#St. Bernadine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveroftoomanyfandoms · 9 months

Text

Angel of God -- The St. Agnes Years - Chapter One

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Matt Murdock & F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Pre-relationship, Slices of Life, Pining (oh, so much pining).

Word Count: ~1450 (for this chapter )

A/N: A look into AoG's Matt & Reader's lives together as children, from their first meeting until their eventual separation.

November 17, 1996

Dear God, please help me to be brave, Matthew Murdock prayed to himself as the taxi he was in pulled to a stop outside of St. Agnes Orphanage.

"Alright," the cab driver said in a thick New York accent. "Here you are."

"Come along, Matthew," the nun who had gone to pick him up from his temporary foster home said as she got out of the cab. "Don't dawdle."

"Sorry, Sister," Matt mumbled, trailing behind her.

He gripped his cane tight and adjusted his sunglasses, taking a deep breath before following her towards the entrance.

He fumbled for the railing as his cane bumped into a set of steps, slowly and carefully making his way upwards towards his home for at least the next nine years.

"Your things will be brought to your room," Sister… (Bernadine? Beatrice? Bonaventure? Matt couldn't remember, but he knew it was something with a B) said as they headed inside and down a winding hallway. "In the meantime you'll join the other children outside for recreation. Dinner is at six, nighttime prayer at six-thirty. Don't be late for either."

She opened another door and led Matt out into what he assumed was a backyard area.

He could hear other children laughing and yelling as they chased each other around.

"Ah, Sister Maggie," Sister B-name said as they walked up to another nun. "This is our new ward, Matthew. I'm entrusting him into your care -- I have urgent business to attend to."

"Of course, Sister Bernadette," Sister Maggie replied.

Sister Bernadette! That was it.

"Matthew." With that, Sister Bernadette turned and walked away.

Matt stood near Sister Maggie, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly a timid voice said, "Hi. I like your glasses."

Matt turned towards the voice. It sounded female, maybe slightly younger than him? Matt wasn't quite sure. "Thanks," he said warily.

"Are you an orphan too?"

The sting of losing his father hit Matt all over again. "Yeah," he said quietly.

A small hand slipped into his. "It's okay, I'll be your friend. I'm Y/N."

"Matt."

"There's some tables over here. Come sit with me."

Matt allowed Y/N to lead him to the tables, somehow already trusting of the young girl.

"So how old are you?" Matt asked as they sat.

"Eight," Y/N replied. "You?"

"I'm nine." Matt paused. "Have you lived here long?"

"Yeah, since I was two. It's not that bad here, you'll get used to it. Just don't make Sister Bernadette mad, 'cause she's really strict. The other nuns are pretty nice though, especially Sister Maggie. She lets me bring books to outdoor recreation, and if we have to stay inside because it's raining, she'll let me spend recreation time in the library."

"Is that what you were doing just now? Reading?"

"Mhmm. I just started ' Where the Red Fern Grows' , have you ever read it?"

Matt shook his head. "Oh, um, no. What's it about?"

"It's about a boy who goes hunting with his two dogs in the mountains. I can read it to you if you want. I'm not too far into it so I don't mind starting over."

Matt nodded, relieved that Y/N hadn't made a big deal about his visual impairment. Most people other than his father had either treated Matt like a pariah or as someone to be pitied, but she didn't seem to mind. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

"Okay. We'll have to start tomorrow though because recreation time is almost over."

Matt nodded again. "Okay."

As if on cue, the church bells began to ring.

Y/N stood. "Come on, you can sit next to me at dinner."

Matt smiled, relieved to not have to sit by himself. "Yeah, okay."

Y/N took his hand once again. She led him inside and down a hall, then turned left and opened a door. "Okay, so this is the cafeteria. All you have to do is sit and wait and Sister Gertrude will bring your food, but we can't eat until we say grace."

Matt nodded. "Okay."

A few seconds later a tray was set in front of him.

Matt wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of overcooked meat and dried-out tomato sauce. "What is it?"

"Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, a brownie, and milk."

"Alright, children, bow your heads for grace," a different voice interrupted.

Matt bowed his head and waited.

"Bless us, O Lord…" the voice began intoning.

" And these thy gifts," Y/N and the other children joined in. "Which we are about to receive, in thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, amen."

"Amen," Matt echoed. He carefully reached out, feeling his way around the table in order to try to find his utensils without accidentally sticking his hand into his food.

Y/N took Matt's hand and placed it on top of his fork. "Here you go."

Matt smiled over at her as he picked it up. "Thank you."

He began eating in silence. There was something different about Y/N, something Matt couldn't quite put his finger on. He felt comfortable with her in a way he hadn't felt with anyone since his accident.

He wasn't able to think about it for too long, because Y/N began speaking again. "After dinner we all go to the chapel for evening prayer, then it's time to get ready for lights out. I can help you find your room if you want. Everyone's name is on their door."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, that'd be good. Thanks."

"And actually, um, I can come get you for breakfast in the morning too? Just until you learn your way around."

"Okay."

They continued eating their dinner in silence, and as soon as Matt was done Y/N stood. "Come on, we have to get to the chapel. Sister Bernadette doesn't like it if we're late."

She led Matt outside then through a courtyard to the chapel, slipping into a pew right before the church bells signaled 6:30.

A minute later Matt heard footsteps heading to the altar.

Y/N leaned towards Matt. "That's Father Reynolds," she whispered. "He's the priest here."

