#i hate mirrors and the concept of time

[gaoau]

Mirror Mirage

Dive, sink, drown back in time.

pairing — Lu Guang x gn!reader word count — 1.6k

Sand slipping through the minimal space between the fingers; bricks replacing the marrow of the bones; madness and sanity, coherence and nonsense. People exist chained to numbers going in circles endlessly, round and round and round. Those who obey the passage of time, and those who rebel against its confinements. Citizens and criminals—or rather, regulars and murderers. Time is a fleeting permanence.

Rules are created to keep order, balance, peace, life. To disrupt them, ignore them, forget them means to end harmony and wreck existence. Do not change events in the past, for it shall destroy the present. Simple, incomprehensible; either way, the most important rule of life. Allow things to flow however nature properly dictates it, intervene as little as possible or not at all.

Time is incredibly fragile, yet so unbelievably sturdy. In study halls and waiting rooms, it becomes thick, hefty; it is present, it takes the lead, time keeps everything and everyone grounded in a locked box. Lu Guang witnesses first-hand the way it weighs on [Name]. They're paying close attention to their teacher as she rambles on and on and on. He isn't, he's watching them.

The sands of time seem to blow against their eyes, blinding them with haze and tiredness. The seconds carve themselves onto their skin, filling in the gestures when they struggle to understand. Their gaze flickers briefly towards him; a mere moment, yet so lengthy. Lu Guang sees it all.

He's one to follow the rules presented by the universe—he knows of their existence, he knows of their purpose, he knows not to break them. He reminds Xiaoshi to not disrupt them with stupid impulses in his emotions. He is careful and responsible as he holds delicate life between his fingers.

Unlike him, time is a responsibility [Name] doesn't assume—he figures that's why it hits them a billion times harder.

Rarely, however not impossibly, there exist places where time thins out into nothing but an insignificant strand of hair. Anywhere from empty parking lots to 24-hour convenience stores. [Name] takes advantage of these cracks, these openings, these flickering phenomenons where the past overlaps with the present. They slip right into them to destroy all they know as it is today.

They're one to dance around the rules imposed on them—they know of their existence, they care not about their purpose, they ignore their importance. It's fun, it's thrilling, and it puts food on their plate every time another clock shatters. They choose who to ruin while remaining unharmed as they cut the cord for others.

Lu Guang catches sight of their sparkling gaze and radiant complexion in the night. When there are too many stars to keep track of, time holds the least amount of power. It doesn't hit [Name] at all.

He glares as they leap back and forth between the now and the yesterday. One second they're gone for an entire two weeks and a half, the next hour they return within five days of a minute. Every time, they greet Lu Guang with a childlike grin.

"You shouldn't play with time so carelessly," he advises. It falls on deaf ears, for they're gone to December of a decade ago.

They reappear to his left, behind a pillar in an abandoned construction site. They hand him a souvenir—discontinued in this day and age. He frowns. Before he can reinforce his scolding, [Name] retorts, "Who says I'm playing?" A chuckle sounds as it flutters towards the moon. "Sports are a game, but still a job."

On the news, reports of happy lives turning upside down in an instant, overnight, without sense flood the channels. Lu Guang downs his coffee as he considers calculating the impossible, reaching results of two plus two summing up to a billion and five. Successful men reduced to bankruptcy, powerful women thrown off their throne, people left and right losing a realized existence to an inexplicable car crash. Events that shouldn't happen, but they do.

Disrupting the past means obliterating the present. Most commonly known as the butterfly effect: a mere ant changing its course may bring empires to their doom. He wonders if [Name] knows what they're doing—of course they do, and that is why they continue to do it.

When they meet him for coffee—hours after class but before they can slip into the past through a malfunction in the frame—Lu Guang doesn't want to believe they are the cause of all these misfortunes. Time breaks where it's forcefully torn apart. "So this is your job?" he begins, stare deadpan and inexpressive. [Name] freezes at his sharp words stabbing through their chest and crushing their lungs. Lu Guang continues in a flat sentence, "Messing up the pa—No. Destroying the present is your job?"

They force out a bitter chuckle. They pretend to not be burning up inside and outside. Their reflection in their drink distorts itself with the quivering of their hand. "It's more than that; it's worse than that."

Lu Guang leans into the table to try and find their gaze. They refuse to meet him as they turn their head away from him. "What do you do, [Name]?" he speaks between a sigh and dreadful firmness. He emphasizes his syllables too much for comfort.

With their cup pressed against their lips, [Name] manages an excuse in the shape of a mumble, "I play God." Lu Guang scrutinizes their rotten words through narrowed eyes. "I'm the ant that destroys empires." They finish their coffee before he decides to give up on glaring into their soul. He doesn't understand what they mean and they aren't willing to admit their criminal deeds. The issue is dropped by the time they flee for summer of half a century ago.

Time breaks where it's forcefully torn apart. Time requires constant stimulation in the proper places to continue its cycle of opening up and overlapping wherever chance dictates it. [Name] slips through a gap they find by coincidence or by fate, then they slice the same gap wide open once more to ensure their return to their present. If the space sews itself back up, the stitches shall forever remain closed. Although [Name] can't confirm any of their hypotheses, they aren't willing to test them out. As long as they can set off the events that shall satisfy their clients and later find their place where they rightfully belong, all is fine.

An ant may turn left to allow an empire to thrive. It may also turn right to bring it to its knees. It may as well march forward to let it exist in mediocrity. Whichever path the ant may choose, they can all be overwritten if so it's desired. [Name] plays with the cause and effect of events already set in stone; they carve new engravings on pieces of brick to replace what has already been decided. Dangerous gambles produce disastrous outcomes.

Time is thin in bathrooms in the middle of the night. Lu Guang flicks the light on at something past three in the morning. There's a haze of thick tiredness hanging over his eyes, but he cannot get a wink of sleep no matter how hard he tries. He splashes water over his face to give his mind a chance to find clarity somewhere in a refreshment. When he stares at the mirror above the sink, he's wide awake with energy of alert spiking his every nerve. Eyes closed, breaths even, basking in the sleep that has long escaped his grasp, his reflection slumbers peacefully in [Name]'s arms. He shoots a fleeting glance behind his shoulder to make sure they haven't broken into his place. He turns back to his dormant reflection and can't distinguish whether the droplets trailing down his face are the water from earlier or a nervous sweat.

He glares into their downcast eyes. The smile they wear blurs the line between painful and comforting. Their hands settle on his shoulders and Lu Guang can almost feel their touch through the reversed image the mirror offers back. His reflection is safe in their hold and [Name] is there, but not with him on this side—on the right side.

"If anything," they begin unprompted, "I did it because of you."

Lu Guang frowns on defensive instinct. "I didn't ask you to do anything."

They chuckle. It sounds so distorted, travelling through solid time and space and not through the air like it's supposed to. "I know, but I couldn't help myself. I can't imagine a present without you again." Their choice of words tears him apart.

"Do you think I can imagine one without you?"

"You won't have to put in that effort. You'll just have to get used to it."

Lu Guang falls silent. Sorrow shall morph into indifference overtime. At the same time a scar fades, the body grows closer to death. Time heals all wounds but it also makes it so no more wounds may happen. What a cursed thing the tick-tock of the numbers truly is.

Ever-so-softly, they speak up again with a trembling tone, "You always look so tired." The touch of their thumbs ghosts underneath the closed eyes of his reflection. He thinks he can feel their warmth breaking up through his skin. "Get some rest, yeah?" He closes his own eyes, knowing the most he can do is nod along with their demands.

By the time he dares open them up again, all that's left of [Name] is a whisper of their words in the form of resilience. His reflection blinks back at him. He decides not to find them.

—あごす (agosu) • 2021

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[blunderpuff]

whoever invented the ball cup door latch (man door hook hand, eh?) ought to have a bad day. every day. forever.

[flare-dragon]

Anyone else think that JakeHal is the peak of Homestuck ship comedy?

[grinchwrapsupreme]

season 8 is kind of weird so far but the basic concepts it's coming up with are really interesting like "psychiatrist who targets trauma victims and turns them into serial killers" and "Serial Killer Social Sphere" and "Vince Masuka character development"

[rescuefield-arch1]

thinking about her ( claire post DI being relatively okay except for her silly goofy iris that is now half blue half red since she really was so close to turn )

[medicinemane]

Ok, I was reading the article just to not be spreading something I haven't actually read... and that was gonna be it, but I'm actually kinda mad now

I'll hit a couple points before I get to the thing that made me made at the end.

"ChatGPT might be great for responding to emails or quick-drafting a document", well it's not

"He expected it to be a cakewalk for the cutting-edge large language model, which cost tens of millions of dollars in training alone.", well I don't know why he'd think that (it was at this point I predicted in my tags that it would try and make nonsense plays, and then I read the very next paragraph...)

"ChatGPT confused rooks for bishops, missed pawn forks, and repeatedly lost track of where pieces were—first blaming the Atari icons as too abstract to recognize, then faring no better even after switching to standard chess notation"

I mean... no duh. It can't recognize rooks or bishops, it can only go "rook to e7 might be said in response to this question". It's not blaming the icons, it's responding with someone someone might say if asked why they were getting confused... it can't think, it can't understand... well literally anything, it's not capable of the act of understanding, all it can do is spit out the next thing that might follow in a chain of text

This though, this is the line that made me fume enough to write this:

"Perhaps it's better we keep using it for more mundane tasks for now"

I mean... get bent, it sucks at the mundane tasks too, it sucks at almost everything. Absolutely stop using it for mundane tasks. It sucks at the mundane tasks. Fucking think for yourself and write your own damn emails and whatever else you're doing. What is wrong with you dude?

