"
"No cages?"
The three adults exchanged brief glances.
Storm's expression softened.
"No."
"You're free to leave if that's what you wish."
Your heart skipped.
"...Really?"
"Of course."
"But..." you hesitated. "What if we don't have anywhere to go?"
Storm stepped aside, opening the hallway.
"Then perhaps," she said gently, "you might stay long enough for us to introduce ourselves."
"...Why?"
Storm tilted her head.
"Why... what?"
"Why are you helping us?"
Beast answered this time.
"Because you appear to need help."
"That's not a reason."
"It is to us."
You frowned.
"No one's just... nice."
The three adults exchanged another glance.
Logan scratched the back of his neck.
"...Kid."
His voice was rough.
"You look like you've slept under a bridge."
"..."
"You both do."
Jubilee looked down at her jacket.
"...Rude."
"True."
"...Still rude."
To your surprise, the corner of Logan's mouth twitched.
"I ain't sayin' it to be mean."
He nodded toward the hallway.
"I'm sayin' it because people who look like that usually need a hot meal."
Silence.
"...And maybe a shower."
Jubilee gasped.
"I shower!"
"You showered four days ago."
"You don't know that."
"I can smell that."
She looked personally offended.
"You can smell time?"
"A little."
"What?"
"You'll get used to it."
Eventually, you and Jubilee agreed to join them for a meal.
As the group started walking, your eyes never left the exits.
Every hallway.
Every staircase.
Every window.
Logan noticed.
"You always count exits?"
Your shoulders stiffened.
"...Maybe."
"Hm."
The dining hall was...
Normal.
Way too normal.
Teenagers talked over trays of food.
Someone laughed.
A television played quietly in the corner.
A girl with white streaks in her hair flew a spoon across the room with her mind.
No one reacted.
Another student caught it without looking.
"...Thanks."
"No problem."
You blinked.
"...What?"
Jubilee leaned over.
"They didn't even scream."
"They're used to it."
"...That's weird."
You watched as a tray phased through a girl's hands, before it reached your feet, you bent the floor in half, and were very quickly with Jubilee at the front of the group.
A wheelchair rolled quietly into the room.
Conversations didn't stop.
Nobody stood.
Nobody saluted.
Students simply smiled as he passed.
"Professor."
"Afternoon."
"Hello."
The bald man stopped a respectful distance away from you and Jubilee.
His expression was kind, but there was something piercing about his eyes.
He already seemed to understand far more than he said.
"You must be our unexpected visitors."
Neither of you answered.
He inclined his head.
"My name is Charles Xavier."
Still silence.
"I understand you've had... a difficult few days."
Your jaw tightened.
"You don't know anything about us."
"No."
"I don't."
The answer surprised you.
"I know only that two frightened young women arrived here seeking shelter."
His gaze drifted briefly to the backpack still clutched against your chest.
"And that one of them hasn't set that bag down for a single moment."
Your grip tightened instinctively.
"..."
"I imagine," Xavier continued gently, "that whatever is inside is precious."
Your hand unconsciously shifted over the pocket containing your family photograph.
"...Yeah."
"I won't ask you to show me."
Your eyes flickered to Jubilee.
"You've had quite enough people demanding things from you."
"You're a telepath."
"I am."
"So you've already been inside our heads."
"No."
He answered immediately.
"And I will not be."
You narrowed your eyes.
"How do we know that?"
"You don't."
"You'll simply have to decide," Xavier continued, "whether I earn your trust."
You slowly shifted your backpack onto your back again.
"There is, however, one thing I would ask."
Your shoulders immediately tensed.
"There it is," you muttered.
He smiled faintly.
"I'd like to know whether either of you have abilities that could unintentionally endanger yourselves or others."
"It isn't a test," Beast added gently.
"If one of our students accidentally freezes an entire hallway, we'd rather know before someone slips."
Logan folded his arms.
"Or if someone blows up the kitchen."
"...That happened?" Jubilee asked.
Storm sighed.
"More than once."