Matt nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good evening, children," Father Reynolds said in slightly accented English.

"Good evening, Father," Matt replied along with the other kids.

"Let us begin our evening prayer. 'In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit'. "

Matt joined in on the Sign of the Cross. "Amen."

Father Reynolds said an opening prayer, then led them in reciting the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary, the Hail Holy Queen, and the Doxology.

"How many more prayers are there?" Matt whispered to Y/N as everyone recited the Apostles' Creed.

"Just one more after this," Y/N whispered back. "Then we do a moment of silent intention, then Father Reynolds will say a blessing."

"Oh, okay." Matt was about to ask which one it was when everyone began reciting the final prayer.

"Angel of God, my guardian dear," they intoned, "to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen."

Matt sucked in a breath as a thought struck him. He had asked God to help him be brave, and not even 2 minutes later Y/N had come up to him and immediately made him feel comfortable. And not only that, but she had even offered to be his friend. Maybe He sent me a guardian angel.

He turned his head towards Y/N slightly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. He knew she was real, because she had held his hand, but he admittedly wasn't sure what exactly angels were supposed to be like in human form.

He was jarred out of his thoughts as Y/N took his hand again. "Okay, let's go find your room."

She led Matt back out through the courtyard and up the steps of the orphanage. "Girls are on the second floor and boys are on the third."

They went up a couple of flights of stairs and down another hallway, then Y/N stopped in front of a door. "Here's your room. Bathroom is right across the hall."

"Oh. Okay." Matt hesitated. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome." Y/N paused. "We're not allowed in each other's rooms after lights out, so I'll see you tomorrow morning before breakfast?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"It's at 7, so I'll come get you around 6:45 if that's okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

To Matt's surprise, Y/N gave him a hug. "Good night, Matt."

Matt hugged her back, the last of his nerves fading away in her warm embrace. Maybe life as an orphan wasn't going to be so scary, especially with an angel by his side.

#lotmf writes #AoG The St. Agnes Years Masterlist #AoG Prequel #Matt Murdock & Reader

50 notes · View notes

conjuremanj · 8 months

Text

Saint Benedict For Protection With Bath Ritual & More.

If you need help protection yourself or your loved ones from evil and danger, You call upon Saint Benedict for help.

Who was Saint Benedict? Saint Benedict of Nursia. He was the son of a noble family, and founder of the Benedictine monastery , he went and founded twelve monasteries. When he was a young man, his family sent him to Rome for studies then went on to become a monk.

To Christians St. Benedict is proclaimed as the patron saint of Exorcisms. The Medal is recognized by the Church as a powerful symbol and weapon of protection and liberation against curses and evil influences which when used evil can't stand looking at it. (it's the one saint I would use against evil) Using this medal with prayer is powerful for removing evil as well as preforming with exorcisms. He is also the patron saint of Fields and Farmers.

Petitioning Saint Benedict. When you need protection from evil or the effects of temptation, Light a white candle and dressed around the wick with a dab of Angelica Oil (I use Holy Oil). Sit peacefully, and clear your mind. When you are ready, say his prayer. You can add incense with holy oil and burn. Use your bell and or rattle to clear the space and call apon him.

Protective Bath Saint Benedict: If you need this kind of protection, begin by drawing a bath of fresh, clean water. Add Holy Hyssop bath wash. Next day his prayer. When the bath is ready, step in and fully immerse yourself. Allow the power of the hyssop to cleanse and protect you. After you are ready, step out, and allow yourself to air dry.

Useing a Saint Benedict Medal: In your hands. Hold it to your heart, and ask the saint for help in protecting you from evil. But be specific in what your asking for.

This medal can be added with the railroad spikes or coffin nails that you put around your house or yard. Or you can make a charm. (see posts on both coffin nails & railroad spikes) before useing this medal bless it with a prayer like blessing a object prayer or have a minister like myself to do it for you.

St Bernadine metal☝️

St Benedict Medal Charm to hang on the door

Creating A Altar, You need image of the saint and a candle. A statue would work as well.

First, find a space where your altar will not be disturbed. Place the image there, with the candle in front of it. Meditate and pray get to know him.

Offering: fresh flowers, or a glass of water on your altar.

#St Benedict #St Benedict Medal #Magic bath for a Saint #Hoodoo Saint #Protection against evil #conjure work #southern conjure #spiritual #like and/or reblog!#google search #traditional hoodoo #southern hoodoo #follow my blog

17 notes · View notes

poppletonink · 6 months

Text

Review: American Vandal

★★★★★ - 5 stars

"Sometimes, the truth is more complicated than a simple yes or no."

American Vandal: a mockumentary series on absurd yet serious crimes; a satirical depiction of true crime.

The first season weaves a mystery of 'Who Drew The Dicks' as it explores the story of Dylan Maxwell, unreasonably accused of vandalising 27 teachers' cars and expelled as an undebatable form of retribution. Dylan's story, while hilarious and crude, is told amazingly well through the use of interviews, 3D graphics, and raw footage from phone screens. It's a perfect enactment of what a documentary would be like if it was made by two high schoolers (the characters of Peter and Sam, who are played outstandingly well by Tyler Alvarez and Griffin Gluck).

Season two takes a different approach. Where season one is set in Peter and Sam's own high school - Hanover High, season two moves away from their home setting to Catholic school St Bernadine. It follows the aftermath of three faeces-related crimes committed by an anonymous person dubbed 'The Turd Burglar'. Moral ambiguity and cruel pranks (much like in season one) meets an important message about online presence - a message that differs from the one we've heard before.