How is it that tumblr is the last bastion of sanity when it comes to the various kinds of ai in the world... tumblr users and literal experts in the fields... what a stupid world we live in when tumblr users are the only people who might not make me want to die talking about ai

Stop using it for mundane tasks and just use your brain for 5 seconds from time to time pal

Deep Blue is 30 years old and was capable of defeating chess grand champions. It could be housed in a single cabinet.

ChatGPT spans untold data centers devouring massive amounts of electricity and it got its ass whipped by an 8 bit gaming console from the 1970s.

[jane-asmo]

Why I think Caitlyn didn’t ask Vi for forgiveness

(Thank 'anons' for your messages. I’ll try to respond to you through this text: )

The importance of Caitlyn’s “I know”

A key moment in Caitlyn’s character narrative is her “I know”—both its content and delivery.

The content: When Caitlyn says, “I know,” it doesn’t just mean “You’re right.” It means, “I’ve taken the time to think about this.” And thinking is what Caitlyn does best. Her “I know” conveys that she has already had this conversation with herself, over and over in her head. She’s thought about it constantly, she’s already told herself these things, and she’s already blamed herself for them.

The delivery: She screams it with violence, and we can see this represented by the boat falling apart. It’s not just that she has thought about it; it’s tormenting her. Her “I know” is incredibly powerful because it’s filled with suffering.

To me, this is as valid as an apology because asking for forgiveness is outward-facing—focused on the other person. "Asking for forgiveness" says, “Whether I’ve forgiven myself or not, whether I feel guilty or not, it’s on you to decide to forgive me.”

But here, Caitlyn’s “I know” is inward-facing. It means, “I’m not asking you to forgive me because I can’t even forgive myself.”

She knows everything you’re saying, and it torments her.

This is followed by:

"I didn’t even have time to think before they hauled her off."

This line is so telling. Everything about Caitlyn is tied to thinking and reflection.

Being a sniper means aiming and shooting. Aiming is the equivalent of thinking, and shooting is the equivalent of speaking. Everything Caitlyn does is deliberate and thought through.

This is why some people dislike her: as I’ve said before, unlike other characters, Caitlyn’s actions can’t be forgiven easily because she doesn’t do anything by accident.

Then we get to:

"We can’t erase our mistakes. None of us."

Caitlyn speak in “we.”

In the prison scene with Jinx:

"No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes."

This scene mirrors the rage she felt when she threw the boat. In this moment, she’s speaking to Jinx, but also to herself.

Caitlyn and Jinx are paralleled so many times throughout the show. Caitlyn quickly realized that, in some ways, she had become like Jinx. And so, in order to forgive Jinx, she would first have to forgive herself.

At this point in the episode, the person Caitlyn hates the most is herself.

But she no longer has the "energy" to hate, neither Jinx nor herself.

Energy comes from fuel. What she perceives as a lack of strength to keep fighting is simply the fact that the fuel that powered her hatred has disappeared. And when you stop feeding a fire, it eventually dies out. She has no energy left; she has no fuel to sustain her hatred.

It's a particular way of saying, I don’t hate you anymore, and I don’t want to hate myself anymore either, because in the end, that hatred corrupts us/everything .

In her own unique way, Jinx also says, I didn’t know your mother was there, even if it wouldn’t have changed anything. And this too is a strange way of taking a step toward the other.

We have two brilliant and intelligent women who express their emotions in unconventional ways. ----------

There’s also a whole analysis that could be done about her concept of justice and rules, "but I don’t have the energy" to dive into that here. Still, it would only lead back to the fact that Caitlyn doesn’t see herself as the right person to free Jinx (and therefore to forgive her) because she believes she herself is beyond forgiveness.

[retiredteabag]

The eyes of the beholder

my masterlist

Sukuna genuinely does not understand the concept of physical insecurity.

He has pride unrivaled by any, his assurity never wavers, and despite his unique appearance, he does not consider himself strange.

Additionally, Sukuna has a hard time putting himself in the shoes of others. He deems himself perfect. You are his favored one, so he attributes the same to you.

He sees you as the height of beauty and never entertains a different notion. It would never come to his mind.

What? You think he's wrong when he says your beauty is unparalleled? You think him a liar? You don't trust his judgment? Truly, he does not comprehend insecurity.

"Not everything is about you, Kuna." You spin around in one of the estate's halls of mirrors and run you hands over the subtle stretch marks that appear on your hips.

You had been trying on formal attire for one of the estate's events, something both you and Sukuna hated. He could likely feel any unhappy emotion that permeated your space.

You never enjoyed having to critique whether or not something was flattering on your body and Sukuna was no help as he wouldn’t allowed criticism of you.

He thought it was a waste of time because to him, it all looked appealing.

That, and you both hated events. Balls, Galas, Auctions, the whole gambit. None of it suited your interests, and The King thought them a disturbance.

You finally pulled on your original clothing, ruffling it this way and that so it would fall just right, and stepped out from behind the hall's flowing curtains.

"You wound me when you say things like that." Sukuna had his head leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

"I'll let everyone know just how well I can wound their King." You scoff and roll you eyes.

"Heavens, don’t they know?” He sits up. All four of his red eyes glower at you as if you've cast some kind of spell his way. "Why does this upset you so? Haven't I said that flaws hold no residence within you?"

Your lips are pulled into a frown. You know he couldn’t possibly understand, at first, it felt somewhat invalidating. His mindset was so far from yours, of course he would think it skewed.

"Don't you just think that because I have unfortunately found favor with you?" You begin to fold the options that the seamstresses had brought you as he huffs at your choice of words. "You were sculpted perfectly as you know, you and I are different."

He grumbles, having heard your complaints before. But you continue before he can take issue with it.

"My skin has these markings, and my thighs touch when I stand, my frame is far from ideal-" You turn to him now, "-and I cannot always love how things fit me as you do."

It's not that you're actually upset, just somewhat flummoxed by The King of Curses mindset.

Sukuna had sat up as you spoke, and now his posture bends toward you. He wears the silliest face you have ever possibly seen him produce and it almost makes you laugh.

His mouth is slightly open, lip arched, his eyes are wide but his brows are pulled together at your words and you could guess that he has never been so confused.

"What?" You almost giggle.

"By God, you care entirely too much."

You have to take a deep breath before he continues, "Your skin? What is it wrong with your skin? I quite like your skin. Would you rather I find you a furry pelt you can wear?"

It's moments like these that remind you of how silly this man is. You shake your head, but he continues, slowly, bewildered.

"Your... thighs touch? I see not how that could be an issue. Do not my thighs touch as well? How is it you are able to invent these things to be bothered by?"

Although you had been frustrated a moment before, you know he has a point. He had lived through many more centuries, it very well might have seemed strange to worry over such things.

Sukuna stands, coming closer without pause, and tugs on the draping of your garb. "What formula are you using to decide what looks good and what does not?" His hands find your body and squeeze over you in an almost ticklish way.

It was not sexual, it was not uncomfortable either. He was simply feeling you. He loved your being, whatever shell you presented in. Eventually, his palm came up and engulfed the top of your head, his fingers dangled by your eyes. "Hmmm, I cannot understand. Anything would be flattering if it was put on you."

A part of you wanted to murmur, "That's just what you're saying." But you knew Sukuna, and you knew he meant it. The concept that you might hold his same mindset was an impossibility at that moment in the hall of mirrors.

But you had many other moments to share with your King and believe me when I say, that man could be convincing.

[kenyummy]

✰ 07. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 07. a fools own parade.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: im not really sure if it counts as it's a very small passage but tw for a lil bit of an identity/existential crisis??? not very sure haha I mostly just write what comes to mind

also, first father appearance! yay! he finally shows up, and he's as mysterious as ever, hehe. next chapter will be either dink focused or ... someone else... 🤔🤔🤔

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You dab at your nose with a tissue, cringing at the sight of crimson still pouring out from it. How hard was that guy's chest, anyway?

A thick bandage is stuck tightly on your nosebridge, taped to your skin and soaked in blood. Changing it every hour was a giant pain, but you'd rather have a bloody bandage than clothes.

Thinking back on it, you almost can't imagine the look in Tim's eyes again. Nothing strange. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but different enough to make the hair on your arms raise.

(You're the greatest anomaly in his life. Isn't it natural a detective wishes to solve such a damning mystery?)

How differently his entire composure grew once he saw you laying there, dirtied hands clutching your face. Was it normal for a guy like him to change his entire stance at such a moment? You'd be inclined to believe he couldn't care less about something like this, from all those diary entries spanning several years.

But seeing that look, when you'd stopped him from coming closer, putting distance between you two, as you thought there'd always been, how could you possibly think that? That look of worry, fingers twitching as he reached out, and expression of pure betrayal when you'd stepped backwards. Away. From him.

Wasn't that how it'd always been? You couldn't stop thinking. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe your spidey sense, for the first time in your life, was wrong?

They say that a fool's time spent thinking is wasted time.

You spent hours sitting at your desk pondering all of this. What it meant. Why your siblings seemed to all give you this strange, sinking feeling in your stomach. Raise goosebumps up your arms.