A red-haired boy at another table shrank lower in his chair.
"I said I was sorry..."
A few students laughed.
Xavier looked back at the two of you.
"No grades."
"No judgment."
"We simply wish to understand how best to help."
Jubilee slowly raised a hand.
"...Mine aren't dangerous."
"They're still worth seeing."
She hesitated before holding both hands out.
Tiny sparks danced between her fingertips.
They crackled like colorful fireworks.
Blue.
Pink.
Gold.
Your heart thumped.
Yours could be dangerous.
Very dangerous.
You'd killed assassins with yours before.
Jubilee blinked.
"...That's it."
Beast adjusted his glasses.
"Remarkable plasma generation."
"You can do more than that," Logan said.
Jubilee frowned.
"...I can?"
"I watched you blind three hunters."
"...Oh."
"I thought they just had sensitive eyes."
Storm smiled.
"I suspect your abilities are stronger than you realize."
Jubilee stared at her hands.
"...Huh."
You waited, then attention shifted to you.
"I have multiple."
Your eyes flickered up then down.
Fear coursed through you.
Jubilee would be safe here at least.
They might not keep you, though.
Not when they see what you can do. What you've done.
"...No."
"That is your choice."
"...They're scary."
Beast's expression grew thoughtful.
"To you?"
"...Mostly."
Xavier rested his hands on the arms of his chair.
You sighed, face contorting, eyes closing tightly.
"You already saw me fold the floor. It allows me to cross distances quickly, which would be hard to travel across on foot. I can't teleport."
You quickly corrected yourself.
"I just... shorten the distance."
Beast's eyes lit up.
"Extraordinary..."
He stepped closer, fascination replacing surprise.
"You're not traversing space in the traditional sense."
You shifted awkwardly.
"I don't know."
"It feels like... pulling two places together."
Beast looked absolutely delighted.
"Spatial manipulation through localized topological deformation..."
Your eyes went down to your hands.
"I can use my memory projection to show you the last of my abilities."
"Projection?"
"It..." You swallowed. "It shows people things I've lived through."
"A psychic illusion?" Jean asked from one of the nearby tables.
"I guess."
You rubbed at your sleeve.
"It isn't always on purpose."
Xavier nodded.
"And you wish to show us?"
"...No."
Silence.
"...But it's easier than explaining."
He inclined his head.
"Only if you're certain."
But if they were going to send you away...
They deserved to know why.
You slowly reached out.
The room shimmered.
Students looked around in surprise as the cafeteria dissolved.
Walls stretched.
Tables disappeared.
The polished wooden floor darkened into expensive marble.
Portraits climbed the walls.
A grandfather clock ticked softly somewhere down the hall.
Storm looked around.
"The manor..."
Beast adjusted his glasses.
"Remarkable."
"It isn't real," you murmured.
"It's just... how I remember it."
The projection continued to grow clearer.
Night settled outside the towering windows.
A much younger version of you came into view.
Small.
Twelve years old.
Curled in a blanket outside an ornate bedroom door.
Jubilee frowned.
"...You slept in the hallway?"
Your voice was barely audible.
"Damian came back injured."
The younger you shifted in her sleep.
Footsteps.
Everyone turned.
Several dark figures climbed through shattered windows with practiced silence.
Logan's expression hardened instantly.
"Assassins."
"They were after Damian," you whispered.
The younger you woke with a start.
Confusion.
She clutched her head.
The projection made everyone hear it.
A piercing, unbearable ringing.
The child screamed.
She collapsed against the wall, fingers digging into her scalp.
Storm took an involuntary step forward.
"So young..."
The assassins exchanged confused glances.
One moved toward her.
Another raised his weapon.
The child looked up.
Terrified.
Your breathing became uneven beside Xavier.
"I didn't know what was happening."
In the memory, the first assassin lunged.
The man's hand wrinkled.
Skin grayed.
Armor rusted in an instant.
Bone became brittle.
He didn't even have time to scream.
His body collapsed into drifting ash.