The brilliance of this show lies in its ability to completely capture your attention through its unique take on a docu-series, and the way in which it allows your imagination to run wild with theories. It has you sitting on the edge of your seat, beckoning to know the truth behind the mysteries and questioning everything you thought you knew with more twists and turns than an Agatha Christie novel. With witty writing and hilarious plotlines, American Vandal is definitely one to add to your watchlist if you are in need of an entertaining show to binge-watch.

#american vandal #docuseries #web series #netflix #crime #mystery #crime fiction #film and tv #tv series review #tv show review #tv review #tv shows #tv #must watch #tv recommendations #satire

8 notes · View notes

priestfrommidnightmass · 1 month

Text

a lot of the students at st. bernadine simply didn’t have the brain power to understand the comedic genius of jenna hawthorne’s instagram caption abt hanging out with her best friend kendall jenner was a JOKE and they’re all fake for turning against her. if i were there i would’ve understood. i also would’ve treated her right

#i’m not a lesbian anymore but i would be jenna hawthorne’s hag ANY DAY!!!!#she’s fr one of the most interesting characters of season two and it’s such a shame nobody talks abt her #this is my public service announcement that i am now jenna hawthorne’s biggest fan.#american vandal

4 notes · View notes

beardedmrbean · 2 months

Text

A mother and her four children were killed in a house fire that has been deemed “suspicious” by Missouri authorities.

The fire was reported at 4:20 a.m. Monday, Feb. 19, at a home in Ferguson, a suburb of St. Louis, according to the St. Louis County Police Department.

Photos shared by the Ferguson Police Department show smoke fill the home. The smoke was visible for miles, KTVI reported.

Firefighters found the bodies of five people inside the home, police said. There were also three dogs who were found dead.

“The smoke was so bad. I tried to kick the front door,” Jerry McClure, a neighbor, told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. “We just couldn’t wake them up.”

The victims were identified by KMOV as Bernadine “Birdie” Pruessner and her four children: 2-year-old Millie, 5-year-old Jackson and 9-year-old twin girls Ellie and Ivy.

A cause for the fire is unknown, but authorities told the Post-Dispatch and KTVI “suspicious” circumstances were involved. The investigation is ongoing.

’A tragedy for our community’

Pruessner, a former math teacher at City Academy in St. Louis, was named the Missouri Teacher of the Year in 2013 by the American Board.

More recently, she was an assistant professor at Lewis and Clark Community College in Godfrey, Illinois, according to Metro East Star. She is also a published author and the founder of a nonprofit, Root Cause Agricultural Education Group.

“Birdie was a dear colleague and friend to all. She cared so deeply about her students and about helping others,” Lewis and Clark President Ken Trzaska said in a statement, Metro East Star reported. “She brought energy and illuminated such a bright light of positivity and kindness to our campus community.”

Pruessner was nearing the completion of her doctorate degree in early childhood education, her father told the Post-Dispatch, referring to her as “brilliant.”

Dara Ashby of the Ferguson Animal Coalition called the deaths of Pruessner and her children “a tragedy for our community,” KSDK reported.

“She was a wonderful person and loved her kids, loved her family, loved her animals,” Ashby told the station. “She was just a treasure to our community. So this is a huge loss.”

’Live each day like it’s your last’

Before her Monday morning death, Pruessner spent Sunday with her children, going to a reptile show, soccer game and camping out in their living room, she said on Facebook.

“Making today one of those live each day like it’s your last kind of days,” she said.

That night, she shared a photo of her family and said she was “blessed” to be their mother. “Us against the world,” she wrote in the post.

Pruessner and her children were referred to as a “beautiful family” by one friend.

“None of this seems real, today has been really really hard. How could Birdie, Elly, Ivy, Jack and Millie be gone?” Allison Nichole Fox said in a Facebook post. “Birdie was an incredible mother and had the brightest light always surrounding her.”

#nunyas news

3 notes · View notes

bermudianabroad · 4 months

Text

2023 Reading Roundup

Everything what I read in 2023

I read a whole bunch.

Heartily Recommend Visceral Bleh Reread *Audiobook*

Fiction

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens (where is the fucking humidity in your swamp, Delia??)

Days Without End by Sebastian Barry

Lot by Bryan Washington

Mr. Loverman by Bernadine Evaristo

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas

Trust by Hernan Diaz

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway

The Unquiet Dead by Ausma Zehanat Khan

It Ends with Us by Colleen Hoover

By Nightfall by Michael Cunningham

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantell (but everyone is called Thomas)

Verity by Colleen Hoover (awful but wacky and hilariously awful)

Katalin Street by Magda Szabo

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell

Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng

Animorphs #24 The Suspicion by KA Applegate (a trip)

Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli

The Island of Forgetting by Jasmine Sealy

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

The Trio by Johanna Hedman

At the Bottom of the River by Jamaica Kincaid

The Whale Rider by Witi Ihimaera

Libertie by Kaitlyn Greenidge

Silence by Shusaku Endo

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

Babel by RF Kuang (was so disappointed by this one)