Soon, these thoughts spiralled back to your home. How you could help Reed. Speed up the process. Not wishing to mess with his delicate work nor rush him, but also getting restless with this family.

This family who's known you for their whole lives, yet seems to similarly know nothing about you. This you, their you, any you. Too little to care, too much to hate. The worst kind of balance that upset the universe and made your stomach twist with bile.

But at this point, you weren't too sure who was who, which was which.

If, tommorow, you'd lost everything and if you were caught in a blazing heat, would it be you who had died? Or somebody else? Would it be you in that coffin, underneath a stone who's name carved into it, did not belong to you?

The concept of being your own person, what did it mean? What could it mean when there were more of you, exactly the same, only shaped by their environment? An endless amount of copies, down to the genetic level, each in different worlds yet unmistakably the same?

When you stare into the mirror, nothing is the same except the red that flows down your knuckles when you slam your fist into it. Nothing remains the same except what you look like inside.

Though—in the end—even that belonged to them, didn't it?

You barely ever see your sister, nor her blonde friend. The ginger haired woman has more pressing matters to attend to than ever seeing you, it seemed—something you'd actually grown to appreciate, seeing how positively suffocating those other "siblings" had started to become.

Dick, who was thankfully off in Blüdhaven around now. Jason, who should be out doing his own thing, but seemed to always spare some time for you... as much as you insisted on him not doing that. Tim, who always stared with a little too much intensity and danger hidden behind a sharp smile.

And Damian—your only blood-related sibling, seeming to take great pride in such a fact as he brings it up far more often than not.

You'd begun to realise a distinct lack of a parental figure in your...—

This. This life.

Not yours. This life absolutely was not yours. Everything is seriously messing with your head. Belonging to another unfortunate soul, who happened to have your name, shared your face and voice, yet was everything you never were. Experienced things you never did, yet as you lived in a freedom they could never dream of.

You pitied them more than anything else. But that didn't mean you could just give everything you've ever known up. Your people, your city, your friends, your freedom. This blood that runs through your veins and makes your heart beat steady—it may belong to them, but you never will.

As it spills, you will be free. Losing that chain that binds you and perhaps you will be allowed to feel that wind hitting your face once more. Allowed to swing, fly, feel air and be everything you were destined to become.

Your suit forms over your body and you leap out of your window, leaving nothing but a gust of wind in your wake.

Because, despite everything, it is still you.

The Spectacular Spidey seems to swing and never sleep—the alliteration in the title of this news article you've read makes your head hurt. Said only as an unfortunate pun referring to how you swing from building to building, and only operate during night hours.

(Yet, still careful on avoiding your dearest family... as difficult as that may be—your senses are seriously saving your skin... wait, now you're using alliteration—)

You don't have anything against working during sunlight. In fact, it would be preferable for you. But escaping from school has now become increasingly more difficult after you'd "opened your heart" to MJ and Harry.

Both were completely convinced you were spiralling down a bad path after how you'd acted with Jason, or concerned for both your homelife and general wellbeing—sometimes you truly did damn yourself for picking such good friends.

Nevertheless, you couldn't possibly be worrying about something like that right now, when there's a much bigger problem right in front of you.

A man dressed in a rag-like coat lay beneath your heel, defeated and hands bound together with your webbing.

You'd originally expected to leave immediately, hoping to catch Reed before he was off looking for whatever new part he needed for his grandest project. But now, you can't even hope to move at this point—swamped by flashing cameras and microphones shoved into your face.

Suddenly, you're so incredibly grateful you wear a mask, because you aren't too excited at the prospect of having such unflattering photos of you taken.

"Spidey! What are you doing in Gotham?"

You stammer, "Uh—well, you know—"

"Spiderguy! What's your thoughts on the articles calling you a knockoff Batman?"

"How am I anything like him?" You gesture to your bright red suit. "Also, it's not Spiderguy—"

"Spidey! Spidey! How do you create that webbing fluid? Is it organic? And is it environmentally sustainable? Who's going to clean it?" The reporters move closer and closer.

You inch backwards, "Uh—well, you know, my webbing dissolves in a couple hours by itself, and of course it's sustainable—"

Before you can finish, a multitude of voices all ring through your ears at once. Piling atop eachother, all at the same time, forming into a mush of different tones and accents, indistinguishable from one another.

You can't even hear anything anymore, not until a voice, loud and clear, cuts through a multitude of others and strikes your ears with ease, "Hey, Spidey! Our viewers have a question for you—how have you gotten past Batman? I'm sure you know he doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, right?"

You freeze. Shocked, but soon, that shock soon morphs into confusion at what exactly a metahuman is.

"I... uh—" You glance to the side. You know, doing this will spark way too much gossip for your own good. Doing this is practically asking for those headlines that, while technically true, are completely outlandish. You were a reporter yourself (for your alter ego, to be fair—but it still counts).

You know this can't end in any other way than complete disaster.

That's why you reach up, webbing to a building and wave goodbye to those pesky paparazzi, "No comment!" With all the wit a Spider must have, you decide that your flight or fight response instead chose: Web away with a sly remark.

"They should be around here, Batman."

Oracle's voice rings out through the earpiece. Barbara had taken the liberty of helping him in his little crusade after seeing that stunt on live television—that spider-hero running away after hearing that metas weren't allowed in Gotham... though, it provided more questions than answers.

Babs was growing restless. For one: that reaction possibly explained why they were so wary of any member of their family even coming close to them. Always running at the first sight of them, webbing away faster than they could hope to catch up. Escaping Batman and his Robin, Babs couldn't help but wonder about them.

They're good. Smart. They're not some new hero. Clearly whoever's behind that mask has experience.

But this raised far too many questions in it of itself. Why had you only popped up now? Why not years ago —if, judging purely by her own gaze, with the years of experience in crime fighting you must have? Why Gotham?

And perhaps, the most daunting question of them all, "Who exactly are you, Spider?"

Bruce's gruff voice reaches her ears, "What was that?"

Her eyes widen, not realising she'd spoken aloud. Shaking her head, she relents, "No... sorry, it's nothing. Right... according to witness sighting and where they were last spotted, you should be meeting them in the middle right now. Do you have any sightings?"

Bruce shakes his head, jumping over to the top of the next apartment block roof—cowl landing in a swoop behind him. "No. Not yet. See if there's any new sightings."

Bruce Wayne was beginning to grow tiresome of this new hero's antics. Running around through Gotham without a care in the world��all too bright and cheerful as if this was all that mattered. Running around as a meta—unchecked and absolutely dangerous.

Nothing good could come out of this. Not without knowing exactly who you were and what you wanted. He never was a dictator type—never had it in him—but with a crime-riddled city like Gotham, he had little choice.

One small mistake could ruin everything. Collapse all that he's worked so hard to create. A better city, a better future. A regular human—as he is—couldn't possibly ever handle a rouge meta... and in the end, this city may not want him, but he really is the type of hero it needs.

So, that's why, instead of patrolling through his sector—he asks Orphan, Batwoman, and Spoiler to take over for tonight, so he can do some much needed digging into this anomaly.

Tim told him that his webbing sample, one he managed to collect around a month ago, when he'd first come into contact with them, had dissolved within hours. Not enough time to perform any kind of intricate testing, not by a long shot.

Batman has taken the almost passive stance—uncharacteristic of him—but now, he realised with such a slippery Spider, he had to do what he does best, and corner them.

His whitened eyes dart up at the flash of red that flies past him. He snaps his head back and finds the Spider—the one he'd been looking for all this time—swinging from building to building, fast.

But not nearly fast enough. With one false swoop, Bruce is after you, grappling towards you, eyes narrowed and mind absolutely determined.

"Batman? Batman?" Oracle pipes up—he assumes she's been talking for the past couple minutes, but only realised she was speaking into his earpiece now. "Can you hear me? Do you have a visual?"

"I see them. Nearly have them."

The Spider darts their head over their shoulder almost frantically—moves stuttering when they see how close he's gotten toward them.

"Hey! Why are you so obsessed with me, huh?" Thrir voice calls out—unlike anything he'd ever heard. "I mean, okay—yeah, I get it. But if you want a fashion taste like mine, I can make you a suit of your own!"

He clenches his jaw to stop himself from saying anything back.

Their voice grows more framtic at his silence, "H... Hey! You're getting really close, there—let it go! I'm not a villain! I swear!"

More silence, and they seem to let out a loud groan of frustration, seemingly aimed at him.

They stop. Heels landing flat atop a building, and Batman, with his cowl wrapped around him like a cloak, follows on their heel, stalking closer towards them.

You raise your hands in defence, stepping backwards and shaking your masked head, "Waitwaitwait—! Don't get violent with me, I don't want to fight you!"

"Then what do you want?" His voice grows deeper, more gruff and cold. "No metahumans are allowed in Gotham without my permission. There's too much trouble that comes with it. Too many difficulties."

He pauses. "Too much crime. Too many deaths. Unnecessary, preventable ones. Who are you to be an exception?"

"I said wait—!" You shriek as he practically stalks into your personal space bubble. "I'm not a metahuman!"

He stops in his tracks. "... What?"

You let out a heavy sigh, now that he's stopped. Batman taps on his earpiece, "Oracle, can you hear this?"

"Reading, Batman."

You look around, to see nobody. "Oracle? Who's Oracle?" You never read anything about an Oracle.