Silence consumed the dining hall.
Another assassin stumbled backward.
"Whatâ"
He reached for his radio.
His arm decayed before he could touch it.
Then his chest.
Then everything.
Dust scattered across the marble floor.
A third tried to run.
He made it two steps.
His clothes rotted away.
His body aged decades in seconds before collapsing into powder.
The projection didn't exaggerate.
It didn't dramatize.
It simply replayed exactly what had happened.
The last assassin dropped his sword.
He looked terrified.
Not of Batman.
Not of Damian.
Of the crying twelve-year-old standing in the hallway.
He begged.
Your younger self couldn't hear him.
She had both hands over her ears.
Still screaming.
The power surged again.
His mask crumbled first.
Then his face.
Only silence remained.
The hallway was empty.
Ash drifted through the air like gray snow.
The little girl looked around wildly.
Then down at her own shaking hands.
"No..."
She backed away from the piles of dust.
"No..."
Her breathing hitched.
"I didn't..."
She fell to her knees.
"I didn't mean to..."
The memory froze there.
A terrified child.
Surrounded by the remains of four people.
Still crying.
Still too frightened to understand what she'd done.
The illusion dissolved.
The cafeteria slowly returned.
"âŚThat's why they're scary."
Your eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
"I killed them."
No one answered immediately.
Logan finally broke the silence.
"...Yeah. You did. But that ain't the part I was looking at."
Your head lifted slightly.
"I saw a kid having the worst day of her life."
Your lips parted.
Storm stepped closer.
"I saw a frightened child awaken to a gift she did not understand."
"A curse," you whispered.
Storm shook her head gently.
"A power."
"There is a difference."
"It didn't feel different."
"I know."
Beast crouched until he was closer to your eye level.
"What you demonstrated was not malice."
"It was an uncontrolled mutation triggered by acute stress."
"They still died."
"They did."
His voice never became defensive.
"And that tragedy deserves acknowledgment."
He folded his hands together.
"But responsibility and intent are not identical concepts."
"You did not hunt them."
"You did not choose them."
"You reacted before you even understood what was happening."
Logan nodded once.
"Kid..."
"I've met killers."
"You ain't one."
Your throat tightened.
"...How can you know that?"
Jean, who had quietly walked over during the projection, spoke next.
"You never looked relieved."
She looked toward the place where the illusion had shown your younger self.
"You looked horrified."
Across the room, Jubilee slowly inched closer until she bumped your shoulder.
"You... never told me."
"I didn't tell anyone."
"...I thought I was hiding stuff."
Xavier finally spoke.
"When mutations first manifest..."
His voice carried through the room without becoming loud.
"...they often emerge under circumstances of profound emotional or physical distress."
He folded his hands.
"We have students whose abilities first appeared during house fires."
"During assaults."
"During accidents."
"During panic."
He looked directly at you.
"You are not the first child to arrive believing themselves to be a monster."
Your breathing caught.
"And you will not be the last."
"...You're... not afraid of me?"
Beast actually smiled.
"My dear..."
"I shook Mr. Logan's hand the first day we met."
Logan snorted.
"Still got all ten fingers."
A few nearby students chuckled.
Beast continued.
"Your mutation is undoubtedly dangerous."
"So are mine."
Storm's eyes flicked toward Logan.
"So are his."
"Hey."
"So are Jean's."
Jean smiled sheepishly.
"...Fair."
Storm looked back to you.
"The measure of a person is not whether they possess dangerous abilities."
"It is what they choose to do once they have learned to control them."
You swallowed.
"...I don't know if I can."
"You can," Xavier said simply.
"You know that?"
"It is now our responsibility to ensure your control catches up with it."
"If I may ask one admittedly scientific question..."
You blinked.
"...Okay?"
"When your entropy manipulation activates..."
His eyes gleamed with academic excitement.
"Can you affect inorganic matter intentionally?"
Logan groaned.
"Hank."
"What?"
"The kid just relived the most traumatic night of her life."