The Bass Rock by Evie Wyld

Island by Siri Ranva Hjelm Jacobsen

The Gold-Rimmed Spectacles by Giorgio Bassani

Must I Go by Yiyun Li

The 1,000 Year Old Boy by Ross Welford

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker Chan

Ariadne by Jennifer Saint

The Singer’s Gun by Emily St. John Mandel

Memphis by Tara M Stringfellow

The Whirlpool by Jane Urquhart

Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

A Country of Eternal Light by Paul Dalgarno

Yellowface by RF Kuang

The Country of Others by Leïla Slimani

The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing

American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld

All Passion Spent by Vita Sackville-West

The House of Doors by Tan Twan Eng

Game Misconduct by Ari Baran

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (sorry Naomi :/ )

The Foot of the Cherry Tree by Ali Parker

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

Matrix by Lauren Groff

The Twilight World by Werner Herzog

Wild by Kristen Hannah

*The Fraud by Zadie Smith*

The Mountains Sing by Nguyen Phan Que Mai

The Wind Knows My Name by Isabel Allende

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

This Other Eden by Paul Harding

The Kraken Wakes by John Wyndham (weirdly, one of the best depictions of a marriage I’ve read)

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead

Against the Loveless World by Susan Abdulhawa

North Woods by Daniel Mason

Shadows on the Rock by Willa Cather

The Tiger’s Wife by Téa Obreht

Animorphs: The Hork-Bajir Chronicles by KA Applegate

Roman Stories by Jhumpa Lahiri

Animorphs #13 The Change by KA Applegate

Animorphs #14 The Unknown by KA Applegate

Animorphs #20 The Discovery by KA Applegate (snuck in two more under the wire… #20 is when shit REALLY kicks off. From there it gets darker and darker).

Poetry

Black Cat Bone by John Burnside

Women of the Harlen Renaissance (Anthology) by Various

The Analog Sea Review no. 4 by Various

The World’s Wife by Carol Ann Duffy

Non-Fiction

Besieged: Life Under Fire on a Sarajevo Street by Barbara Demick

Atlas of Abandoned Places by Oliver Smith

Novelist as a Vocation by Haruki Murakami

Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty by Patrick Radden Keefe

Wanderers: A History of Women Walking by Kerri Andrews

City of Laughter: Sex and Satire in Eighteenth Century London by Vic Gatrell

The Lazarus Heist: From Hollywood to High Finance by Geoff White (fully available as a podcast)

The Entangling Net: Alaska’s Commercial Fishing Women Tell Their Stories by Leslie Leyland Fields (very niche but fascinating. Transcribed interviews)

Free: Coming of Age at the End of History by Lea Ypi

Hijab Butch Blues: A Memoir by Lamya H.

Freedom by Margaret Atwood (just excerpts from novels repackaged)

*Born a Crime by Trevor Noah* (Noah’s narration is superb)

The Slavic Myths by Noah Charney and Svetlana Slapšak (was expecting stories, but it was mostly academic essays)

Manga, Comics, Graphic Novels

Safe Area Goražde by Joe Sacco

The Way of the House-Husband, vol. 1 by Kousuke Oono

SAGA vol. 1-6 by Fiona Staples and Brian K Vaughan

Top of the Top:

Born a Crime was probably my favourite non ficition, and most of that probably is due to Trevor Noah's narration skills. It was very entertaining and heartfelt.

Less uplifting but just as gripping in a different way was Empire of Pain. Excellent book that went deep into the why and what and hows of Purdue Pharma. Anger inducing.

Lazarus Heist is great and available as a podcast. The book is more or less the podcast word for word.

Fictionwise: I read Trust at the start of the year and it was a bit soon to declare as favourite of the year, but it's stil made the final cut. Just very imaginative and intriguing. Just my kind of MetaFiction. Clever without being cleverclever.

Demon Copperhead I read right off the back of Empire of Pain so maybe that coloured my experience. I've not read any Dickens so loads of references no doubt flew past me, but the language was acrobatic and zingy. I loved it.

Wrapped up the year on a high with North Woods. That was so unexpected and entertaining. Again with the playful language, memorable characters and a unique approach to tying all the various stories together. One that sticks in the mind and makes the writer in me wonder how I can replicate his style (with my own personal twist of course.)

#a whole bunch of books #reading roundup #Still one day to go but i don't think i'm going to finish anything else #year in books #2023 in books

6 notes · View notes

anastpaul · 11 months

Text

One Minute Reflection –20 May – '... How can we be called “cursed if you dishonour your father” (Dt 27:16) yet fervent, if we abandon him?!

One Minute Reflection –20 May – “The Month of the Blessed Virgin Mary” – The Memorial of St Bernadine of Siena OFM (1380-1444) “Apostle of the Most Holy Name of Jesus” Confessor – Ecclesiasticus 31:8-11, Matthew 19:27-29 – Scripture search here: https://www.drbo.org/ “And everyone who has left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for My Name’s…

View On WordPress

#howcanwebecalledcursedifyoudishonouryourfather #matthew19:27-29 #matthew19:29 #stambrose

5 notes · View notes

lavidalunaa · 2 years

Text

B&B: Issue 1 - Metamorphosis

Cross posed on AO3

AN:Hello!! This chapter is just an introduction to my OC and worldbuilding. This isn't a slow burn (edit: I lied this is def a slow burn) but it will take a couple chapters before our love interests start having a meaningful relationship. I want this to feel organic and not rush into romance too quickly (even though that's what I'm most excited for). Please enjoy the first real chapter of B&B!

MONICA MOET

PRESENT-DAY

BLUDHAVEN - MAY 28 - 4:38 PM

We had been having low turnouts for weeks. We weren’t entirely sure what was keeping kids away. It’s not as if all the troubled youth of Bludhaven suddenly disappeared. Maybe the kids were just enjoying the nice weather we’ve been having? We were also running low on volunteers. Today there were only two of us, supervised by a single nun.