"None of your business. Now speak. If you aren't a metahuman, what are you?" His whitened eyes narrow, and suddenly those pointy ears aren't so silly looking anymore.

You blink. Once, then twice. "Would you believe me if I said I was from an alien planet full of spider-people?"

Despite the reprocessing telling him your backstory would have on you being near non-existent—you still aren't too fond of the idea of the Batman, your father, knowing your secret backstory.

Besides, Oscorp really does exist in this universe, too—Norman is actually pretty nice. You don't want any unwarranted blame falling on him.

"Not a chance." He folds his arms over his bat-symboled chest and you falter with a sigh.

Worth a shot.

"Fine." Not to say he was the reason you finally relented—but his stare was pretty unnerving. "I was bit by genetically modified spider on a school field trip. It altered my DNA so I became stronger, faster, could stick to walls and became three times more flexible than the average person."

You finish with a winded breath, eyes scanning his expression for any hint of an emotion. You found none.

"Why should I believe you?"

Pausing, you glance away. Crouching down on that rooftop, on the ledge, staring down at the city below. Dimly lit roads and the people littering it. So much like your home, yet so different.

You could see why Batman was this city's protector. You could see why he was so careful about this world, and you almost respected him for it. At the same time, though, you couldn't help but think to all those chicken-scratched diaries.

By a helpless child, unable to depend on anybody but him in this world, and he had still failed. For that, you couldn't face him. Not now, not ever.

"You don't have to believe my story." You finally manage to unlodge the words from your throat. "I'm just saying that whatever your rules are—my existence doesn't defy them. You have no reason to keep chasing me down."

His sharp, whitened eyes narrow. It's the only thing visible in such deep darkness where he lingers.

"Actually..." Oracle's voice rings out through Batman's ears. "Their story... might have some truth to it. Check this out—Oscorp's been working on developing a, quote, super-powered spider. Says spider venom is the cure for disease and pandemics. They've been developing in this field for a while."

A super-powered spider sounds absolutely ridiculous, he thinks. But nothing he hadn't seen before. In a world full of aliens, heroes, personification of life, death, and everything in-between—he shouldn't be surprised at the prospect of gaining superpowers from spider venom.

Looking down at you now—slouched, facing away from him, and almost seeming restless... "Oscorp."

You look back at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Did that spider come from Oscorp?"

... You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard. Looking back away before you could stop yourself. "No. I'm not from around here. I live far. Far away."

"What do you mean by far away? Why are you in Gotham, then?" He steps closer, to the point he's standing over you with all that intimidating bat-aura that makes the criminals of Gotham run for the hills. Still, you can't bear to see him. Because if you do, you know you'll spill everything you've been holding in like a waterfall.

"I don't know," you admit, honestly. "I don't know why I'm here. I want to go home, but I don't know where that is anymore. All I know is that, while I'm here, I might as well help people. Because... that's what I do."

For a moment, there's no sound other than the honking of cars on a busy road. He's quiet, as silent as he always is. Always was. For a moment, you think you almost see him as that father from so long ago.

But only for a moment.

"... How old are you?"

To your surprise, he doesn't immediately go to accusing you of lying again, or keep his standoffish persona any longer—only asking you this simple, yet strangely personal, question.

In simple words, you're really confused. "What? Why does that matter?"

"You sound young. Too young. And from the way I've seen you fight, you're experienced in fighting high, street-level crime. If I had to guess, I'd say you've been doing this for at least three years. Maybe more."

Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and suddenly everything starts caving in, crumbling like failed architecture. How did he know? How could he have possibly—

Batman continues, "The way you talk, and the way you behave in the public eye, you can't be an adult. I'm assuming you're a child. Meaning you've been fighting crime since you've been in your early teens, right?"

"What are you talking about?" You stand up at your full height, staring up at him. Glaring, as well as you can manage from underneath those refractive lenses. He doesn't back down. "I'm not—"

"You're a child," He repeats. "Don't carry this weight. You don't have to carry the weight of—" Gesturing towards the ground below, he stares down at you, strangely sadly, "All this. Especially not all by yourself. Not as a child."

The only word you want to spit out at him is hypocrite.

"Don't act all high and mighty. That Robin you have looks 12. You're saying a 12 year old is capable of fighting crime but I shouldn't? I'm nearly an adult, for god's sake! I'm—"

You slap your hands over your masked mouth, but still continue. "Don't treat me like I don't know better. You don't know me. You have no idea what has happened in my life."

"I only take Robin under my wing because he needs it. So I can watch over him."

You glare, "So what? So he can turn out like you?"

"So that he doesn't."

And to this, your lips feel sealed shut. You want to say something, but you can't. What could you possibly reply to this?

Even Oracle is silent. Not a word, not a peep. Nothing. The honking of cars has ceased, and it's like the world itself had just gone quiet for that one, stunning moment.

"You're not from here, so I don't know you," Finally, he speaks, and it's like the silence has been shattered like glass. "You're right. But... you're a child. You aren't obligated to this. This isn't your responsibility—to make this world better. If you can live normally, you should."

Isn't such normalcy why you ended up like this in the first place? All those entries, wishing to be like the rest of them—and here your father is now, telling you to be yourself.

If only they had heard this, you think, bitterly. Then, you'd know you were right. That he would only ever see you if you had become one of them.

The thought makes your stomach churn. How pretentious could this man—this devil—possibly be?

"You're wrong. To live normally like this, when I was given the strength to be better, to do things to be a better me... that's just wrong." You clench your fists, hard. "I already made that mistake before. It doesn't matter whether I'm 18 or 80. All that matters is that I'm doing what I know is right."

You pause, allowing the words to sink in. "But to discard the normally in your life is a waste. That's why I live the way I do. To protect the normalcy around me, the ones who can't protect themselves. With great power comes great responsibility... my responsibility is to be the best Spidey I can be."

...

You angle your wrist up and don't bother to look back at him when you walk away, "You and your birds can come after me all you want, but I won't stop doing what I think is right. 'Cause I'm a hero."

When you thwip away, you aren't so sure how you'd forgotten that. How a hero protects the ones they love above all else.

Your family aren't heroes. Perhaps, to the public, and even the whole world—but not to you. They'd failed to protect that child, a miserable, small child, left in that massive world.

To make it so they felt they had to save people, to take that responsibility of power to matter—that was their greatest failure.

"... Batman?" Barbara's voice is a dramatic shift from the silence that started to consume him. "Batman,are you okay? Batman? ... Bruce? Are you..."

He takes a moment to regain his composure, world still spinning as he speaks, "I'm fine. They're... they're okay." Saying the world's like they're hard to spit out, or like he's unsure himself. "I'm coming home."

Barbara wants to say something. About that spider. About what they said to him. Power, responsibility, protection, normalcy, love. But she doesn't. By the sound of his voice, he seems just as frazzled as she is. A conflicted Batman means no good for anybody, including her.

So, she will let him think. Oracle can take a back-seat for now. So can Batman. For now, she's just Barbara Gordon. And he's just Uncle Bruce.

Holding her tongue, "Cass and Steph aren't back yet. Kate left a while ago... said there was something she needed to do. ... Everyone else should be at home, I think..."

"Okay." He murmurs, quieter.

Barbara shuts her mouth and leans back in her chair. There's nothing else for her to say, so once more, there is silence.

...

When Bruce returns back to the Manor, he finds himself pushing past everything and everyone, including Alfred, and rushing up the stairs. Not even bothering to take off his suit fully—tossing his helmet behind him and walking away.

Down a hall to the left, then up right, then left again. Stopping once he, finally, stands in front of a door. Blank. Colourless, dull. Like the rest of the manor, blending in away from those extravagant suits and too-bulky armours.

After a brief moment of confliction, he brings his fist up, and knocks. Standing there, almost the size of the doorway, waiting for any kind of reply.

"Hello? What—"

You freeze at the sight of your father staring down at you—this time, his eyes were as blue as ever and his face was less grim. This time, you could see the greying of his dark hair and the crease of his brows.

This time, there was no escape.

"[name]." He says your name as if it's foreign, unfamiliar. Testing it out like a new spice or seasoning, then seeming to come to the conclusion that he likes it. "It's been a while."

You're frozen in place, mouth open yet unable to speak. What could you possibly do now? Run? Swing? Duck past—

A hand places itself on your shoulder and every siren in your body blasts itself tenfold. Blaring like the most buzzing and painful alarms—so awful that you have to grab the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling over.

Panic gnaws at every side of you, chest rising and falling erratically when your headache grows.

What is this? This is so much worse than when I'm with Jason—

His face morphs and blurs as does his words, yet you manage to catch the few, "I think we should spend more time together. Become closer, like how it was before. You are my child after all. The only one who doesn't have patrol or scoutings with me. That calls for more regular ways of bonding, right? That's my responsibility... as your father."

He's smiling. Hardly so, but you're about to collapse. A deafening buzz in your skull, you spit out any agreements you can manage through squeezed eyes, waiting for him to go, to leave, so for a moment, you can finally breathe.

"I'm glad you agree," he says, moving back. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you, recovering as he gives you space. "Next week, then?"

You clutch your head, jaw taut and stance tense. It's a wonder how he hadn't noticed your absolute discomfort, but you digress—just wanting him to go. "Sure."

"Good, then—" Before he can finish, your door slams shut in his face and once again, that barrier has returned. Bruce pauses, staring at that slab of wood keeping you from his line of sight.