"...Perhaps after dessert?"
"...After dessert," Beast admitted.
-------------------------------------
@ariellava
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. đ.
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)
ACTUAL (partial) UPDATE:
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
HEY HI HELLO THIS ONE'S MY FAVORITE
via @kagaminilen
[cut to a kiosk on legs, sipping a boba, while wandering into the nearest forest on chicken legs]
Here you go @a-bit-too-dyscrasic
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.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Tim + his brothers
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.
Neglected Reader x John Constantine
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 wasnât mean, but he wasnât warm either. Her whole life had been the mansion, Alfred, and Father. At first, she didnât understand the absence of love he gave her.Â
That changed when twelve-year-old Richard Grayson came into their lives. It didnât 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.Â
She didnât know how to ask to be seen, and she was afraid Father would never learn how to look at her.Â
She couldnât 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
She walked alone the next morning to the mansion. Â
"Itâs quite early to go pray, donât you think?"Â
While Richardâs words were not unkind, it still made her feel ashamed, to be so unimportant that no one noticed her missing all night. Â
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.Â
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 otherâs rooms; reminders of how much the other meant, wishes of good luck, or even simple good mornings or good nights.Â
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. Â
"He chose this," it was barely a whisper from Bruce, but she heard it. "He didnât hear me."Â
Rage filled her mind.Â
"He was a kid," maybe it was the venomous voice that surprised him; maybe it was that she didnât 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."Â
That was the last time they saw each other for a long time. She walked away the next morning and never looked back. Â
Jason was gone, her family was gone. And once again, she was all by herself. Â
The grief was so overwhelming that she couldnât 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. Â
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 Jasonâs absence left in her heart.Â
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.Â
She didnât say yes, but she let her stay and help the other novices.Â
At first, John Constantine was just another congregant, who didnât 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. Â
"Just pray!" He demanded, putting a bottle of water in her hands. "Come on, sister. I donât have all day."Â
She wanted to say she wasnât a sister but decided it couldnât 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. Â
"You are not a sister," he said a week later. Â
"Never said I was," she replied. Â
"I could have died."Â
His statement confused her.Â
"Because I gave you back the water you told me to pray at?"Â
"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."Â
She looked bewildered at him. He didnât wait for her reply before putting his palm over her forehead.Â
"A priestess," he confirmed in seconds. "Who do you pray to?"Â
"What?" This man had only confused her with each interaction.Â
"You must be a favorite if they marked you without your knowledge."Â
"Sir, if you are drunk, we have coffee next to the confessional."Â
He laughed at her words.Â
"Iâm tipsy, love. Not drunk." The deep smell of cheap perfume and whiskey hit her nose. "Youâre American; itâs more common to find priestesses in Asia," he replied like that meant something to her. "Donât go around praying for anyone. Youâre lucky Iâm not that greedy." He warned her before he left.Â
She hoped not to see him again.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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. Â
The pain came, but it was not her end. Â
"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."Â
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.Â
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 didnât stop; this pain was not over. It lasted so long she believed herself in hell.Â
She wanted it to stop.Â
She had been good.Â
She had been good all her life.Â
Was that not enough?Â
But she was not strong as Bruce.Â
Or smart enough to follow her instinct.Â
She trusted these people needed help.Â
She was a fool.Â
But she wasnât bad.Â
She wasnât deserving of this pain.Â
The fire was festering inside her, like a sickness, almost near her heart... a whisper was all she heard, and all she needed.Â
"Pray," it said.Â
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. Â
"She is blessed," a voice rose in panic. "Fuck! Fuck!"Â
"So that means she has even greater power! Keep the ritual!Â
"And risk being cursed myself? You know what happens when someone kills a favored priestess?" A bitter laugh left one of the menâs lips. "Iâm out."Â