On weekdays St. Bernadine’s Church ran a youth program out of its basement. It was no secret that Bludhaven had a homelessness crisis, one that had a deep impact on children. St. Bernadine’s was determined to help. We had a variety of activities and resources for the kids — puzzles, art supplies, education tools, internet access and tablets. Most importantly we had food and shelter. While our program was open to all youth in the area, the vast majority that showed up were kids on the run or living on the streets needing a place to rest and eat.

A part of me knew that this was probably a very complicated ploy to convert young impressionable kids to catholicism. I tried to believe that the good of this place outweighed any potential religious brainwashing. After all, ten years ago this place was my safe haven.

Now, I stop at nothing to make sure kids don’t have to suffer the way I did. After I got into Gotham U I spent every free second I wasn’t studying, in class or sleeping at St. Bernadine’s. I was proof that it was possible to make a better life for yourself off the streets. Now, I simply come when I can fit it into my schedule. At the very least I try to be here every Friday for animal therapy day.

The main area of the basement is a large rectangle. On the side of the room furthest from me, is a small elevated corridor that goes around to the kitchen, bathrooms, and the stairs to the back exit. The side closest to me has large double doors that closed the room off from the main stairs and entrance. There were desks with mismatched plastic chairs scattered around the room. A corner of the room had three beat-up couches arranged in a U shape. Fake plants decorated every table and empty space— Sister Agnes’ idea to brighten up the place.

I currently sat alone at our registration desk fiddling with the stylus for my iPad. Behind my desk were several utility carts, some with books and others with arts and craft supplies. There was also a large bookshelf with board games, cards and puzzles. Under the table by my feet was a safe where we kept the tablets. Everything in my area had to be signed out in order to be used to limit theft. Most of the supplies we had were donated or thrifted; we couldn't afford to lose them.

We only had three kids come through today. It was a Monday, which was usually one of our busier days. I scanned the room and felt a deep sense of sadness seeing how deserted it was today. All the tables sat empty. One of the couches was occupied by a sleeping teen in dirty clothes. The other two sat on the floor in the corner farthest from me playing Jenga.

Opposite my desk was the only other volunteer, Roy Harper, keeping watch over the sandwiches that likely wouldn’t be claimed today. In addition to refreshments, Roy’s side of the room had extra chairs, blankets and pillows the kids could freely take and move about the basement.

Roy was fidgeting a lot. I could hear the sound of his foot tapping from where I was sitting. Usually, he spent his time at St. B’s talking with the kids, playing games, or helping them with whatever little projects they were working on. It was clear he was itching for something to do. He never was able to sit still long or keep his mouth shut for that matter.

Roy and I grew up together on the streets of Bludhaven. Turns out, I wasn’t the only angry orphan trying to survive on their own. We did everything together when we were kids. We shared everything — food, money, clothes, shelter. He was my first and only love. For a time Roy was my entire world and my only family. I wouldn’t have made it this far without him. He took care of me despite my flaws and loved me even though I was broken.

As we got older though, I craved stability and he still wanted to be wild and free. I got my GED and then went to Gotham U. He worked odd jobs and moved around a lot. We made our choices and went our separate ways, I didn’t see him for years. Until last year when he showed up here to volunteer — the same place we met all those years ago.

“Harper,” I called towards the ginger.

He raised his big bushy eyebrows at me. We were still trying to navigate what exactly we were now. Childhood friends? Ex-lovers? Two people that just volunteer together? All of the above? I wanted nothing more than to have Roy back in my life, but even after all these months, things were awkward.

There was a moment I considered getting back together with him. Maybe it was out of nostalgia? Seeing him again sparked something deep within me. A longing for love and companionship. Though it was a completely selfish desire. Whatever it was we had when we were kids, it was gone. That was probably in Roy’s best interest.

He was so much different from the kid he was before. For starters, he claims to have been sober for over a year. His hair was much longer, he could likely tie it in a bun, much different from the buzz cut he used to sport. He grew a full beard and he was more broad and muscular too. He was calm. He laughed. This Roy was much more adult . I couldn’t get a grip on who exactly he was now so I chose to remain as casual as possible.

“I have to go pick Carina up from daycare, I’m going to head out early” I informed him. He and Sister Jolene could handle the handful of kids that came in today and I was itching to get home before dark.

“Later Mo,” he called as I packed away my iPad and slung my tote bag over my shoulder.

I locked the tablet safe and gave the keys back to Sister Jolene. I headed for the back exit. I hated going through the main doors, pillars of white marble lined the large stained glass doors. It was such a blatant display of wealth. Heading through the back alleys was much more my style.

If I ran, maybe I could catch the next train and pick Carina up early. I tied my dark curly hair into a bun. I don’t know why I bothered with my hair on days like today; the humidity was just going to ruin it in ten minutes. The sun was still too high for my liking. I traded my large round wire glasses for my sunglasses and prayed the melanin of my skin would be enough to protect me from this sweltering heat. Why did I leave the nice air-conditioned church basement again?

Carina. Right. The goodest girl of them all was waiting for me.

My commute to doggy daycare was a 3 block jog to the train station and a 20-minute train ride. I put on my headphones and started my journey as my Spotify shuffled. Adele bled into Kendrick Lamar, and Solange turned to Post Malone as my horrendously varied taste in music accompanied me on my route.