Bruce lingers for a few moments longer, fingers hovering the handle, before retracting back and swallowing thick.

Batman walks away, but glances twice over his shoulder, cowl falling behind him.

You slump down your door with a heaving sigh, feeling your head start to clear and breathing stabilise.

That feeling of fear, of utter terror—it was the feeling you'd get with Jason and Tim, but tripled. It was torture. Absolutely awful. Unbearable. You'd not relt anything while you were Spidey on that rooftop, but seeing him here now send your senses spiralling into a whirlwind of chaos.

You grab your head and it falls onto your knees, pulled up to your chest.

Your eyes fall bleak and everything blurry again. Are you going to cry, like a child? To prove him right again, that you're afraid of this? Of him?

Maybe you were more similar to his version of you than you were lead to believe. Maybe—

Still, though, your phone buzzes.

A strange sounding noise compared to the cheap, hand-me-down one you had in your other room. Probably spammed with stupid videos from MJ, and worried texts from Harry. Maybe even the odd "how are you?" from Matt, or something.

(You still don't know how he texts, but that's beyond you).

You pick up your phone, despite the lingering thought it could just be from one of your family members. Siblings, or father.

... You were half right.

From a contact customised to say, the #coolest auntie, there's a text.

Hey, kid. Let's go out. It's been way too long.

You stare down at the bright phone screen for a few seconds longer than you should've. Surprised, sure, but just as confused. Swallowing and considering your options for a second.

You haphazardly let your fingers fly over the keyboard. If your contact name for her was this comfortable, she must be a good person, right? Maybe she could provide an outside perspective on everything. Your family, their hero-lives, even you.

You press your lips tightly together narrowing your eyes down at her contact profile picture. Short, red hair and a smug smile. Pale skin, and the features reminiscent of your father.

Sure. Where?

When you watch the text bubbles pop up on the screen, you can't help but wonder what exactly you're going to do next.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

taglist is open!

[meganwritesfanfics]

The Way You Look Tonight (Jack Abbot x reader)

This is a submission for @letsgobarbs @ananonymousaffair and @clubsoft A Doctor a Day creative event.

At this years hospital gala, Y/N has gotten herself roped into a charity auction at Gloria’s insistence. But at least she has Dr Abbot, Dr Robby, and Dana by her side.

Word Count: 1805

Y/N sighed as they ran her fingers through her freshly styled hair. She couldn’t believe she had gotten herself roped into this situation. She stood in front of her floor length mirror taking in the entire outfit. She didn’t think she had ever worn something as fancy as the silver floor length dress she currently wore.  Not even for prom in high school. But it was her first hospital gala and she needed to impress. Not to mention Gloria had suckered her in for the Date with a Doctor fundraiser. The dress had a sweetheart neck with small straps, the silver glittered in the light, and there was a thigh high slit on her right side. 

Her door bell rang and she quickly made her way down, somewhat uncomfortable in the heels she had bought to go with the outfit. 

“Holy shit! You clean up nice.” Dana smiled as Y/N answered the door. 

“So do you!” Y/N gasped taking in the deep navy blue gown Dana was wearing. “Is it normal to feel nauseous before these things?” Y/N said as she followed Dana out to her vehicle. 

“It is when you know that a certain broody nightshift attending will be there.” Dana teased. 

“Stop.” Y/N laughed. “You know there is nothing going on with me and Dr. Abbott. He is just my friend and colleague.” 

“The flirting I have seen between the two of you at work would suggest otherwise.” Dana smiled as they started to drive them to the Wintergarden. 

“It’s not flirting Dana, it’s friendly conversation.” Y/N insisted. 

“Very friendly. Did you tell him about the Date with a Doctor thing?”

“It didn’t come up.” 

“Oh Jack is going to lose his shit.” 

“He will be fine, plus Gloria said most residents end up volunteering for it at least once.” 

“Gloria lied honey. I promise you neither Robby or Abbott did the Date with a Doctor.” 

Y/N groaned. “This is going to be miserable.” 

“It’s just one date, and who knows you may find your Mr. Right, and hell if he wins it means he is probably rich.” 

Y/N didn’t reply instead looking out the window. She would never say it outloud, but she had already felt like she had met Mr. Right, but she was convinced he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend. 

Jack stood impatiently tapping his foot at the back of the room with Robby. He felt ridiculously standing in his black suit. It was the only suit he owned, and the only time he ever actually wore it was to these ridiculous events. And the only reason he owned it was because Robby had convinced him that he was far too old to keep renting a suit. The floor to ceiling windows always made him nervous, felt like there were far too many entry points or where things could go bad. 

“Will you stop that, you are acting like a child.” Robby laughed. 

“You know I hate being here, I just want to get it over with.” Jack sighed. 

“We all hate being here brother, but at least we get fed. And hey, it’s Y/N’s first shindig, we can’t turn her off of them from the start.” 

At the mention of her name, Jack felt his heart leap. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he tried to suppress his smile. He couldn’t wait to see her. Jack had caught her talking with Dana at work about the dress she bought and he had only begun to imagine how stunning she would look in it. 

“Will you stop daydreaming about our girl? You are acting like a love sick teenager.” Robby teased. 

Jack cleared his throat, straightening up his tie. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Oh don’t give me that shit. I know you have feelings for Y/N. And you aren’t super subtle about it.” 

“We are friends Robby, I know that is a foreign concept to you, but that’s when two people just enjoy one another’s company.” Jack teased back. 

“Except friends don’t make goo goo eyes at one another from across the Pitt.” Robby laughed. “And before you try to deny it. I was there that day and I watched Ellis almost have to wave her hand in front of her face to get your attention.” 

“Fuck,” Jack said under his breath. 

“What I don’t understand is why you haven’t asked her out yet. Everyone knows that she has feelings for you too.” 

“What?” Jack asked. “Everyone knows?” 

“Good God you both are so oblivious.” 

“Who’s oblivious?” A voice asked and both of the men turned to see Y/N and Dana had walked in. 

Jack had to fight the urge to let his jaw drop as he saw Y/N. She looked absolutely stunning. 

“I… you…” He stumbled over his words. 

“You both look amazing.” Robby quickly swooped in, saving Jack from his embarrassment. 

“Thank you.” Y/N blushed, her eyes still locked on Jack’s. 

“You two don’t look too shabby yourselves. It always is so strange seeing you both out of your scrubs.” 

“I would much rather be in scrubs than in this penguin suit.” Jack complained but he still couldn’t take his eyes off of Y/N. “You do look beautiful.” He finally said and Y/N beamed. 

Dana and Robby exchanged a look as Jack reached out and kissed Y/N hand. 

“Well she better look damn good, Gloria roped her into the Date with a Doctor auction.” Dana said.

“What?” Jack snapped and Y/N glared at Dana, who just smiled mischievously. 

“How the fuck did she convince you to join that” Robby barked with laughter. 

“She told me both you and Jack had participated.” Y/N said her face red. 

“Like fuck we did. I laughed in her face and said I would rather die before participating.” Jack said. 

“This is going to be awful.” Y/N groaned. 

“There she is.” A voice called and they all turned to see Gloria heading their way. 

“Speak of the devil.” Robby said under his breath. 

“I have some donors who are very interested in talking with you.” She said as she grabbed Y/N arm and led her away. Y/N looked back at the group, eyes wide with fear. 

Jack had started to take a step towards her when Robby threw his hand up and stopped him. 

“You do not want to get between Gloria and her money, trust me.” He smiled.

“She parading Y/N like she’s some kind of prized horse.” Jack grumbled. 

“You didn’t bat an eye when Gloria did that to me two years in a row.” Dana laughed. 

“That’s… I…” Jack stumbled.

“God you have got it so bad for Y/N.” Dana smiled playfully, hitting his arm. 

“I do not.” He grumbled again acting almost like a toddler. 

“Well let’s get to our seats before we are also roped into doing the donor rounds.” Robby said as he ushered them all towards the table. They were relegated to the back as they had been every year they had come. But Y/N was stuck up at the table with Glori doing her best to keep from looking around for Jack.

She was so uncomfortable trying her best to schmooze with the donors but all she wanted was to be with her people, Robby and Dana who made her feel safe, and Jack, Jack could make her feel like the only girl in the room. 

“And now it comes to everyone's favorite program of the evening, the date with a doctor. Let’s get all of our lovely participants up to the stage.” The MC announced. 

Y/N quickly looked back in one desperate attempt to find her friends, as she stood up, she finally saw them. Both Robby and Dana were giving her a thumbs up. Jack looked at her his eyes full of rage. 

Everything felt like a blur as she stood up on the stage. She tried her best not to look as scared shitless as she felt. 

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” The voice called as she walked across the stage. Her eyes quickly looked out at the crowd as she plastered a fake smile on her face. 

“Let’s start the bidding out at $500.” 

A hand instantly shot up and Jack glared at him. 

“Do I hear $750.” 

Another hand shot up and again Jack’s attention turned to that person much to the amusement of both Dana and Robby.

“Do I hear $1000.” 

“$2500” A voice called and Y/N’s eye went wide as she realized the voice was one she recognized and her eyes locked on Jack who had his hand held up. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Robby hissed the smile gone from his face. 

“Winning a date with Y/N.” He said. 

“Do I hear 3500?” 

“5,000” another voice called and Jack turned to see an older man probably in his 60’s with his hand up. 

Jack could see Gloria glaring at him but he didn’t care as he bid for $7500. 