"Come back coward!"Â
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.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
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 creatureâs 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.Â
Those who tried to run were the first to break, their ribs opening like a flower and piercing through flesh in a grotesque painting.Â
"Ah, I fear Iâm 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."Â
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 creatureâs smile while it kept touching its host body. Â
"Alright, mate, itâs time to go."Â
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 belovedâs chest. It burned their connection; he let out a raw scream before cutting himself out of her body. It didnât matter; he had marked her. All he had to do was wait, and so he would, patiently.Â
. . .Â
Her first instinct was to bolt out and scream for help.Â
"Shhhh, itâs alright, love. You got yourself in quite a mess."Â
She recognized him as the man who had called her a priestess, and before that night she had called him a crazy drunk.Â
"A voice," she barely whispered. "A voice told me to pray."Â
The man studied her in silence.Â
"Did they hit you when you were praying?" He asked before drinking from the flask hidden in his pocket.Â
"I think so."Â
"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."Â
"You didnât tell me that last time."Â
"You didnât believe it, and itâs not my problem."Â
"No, is not"Â
Her reply surprised him; more people would have used the opportunity to blame him. Â
"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."Â
"No money?"Â
"Got any?"Â
Maybe it was the skeptical tone, but it made her laugh. She wasnât in the public scene like the rest of the Waynes, but she had a big trust fund.Â
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 âdemon assholesâ who didnât know how to stay in hell, and his rogue, handsome face that looked one blink away from sleeping in the streets.Â
"Well, I would say your soul is heavily guarded," John said. "Congratulations, love."Â
He expected her to say goodbye; he had never been very good at keeping friends.Â
"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."Â
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.Â
He had never liked to do good girls; he had been happier with messy relationships, doomed to fail âquick affairs from job to jobâ and he couldnât even remember the last lover who had been human. Â
But it had been such a long time since heâd 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.Â
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.Â
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. Â
So, when he told her that Batman had contacted him, the silence that followed made him worried.Â
"Are you okay, love?"Â
"Are you going to accept?"Â
"It sounds like a drag," he confessed. Â
"You could do good work."Â
"Not we?" He asked, confused. Â
"I have not seen my father in a long time, and I donât wish to change that." He gasped at her words.Â
"B-Batman?" He stuttered.Â
He heard her sigh.Â
"Yes, but I know him better as Bruce Wayne."Â
He laughs at that.Â
"The dumbest millionaire is a facade? Damn, he is good." He halted for a moment. "Love, are you rich?"Â
"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."Â
"Wealthy is fine for me." He lit a cigarette between his lips. "Then we hate the Waynes? And fuck Batman and his justice dummies?"Â
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. Â
"Itâs 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 Fatherâs 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."Â
John studied her for a moment.Â
"Maybe all that life died with him, but not his older sister," he said. "And Iâve got the feeling you lived like a ghost for a long time. You will always love your brother, sweetheart, but it doesnât make you a bad person choosing happiness."Â
"I know." Her eyes were red with unfailing tears. "But I couldnât 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."Â
âA fan of magic, uh?â He blows a smoke cloud âMy love, you're a priestess, even if death his soul would cherish your blessingâÂ
That got her attention.Â
âIt would reach him?â Â
âSure, 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 situationâ he explains âI imagine your brother must be in heaven, so it would help him feel you near, even get some nice candyâ Â
A shrine got a permanent spot on their home. One day Constantine found himself talking to Jasonâs photo.Â
âI love your sister, so while I canât ask you, I think the less I can do is informing you that...â He opened the box in his hand âIâm about to commit myself to her, for ever and ever and all that chit chatâ he hides the box once again âWish me luck, KidâÂ
She says yes, they have a long night of love making, and John starts his own ritual of asking Jason for âluckâ on his way to a job. Â