I spent my train ride thinking about all the projects I had due next week. I had a website to complete building and a digital art commission to finish. But those could wait until tomorrow. I really fell into the “university will get you a good paying job” BS narrative. A whole software engineering degree later and I was essentially running two businesses to stay afloat.

I was never suited for the nine-to-five life. It was too restrictive. I wanted to pick the projects I worked on. Taking on those that inspired me, and rejecting ones that didn’t mesh with me. Of course, most of the projects I ended up working on were mundane and didn’t challenge me in the slightest. I wanted to program tech that would change the world, yet here I was building websites and creating productivity tracking software.

Eventually, a combination of lacking a creative outlet and an inability to pay my bills on time lead me to also take art commissions. While I didn’t consider myself the best artist, random strangers on the internet seemed to like it. Somehow, trying to avoid being tied to a rigid 40-hour workweek lead to me working 16-hour days and having very little free time.

“Monica, you’re early!” Zee exclaimed when I entered Paws & Rec dog daycare. She’s the owner whom I had gotten to know over the years. She smiled at me as soon as I entered. I had never actually seen the daycare area where the dogs played all day. All I had ever seen was the front lobby. The walls were a bright yellow that gave off a playful vibe. The front desk was a bright teal and had a gate next to it to keep the pups from running off.

“I finished volunteering early,” I returned her smile. “How was she today?”

“An absolute treasure as always. Carina’s one of our favourites.” Zee punched some numbers into her computer and gave me the total for Rina’s visit today. I paid and she retreated through the door behind the front counter. Less than a minute later, all dressed in her harness and ready to head home was my golden retriever.

“Wee-na!” I cooed as my sunshine pup excitedly ran through the opened gate and straight to my legs. “Did you have a good day with Zee and the others?” Carina gave me some happy woo-woos as I gave her pets and pats for being such a good girl at daycare.

I gave Zee a wave and a thank you as I grabbed Carina’s leash, attached it to her harness and started our trek home. It was only a 15-minute walk. I guess the good thing about living in a city is that nothing is ever too far from home.

By the time we arrived back at my apartment and climbed four flights of stairs, Carina's burst of energy from being picked up from daycare had worn off and she lazily trotted to her bed in the living room once I removed her harness. After taking off my shoes and switching back to my indoor glasses I surveyed my apartment for any kitty mischief that occurred while I was gone the last few hours.

My apartment was quite cozy. An open concept one-bedroom equipped with more than enough living space for myself and two kitties. I felt bad making a large dog like Carina live in a box in the sky so I tried my best to compensate by taking her on lots of walks, adventures, and daycare at least once a week. Now that I think about it…maybe the reason I’m broke is that I pamper my pets so much. Nah.

As I entered the kitchen I was greeted by ice-blue eyes staring at me. It was almost as if Blanche was waiting for me to come home so she could start a fight. My foe wore a fluffy coat of pure white wielded blades which have scarred me many times. Her battleground of choice was my island counter. Her posture was regal as ever as her paw slowly inched toward the bowl of fruit that sat in front of her. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth informing me of her intent. This bitch is really going to do it.

“Don't you fucking dare,” I warned with narrowing eyes. This seemed to set her off. She pushed at the bowl with her paws before I had the chance to stop her. My bananas and pears toppled to the floor.

“You really are a bitch,” I muttered under my breath as I went to collect the fruit before Carina could get to it.

Blanche jumped off the counter, her tail high as she sauntered over to the cat tree so she could curl up at the very top like the princess she was. Blanche was the kind of cat you had to just observe. She wasn’t a fan of being picked up or God forbid cuddling. I respected her boundaries, even if it came with an attitude. I fed her, brushed her, cleaned her shit and she hated that I existed.

I threw my bag onto my lightly-preowned couch and started to strip off my dirty clothes, tossing them to the floor as I headed for the bathroom. There I found Rocket, my other cat, an orange ball of fluff and chaos busying himself in the corner with a tissue he fished out of my garbage. It honestly astonished me sometimes how opposite my kitties seemed to be considering I got them at the same shelter.

“What are you doing my garbage baby?” I cooed as picked up my precious prince of trash and cradled him in my arms. Although likely annoyed I separated him from his tissue, Rocket purred in my arms as I rubbed his belly. He looked at me with his one good eye — the other he lost before I adopted him a scar running over its place. His lil’ toe beans pressed against my face gently as if he was petting me back. I could die happy right now.

Unfortunately for Rocket, he wasn’t allowed in the bathroom while I was taking a shower. He was banned after jumping into the bathtub with me and proceeding to puke in my bathwater. So I escorted him out of the bathroom to join his fluffy siblings in the living area.

My disappointment with the underwhelming turnout at St. B’s was almost instantly washed away the moment the hot water hit my skin. I was finally done with the day’s responsibilities, and all the residents of the apartments were alive and well. My muscles felt like melting butter as I relaxed and started to sing nonsense to myself.

Once I felt sufficiently boiled I turned off the water and wrapped myself in my towel. For a moment I considered doing my entire skincare routine before deciding I was much too lazy for that and simply slapped some moisturizer on my face and called it a day.

I dried myself off in my bedroom and nonchalantly threw on the first t-shirt and pair of underwear I pulled out of my drawers. This old Batman shirt I thrifted years ago was still the comfiest piece of clothing I owned even if it had holes big enough to fit my fingers through. I was a men's shirt that was three sizes too big for me. Perhaps if I weren’t so tall I could wear it like a dress like those petite girls I saw on Instagram.