“Do I hear 8500?” 

“8500” The other guy raised his hand. 

“No,” Jack growled as he quickly raised his hand. “$10,000.” 

“Do I hear $11,000?” The room was silent. “Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman the back.” 

The room erupted in applause but Y/N just stood dumbstruck on stage her eyes locked with Jack who just smiled at her. 

Hon, you can get off the stage now.” A voice whispered to Y/N and she just nodded as she mindlessly started walking towards Jack still fully dazed at what just happened. Gloria was on her feet in an instant as she rushed to Jack. 

“What the hell was that?” She snapped. 

“Don’t worry about it Gloria, you can just take it out of my paycheck.” He said and Robby laughed behind him. But Jack’s focus was elsewhere. He was trying to find Y/N in the crowd having lost her when she left the stage. 

“Are you insane?” A voice said and he turned to see Y/N coming towards him. 

“Hey I think I just saved you from a horrible date with that old geezer and I…” 

Y/N immediately pulled him in for a kiss. 

“I was hoping it’d be you.” She smiled as they broke away. “I was standing up there and all I could think of was how much I wished you would win. But I didn’t expect you to spend $10,000 dollars on a date with me you could have gotten for free.” She teased. 

“Darling, you are worth so much more than that.” He smiled as he pulled her in for another long kiss.  

[daylightstring]

i manifested a new house for my family and some revelations about the law.

i’m honestly super emotional even typing this because housing has always been a huge issue for my family, but not anymore. it’s finally resolved.

basically, our lease for the house we’d been living in for five years was ending. now, i don’t want to take full credit for this manifestation because my dad worked incredibly hard to make this happen too. in my family, my dad is the only provider since my mum has her own mental health struggles, and me and my brother are focused on our studies. because of that, getting a loan for a good house was really difficult. but knowing the law, i decided to start affirming and visualising every time the topic came up, no matter what was happening in the 3d. i kept telling myself the house is already ours, only moving boxes is left. even when my parents were stressing about it, i stayed in my own reality internally.

luckily, once i started persisting, my parents found a really decent house in our area that was still within our budget. i kept affirming that the house was already ours, that all that was left was moving boxes. and guess what? we got the call that the house is officially ours. it’s a modern, four-bedroom house with a huge backyard. it’s beautiful.

this is probably my first really ‘big’ manifestation and it’s helped me understand the law on a whole new level. i had already studied the law a lot and understood the basics from reading source material, but actually living it through something life-changing hit differently.

when i kept repeating to myself that the house is already ours, that moving boxes is the only thing left, i realised this mindset is exactly what makes manifestations happen. nero knowledge, my favourite manifestation creator, always says that once you’re no longer dependent on seeing change in the outside world, that’s when it happens. whatever it is you want, you have to claim it with unbelievable conviction, so much so that even if you didn’t get it, you would still feel like you have it. that’s the level of certainty it takes. brazen impudence. refusing to accept ‘no’ as an answer from reality.

identity is everything. i hate to say it, but you need a strong self-concept to experience true life-changing shifts. that’s the real principle behind the law that every successful, enviable person has lived by. i know this because i tried to manifest a new house two years ago when i was deep in anxiety and depression, and it didn’t happen. my identity back then was someone terrified she wouldn’t get what she wanted, and the universe, being a mirror, simply reflected that.

stop identifying with labels that do nothing but hurt you. i understand trauma. i’ve lived it too. but you can’t spend your life staring at your wounds. you’re strong. you want to change. i know you do because you’re here, reading this, waiting for that big “aha” moment that will fix everything. but it’s not going to come from the outside. it will only come from you, when you apply the law and choose a new identity. like neville said…there is no one to change but self.

you have to stop caring in the wrong way. when i say ‘stop caring’, i don’t mean stop wanting your desires, i mean stop being so attached to the idea that once you have it, everything will change. there is no ‘after’. it’s happening now. right now. soak into that feeling, claim it, and live from it.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #16

It started, as these things often did, with Clockwork showing up at 3:07 AM in Danny’s bedroom and dragging him out of bed by the ankle like a disappointed father dealing with a child who had failed Algebra. Again.

“Wha—Clockwork?!” Danny shouted, flailing in his space-themed pajama pants as he was unceremoniously yanked into a swirling portal of green and purple time goop. “I have school in four hours!”

“You won’t need it where you’re going,” Clockwork said with the kind of deadpan that made you suspect he hadn’t laughed in several centuries.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

Next thing Danny knew, he was falling face-first onto a Persian rug that smelled faintly of incense, ancient secrets, and emotional trauma. He groaned and looked up just as a swirling portal closed behind him, revealing a tall, caped man sipping tea with the patience of a man who had seen God, mocked Him, and been promptly smacked in the face for it.

“Stephen Strange,” Clockwork said, materializing again because apparently he didn’t believe in exits, “meet Daniel Fenton. You’re going to teach him how to not accidentally vaporize the concept of space.”

“I what?” Danny blinked.

“Wait—this is the child you were talking about?” Strange said with a distinct expression of “I expected someone taller and more eldritch.”

Danny raised a hand. “Hi. Still in my pajamas. Please explain.”

Clockwork gave him a look. “You’ve been randomly tearing holes in the multiverse with your emotions. If you continue, you’ll accidentally delete the timeline where pizza was invented.”

Danny went pale. “That’s my favorite timeline!”

“That’s why you’re here.”

And that’s how Danny ended up training at the Sanctum Sanctorum instead of going to college like a normal eighteen-year-old. Not that Danny was ever normal. Or functional. Or even consistently corporeal at this point.

“Why is there a ghost teenager eating cold Pop-Tarts in my artifact room?” Wong asked the next morning, frozen mid-step with the sling ring still on his fingers.

“I live here now,” Danny said through a mouthful of Strawberry Frosted. “Clock Daddy said so.”

Wong stared at Strange. “We don’t even let you eat in here.”

“He’s technically a spectral demi-being empowered by quantum echoes,” Strange muttered. “I’m not sure he can be stopped.”

Danny quickly became the Sanctum’s chaos gremlin. The Cloak of Levitation hated him, loved him, used him as a chew toy, and then dragged him into a corner and cuddled him while he tried to watch anime at 2AM. Danny responded by naming it “Blanky.” The Cloak permitted this. Wong did not.

There was one particular week when Danny got stuck halfway between dimensions because he got emotional watching a Pixar movie. “I JUST—THEY FORGOT ABOUT BING BONG, STRANGE, THEY FORGOT—”

“Kid, I swear to the Vishanti, if you collapse another nexus realm because of children’s media—”

“HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR JOY, OKAY?”

Training with Strange was like being punched in the brain repeatedly with Shakespearean insults and quantum theory. Danny tried. He did. But he was more of a vibes-based learner, while Strange was a “recite this 900-word incantation backwards while dodging metaphysical arrows” type of teacher.

“I can just blast it, though?” Danny argued, half-asleep, floating upside-down above the kitchen one night.

“No. No blasting. No phasing. No yelling ghostly wail and reducing my library to ash.”

“But I’m good at those!”

“You also set the Time Fractal on fire.”

“It had a face. It looked at me first.”

Clockwork would appear now and then, mostly to drop Danny cryptic warnings like “Avoid the one with the metal arm,” or “Never trust a raccoon with a gun,” or “Don’t play Uno with Loki. He cheats.”

“I don’t even know a Loki,” Danny protested.

“You will.”

Danny’s powers kept getting weirder. One time he coughed and spat up ectoplasm that turned into a sentient clone of himself, but with an Australian accent and a nicotine addiction. They had to banish him to the Mirror Dimension after he started flirting with Strange.

“Who made you like this?” Strange hissed, trying to undo the spell with rapidly twitching fingers.

“I think I made myself like this,” Danny whispered.

Somehow, the multiverse noticed. A portal opened on a Tuesday—because of course it did—and dropped in Peter Parker mid-panic with a half-dead demon strapped to his back and a terrified expression.

“HELP! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!”

Danny stared, eating a microwaved burrito. “Are you a spider?”

“Are you a ghost?!”

“Do you want a burrito?”

“Yes?!”

And that’s how Danny accidentally made a new best friend. Peter and Danny had exactly the same amount of brain cell(s), which meant Strange had to install magical barriers to keep them from combining into a singularity of disaster.

“Stop bringing the Spider-Child into my Sanctum!”

“He brought himself! Through a hole! In the air! Like me!”

“Oh god, there are two of them now,” Wong muttered, lighting incense aggressively.

The Sanctum slowly became a hub for the weird and unstable. Kamala Khan stopped by and declared Danny her new weird older cousin. America Chavez tried to punch him once and fell into his thermos. Loki found him and said, “Ah. You’re one of those,” and walked away very quickly.

One particularly cursed day, Tony Stark walked in, saw Danny floating above a bowl of ramen while casually moving furniture with his mind, and said, “Nope,” before immediately walking out.

Danny’s magic was…unconventional. When Strange taught him how to summon a shield, Danny ended up with a glowing neon green circle that said “NOPE” in ghostly cursive. When told to summon a blade, Danny pulled out a glowing halberd shaped like a Fenton Thermos with an axe edge.

“I call her ‘Big Suck.’”

“I hate you,” Strange said.

“I love me.”

Then came the Incident. Danny got bored, which, to be clear, is always the beginning of the apocalypse. He found a cursed artifact that looked like a snow globe with a tiny screaming soul inside and thought, this seems fun.