The years are good for them; danger comes and goes, but they overcome it together. Â
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.Â
No life is perfect, but together the days feel quite unforgettable.Â
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. Â
Sickness spreads, fog torrent by the streets, and at night electricity wither leaving people turning their desperation to candles.Â
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.Â
Bruce Wayneâs 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. Â
The reunion is awkward. Â
Alfred has to take the kids away. Â
âConstantine, what are you doing here with my daughter?âÂ
âNot surprised to know I know you are Batman?âÂ
âI noticed the second you came hereâ his sight turned to his daughter âthis a dangerous breach of information, I hope you donât have a tendency of trust everyone you knowâÂ
She sent him a dirty look.Â
âRelax, mateâ Constantine pulls himself in front of his women "or would you like if I called father-in-law? She didnât tell me right away you were Batman, but when you invite me to your super prudes club she had to told me, Iâm not down to do business without my wifeâÂ
For the first time in his life, he sees Batman gapeÂ
âWhat?âÂ
 âDonât concern yourself with our presence, we are here for a job, not some unwanted family reunionâ she told him trying to hide her rage. Â
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. Â
Yeah, family reunion sucks. Â
So, they make themself scarce and go straight to the chapel behind the manor. Â
They step in an every candle light up in seconds.Â
In the middle a dark form rise, veil hiding her factions.Â
âIâm Gothamâ she tells them âan 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 youâ she confess âOf course I have those that I like more; like my knights, but is you whose I love the mostâ she smile serene âyou 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 Iâm the people of GothamâÂ
âSo, you made her a priestessâ spoke Constantine âuntrained, by the wayâÂ
âIt was my mistake; I have never got one beforeâ she walks to them âin my need to soak you in my love, I fear you gained unwanted attention"Â
âWhose?â she asksÂ
âUnintentionally or not, the city lies on top of an old curse. A being than have been prisoned for centuries; I donât 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 youâ her voice lower an octave âHe couldnât reach you while you were under my protection, but that night when you were possessed a fracture was created, so tiny that I didnât feel it waiting thereâÂ
âAnd now he actsâ Johns hear his wife speaking âbut he spread sickness through towns, why not through me?âÂ
âHe fancies himself in love with youâ Gotham reveals.Â
âOh, fuck no!â curses John âI already put a ring on it, she is taken! Very taken!âÂ
âPlease tell me he didnât fall in love with me when I was a kid, oh my godâ his wife made a sound of disgust âIt was bad enough I got one possession, but this is way creepierâÂ
âWe must act with haste before he regains his full powerâ Gotham told them âI 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 fadingâ she warns âI canât keep this form for long, call for me if you are in needâÂ
The candles blow out with Gotham leave. Â
John pulls his wife to him and hugs her desperately.Â
âWe can quit this jobâ he told her âThat horrible family reunion must have been our final warning that this was a bad ideaâÂ
âIf he breaks free, he will follow meâ Â
He hates that she is right but canât stop feeling they are at the edge of the cliff. Â
She takes his face between her hands; they kiss briefly. Â
âYou and me, all that mattersâÂ
âYou and meâ repeat John in a whisper.Â
All goes to hell in few days. Â
.
.
.
I have plans for a second part, but Iâm a little stuck with my ideas, so any suggestion is welcome. Iâm thinking of doing a POV from Jason, but itâs possible this might end like Nosferatuâyeah, not a happy ending. This is the calm before the storm.
And Iâm thinking of using Barbatos instead of Nosferatu, or just leaving the monster nameless
Hope you enjoyed it
Spelling mistakes? I guarantee neither of us saw those at 3:00 AM Monday Morning.
Batfamily x Neglected Werewolf Reader
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

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Movement nudge, back pain, tight hips
X
hey writers, desk workers, and others who sit too much:
if you want to retain mobility and don't want a permanently stiff back, this is important!
reader that isnât a bimbo? Reader that is put together and likes dressing up? Reader thatâs older than 18-20? Reader thatâs not white-coded??? Reader who doesnât have daddy issues? Reader who does have daddy issues in a âman haterâ way? Reader whoâs taller than 4â11-5â0?? Reader whoâs quiet and reserved and not in a robotic way or stuttering way? Reader whoâs Tina Belcher coded? Reader who gives off the vibe of a creepy barn owl but somehow itâs endearing? Reader whoâs charismatic and charming? Reader whoâs-