I paused for a moment staring at my double door closet. Not tonight, I thought. My eyes shifted towards the desk opposite my bed. They zeroed in on the side drawers I tried not to think about were stored within them. But I could, couldn’t I? I shook my head and left my bedroom. I was going to stay home tonight. I was staying home, petting my fluffy babies and relaxing at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.

-10:37 PM-

I was sprawled out on my couch waiting for enough time to pass so I could go to sleep. For an hour or so, I really believed the lies I told myself. That I could just leave it alone. I didn’t need to go out on the streets of Bludhaven. It was dangerous. The police are doing a fine job.

I scrolled through my phone trying my best to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I desperately seek distraction, but exactly what I’ve been trying to ignore finds me.

BPD reports the 4th overdose death in the city this month. Steroid drug known as ‘venom’ suspected to be involved.

I stopped scrolling when I read the headline on my timeline. It is linked to a news report. I had to physically stop myself from clicking it. I threw my phone on my coffee table and I sighed heavily. I have to do something.

The suit wasn't ready. This was all just a crazy idea that I took too far. I wasn’t a hero. I didn’t have powers like Superman or Wonder Woman. All I had were my fists. And flash grenades. And a taser. And brass knuckles.

I’m not fighting anyone. I decided. I was simply going to patrol, call the police if I saw anything suspicious and get out. Recon only. No fights. No fighting. Not again.

I sprang off the couch and took off towards my bedroom, Blanche followed behind me. I pulled my hair up and into a fluffy ponytail in preparation. I opened my closet doors and shuffled through the clothes and hangers until I got to the very end. There hung a near skin-tight black bodysuit and on the next hanger a cape.

I pulled on the stretchy suit that hugged my body in ways that weren’t the most comfortable. How did the heroes wear stuff like this all the time? The suit covered even my fingers and feet, essentially encasing everything from the neck down. I will admit, it showed off my thick, toned thighs that I was very proud of and made my boobs look amazing.

I turned to my desk and found Blanche sitting on the tabletop. She was curled up so that all her paws were covered. Her eyes watched me as I moved about my room her tail swishing letting me know that she considered me her prey. Maybe Blanche could be my sidekick, I’m sure she would enjoy clawing up bad guys. She would be the only weapon I needed.

I dug through my desk drawers and pulled out the accessories and ‘armour’ pieces. I strapped on my red utility belt across my waist. It is joined on the left side of my hip with a butterfly-shaped clasp. Next, I slid on my red leather arm guards. I pulled out another drawer and started filling the pockets of my utility belt. Flash grenades. Grappling gun. And a taser just in case. I left my prototype gadgets deciding they were too early in development and not tested. Not that I had tested any of the things I had put in my pockets, but that's beside the point.

I returned to my closet and pulled out my cape in the shape of insect wings. The top half was black with a red stripe down either wing and red eyespots. The bottom wings were red, the outer edges lined in black. The front of the cape came together with another red butterfly clasp.

I pulled on my red boots that came to a point at the top matching my arm guards. I was scrambling. Going back and forth between closet and desk drawers as I put on the finishing touches to my hero costume. Black headphones with antennae that were capable of picking up a variety of signals and a black and red domino mask. I made sure to make the lenses of my mask correct my vision like my glasses.

I stared at myself in my full-length mirror. My original inspiration was butterflies. They were nostalgic. I eventually decided butterflies were not intimidating and chose instead to be a moth. Moths were like the butterflies of the night. The moth is more mysterious and elusive yet held the same beauty. I based my costume on the cinnabar moth, deciding red and black better suited a vigilante more than bright pink and yellow. I still somehow managed to look like a butterfly. I sighed. This is ridiculous.

Five times this month I pulled on this ridiculous getup and stared at myself. Initially, I felt powerful. Like all the heroes I admired so much. Like my idol, Batman. But the more I looked at myself the more foolish I felt. Blanche stared at me with those disdainful eyes of hers. It was like she was expressing her disappointment. Of course, I wasn’t actually going to do it, again .

“Fuck you, I can do this,” I said more to myself than to Blanche.

Somehow, that was the final push I needed. I turned off the lights in my apartment and snuck out my fire escape heading towards the roof. My building was only 5 stories high. Tall enough to be a good enough jumping-off point, short enough that I probably wouldn’t die if this all failed and I fell.

I eyed the building next to mine, only three stories taller. This could be a good testing spot. Probably. This is insane . I paced in small circles. I could die. Why did I think I could do this? For a moment I considered going back inside. Then I thought of the look my bitch of a cat would give me as I snuck back into my apartment.

Was I really being motivated by what I thought my cat thought of me? I really need to make friends. I took a deep breath to center myself. I’m doing this. The night brought with it cooler, crisper air than the evening. The feeling of the air filling my lungs cleared my mind. I can do this.

I took a few steps back and took a running stance. This was it. Without a second thought, I took off running at full speed towards the neighbouring building. And once I reached the end of my roof I leaped. During the moments I spent airborne I felt like I was flying. It was exhilarating. I hadn’t felt this feeling in years.

Everything went quiet. The world around me disappeared and all that existed was my target in front of me. It was the rush I had spent years chasing. Adrenaline coursing through my veins. I needed more.