It was not fun.

He broke it open trying to use it as a nightlight and released an ancient chaos entity named The Unfathomable Carl. Carl had a god complex, seventeen mouths, and a Twitter account within four minutes of escaping.

“HOW DID HE EVEN GET A PHONE?!” Strange screamed while fending off a barrage of cursed pigeons.

“HE FOLLOWED ME ON INSTAGRAM!” Danny shouted from behind a sofa.

It took three Avengers, a packet of Mentos, and Danny screaming “YOU’RE NOT EVEN THAT SCARY, CARL!” to trap him back in the snow globe. Clockwork appeared mid-chaos, sipping ecto-tea.

“This was necessary for your growth,” he said calmly.

Danny hurled a shoe at him.

Eventually, Strange came to a horrifying realization: Danny wasn’t learning magic in the traditional sense. He was absorbing it. He was like a sponge that had been dunked in eldritch Kool-Aid and now radiated unpredictable power every time he sneezed.

“Do not, under any circumstance, let him near the Time Stone,” Strange told Wong.

“He already touched it.”

“WHAT?!”

“He said it ‘smelled like cosmic fruit roll-up’ and tried to lick it.”

“I HATE THIS CHILD.”

Danny was currently learning how to open a rift without screaming “YOLO” at the top of his lungs. Progress was…questionable.

“Did you just use Ebonic incantation slang to fold space?”

Danny grinned. “Magic, but make it ✨feral✨.”

“You’re going to give me an aneurysm.”

“I already gave Wong one.”

“You what—?”

At some point, Nick Fury showed up, stared directly into Danny’s glowing green eyes, and immediately called for backup.

“He’s a threat to national security.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“You’ve destroyed seven timelines.”

“Okay but they were minor timelines! Who needs a universe made of talking cats, anyway?”

“…I did.”

Even the Watcher started side-eyeing Danny like a nervous babysitter. Carol Danvers tried to spar with him once and ended up in a ghost trap he made out of duct tape and ambition. “I respect you,” she told him from inside the glowing cube. “But I hate you.”

“Get in line.”

By the time Danny hit six months of training, he’d accidentally absorbed a minor chaos god, reinvented ice magic as a form of dance-fighting, made friends with Mephisto (“He’s not that bad once you get past the brimstone”), and turned his hair permanently silver-blue from temporal exposure.

Strange sat in his chair, robes scorched, tea long gone cold.

“Wong,” he said softly. “I think the child is the apocalypse.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “And yet…I fear I love him.”

Danny phased through the wall with sunglasses and a churro. “Hey! Want to help me prank Odin?”

Strange sighed like a man whose karma had caught up with him.

“I’ll get the goat.”

And so it continued. Danny Phantom: Ghost Kid, Sorcerer-In-Training, Time-Space Menace, and unofficial emotional support chaos goblin of the multiverse. He may not have understood quantum geometry, astral projection, or taxes—but damn it, he had style.

And, apparently, a date with the Living Tribunal next Tuesday.

“I hear he’s into jazz,” Danny said. “Think I should bring cookies?”

“You’re going to destroy everything.”

“Yeah, but like—charmingly?”

[altieris]

cw; obsessive!anakin, toxic!anakin, babytrapping, afab reader, 18+

anakin skywalker is an emotional, clingy, fanatic, and obsessive little bastard.

in my heart of hearts, i believe anakin is fucking obsessed with you. he is lovesick. you're just...you, so gentle and warm. you've shown him so much love and care, and he's so so in love with you. he's ready to do just about anything for you. and hes awfully clingy, but affectionately so. he's always holding you close to his body, nuzzling his face all over yours, and kissing you excessively. sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to merge with you.

he tries to move in with you like 2 months into your relationship. he's all whiny and practically begging, "baby, we spend so much time together. why keep going back and forth like this? :(", and you solely agree cause his pout is just too pretty.

honestly, he loses his fucking mind at the mere idea of not being with you. literally. i'm talking, he'd be going on about his day, then suddenly, he's struck with the mental picture of not being yours, and you not being his. and he's brought down to his knees, head in his hands and everything.

it's to the point where he starts getting so possessive and jealous that he cannot fucking bear your friends. the concept of you taking a liking, platonic or not, to anyone but him makes him so nauseous that he's ready to throw up (that's not to say he hasn't already). and it's mutual. your friends fucking hate him, he's so mentally deranged and they can't figure out why you're with him.

oh and woe to you if any of them are men. he is in pure and utter agony. he will visibly sulk, pout and huff 24/7, he's unbearable. and when he's alone, he'll blankly stare at himself in the mirror, scream into his pillow, and cry himself to sleep.

the thought of you being with anyone but him - makes him physically incapable of breathing. it feels as if he's being suffocated. it makes him sick to his stomach and the thought of you loving anyone else makes him want to crawl up into a hole and die. he picks fights and argues with you because he just wants every ounce of your attention to be concentrated on him, needs your eyes to never stray off of him once, needs you to be all his at every waking moment. only his, his, his, his...can't you just give him that?!

and when he's finally able to see you, he practically combusts, he's fueled up by all the negative thinking :( he doesn't even stop to greet you, he just smashes his lips onto yours, and carries you to bed.

he fucks you in missionary, so he can look deep into your eyes, and show you just how much he loves you - tells you all about how he's willing to do whatever it takes for you to never, ever, leave his side. then he snarls harshly, going on about how he can't and won't let you go. and when he's close, he's practically shedding tears, begging you to never disappear on him. can't you see? he's an empty shell of a man without you, he cannot live without you. you tell him to pull out and he almost doesn't catch it due to the resounding obscene noises filling the room. almost. but he does. so he cages you in his arms, and plunges his dick so deep, and he starts babbling, all pathetic, about how your kids would have his eyes, and your nose.

he practically wails when he buries himself to the hilt one last time, shooting his cum deep inside your womb. and you're about to push him off of you when he starts moving again, helplessly and feebly mewling, "i can't stop", hes so demanding and hopeless. hes physically incapable of bringing his messy thrusts to a halt...god, what do you do with him?

[sharoo]

Self-knowledge as a theme in STP messes me up so bad, bros.

This all starts with how little the Princess can tell you if you ask her about herself. How little you can say about yourself, more often than not. Most of the time Quiet doesn't even know what they look like!

The Narrator makes it a point to make the Princess' cluelessness, her lack of self-knowledge, into deception, but really, both the protagonists don't know themselves. How could they?

The concepts of bounds, of something that isn't you, the distinction of "self" and "other", "you" and "I", the concept of something being not like yourself... this is the first time this deity which is now two has ever experienced it.

The Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet did not exist until the Narrator tore a whole into parts.

Now, this deity in twain has to reorient. It has only begun existing, it's not yet known itself. A toddler has to develop a self-concept, and the concepts of others.

Now imagine, for the first time in your solitary existence, that there is something that you are not. Unknowable, foreign.

What are they like, you think? Are they a friend? Should I get to know them? Are they a foe? I do not know them, I cannot trust them... Or can I?

This brings to mind, of all things, Contrapoints' video on Twilight, where she speaks about the concepts of Union and Division in relation to love. And while she speaks of it in terms of eros, it can apply here just as easily, romantically and platonically.

Love is the union of two beings. We love because something outside of us allows us to be more than ourself. In others, many seek that which they lack. We seek out people so that we may develop through our similarities and contrasts with them, to change an be changed.

We seek out people because there can be no I without a You. To exist in a void is not a fulfilling experience.

We cannot discover ourself if he have nothing that allows us to compare ourself. The mirrors elude us throughout the game, always leading to the princess - she is the only way we may know ourselves, the mirrors tease as they disappear. And at the end of the route, only then, can you see yourself, now that you have a complete knowledge of yourself in a given scenario, with a given persona.

Was the princess someone you decided to trust? Or to betray? Was she a foe? A friend? A nightmare? A victim?

You both try to find out who you are through your relationship.

The princess assumes many faces and attitudes in response to you, you assume voices and attitudes in response to her. You're two batches of clay shaping each other at the same time. It's almost like knowing someone your entire life, seeing them go through different phases as they try to find out their identity in the world, their place. The 5 routes, whatever they be, are your "adolescence".

And growing means you will hurt each other, intentionally or not. There will be fights, disagreements, there will be heartache, and comfort and love.

And everything will pass.

Shifty, before she's complete, before she discovers her godhood, makes this point so clear.

How could she not be kind to you? You are the only thing in this place that is not her. What reason could she have to hate you? To make the only friend she could have into an enemy?

That's why, at the end of every route, all hurts are forgiven. All the heartache is acknowledged, understood, and then she moves on. So that you may continue being together, so that she may see what else you do.

Even godhood can become a phase. The Shifting Mound recognises what you both were, but it need not be you unless you accept it. Because self-knowledge is unending. You are always changing, and you can always change.

You can accept being a god, and that becomes you.

You can reject being a god, and that becomes you.

You are by that point an "adult". The figure trying to dictate who both of you are is gone, and you can decide for yourself.

I think this is partially why I love the Leave with Stranger ending the best of all the endings. You begin it by avoiding knowledge of yourself and of another. The self can only exist as far as it is not like the others.

And you meet the Stranger, this being who knows so little about herself, because she too has been deprived of another. The route is quick. It really cannot amount to much, because if you don't know yourself, it's so hard to build a relationship.