I threw my arms and legs out in front of me as I was about to hit the building. I closed my eyes and braced for impact, for everything to fail and for my fall. But the fall didn’t come. I opened my eyes to find my face inches away from the bricks. I worked. I stuck. I wasn’t falling.

One of the integral design elements of my suit was the ability to stick to walls. It took months of research, and trial and error. Two months ago I finally figured it out. My suit was covered in tiny fibres that allowed me to stick to most surfaces, just like an insect. I had tested this ability out in my apartment. Sticking to drywall and my ceiling perfectly, I had no idea if it would work on brick or stone or glass for that matter. But it worked. It worked!

I crawled up the side of the building until I reached the roof and pulled myself over the edge. I panted, my lungs burning from the exertion. I gave myself a moment to catch my breath before taking off toward the next building. And the building after that. The giant smile that plastered my face felt so foreign. When was the last time I enjoyed myself?

After jumping to my fifth building I came to face my next challenge — an intersection. The building across the street was much taller than the one I currently stood on, and the gap created by the street below was much too far to jump. I reached into my utility belt and pulled out my grappling gun. I aimed slightly above the roofline of the next building and shot it upwards.

The line connected. I gave it a hard yank to test its stability before running and taking another leap of faith swinging on my line. The risk of falling onto the street full of vehicles below only seemed to boost my thrill. I wasn’t scared of dying. I was scared of falling. Being able to defy that fear and literally rise above it gave me a rush like nothing else. As the line retracted I ascended towards the roof of the tall building. I may not be able to use my wings but I could fly.

The view from the top was breathtaking. I was maybe 20 stories high looking down. There wasn’t much traffic but the city was alight nonetheless. People were going about their evenings as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I felt like I was in one of those romcoms set in New York City where the city sparkled at night.

I didn’t know Bludhaven could look like this. Living on the 4th floor, and only leaving my house to visit a church basement and dog daycare didn’t exactly leave room for sights like this. I could fall in love with this city if I saw this every night.

The admiration of my home was cut short when I noticed a disturbance. Not too far from where I stood, a figure zipped across the sky, much like I had just done. Running across the tops of buildings. It couldn’t be, could it? My body moved before I could think about what I was doing. I took off after the figure. I didn’t even consider that it might not be who I was looking for. It could have been a villain for all I knew. But I ran, jumped and zipped across the city in pursuit of this mysterious figure.

I kept my distance. Mostly because I wasn’t able to catch up. For a moment I thought I lost them. Continuing my flight path towards the last place I had seen them. I froze on that final roof, finally figuring out the identity of the person I had been chasing. It’s not him. I released a breath, my disappointment helped my exhaustion catch up to me.

It wasn’t Batman. It was his former protégé, the original boy wonder, now known as Nightwing . It had made sense now that I had a moment to think about it. Batman operated mostly in Gotham when he wasn’t on Justice League business as far as anyone knew. Nightwing had taken up residence in Bludhaven a few years ago, becoming our city’s saviour. There was also the fact that Batman wore an iconic cape and the figure I was chasing didn’t. I should have known it wasn’t him.

Nightwing hadn’t moved since landing on the ground. He simply stared ahead of him. That’s when I finally processed what we were both looking at. It was a tent city. One full of children. No one there could have been over the age of sixteen.

Tents littered an abandoned area by the docks. It was lit up by lanterns, fires and fairy lights. Children ran and laughed as they chased each other around playing. Others looked much more jaded. Likely hardened from years of homelessness. Some gathered by their fires seeking refuge from the crisp night air.

A group of children gathered in front of Nightwing looking up at him with fear in their eyes. I didn’t know what they were saying. Maybe they were asking for help? Or perhaps they wanted him to leave? I wish I could hear what they were saying. I needed to know what was going on.

I couldn’t process everything I was seeing. Is this where all the kids I usually helped had gone? When was this set up? Were there always this many homeless kids in Bludhaven? My heart hurt. So many kids. Just like I was.

Memories of those days being helpless and alone started flooding in. Suddenly it was as if I couldn’t breathe. My lungs burned with every sharp inhale. My vision started to blur and my body felt numb. The only thing I could feel was the beating of my racing heart. I needed to get out of here. When I tried to move my limbs my body refused my commands. Was this what dying feels like?

It took every ounce of my power to control my breathing. Shaky breaths eventually evened out. My vision cleared. While my heart still raced, it slowed by enough beats that I could make sense of the world around me.

I must have frozen too long. I hadn’t noticed Nightwing had moved. The moment I finally came back to the present it was too late. He was gone. I spun around trying to find where he had gone only to find him on the same rooftop staring right at me.

_____

Don’t think about any of the superhero stuff too hard. Things work because they do. The superhero business is honestly a small part of a much larger story so if something doesn’t quite make sense just…ignore it. I’m a dumb bitch trying to write characters with genius-level intellect so I’m fudging it a bit lol.

Hope you liked the first issue of B&B. I really want to thank my RL friends for pushing me to write after spending weeks rambling to them about batfamily LOL. And a huge thanks to my betas for making my writing actually make sense. Biggest thank you of all to my bestie who not only gave me amazing feedback but also puts up with me dumping plot points for days on end. Hope to see you all in Issue #2! It will be from Dick’s perspective. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️✨

#nightwing fanfic #nightwing fanfiction #dick grayson x oc #original character fic #oc fic #eventual smut #slow burn fic #chaptered fic #chapter 1 #roy harper fanfic #este writes #nightwing #dick grayson #roy harper #dc universe #batman universe #batfam fic

2 notes · View notes