But at the end, they've matured. You gave each other time to become fuller beings. You met this person again and they seem so much happier with themself than they were in youth.

I love how they say "We're just a stranger.", and the voices point out how it needn't be sad that you don't know her, unless you make it out to be. You can get to know them, the real them, and they can do that with you.

The way the Stranger speaks if the position of a God only underlines how much the heart of the Shifting Mound can understand self-knowledge.

They speak of how they feel themself be pulled towards taking the position of godhood, of being everything, yet find it confining. Restricting.

"We want more. We want whatever might be on the other side of this door. Something new, that we'll experience together. With someone who exists outside of us. Someone who can see us in a way we can never see ourself."

Self-knowledge through relationships and reflection on how you impact other people.

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 3- Gotham's most beloved

______________________________

"wha- AGHHHHHHH, SHIT, THIS ISN'T MY FAULT", you try to tell the system "STOP! PLEASE!"

Alfred runs to you, "Miss what's wrong?", when he touches you, he feels it too, he lets go immediately, thousands of questions on his head "Miss?"

The system cannot be known. Use 5000 points for memory erasure or face another penalty

Time: 5 minutes

Penalty: death

"I GET IT! STOP! IT WASN'T MY FAULT PLEASE!! I DIDN'T KNOW HE FOLLOWED! PLEASE STOP" You yell

After the penalty was over, your breathing was heavy, tears struck on your face, the food toppled over from your squirming and crying

Alfred is right there. Looking at you with shock and worry "Miss (Name) what-" before he could finish his question, you moved

-5000 points

•memory erasure 2 minutes

He forgets, now he's just standing there awkwardly, not knowing why 2 minutes ago while he was watching from afar it was neat cute set up but now it's messy and spilled

"Alfred... Why did you come!?" You yell at him

He seemed taken aback "Miss I just felt you shouldn't spend your birthday alone, I was worried"

The pain in your body has subsided and you stand up, getting out of the tent, not caring for the rain "Can't you just act like the rest of them!? Can't you just hate me!?!"

His eyes looked at you with pity, but that only fueled your anger, you didn't need pity, you didn't want pity

"But Miss, I'm not like the rest of them, I care-"

"No you don't. You feel obligated, you devoted yourself to Thomas and Martha, you feel devoted to take care of the only thing they left, Bruce. And your loyal to him and everyone Bruce cared about, the only reason you're here is because I share the blood of your previous masters, you're not here because of me. You don't know who I am" you yell

You have a right to feel angry, you just got electrocuted because of him, he doesn't know that, well, he forgot

He knows you're right, that's why he's doing this, he wants all he Wayne's to get along, that's what Thomas and Martha would want "Miss... I know master Bruce has his shortcomings, no father should have neglected their own daughter-"

"tell that to your own daughter, the one you left in England to serve the Waynes"

He freezes.

You don't understand why the authors of this concept write Alfred as a good guy

"How is Julia? When was the last time you saw her?" You ask "Go keep taking care of the Waynes leave me be"

"Miss (Name), you are also a Wayne" he says

"No I'm not, I am my mother's daughter, not Bruce's, how can I be his daughter when he doesn't act like my father?"

______________________________

You wake up feeling shitty, your body hurts, your brain hurts, and your heart feels heavy, you should be used to it by now

No one in this house is ever going to be on your side, Alfred didn't care about you, he just wanted to preserve Thomas and Martha Wayne's blood

He knew you've been going and living with your mother's last name

And you've just spent 5000 points, you were saving up to buy a mirror that could see back in your previous world, it was 1000000 points

This sucks. You wanted your mom, and your other mom... And your real dad, and your real siblings, not these condescending assholes

In every reincarnation story, it's either possible or impossible to return back to your original world, you don't know if it's possible

"System?"

Yes?

"Is it possible for my return... In my original world?"

It is possible

Holy fuck, you jump out of bed "How!?"

You already know how

"what!? No I don't!"

You do

"is this like a Dorothy situation? Do I just shut my eyes and click my heels three times?"

You sigh, you might as well try, you close your eyes, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home"

You open them and find yourself still in your bedroom "Well now I just feel stupid."

"Miss (Name)?" A knock on your door, "Breakfast is ready, please come down" It's Alfred

You cringe and remember your outburst last night, you were just so angry that he made you fail your mission and got you electrocuted

After a few seconds of silence he knocked again "young Miss... Are you angry with me?" He asks

Yes you are. You don't like how he claims to care but whenever he sees you being bullied by one of Bruce's kids he doesn't reprimand them, whenever Bruce misses an award ceremony, he doesn't force him to go, how do you think you got away without being known as a Wayne for 2 years?

"I'm skipping breakfast" you say (no you're not)

From your 563th mission, you had to perform a violin concert without any of your family members attending, it was easy enough and the reward was a magic mini fridge that gives you whatever food you want

As by the system's words "A neglected reader isn't worthy of eating with their family, they eat alone"

You open the fridge and somehow end up with fresh hot pancakes and syrup

______________________________

You walk through the streets of Gotham, you're 12 your bag is loaded with shit, pepper spray, a pocket knife disguised as a ball pen, and a taser

Why is it always raining in Gotham?

You've been dodging Alfred for the past few days, you can't rely on your magic fridge forever since Alfred will start wondering if you're starving yourself or something

"Jollibee..." You see the building in a far distance, near it you see a child in worn out clothes, he seemed to be selling something

Ah... He's selling flowers...

As you spot the cart behind him still full, he didn't sell much, you also see some girl toys at the bottom of his cart

You enter the restaurant "3 orders of C3 please, to go"

"um miss... Can you please separate the orders, 2 and 1, for the 2 please add some peach mango pies" you add

You wait for a while, subtly eyeing the kid, and your hunch was right an even smaller girl came with two umbrellas, the boy had a little sister

After getting the order, you come near them, is this weird? Approaching a boy, a little younger than you and giving them food, the boy looked about 8 and the girl 6

"Miss..." He looks embarrassed "We can't pay you for the food..."

"that's fine, just give me a flower" you smile "And also... Do you live in a neighborhood?", he tilts his head "Yes Miss I do"

"you should just work for your neighbors, don't stray too far from home, Gotham is dangerous" you feel kind of a hypocrite since you use to do the same things this boy did, at an even younger age "so your sister won't have to fetch you when it's raining, both of you might get sick"

He smiled at you "Yes Miss, thank you again"

You walk away, no matter how many years you've been living here, you still hate it, you were either born very lucky or very unlucky in Gotham

You see a woman under a bus stop on call with someone on her phone "Sweetie... Mommy is going to be late tonight, I don't have an umbrella, just sit tight there okay?" She hangs up "Should I just make a run for it?" You hear her say

Then you remember, your mom once came home soaked and feverish, she had promised to buy you takeout since you cooked for her the day before, she was worried you'd sleep without eating anything so she ran through the rain to be able to eat with you

It was fine, you had a jacket anyway, you pull the hood of your jacket to your head and approach the lady "Ma'am, do you need this?" You hand her your umbrella

She looked shocked "oh I can't possibly take this from you!", you give it to her nonetheless "It's alright ma'am, I have a jacket and my house is very near" (the house is a lie obviously), she smiles at you "Thank you so much, I left my daughter at home and god knows how hungry she is right now, take care okay? The roads are slippery" she says before leaving

You underestimated the rain and ended up soaking wet by the time you're at the manor, Alfred greets you and he looks away from you, he seems worried about your state but is ashamed

Then you hand him the flower you got earlier "Im sorry I lashed out" you say

"thank you miss... And I'm sorry for disturbing you when you visited your mother, I shouldn't have overstepped" he says

He meets your eyes and guides you to sit down at the kitchen, he comes back with a towel and dries you off

You need at least one person who cares for you, at least one

______________________________

You wake up the next day, finally comfortable to eat downstairs because reconciling with Alfred, you're the first one here, guess the family is still asleep, or maybe they already ate, you don't know, you pick up a news paper and-

"Gotham's angel.

Spotted giving food to children, and giving away her umbrella in the cold rain, we found that this kind girl is none other than Bruce Wayne's hidden daughter! After investigating some more we found out that (Name) Wayne donates books and toys to an orphanage without even her own father knowing!"

"Because that's the orphanage I stayed in!" You panic, you wanted to still be able to visit the few friends you managed to make in your days there

"She also tutors children from a poor neighborhood for years without charge and doesn't tell her family! True kindness doesn't need an audience but years of compassion from (Name) Wayne should be recognized, she's been helping other people for years without anyone knowing, a true angel!"

"That place was my old neighborhood!? What is this angel bullshit???" Hello??? Again those children are your friends!??

You've unlocked a special event!

Most Neglected readers blend in the background, but in some cases, they become popular through either being a celebrity or becoming a business man

You have become famous! Continue being famous and gain fans!

Special mission: Make the public like you even more, to 100%

Public love meter: 60%

Time: 1 week

Special reward: bulletproofing (Gotham is a dangerous place! Who says you need to be from krypton for bullets to bounce off you? Everything you wear becomes bulletproof!)

"So... If non-common tropes of neglected au can happen... Like if the reader gets famous, does this mean I can get superpowers?" You whisper to yourself

No you cannot. You already have me, don't be greedy ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

"ah.. sorry system" you whisper again

______________________________

Reader: having flashbacks to when she was poor and doing good deeds to those she meets that resembles her past situation

Gotham: an angel?

______________________________

@yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist