#its the alleyway oracles

[vagueconfusion]

the funniest shit is the oracle decks I pre-ordered just came today too imagine if I had opened them and done a reading

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

[toxintouch]

apéritif - an alcoholic beverage usually served before a meal to stimulate the appetite, it is usually dry or acidic rather than sweet. The word comes from the Latin aperire, "to open". ✦Vere x Oracle MC. ("They" Pronouns, no other identifiers used.) A little spice, but nothing above a T Rating. Other warnings? Joyful overuse of dashes & en-dashes. ✧𓁺 What, pray tell, can an Oracle offer a god? <- Previous: Deicide (both can be read completely separate) ✦Read on AO3

VERE: Apéritif

The alleyways are eerily silent. Absent is the telltale shuffling of human gangs awaiting unknowing stragglers, the skittering of Soulless and the fluttering whispers of many still worse horrors. All silent — silenced.  Quieted by the apex predator.  Such lower beings are easily subdued, hunger and greed and blood lust waylaid by want of self preservation.  Only the sound of their own breathing singing off the stone walls greets them as they tear down Eridia’s winding streets.

Their feet ache with every bound and twist, tendons protesting each abrupt turn, each sudden swerve.  Their survival hinges on their ability to remain unpredictable: their ability to foresee and adapt.  Their foe is faster, stronger.  He knows every inch of the city.  Their only chance is to anticipate him, steal seconds from the future and hope that mere seconds are enough.

Their mind swims, vision a blur of colors and noise – not just from lack of oxygen but from the strain of forcing their powers to the limit.  Tracing the hum of danger: barely visible, shadow-fast, oppressive—

The world spins and slows.  They hold tight to their adrenaline, fighting to stay just one step–only half a step, now–ahead.  They struggle harder; fight to pinpoint the immediate threat instead of finding themself lost in the tide of beating hearts and ticking clocks,  a single drop of water hitting the surface of a vast expanse of red...  Fluttering feathers and a sound too acerbic and pervasive to be music, a single solitary note: screeching, sorrowful and

Hot breath at the nape of their neck;

 a salivating, gaping maw.

They gasp, breath fleeing their hollow chest.  It echoes back to them, bouncing unnaturally off the wide streets of the Amaryllis District like a taunt.  They’re too open, they realize – exposed.  A scurrying prey animal, small thing that he gazes upon from—

They turn down the length of an alleyway lined in red lanterns and they feel him looming closer, stalking the spaces in between flickers of lamplight.

His eyes, glowing–from the right–an imprint of a future they can find behind their eyelids.

So they turn left, shadows passing over them as they fit into the narrow space between two buildings.  It’s a risk, but it’s all they have left.

The cramped space is more an alcove than a passageway, but they can feel—if not see—an exit.  

They force their breath down their throat, inching quietly, feeling along the walls with bandaged hands, grounding themself to this place and time, asking the city to open its hidden doors for them.

Five more steps and they find themselves deposited at an impasse.

The alcove widens into a four way split.  North, south, east and west.

They freeze, rabbit hearted.  Their shoes stutter an awful protest as they jerk towards one direction, then the other, searching through possibilities in their mind.  Each path is screaming danger–no viable future–no possible escape–  

But they were so certain, they know they felt…

Too late.

Too long spent debating, making an unwinnable choice, pursuing once last empty gamble.

The shadows flicker and blur, dancing and boiling.  The deafening silence is severed, sliced through by fiendish fox laughter.  Animal cackling juxtaposed against their panting breaths, a discordant melody.

Adrenaline rushes them, hot in their bloodstream, beckoning their feet forwards for one last sprint.

He's on them all at once.

Vicious.  All teeth and heat and bite, devouring their air and their struggle in one fell swoop.  He swallows their gasping breath, tongue scalding against their night chilled lips as he chases the remnants of a scream.

His body is between their knees, arms around the back of their thighs, claws digging into supple flesh, lifting them.  Their back meets the wall as he presses them into it, his dangerous mouth descending.

It’s like being consumed.  Heat and haze and ravenous gluttony.  Each kiss bleeds into the next, teeth at their throat when they have to catch their breath, searing marks into their skin—a deliberately bestowed collar, something to match his own.   Clever lips—clever tongue.

The adrenaline in their blood twists, dips lower and settles in their core.  Their lips part around a pitchy, desperate little noise that makes him chuckle.

They laugh back, arching their back to luxuriate in the feeling of him thrumming against them like a second pulse.  There’s hedonism and revelry in this game of theirs—a dizzying concoction that mixes with the instinctual fear.  Kerosene pouring down their throat, stoking the flames of some heretofore hidden appetite.

He swallows their screams and their laughter the same.  Ravenous.  Savoring.  

A little blood, a little death.  Satisfaction for an instinct they can’t quite find the flavor of.

"Hmmm, you certainly are much more fun to chase these days."  He hums.  It's as close to a genuine compliment as they've come to expect from Vere.  “You work on that stamina a little more and you might even start to satisfy me.”  They huff, hands scrabbling at the wall for leverage – leverage; the word presses itself into their mind, insistent – and he watches them with eyes narrowed in amusement as they wrap their calves around his body and sink their teeth into his lip.

Repayment in kind.

(They wonder if it will be enough.)

[indulgentdaydream]

Bliss and Misery - Pt. 2

Ex!Jason Todd x Fem!Ex!Reader || Angst; Hurt/Comfort; || Word Count: 3,447

Warnings: Accidental Injury Acquired by Romantic Partner, if you have a history of being a victim of domestic abuse, this may not be the fic for you. If you don't mind being spoiled, dm me and I'll explain what happens so you can make that decision for yourself. Not Proofread.

NEVER thought i would make a part 2 to this fic LITERALLY A YEAR AND A COUPLE DAYS LATERRR. But I received a vision and also spring is coming and I'm out of my depression and have been blasted with a ultra sonic ray of creativity.

ANYWAYS this may be slightly controversial

The night of Gotham was curling its fingers, slowly finding its way centimetre by centimetre in order to reach into the crevices of Jason's mind as he stood on a rooftop. There was a crack in his helmet from a fall earlier that night, letting a draft of cold air consistently hit his cheek, keeping him in the moment.

He couldn't get that dream out of his head. It had been days. He never remembered dreams for this long, never this clearly or vivid. Rarely ever dreams. He missed you. Missed you so damn bad that after patrol every night he would go straight to sleep to try and have that dream again. To see you. To see the life you two could've had.

The image of your last encounter entered his mind and he physically flinched. The panic in his heart and head. The hurt in your expression as you turned away with a hand over your face. The pain in his hip when he had done nothing but scramble away from you, not realizing he'd hit the edge of the bed even as he fell backwards.

Yet you had still reached for him. Called his name as he stood on shaky legs, heart pounding. He grabbed his duffle bag of gear by the foot of the bed and left. Practically ran, just like the coward he truly was. He hadn't even been fully dressed, pulling on a shirt halfway down the stairwell because the elevator would've taken too long and you might have caught up. Hadn't taken all of his things, either. Jason had had to come back the next day. Went at a time that he knew you wouldn't be home in order to grab the rest and a few other things he kept there. Then, he left the key you'd given him on the kitchen counter. He didn't even leave a note.

What could he have said? He'd written you poems before. A dozen love letters, most of which never left his desk drawer. Though, he wasn't sure how to encapsulate the surmounting shame of his actions alongside his undying love for you.

Jason shook his head. He stepped off, aiming his grappling hook and moving on. He couldn't go back to you. He kept himself from even seeing a glimpse of you.

This was keeping you safe.

That was a week ago. His dream was three days ago.

He'd move on. He'd done it from every other kind of relationship he had in his life. So what you were the best one? The best thing, period. There had been a best before you and that had gotten him dead.

----

Red Hood was fighting in an apartment. Some deadbeat who was using his apartment as a coke lab. It was minuscule, but it was a punching bag.

The man was tied up on the floor now, unconscious. Jason wiped his hands together and briefly sent notice to Oracle. He was stepping out the window and onto the fire escape that led out to a short alleyway that led straight to the street ahead of him. His motorcycle was off to the left, left between two dumpsters. He stood there for a moment, reloading his guns, listening to the various cars going by.

Then there was footsteps below, in the alley. He was only a few floors up, close enough to see everything clearly from his shadowed corner.

Two figures just below him, both male, skinny but strong-looking, walking out towards the alley entrance. Their back were to him, focused on...

You.

He recognized that pale, aged yellow diner waitress uniform before anything else. He froze, taking too long to be sure of what to do. Too focused on just the sight of you to even realize what was happening.

You'd been walking into the alley. There was no logical reason for you to do so. He knew that street was your route home from after work. But you shouldn't have been walking home anyways. You rarely worked this late. He'd always pick you up before patrol when your shift ended in the early afternoon–

Right. You wouldn't have had a ride.

You were already stepping back, hands clutching the strap of your purse across your chest, ready to go back into the open.

One man grabbed you by the arm and tugged you back. The glint of a switchblade caught the streetlamp across the road. Jason aimed and the gunshot echoed off the brick walls of each building on either side. That man fell limp to the ground beside you.

Jason saw the way your head snapped to the rooftops, looking around. Apparently, to you, that took precedence over the dead body and the puddle of blood that was about to stain your shoes.

The other man seemed to get the message. He turned on his heel, running back from where he came. Red Hood jumped down in front of him. His fist connected with the guy's face, sending him flying back, knocked out and splayed on the concrete.

"Jason?"

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You were a distance away.

He wanted to cry.

Your stance was timid, eyes fixed on him like he was a deer about to bolt.

He was about to bolt.

You couldn't see his expression or eyes. Couldn't see the way they fixated on your left eye, a dark, inflamed purple. He could tell from where he stood that it wasn't swollen shut, but it had been. The bruising faded up and around your nose bridge. He knew the signs. Anyone who knew them could tell it was a week old.

He tensed. He shouldn't speak to you. He wanted to hold you.

"What the hell are you doing in an alley at this time of night?" He said, his modulator adding onto the rough and harsh tone.

You blinked, taken aback by it, "I... I saw your bike." Jason looked back over his shoulder. The nose was peaking out.

He couldn't look at you. He fixated on the man he'd knocked out beside him. He bent down and grabbed him ankle. Jason turned his back to you and began to drag him away.

You spoke up again, a little more desperate, "I saw it and– and–" You huffed. "Can't we just talk? Jason!"

"I need to deal with this guy," He said, voice levelled, controlled. "This could be trafficking."

"I'm bleeding."

His whipped back so fast it made him dizzy. He dropped the guy's leg and was in front of you in three strides.

His hand went to your right elbow, where you were trying to twist to look at the back of your bicep. There was a cut from the first man's blade. Jason inspected it closely. The blood was dripping down your arm, staining the white sleeve of your waitress dress.

You tilted your face to his, hidden by his helmet, as if you were trying to see through it. He kept his head lowered, focused his eyes on your arm as if you'd be able to see if his eyes flickered to yours.

He realized his thumb was gently stroking the side of your elbow, a habit he'd always had as an attempt to soothe you. His chanced a look at your face and felt his stomach churn.

The bruise looked worst than he'd initially thought. The edges that had begun to heal were a sickly yellow. The blood vessels in your eyes had burst, causing your sclera to now be an slightly opaque pink. The swelling was still quite a bit, and it looked painful. He knew it was painful. He'd had plenty of black eyes in his time.

He took his hand away and took a few steps back, avoiding your gaze again. He shouldn't be touching you. He shouldn't be anywhere near you.

"You know how to treat it," He was already half turned away. "Go straight home, stay on the main streets."

You stepped towards him again, "I can't reach it. I'll need help."

His back was to you, "Go to a walk-in then."

"Do you trust anyone else to take care of me other than yourself?"

He paused, head turned to side-eye over his shoulder. "You."

He didn't trust himself anymore.

You didn't move. Neither did he.

He looked at your face. Eyes trailing over that horrid bruise, the pinch of your eyebrows and the downwards pull of your lips.

How different you'd looked in that dream; so peaceful. So cozy. So beautiful. Not that you weren't in this moment. But there, you'd been at peace. You'd been safe.

It was what could have been and he'd gone and fucked it all up. He'd never even apologized.

He let out a sigh and hung his head.

"Go home. I'll..." He faltered and clenched his fists. You had a way of convincing him that never needed words. A way to melt his resolve with not heat. "I'll be there soon–"

You shot back with a tone of anger that hadn't been present until now, "Will you?".

Jason flinched, "Yes. I–" He shook in head in frustration. He shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be talking to you. But that cut was deep. You could need stitches. "Let me deal with these guys first."

You were glaring. This is how he'd originally thought their encounter would go. "If you don't come–"

"I'll be there." He said. "Go."

----

You trekked your way back to your apartment. Jason had handed you a clean cloth from his jacket for you to tie around your wound before sending you off.

It was difficult. You hadn't seen him in an entire week. Gone one night and then along with the rest of his things the next day when you'd come home. Who could blame you for wandering into an alley at the first sight of his bike? At the first hope of seeing your boyfriend after what had happened. You're fairly certain he had blocked your number.

By the time you made it to your apartment, you were shocked to see Jason already inside. He stood in your kitchen, first aid kit on the counter with everything laid out that he would need. He was readying a needle and thread.

You stood in the doorway for a moment, mostly revelling at his presence in your home again.

His helmet was gone along with his leather jacket and gloves. His hair was messy, dirty. From this angle you could tell he hadn't shaven in a few days, scraggly hairs poking out from his cheeks and jaw and awkward places.

A moment passed before he actually looked to you. He didn't meet your gaze, opting to look at the ground in front of you instead. There were bags under his eyes and his lips were dry and overly red and worried.

He looked rough.

"Jason?" You said softly. You wanted him to look at you.

He nodded to your right and looked back to the suturing thread, "Sit on the counter." There was a spot next to you that he had seemingly cleared off.

You did as he asked. He still looked ready to bolt. You couldn't take any chances.

He stepped in front of you, holding an antiseptic wipe. You let him push up your sleeve and clean off your bloody bicep. You welcomed the sting, knowing it was the price to be able to feel his gentle touch holding you again.

You were expecting him to speak first. But, with the way he purposely stayed further away than normal, the way every muscle in his body was so tense, the way he wouldn't meet your eye, and the way his lips were pulled tight that let you know he was uncomfortable, you began to lose hope.

He stepped away again, tossing the bloody wipes into your sink. He picked up the needle and walked back. His movements were mechanic.

He reached for your arm and you moved it back.

He still wouldn't look at your face. All his words were mostly mumbled, "Lemme see your arm."

You turned to hide it more, leaning closer to him, "I wanna talk first."

He leaned away, speaking a little louder "Lemme see your arm."

"I wanna talk about this, Jason."

He closed his eyes. He looked like he was in pain. He muttered your name quietly. A warning.

"It wasn't your fault!"

He spoke forcefully, "Yes. It was."

You gripped the edge of the counter as you leaned closer. "It was a nightmare! An accident!"

"I fucking punched you!"

Jason was looking at you now. But... he wasn't meeting your gaze. His eyes were only fixed on your bruise. You could tell by the way his gaze wavered, by the pain and shame that made its way to his features.

"I–" He let out a breath. The needle and thread shook in his hands. His voice was a whisper now, "I hurt you. Look at what I did to you."

"You had a nightmare," You spoke carefully now. You didn't want him running out again. You'd waited to seem him again for a week. You had thought you would have to wait longer. "You were scared–"

"Scared doesn't make that okay!" He stepped back. He seemed scared all over again. Worked up. Anxious. He hit the counter opposite you and behind him. He dropped the needle and gripped the edge of it. "I– I didn't know where I was–"

You'd gone over it so many times in your head that you'd already figured that.

You remember waking up to Jason talking in his sleep, shifting restlessly. You'd never witnessed him having a nightmare before. You didn't know what to do. You could barely even see him, your room was so dark on his side. The only light coming from your side being a soft green from the small light on your extension cord, under your desk.

He had sat up so suddenly that you had gasped a bit, but his own half-yell had swallowed it. He was leaning forward. You were sitting a bit behind him. He was scanning the room in front of him. His head was turning in an almost frantic way.

You hadn't wanted to spook him. Didn't want to make any noise as to startle him. You realized afterwards that that groggy decision may not have been the best choice.

Reaching out, you had meant to gently touch his arm. Meant to simply let him know you were there. But he had shifted to lay back down as you had done so. Your hand reaching directly for his face out of his peripheral.

He'd only acted on instinct. You know that. With the light coming from behind you, he wouldn't have been able to see your features. A shadow figure. He would have seen only after the impact. Only as your head had flown back and your face had entered the light.

Right away, you knew it wasn't on purpose. You had seen the fear on his face when he turned, fist raised. You'd seen the flurry of emotions that had come over him in his realization from between your fingers and tears that blurred your vision.

Jason stood in front of you now, on the verge of tears.

"Look at you," He repeated. "Look at what I did to you."

You wouldn't let him run away again, "I forgive you."

"Why?" He cried. "You shouldn't forgive me! I could've knocked you out! I–" His voice cracked. "I didn't know I hit you that hard."

He lowered his head to hide his tears. You slipped off the counter, but didn't move towards him. "We both made mistakes that night, Jason. I shouldn't have reached for you like that."

He shook his head, still slumped back against the counter, staring down at his feet. He sniffled and ran his palm down his face. He looked to the side, shaking his head.

You took a tentative step forward.

"You're not even safe with me..." His voice was wavering. "I can't be with you again. You shouldn't be near me ever again. I broke up with you too late. I should've done it a long time ago so this would never have happened–"

Your shoulders dropped, "We're broken up?"

Jason looked back to you, eyes filled with tears. He shrugged his shoulders, throwing a hand in the air briefly, "The note. I... I was going to leave a note with the key." He shook his head again, pressing his lips together. "I never did."

There was a moment of silence between you two. It was an understanding. He didn't truly want to let you go, but he felt like it was an obligation, now.

You take a few small steps forward until you're in front of him.

His eyes fluttered over your face. They lingered on your bruise, his lips pulling into a deep frown as he tried to hold back his tears. He lifted his hand as if to cup your face, but held it a few centimetres from your skin, holding himself back.

Your heart hurt for him, watching his inner turmoil.

"Look at what I did to you," He whispered again. "I can't even protect you from myself, baby."

"Where did you think you were?" You were curious.

He shrugged and shook his head, "I don't know."

Silence again. He dropped his hand.

"I had a dream," Jason said.

You listened intently.

"Few days ago," He sniffled, trying to collect himself. "We had a baby."

You paused, "Boy or girl?"

He shrugged, "Dunno. Had my hair. Eyes kept changing."

You nodded in understanding. You just wanted to know what was going on in his mind.

He shook his head again. Wiped a hand over his face. "They came waddling into our bedroom and you were asleep beside me and it was just... it felt good. Peaceful." He shook his head. He looked like he was going to run again. "I can't give you that life. Not if I'm going to go around swinging fists because I can't recognize you."

"It was dark."

"I knew I was in your room." He said and sighed. "Not at first. But at that point I did. I was about to reach for you, too. I didn't know you were awake."

"Exactly, Jay. You were still scared–"

"It's an excuse!" He bit back, voice cracking with emotion. "It's all excuses. I didn't even fucking write you a note, baby. Fuck–" The tears welled up again. He lowered his head and put a hand over his eyes. A silent sob wracked his body. "I told you I break everything I touch. I ruin everything I love."

Your own tears started to fill up. You gently reached up and took his wrist, pulling it away from his face.

He wouldn't look at you, fat tears rolling down his face, "Why even try and look for me? Why would you even want to?"

You swallowed, "Because I love you. And I forgive you."

A sob wracked his body. He shook his head before looking up at you. "You're crazy." He swallowed thickly. "...I love you."

He lifted his hand to your bruise again. He hesitated, but you gently took his hand and turned your face into his palm, letting him cup your cheek.

His tears fell faster, his voice raw, "I don't even know how to fix this."

"We'll work on it," You whispered. "Together."

He sobbed, "I just wanna keep you safe."

You pressed a kiss to his palm, eyelashes shiny with tears. "I know," You whisper. "But I wanna keep you safe, too. I can tell you haven't been taking care of yourself."

He shook his head, gesturing to your arm, "Can't even sew you up properly without breaking down–"

"Hey," You say softly, "It's fine. We both know it doesn't really need stitches."

Jason huffed, still worked up. "Don't deserve you."

"None of that," You meet his gaze again. "We can start slow. Maybe with going back to your therapist first? And we can get night lights."

"I feel like a child." He whispered.

"Not a child," Your thumb caressed his hand. "Just in need of a little help."

He stared at you for a moment. Then, slowly, tentatively, he tilted his head forward. He lifted his chin and placed a feather light kiss to the edge of your black eye. Then he pressed one a little firmer, letting in linger.

"I promise you I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making this up to you." He muttered.

You smiled, "We can start there, too."

This is why we don't ask Missy to make things better because she'll only make them extremely worse and then only slightly better

this was heavy. go get yourselves a treat.

[dayscapism]

So JK Rowling is shit, read this instead of Harry Potter - part 1/3:

Part 2 - Middle grade/children's books

Part 3 - Young Adult (YA)

This is a list of fantasy books (and some sci-fi) for people who no longer want to support a transphobe & bigot but are still having a hard time finding something that fills the void of Harry Potter. This is a LONG list, with adult, middle grade, and YA recs, divided into 3 parts, one for each age range. Most of these books are far better than HP anyway.

You can still enjoy your merch, books or movies you already own, no one is telling you you can't like or love Harry Potter and the Wizarding World, but please consider diversifying your media so you don't wrongly assume this franchise is the best fantasy ever and nothing can top it when that is simply not true.

As a guide, these are the things I associate with Harry Potter: wizards & witches, magic school, horror elements, mythical/magical creatures, mystery, nostalgia, magical trinkets & artefacts, themes of friendship, family & love and discussions of death/death imagery. Dark forest, ghosts, gloomy aesthetic, medieval castles, cosy reading rooms, libraries, very British, Christmas & Halloween, dark forests, a relatively modern world combined with magic/alternate world, astronomy/astrology, divination. Also tropes like magic politics & bureaucracy, prophecies, the chosen + dead parents, coming of age, discussions on discrimination and outcasts (sort of), good triumphing over evil, overcoming childhood trauma, school-bullying, and also the protagonist is sort of a celebrity for reasons they can't control which others them from society.

These recommendations are based on that, but of course, each recommended book is much more than its similarities with harry potter, a world in itself. This list is NOT comprehensive.

Let's go then!

If you take anything from this post, let it be this series because it is the perfect alternative:

The Nevermoor Series by Jessica Townsend!

This really should blow up worldwide, be the new fantasy phenomenon. It honestly pains me to even put it beside or compare it to Harry Potter. It feels disrespectful to Nevermoor, but it has everything and more you want out of HP. Traumatized kid protagonist who gets whisked away into an alternate world of magic, finds out she's special, meets a wonderful magical mentor/father figure (who isn't actually awful like Dumbledore is to Harry), lots of school friendships and found family, a wonderful setting including a magic school and a magical city with all kinds of fantastical landmarks and alleyways; with magical markets dark and whimsical both. There's magical trials, witches, oracles, fantastical giant creatures, sentient magical animals, and so much more. And it has good discussions on themes of discrimination, school bullying, and mental health. If you like Coraline or The Adams Family, this is perfect for you, too. Plus, this series is written by a queer author who has shown active support to social causes like Palestine.

The series is still releasing, so if you have kids in your life they could grow up with the series as it comes out.

Books in the series:

Nevermoor: The Trials of Morrigan Crow

Wundersmith: The Calling of Morrigan Crow

Hollowpox: The Hunt for Morrigan Crow

Currently waiting on Silverborn: The Mystery of Morrigan Crow

Adult book recommendations under the cut:

Adult books: Great alternatives to the later HP books and for readers who don't vibe with middle grade or YA anymore.

★ Books I've read myself.

★ The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang (trilogy): A dark-skinned, low-class provincial orphan enters a military academy, and must prove her value as a soldier. She discovers she has a hidden, lethal power. High fantasy, based on the Chinese wars and history of the 20th century. Has a magic school/military school setting in the first book. Discussions on the horrors of war and a person's loss of humanity under extenuating circumstances. Excellent character work.

★ Discworld by Terry Pratchett (YA/Adult, different series set in the same world). In particular, the Witches, Death, and Ricewind sub-series have similarities to HP in subject, characters, setting or themes. These books have lots of British humour and excellent commentary on social issues, and a little bit of a magical school and magic learning too.

★ T. Kingfisher books: Nettle & Bone, What Moves the Dead, Thorn Hedge, Paladin's Grace, A House With Good Bones and more. The author does mostly fairy tale retellings and horror. Great for fans of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

★ The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (standalone): You want magic? Well, this is, I think, the most magical book ever written. It's so atmospheric, whimsical, historical, and dark. It's about two magicians duelling each other, showing off their magical abilities, under the wishes of their families/mentors (Dumbledore, anyone?). The competition takes place in a magical circus that only opens at night. It's full of magic, romance, betrayal, and wonderful prose. Perfect if you like The Goblet of Fire but you would want a more quiet, aesthetic version of the tournament.

★ Dead Djinn series by P. Djeli Clark (series, mystery, novel + novellas that can be read in any order): This is about supernatural detectives in an alternate history of the city of Cairo, a city full of otherworldly creatures. There's a Ministry of Alchemy, LGBTQ+ rep, discussions of colonialism (especially committed by the British), lots of cheeky humour and cool magical artefacts or magic mixed with technology. It's also set in the 1910s, so it's great for fans of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

The Name of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss (ongoing series): This has a highly-praised magic school setting. It's about a notorious wizard who narrates his story; his childhood, years being a feral orphan, his school years and then life as a fugitive of the law. This series is hailed as one of the best ones in fantasy right now. Great prose too.

Black Prism by Brent Weeks (series): We all know HP is not applauded for having the most coherent magic system. Well, in this book you get a really inventive magic system based on light: in this world, some people can use different colours of visible light to do magic. The people who can use all of them are called Prisms. We follow this one magician who is the current Prism, most powerful man in the world, high priest and emperor, and also a man of wit and charm. He knows Prisms never last though... Great for people who would like a book about a powerful, high-achieving magician, like say, Dumbledore.

★ Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor (duology): A young librarian is convinced of the existence of the mythical city of Weep, which was cut from the rest of the world two hundred years ago. He is obsessed. No one believes him. One day an opportunity to travel to said city presents itself and all his dreams come true. But the city hides a dark past, and not all the inhabitants were always human: some were gods with blue skin. Beautifully written, whimsical at every turn but also full of complex, deep subjects.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (ongoing series): It's dark academia in Yale but if Yale had a bunch of occult secret clubs. A freshman, Alex, is the sole survivor of a multiple homicide and still searching for answers herself. She arrives at the school tasked to monitor the activities of the secret societies full of rich students. But the occult activities are more sinister and extraordinary than what she imagined.

Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna (standalone): Magic school but now the protagonist is the witch teacher instead of the students, and who comes to teach magic to three young witches. Her coworkers are all a little eccentric, and the love interest is the grumpy librarian. A wholesome, cosy fantasy romance set in alternate contemporary times. Also with the found family trope.

★ Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb (multiple series): Hobb is one of the big names of fantasy. This is a low fantasy medieval world, with dragons, assassins, animal familiars, royal courts and backstabbing politics. If you like Game of Thrones, you'll probably like this series too. These books are character-centric to Fitz, the protagonist and bastard-born to the late crown prince, and the court jester, the Fool. The first trilogy is about Fitz's apprenticeship as an assassin to the royal family, his coming-of-age discovery of multiple hidden magic abilities that connect him to his family and the world of beasts, and his journey to save his uncle and country. So basically a non-formal magical school. Hobb has some problematic LGBTQ+ representation, though; she couldn't write a good queer character if her life depended on it. She seems to have the biases of her time ingrained in her and it shows in her writing. So there's that to consider.

★ The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin (trilogy): You want a series that you will be thinking about for the rest of your life?? This one. This one is it. This trilogy is about a world where every certain time, there's a worldwide cataclysmic seismic/volcanic disaster. Humanity has evolved strict tactics to survive this, but some individuals are born with the ability to affect seismic movements. These individuals are feared and are put as children into a school where they can learn to control their superhuman abilities and later be in service of the government. One of our protagonists is one of these children. It's about motherhood and community, and has LGBTQ+ with in-text trans, bisexual, and polyamory representation. It discusses subjects of technological advancement, society and discrimination.

Vita Nostra by Marina & Sergey Dyachenko (duology): This is often called "the anti-Harry Potter book". It has elements of mystery-thriller, plays with time/time loops, a magical university, post-soviet culture in Ukraine, metamorphosis, and it's very atmospheric. It's also recommended for fans of The Night Circus and The Magicians. It's best if you go into it not knowing much.

Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan (series): For fans of Charlie Weasley and Newt Scamander, set in a world where dragons are real. The protagonist and narrator is the world's preeminent dragon naturalist, who is set to bring these creatures of myth into the light of modern science. It's a coming-of-age story, about learning, and expeditions in search of magical creatures. It's more historical fiction than fantasy though.

The Chronicles of Between by L.L. Starling (ongoing series, romance, cosy, witches): The protagonist starts dreaming weird things when she accepts a position as a substitute teacher in a charmingly witchy village, and soon realizes they're not dreams, but magic. She gatecrashes a fairytale kingdom with drunken unicorns, bored dragons and sorcerers in leather pants. She accidentally performs a supposedly impossible feat and ends up tethered to this world by marriage and a title, but she forges an escape plan...

Magic for Liars by Sarah Gailey (standalone, mystery, urban fantasy): About a private investigator who never wanted to be magical. Not like her estranged sister, who is a magically gifted professor. But when she is hired to investigate the gruesome murder of a faculty member in her sister's academy, the detective starts to lose herself in the crime and the life she could have had.

★ House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune: LGBTQ+ rep, boarding school, perspective from the teachers/caretakers PoV, and feral, traumatized magical children. Edit: This book has been criticized for being anti-indigenous, in particular with the boarding school plotline being a parallel to residential schools, thus being insensitive and trivializing the history of erasure, violence, genocide and forced assimilation done by the colonizers towards the indigenous people of Canada.

The Dark Fantastic by Ebony Elizabeth Thomas (non-fiction): Exploration of race in popular youth & YA speculative fiction. Analyzing popular media including Harry Potter. Explores radical imagination & Afrofuturism in Black feminism, books and fan fiction to reveal new possibilities.

Disclaimer: I'm just one person/reader, I haven't checked the political or moral views of all these authors or if they're a shitty person. Anything I know or majorly problematic stuff is considered and accounted for, but it's not realistic for me to deep-check each author I ever read. But anyone is welcome to chime in if you know of something we should be aware of about these books/authors.

Always remember to check for trigger warnings (TW), especially for adult books.

Happy reading!

Supporting Sources:

https://www.aspiraldance.com/middle-grade-and-young-adult-books-to-read-instead-of-harry-potter/

https://missprint.wordpress.com/2022/09/01/back-to-magic-school-harry-potter-alternatives-booklist/

Goodreads for synopses.

[theoraclereport]

The Oracle Report 10/11

Oct 11th, 2124 

  It has been brought to my attention that last post was the first mention of my leg issues. Not that it’s any of your business but I lost my right leg as a kid. I got sick and the stupid fucking hospitals wouldnt treat me. This was right after my parents died and no one could take me in. I had to learn how to build, code, and use my own prosthetic leg with trash tech and from dumpsters and alleyways. It’s a piece of shit that is more work than its worth. I might get better use out of a peg leg to be frank. Someday I'll be able to afford a decent prosthetic but today is not that day. I did manage to sneak into the warehouse from my last post and found a semi-busted neural link. After some de-bugging, I was able to get it running. I might get a month out of this one. Hopefully more, but realistically less. That’s all for today.

See you in the next post. This is Oracle, signing off.

[publishinggoblin]

The Alleyway Tarot and Oracles is in its final 48 hours everyone. You heard it right, we're coming to the end. Over half a million dollars, over 200 artists, and more yet to come!

If you haven't yet, go give the Alleyway Oracles a look on Kickstarter!

Whether you get the Alleyway Tarot, the Oracle of Play, or the Oracle of Secrets, you will receive the messages you've been waiting for.

[comparativeoracle]

Mula. Art by Claudia Richey, from The Nakshatra Oracle.

Roots, Disappointment, Healing

Mula is symbolized by a tangle of roots, showing the attachment to earthly matters we are asked to let go of on this part of the souls journey through it’s evolutionary cycle. Yet at the same time its important to have strong roots that keep us grounded while preparing to reach for the stars, in other words, it’s important to stay anchored in the material world so we can safely reach and let the soul advance without getting untethered. To me, Mula Nakshatra is one with great potential for personal transformation, especially if you are not afraid to do the dirty work, dig deep and unravel some of the entanglement that keep the mind bound. This is a great constellation for research, searching for truth, dharma, unveiling some of the earthly illusions that are part of our everyday life. We find a chance to transcend our earthly suffering here, deep peace can be found in realizing that everything will come to an end, which is where new beginnings are found. It’s also important to come to terms with loss. Ruled by Nritti, the Godess of Disappointment, it shows us that nothing is permanent and we are sure to get disappointed at more than one time in life. She also shows great compassion. Mula has the capacity to truly create change, as long as we can understand it’s nature and can learn to transcend through suffering.

(Also used in The Oracle of Secrets (The Alleyway Oracles).)

[bigmeandragonlady]

REAL i dipped a toe in the ts tags and i was like oh its a bit insane in here aint it... but i guess thats what waiting so long with almost no new info does to people. like technically we only have about a day or less in-universe of seeing the characters interact, and despite that its still so intriguing + leaves you with so much to think about. the characters could basically go anywhere from here but as we see them theyre literally all hits no misses for me i was amazed, + the curse premise is such a great idea both from a mystery to unveil angle and as a vehicle to establish skinship moments fans beg for lmao since leanders the only one you've touched as of the prologue it makes me wonder about the ramifications for him as a character - obviously everyones a bit obsessed about him being an obsessive character (potentially. not gonna ignore the signs but it is literally day one!), but is it a result of potential repeated exposure to the curse (like the protective magic he put on beforehand/whatever he is alters it from trying to kill you to putting a sort of mental spotlight on oyu) or is it all natural (he did single you out before the alleyway) ? OK enough clogging up your inbox o7

the studio did a great job setting up the premise and i find everyone pretty intriguing even if i'm not going to romance everyone. (like Vere: what is his relationship with MC gonna look like at the end of the game? how is that gonna progress?) Also their dynamics with each other are really fun and interesting imo.

I'm not convinced Leander isn't going to have some kind of effect if he keeps touching us even through a protection spell. The oracle bg option also implies that the curse isn't only violent madness. And who knows what kind of filter a spell/gloves/bandages would serve and repeated touches over time. also, what happens if we touch someone in the groupmind? how diluted does that get? when does it start to become a real fucking problem?

i have a side theory that Leander is somehow kind of just immune to our curse due to some weird divine/resurrection fuckery. he has a lot of death/rebirth/divine symbolism around him. But we'll see, i want to find out. this theory also lends to Kuras being immune to our curse which would be interesting and fun

yeah I've seen that some folks have really latched onto Leander being 'obsessive i'm going to keep you locked in this room yandere' but i think it's a good idea to hold off on concrete character ideas until the game is out. i feel like is IS fucked up and obsessive though, he latched onto us pretty fast (is it just that our curse is a jackpot of info that gets us this free stuff or smth else).

feel free to clog my inbox whenever, fam, i like talking about stuff ^^

[orphancookie69]

BACKERKIT: Oracle Dice

I recently received, after a long time of waiting, my Alleyman’s Tarot! The maker who was making that mentioned he was making an Oracle Dice. I have some Oracle Dice from Etsy, but I was excited for this one as I think with the card side options, it will play well with the Alleyman Tarot, which somehow became my favorite go to deck? (Don’t tell my other decks)....

https://www.backerkit.com/c/publishing-goblin-llc/oracle-dice#top

One thing I think is interesting is that last time the Publishing Goblin used both Kickstarter and BACKERKIT. One to start it and one to finish it. Apparently BACKERKIT wanted to start playing Kickstarter’s game. I don’t know who I have my money on for being better. I am also not expecting this for at least a year, I ordered this on June 2022. 

It funded in July 2022, and before it funded I added enough money to get two journals for reading notes but the campaign said it would be available if it made it to a certain amount, and I guess it did but no one could see it? It made it with preorder sales. I am happy for the maker, but I wish I was better told this, because I otherwise allocated those funds as tip. I don’t mind tipping but I wanted a journal more. But Backerkit is still working out how it does add ons and hopefully in the future its a more straight forward process so opportunities, like the journal. 

Preorders are finalizing in August, and I should be charged for shipping in August/September. Timing wise, if they can ship in September 2022 (even though I would prefer to have shipping included, I get it) I would be thrilled. Of course more delays happened. And I know I am being kind of harsh, it happens, but it would of been cool if it did not happen this time. Shipping is now going to be in February 2023. What reads odd is other projects come out, and they mention on there they have THOSE shipping times solid but not others. 

Got an update in December of 2022, and it looks more like March 2023 for shipping. At least there is more of an end in sight? I would love to get an update that says we are on track not more and more behind but that is ok. I would not be shocked if this took a year to materialize again. Got an update in March, ya know when shipping was supposed to happen. Dice are being finished, and shipping is now supposed to be April 2023. 

In April, shipping was charged. While it would be less than a year since the original order was placed, I still kind of can’t believe how long these take. 

(Almost) 1 Year Later...

It has arrived. Well part of it, the first part of the order came in May. I had my dice, oracle cards, wooden holders in this shipment. The second shipment should of had my clothes, oracle books, and tarot book. I ended up getting two oracle dice/card sets and an alley man tarot deck for my sister. Who doesn’t want matching nontraditional divination tools? The second shipment arrived the next day with books, cloths, and booster packs. So everything arrived! 

So I know the question on everyone’s mind, have I played with them yet? Almost. They function like tarot cards, and there kind of needs to be some understanding. Playing with them is one thing, but reading makes it that much more deep. So the “getting to know one another” process has been slow but food. I made a couple of posts about it so far, and I love the content coming out of this playtime. 

Realistically, I am not shocked just a little disappointed in the year long timeline. But, after this came in-me and my sister will have a matching set of oracle dice and tarot cards and I can’t imagine what more we would need. So I don’t mind the wait, it is worth it but makes me less inclined to be open to future projects. There is an Alleyway’s Oracle and while that would be a fun addition for the collection, do I feel like waiting another year for project? We shall see...

[officialbruciewayne]

The tension could have been from the injuries- but there was fear in it. Fear was a tool, one that Bruce kept at hand as ready as anything else in his belt, and knowing your tools, knowing how pliable they were, meant that Bruce felt fear in the shifting in Dick's body. Clinically, Bruce recognized it as the fear of a student, something he had seen in his travels, and clinically, he connected it to Dickie's all-but-confession that his Batman struck him.

In anger, and in humiliation, and in shameful lack of control.

Bruce didn't grind his teeth. Didn't stiffen with his own anger. It was still there, but he leashed it viciously under his skin.

The things he would do to some of the Bruce Waynes of the multiverse though- for what they did to his children...

He grappled to the next building, confirmed with Oracle that his ride was on approach, and steadied Dick for just long enough to get them on a line down into the correct alleyway.

"Go ahead. I've got you," he said in a subvocal by Dick's ear, feeling Nightwing tuck his face against the armor.

Secured, Bruce pulled the cape around Nightwing, and studied the dark as they lowered into the alley, the familiar growl of the Batmobile's engines humming as the car reached them on its autopilot.

SHOOTING AT YOU ON PA TROL

"Oh shit-!" Nightwing ducked under the initial volley, darting across the warehouse for cover. Up until that point it had been a standard Gotham patrol- stopping a couple petty thefts and offering alternatives to the thieves, escorting a couple of street walkers safely to their homes, things like that. But then he'd heard rumors of a couple gangs beefing in a warehouse and decided to peek in, only to find an ambush of both groups waiting for any vigilante to possibly interfere. And now he was here. Diving behind a pile of wooden crates, Dick glanced around swiftly, scanning for a way out. Up there- a window in the rafters. He shot a grapple line up and jabbed the reel button with his thumb immediately, not wasting any time- Except another hail of bullets rang out as he rapidly rose into the air. Except one grazed his temple, sending blood streaming down over his mask lenses, obscuring his vision and sending him spinning on the line, working to regain control of his motion.

Except another caught his shoulder, rocking Nightwing further as he continued to soar up to safety. Except a third lodged in his lower calf, and so when he reached the window and clawed his way through the opening swiftly, Dick's leg gave out when he tried to stand on it. His ears rang with the echoes of the gunfire, and he swayed slightly, head a bit foggy. Probably concussed again, way to go, Grayson. Dick tried to take stock of his wounds, make sure he wasn't missing anything else major, then forced himself upright and began to hobble awkwardly along the roofline. Small blessings were that they couldn't get up here too.

[luffyrose]

Mistaken - DC x DP

Idk man- this one fully just came to me. So have fun. Cry.

~~~~~~

Another rogue attack.

Bats coming to save the day.

It was a never-ending dance between the two.

Casualties were often low. People got hurt but fewer and fewer people died. Even major injuries had lessened over the years. It wasn't the focus of the villains to necessarily kill people, it was simply a byproduct of their goal.

So why was it different?

Why now?

Sure, Gotham's rogues weren't afraid to kill to gain attention, but this was different. The attack came from nowhere, no sign of it before it had already begun, and when Batman arrived...there was no villain there. Just the destruction in its wake.

He'd been quick to call the others for help searching for injured, and no doubt dead from the destruction, before getting to pulling people from rubble and fires. His kids arrived and did the same until another call came from Oracle. The fire department and ambulances had arrived, so they left it to them.

It had already been nearing the day, so when they finished dealing with some goons, the family had turned in for the night. Yet Bruce couldn't stop thinking about the explosion. The camera's from the building, he'd learned it was a lab of some sort, were far and few, really only showing the entrance. Even then they cut out before the explosion.

The news was talking of it, the owner of the lab was on it by now claiming it was an accident with some chemicals and they were investigating possible causes. He knew it was a lie, and from his children's faces when they heard it, they thought the same.

It didn't take him long to head there, not as Batman, but as Bruce Wayne.

He had planned to speak to the owner of the Lab, he really only remembered he wore a pristine white suit. Parking nearby, and offering help to those he saw as he passed, Bruce slowly made his way toward the main part of the crowd.

A quiet sob and cough made him freeze in his tracks. It was so quiet he doubted anyone would have noticed if they weren't trained. Glancing around, he slipped into the alleyway he'd heard the noise from. It was close to he accident, but far enough away no one would look down it...so why was someone here?

Bruce cautiously looked through the alley, his gaze hardening as he found a smaller figure curled up on itself, trying to hide behind a dumpster.

"Hello?"

The kid, because it really could only be a kid, flinched eyes darting toward him.

And Bruce froze.

Green eyes were staring back at him. Glowing, Lazarus, green eyes. Yet, his eyes were quick to drift from the color to the blood soaking the boy's clothes. Gritting his teeth, he crouched, holding up his hands. He couldn't see the boy well with this distance, but he couldn't risk not finding a way to help the kid.

"I'm not gonna hurt you...I promise."

The glow fluctuated for a moment before the other tried to move, wincing harshly as his arm gave out and sent him careening into the floor. Bruce had moved forward when he fell, worry clear on his face, and when the boy growled, only for it to fade into a whimper, he paused again.

"Let me help you. I can get you to a hosp-"

Panic filled the other's eyes, scrambling further away. "No! No, hospital. No, no, no no nononono-" Bruce kept his face from changing at the boy's voice. It was hoarse as if he hadn't used it or had been screaming.

Putting his hands up placatingly, he carefully shifted on his feet. "Okay. No hospital. But you need help...can I help you?" The boy seemed to be looking for something in his face, maybe a lie, but after a few moments, the kid's head bobbed before he collapsed onto the ground completely.

Taking the moment, Bruce moved beside him, careful not to touch him as he pulled out his phone, messaging Dick and Leslie. She would need to prep for some stitches no doubt from the blood, and he definitely couldn't get the boy elsewhere without some help. As he finished sending the messages, he felt a hand grab onto him weakly. Looking down at the boy, his heart absolutely sunk.

He could see him now. How his black hair fell over his eyes. Blue eyes. The green was temporary, probably powers, but now with those blue eyes, he looked like one of his many children. More specifically...a younger Jason. His heart clenched, gently taking the boy's hand despite himself.

This wasn't Jason...it wasn't.

It was clear the boy had started to grow delirious, his eyes unfocused for the most part, but staring so intently at him.

"...dad...?"

Oh.

Bruce could hear the harsh swallow he did, but smiled softly at the boy. Carefully sitting, he dragged the boy onto his lap, gently moving his hair. "You're gonna be alright..." It wasn't Jason, and he knew that...but that didn't mean he couldn't comfort the boy. If he happened to look like his father...Bruce wasn't going to try and correct him when he was so delirious, not when it may give him some kind of comfort.

He couldn't help the pain in his heart though as the kid practically melted into the touch, unfurling slightly and revealing some of his injuries. It wasn't his kid. It wasn't.

Maybe he could have comforted any of them like this if he'd listened in the past.

Shaking his head, he pushed down the feelings. He couldn't focus on that, not right now. Looking back at his phone, he saw a message, saying Dick was almost there. Part of him hoped he was alone...he knew that probably wasn't the case.

"I'm scared..."

Gazing back toward the kid, he put the phone back in his pocket. Putting his hand on the boy's cheek, he gently rubbed away some tears that had begun to fall. Before he could respond the boy's eyes drooped the little consciousness he had fading. "Hey, come on, try to stay awake." It was no use as the boy drifted off, only the too-slow rising and falling of his chest assuring Bruce he wasn't fully gone.

"Kid, come on you can't sleep yet-"

Two pairs of footsteps came from the entrance of the alley as Bruce tried to wake the boy, glancing back to see his oldest boys. What was slight, but worried, amusement turned to horror the closer they got, seeing the pool of blood. "Leslie is waiting." Without needing to say anything else, Dick was quick to carefully scoop the kid up, looking back to Jason. He seemed shell-shocked, staring at the boy. Bruce couldn't blame him.

They looked so similar.

~|0|~

Danny had...what had he been doing? He remembered the GIW, and lab equipment-

Oh.

The lab.

He had gotten out...but someone had seen him. Where was he now? Fighting to open his eyes, he saw the ceiling of a car. He could also see two older guys. He was in the back seat with his head...on someone's lap? Or was it a ghost? They felt like a ghost...but not.

Frowning, his eyes slowly drifted shut again. He'd thought he'd seen his dad...but, the man had been too kind. His- Jack was...he wouldn't have ever comforted him like that. Not now. Not in the past. Feeling himself drift off again, he felt small tears fall down his cheeks.

Why had his dad never comforted him like this stranger had? Why had he hurt him? Given him to the GIW after he'd told them what he was? If they truly hadn't believed him...if they had thought he was mimicking "their beloved son" then why not do everything they always said they would.

More tears fell, but he felt someone wipe them away again. It was a different hand...it was still rough, but gentler than the other had been. With a stuttered breath, Danny let the darkness take over his mind again. He probably wouldn't have let himself fall asleep again...but he would rather these people who reminded him of his family have him. Hurt him or not...he just didn't want to be alone.

A hum was the last thing he felt, a warmth he couldn't remember having in a long long time rumbling beneath his skin.

~|0|~

Jason had felt something when he'd seen the kid. The pits went quiet before pure worry erupted from them. He didn't know why...but it didn't help that this kid look like him. Looked like that little kid who'd never gotten help.

It didn't help that deep down Jason knew that this kid hadn't either.

He'd ended up carefully cradling his head in the back seats while Dick drove and Bruce messaged who he could only assume was Leslie or the family group chat. Either way, when he felt something wet land on his hand, he hadn't expected the kid to be crying.

Gently wiping the tears, he felt the frown on his face grow. "He's crying." He heard Bruce shifting, probably looking at the two, yet he ignored the other, just wiping the small tears. As he did, a warbling cry made him jump slightly. Glancing toward the other two, he saw the shock on both their faces.

"Well, he's definitely some kind of meta."

Bruce hummed, but Jason simply looked down again. The pit was silent for a moment, the non-stop worry having paused at the noise. So when a rumbling almost purr-like hum came from himself, he almost froze. Almost. His shock had been overrun by how the kid seemed to relax, one of his hands gently grabbing onto him.

"That...that was new."

He didn't need to look to know the two were even more shocked, if not worried. Jason couldn't bring himself to care for once, wiping the last of the falling tears before running his fingers through the fluffy and bloody locks of their mysterious meta-kid.

He wasn't a meta...he knew that deep down as well.

It didn't take long after for them to get to Leslie's clinic, taking the boy inside in a rush. He was quickly moved onto a stretcher and taken into one of the more medically equipped rooms. The three weren't far behind, entering the room as Leslie worked on removing the bloodied clothes, mainly his shirt.

A large y-shaped and inflamed gash met all of their eyes. It wasn't the cause of the bleeding, but it clearly had been done not too long before the large gash next to it. They weren't the only injuries he had, and he'd had plenty if the scars were to say anything. The most concerning was a Lichtenberg scar that stretched from his hand across his entire chest.

None of them had been ready for it. Dick covered his mouth as Jason audibly took a deep breath. Bruce was silent, but from the stare, they knew he was just as horrified.

Leslie was equally as horrified to find a child in the condition he was in, but gritted her teeth and got to work. It took a long time, but the boy didn't stir. She and the others had checked his vitals multiple times just to make sure he was still fine. He was...if the low heartbeat and temperature were normal. The temperature probably was to an extent at least, they'd figured that out after a frost had covered the bed he was on.

Finally, his injuries were stitched, but as Leslie left to get everything he would need the boy bolted upright.

His breathing was heavy, flinging himself out of the bed and into a corner. Jason reacted the fastest, getting over to him and enveloping him in a hug. It was definitely not the right thing you're supposed to do, but he'd done it before he'd even thought about it.

And when the boy's arms tightly wrapped around him, a loud echoey sob being muffled against his jacket he knew it had been the right instinct.

Neither let go nor did they move.

Dick came over, carefully sitting beside them and hugging them both, taking a moment to wipe a tear that had fallen from Jason's face...when had that happened?

With a quiet click of a door opening and closing, Jason buried his head into the younger black-haired boy's head. Leslie wouldn't have had silent footsteps. Bruce had left the room. He didn't know whether he was thankful or not for that. From the brief information, he'd told them, the kid thought Bruce was his dad.

"...I'm sorry..."

Shaking his head slightly, not bothering to lift it, Jason rubbed the other's back.

"Nothin' to be sorry for. You're alive."

Another rumble noise escaped him, but he couldn't bring himself to worry and wonder about it yet again as the kid clung tighter, a similar yet much sadder noise coming from him.

Both could feel the short breath of a small laugh from Dick, who still held them both.

"You both sound like birds, your nicknames pretty fitting now, Jaybird."

A laugh came from the boy, slightly startling the older two. But, it was a welcome sound, the rest of the tense air finally fading.

After a bit of silence, the kid spoke again.

"I think I called your dad my dad."

Jason couldn't help the smirk that grew on his face.

"Just sounds like you're the next sibling to be adopted."

"New baby bird!"

Danny was both incredibly confused and...pleasantly surprised by their words. He knew for a fact they'd seen his powers at some point. But then again, the one he was clinging to, Jaybird if the guy's nickname was to be used, wasn't entirely alive either.

"Honestly I should apologize for thinking he was my dad...he's probably worse."

Jason snorted out a laugh. He probably shouldn't, but damn if the kid with the scars all across his body said it, he was probably right. Dick made the noise he does whenever Jay makes a joke about his death, only causing the kid to look over.

"What, it's a very grave mistake."

[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

a cassandra cain detective story (technically set in the tim&steph role swap au)

"Look," Nightwing said. His voice was perfectly pleasant, even as he crouched, somehow menacing, near the shoulders of the man prone on the ground. Nightwing's black and blue toned fingers curled in the man's shirt, drawing it uncomfortably tight around the man's neck and holding him a few inches off of the ground. "The quicker you talk, the quicker this is over."

Cassandra melted out of the shadows, her footsteps silent and the tattered ends of her cloak swirling about her knees. Her Black Bat costume was not quite as hauntingly terrifying as her old Batgirl costume, a deliberate choice she had made in its inception, but she knew that the figure she cut remained... unnerving. Still, the man's eyes flicked, beseechingly, over Nightwing's shoulder towards her.

The expression that flashed across Nightwing's face in answer had too many teeth to be a smile. "Trust me, buddy," he said, his voice sinking into a lower register. "I'm the cuddly one. Where's the kid?"

"I don't--" He swallowed hard against the rasp of his voice, but Nightwing's hand only twisted tighter in his shirt. "Don't know what you're talking about," the guy rasped. His hands hovered in the air as if he wanted to grab at Nightwing's wrist but didn't quite have the guts.

"I don't believe you."

Neither did Cassandra.

Her eyes raked over the room; raked over the other groaning kidnappers that Nightwing had already bound and zip tied. The scene was not, for once, set against the backdrop of an abandoned warehouse--merely an abandoned storefront. By the empty plastic cylinders and bright but faded paint on the walls, she thought perhaps it had been a candy shop, once upon a time. Her gloved fingertips drifted through the air as she moved through the room, trusting the interrogation to her brother.

He had well over a decade of practice at being intimidating, even if he was the cuddly one.

Cassandra didn't try, actively, to figure out what was striking her as so odd about the tableau in front of her; she simply let the details wash over her, eyes dark behind the lenses of her mask, boots silent against the linoleum. The fight between Nightwing and the kidnappers was spelled out in scuff marks over the dusty floor, in the glitter of glass from the window he'd launched himself through, but--

This spot did not belong, she thought. She leaned forward at the waist, the ends of her short hair just long enough to brush against her shoulders as she read the story written in the dust. Someone had sprawled awkwardly to the floor here. They had scrambled for their feet. There were four streaks at the further edge, the desperate tracks of fingertips as someone clawed themselves into motion.

The streaks were quite thin. Too thin to have been left by adult hands.

"Nightwing," she said, her voice quiet but cutting easily through the nonsense ramblings of the kidnapper. She did not say anything else, did not even wait to see if Nightwing so much as glanced up at her as she followed the desperate, flighty footprints--

Cassandra vaulted the counter much as the girl had, her own hand set deliberately to the side of the smudged handprint the child had left behind, leaving it intact, and raced, silent and fleet-footed through the backroom and out into the alleyway at the back of the building. There was no dust here to preserve the child's path. There was a security camera on the building across the street.

She tapped the comm in her ear. Oracle was busy with the Birds tonight, but she was not the only member of their team capable of accessing camera footage. "Agent A, pull any footage you can find of my location from the last half hour. Please," she added, belated, as she leapt up to catch the smooth metal pipe of a piece of scaffolding and pulled herself up onto the platform. The tarp attached to the next level up flapped in the chill Gotham breeze.

"What am I looking for?" Alfred asked crisply, forgiving her slip in manners without comment. They worked urgent, desperate jobs, which often left little room for niceties. Besides, even at her worst Cassandra was still more polite than Bruce.

"Thirteen-year-old girl, African American. Barefoot. Her mother said she was wearing a purple shirt and blue jeans when she was taken. She probably still is."

The child did not appear to have been pursued, based on the dust trail through the store; Cassandra believed she must have broken herself free in the chaos of Nightwing's appearance, unwitting or untrusting as to his ability to help her. She was unlikely to have made it far. Her dust trail showed clearly that she was no longer wearing the black converse her mother had described, though Cassandra had no way of knowing what had happened to them in the last six hours.

From the higher vantage point of the scaffolding--left behind after an ill-fated attempt to rennovate the building behind the old candy shop--Cassandra studied the nearby intersections of the alleyways. So many directions the girl could have run. Too many.

She was smart enough to use a distraction to run, and probably smart enough to head for her mother, but did she know where she was? Did she know which direction would take her back to her apartment?

Cassandra let the scene wash over her, trusting her body to sense more than her conscious mind could notice. It was different from how Bruce worked a crime scene, from her brothers and Stephanie and even Tim, though his deductions sometimes seemed similarly instinctive because of the speed with which his sharply analytical mind moved.

But then, Cassandra herself worked differently than they did. With effort, she could always puzzle out her own thought processes, painstakingly convert them to causes and effects and trains of logic which another could understand, but she was rarely conscious of them happening that way in the moment. The others saw the landscape with its subtle details and its clues; Cassandra saw how a person could, would, might move through it.

(For example: the child was thirteen, intelligent, brave, panicked. She would pursue distance first, before she slowed down to try and figure out her plan. She would avoid open space; empty streets. She would avoid the broken glass of the beer bottle shattered across the ground, and if she had failed to, there would be the sheen of blood in the distant light of the street lamp. All Cassandra could see was green.

Those many potential escape routes whisked themselves away, one by one, until Cassandra had just a few left to contemplate.)

"I'm heading east," Cassandra told Nightwing over the comms, her voice a murmur in the night. "Take the north when you're done inside, if Agent A hasn't turned up anything by then."

The comm double-clicked in confirmation, and Cassandra climbed swiftly and silently from the scaffolding to the rooftop, heading east along the alleyway, eyes sharp and ears sharper. The night washed over her, its chill seeping insidiously beneath her body armor but held at bay by the burn of her muscles from a hard night of patrol.

Nightwing was in Gotham for the week while Batman was out of town with the Justice League; he'd been flagged down by the stolen girl's determined, terrified mother even before the Bat Signal had lit the night sky. Tasha Martin said she was glad she'd found him and not the Bat, because she'd always found that Batman to be a very suspicious character. Forty minutes later, Commissioner Gordon had been briefly lost for words when Robin informed him, tartly, that Nightwing was already in hot pursuit of the men Leila Martin's father had hired to kidnap her two days before the custody hearing, and unless there was something else he needed to talk about, then Robin was too busy with his own cases to waste any more time talking to him.

(Oracle, always multi-tasking, had unmuted herself on their comms just long enough to laugh her ass off before she returned to whatever mischief Huntress and the Black Canary had become embroiled in.)

Nightwing had requested Black Bat for back up when the night stretched onwards with little progress. Kidnappings were incredibly time sensitive, he'd said, and clearly he needed another detective on the case. The words still glowed in Cassandra's chest, hours later. Even after years spent in this life, even having held down the entirety of Hong Kong on her own for months the way Nightwing held Blüdhaven and Batman had once solitarily held Gotham, it felt sometimes as if her value was located solely in her fists and not her mind.

She couldn't blame that feeling on her family; her own doubt was too insidious. She knew she was observant and intelligent, more than capable of making the leaps of logic required for detective work, but she also knew that she struggled with the soft skills. She didn't have the network of informants that Red Hood had or the well-established, well-trusted aliases of Batman. She wasn't as effortlessly charming as Batgirl or Nightwing, or even as sharply meticulous as Robin.

Cassandra knew that she had her own talents. That she'd been the primary Bat of Blüdhaven, Hong Kong, and Gotham alike at various points, that she'd clawed together the clues to Batman's disappearance and simultaneously dismantled a large portion of the League of Assassins with minimal assisstance. It was still too easy at times to fall back on the first language she'd ever known and let someone else take point on the detective work.

But not tonight.

The red Impala caught her attention because it stopped for a stoplight. It had been close enough to the intersection when the light turned yellow that a brief, minor increase of speed could have easily kept it from being caught at the light--but it stopped, gently and easily and inconspicuously.

("Smart criminals," Bruce's voice murmured in her subconscious, a lesson from her Batgirl days, "don't drive like get away drivers. They do the speed limit. They use their blinkers. They don't give cops reasons to pull them over.")

Cassandra came to a stop, crouched on the corner of the roof overlooking the intersection. "Agent A," she murmured, "can you tell me what kind of vehicle Howie Martin drives?"

(She had covered several blocks now. It had been just over thirty-four minutes since Nightwing had crashed into the candy store. If the child had thought she had put enough distance between herself and her kidnappers, she might have ventured onto the main street, hoping for a landmark to turn her back towards her home. With the one way streets between here and the closest major interchange, her father would likely have ended up on this street on his way to the candy shop from another part of the city. How long would it take him to subdue a thirteen-year-old girl?)

"A red Chevy Impala," Alfred answered. "License plate--"

"C87 XJU," Cassandra murmured.

"Precisely."

"You have eyes on it?" Nightwing asked sharply.

"Yes."

Alfred rattled off Cassandra's location so that Nightwing could rendezvous, knowing that she had already tuned them both out.

The traffic light turned green. Before Howie Martin could take his foot off of the brake, the Black Bat had dropped from the sky to land neatly on the crosswalk, directly in front of his car.

They stared at each other through the windshield, Martin's eyes wide and bloodshot; the Bat's shadow stretching ominously across the ground from the single, flickering halogen street lamp that illuminated the street. The figure she cut was unnerving. Silent. Tattered cloak and bandage wrapped hands, dark hair, sharp mask.

Martin attempted to point his car around her, and the Bat stalked, silently, to keep herself directly in front of him. He swallowed hard.

His hand shook as he rolled the window down, but he did a decent job of holding his voice steady as he called out, "Look, I don't want no trouble, all right?"

"Where is your daughter, Mr. Martin?" Cassandra asked. She did not have to raise her voice for it to cut like a knife through the night. "Is she in your trunk?"

Startled, frightened, Howie Martin slammed his foot down on the gas pedal--

Black Bat was already moving, her leap taking her to the hood of the car and then sliding neatly to the roof, her fingers digging into the lip between roof and windshield to keep her in place as the vehicle lurched underneath her. She leaned over, fearless in her trust of her own grip, and reached through the open window to unlock and then open the car door--

Martin shouted something that she was too focused to parse, scrabbling to grab the door before it could swing too far open, and Cassandra obligingly slammed it back towards him. His elbow bent strangely when the door contacted solidly with his reaching palm, and Martin howled with pain and rage but had the forethought to slam on the brakes.

Black Bat rolled neatly as her momentum threw her forward off of the car, the rubber tread of her boots biting into the asphalt as she skidded to a stop. She sprang back towards the car, faster than any human without a metagene had any right to be, and bounced Martin's forehead off of the steering wheel before handcuffing him to it. Then she threw the car into park and stole the keys.

"Subdued," she said, simply, and Nightwing huffed a laugh over the comms. She could see the lithe shadow of him in her periphery, still several buildings away.

"Of course he is."

Cassandra moved to the trunk of the car, where muffled banging and groaning was clearly emanating from, now that the engine had cut off. It was an older vehicle, maybe from the nineties or 2000s, requiring her to manually insert a key in order to open the trunk.

"Hello," she told Leila, as the child blinked up at her against the sudden light. Her hands were bound behind her, and she was gagged with a rag and duct tape. "Your mother is very worried about you."

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 17

         God, I forgot how much I hate homework, the thick packet of busy work that doesn't even help me in any way. I feel the warm mug of lavender tea and use it to massage my cramping hand. With everything that I had missed despite testing out that I knew it all. I must have pissed them off somehow. It's dark outside when I've seen I've finished and I can still hear Molly's last call to me from a few hours ago. Nightmare gnaws at my ankles, he's eaten so he's just bored and that irritates me some but I don't really care. I haven't been called on by oracle for a while now. Something about keeping where the other side, they called it, could reach me. I haven't been to the manor in days, and in turn, I haven't heard from him in a while. I'm not mad, but it's almost lonely.

        I walk over to my couch and pull open a Pandora, and open Enya. I start cleaning up some mess that I let accumulate. I hum to Wild Child as it hits the second chorus. My mother loved this song, it would play after almost every other one in her playlist. I remember complaining about it. Seems foolish now.

HISS!

Nightmare screams bloody murder directing me to the window. I whip around and feel myself freeze. A figure stands on my balcony, green skies, unnatural for Gotham. The figure stands tall, red cloak and glowing green eyes.

"Al?"

"After what happened in Moscow, you will call me Spawn."

He walks through the door closing it shut behind him. "I can't be here long so let me make this simple." He pulls out a box with the professor's symbol. He throws it to me. "Home is facing trouble beyond belief and the safety of existence depends on what you do here. Franklin Richards is doing all he can to keep the monsters at bay. We received information that your friends are getting help from someone here and are arriving sooner than we hoped. They talked about the last resort, as you recall it's how you got free the last time." I open the box and remove the paper, my blood runs cold, and I drop the box. Six bangles drop clink on the ground, each bearing a hieroglyph and a glowing stone.

"No! I can't be her again!"

"You don't have a choice!" His cloak rises around him. I flinch, Spawn sighs calming down. "Beast made your new model, this pair will allow you to be yourself longer." He looks out the window watching the sky. "Your friends have shielded you but know this, they fight in your place. I can take you to them but that's all I can do for you my time here is short."

        I fall to my knees, I shakily take the bangles. I feel the energy surging through them. Infinity stones. I remember when I came to hold them for the first time. Jubilee handing them to me bloody and near death. I remember they sunk into my skin, sinking deep into my bloodstream. I also remember carving them out in a dark alleyway with some broken glass.

        I snap my fingers put on my costume, and slip on the bangles three on each arm the shrink to my skin. They feel hot on my skin. almost burning. I hear Spawn growl.

"No answer?"

"You're going to take me anyway," I take Nightmare in my arms, he's still hissing. "just take me." Something wet falls down my face. I see red cloud my vision, then I can't breathe for a moment. "We're here," It takes me a moment to register where I'm at. It's the underground city in Cairo. Only a few know of its whereabouts.  Fewer can enter. But there they are. The Titans, the Bat crew, and a few others. Most are on the ground bleeding in amounts that should be concerning. "I hope to see home soon. Your uncle is annoying without you there as a filter." He leaves without another word, vanishing in red.

"Y/N! Go home!" I recognize the voice of my partner. But I ignore it. I walk to the danger. I almost cry at what I see. It's a higher rank than what should be here. He's massive, towering over everyone. He seems to smile with his twisted beak. Black leathery skin, soaked in blood and acids. Adorned in gold carrying weapons that seem to be dropping off of him. But like the others, he's off.

"Who are you?! You're not a Crow!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I furrow my brows

"You speak English?"

"I speak every language." Nightmare growls the identity of the thing. I glare at the creature.

"Hello, Minthu, God of war. I will give you a second chance to save yourself." I cross my arms to an X touching the back of my hands palms facing out. He only scoffs at me.

"And what could you do? You are nothing but a bug in the sands of this desert. Your master has promised me glorious bloodshed! He will be a god-like no other! Bound to the world of the mighty united as his ambassador! I will finally turn this world and the next sopping their soils in their entrails!"

"Fine, then I have no choice but to end this." The stones burn, but they do their job. I tear the creature down molecule by molecule. I erase him he screams but I continue he was too far gone to help anyway. "I am hell, discord, your death, and terror! I pass Galatic judgment upon you. You are not welcome, your kind, Crow and all. Die!"

I leave nothing. Not blood, not skin. I will the others healed while I'm forcing time and space. I release myself and drop to the floor dust puffing the air around me. I look at the burns on my skin, the same colors as the stone under them. I bleed. I'm tired.

"Y/N!"

        I close my eyes, and for a moment I think. But when I open them I'm back up I'm in the cave. My arms burn but I sit up. I've been changed out of my clothes. I'm currently wearing fresh clothes from my closet I look at my wrists and see that the bangles still attached. I doubt that even if I tried they won't come off. Nightmare mews climbing up on my lap. He asks if I am alright.

"I'm okay, thank you Nightmare. How long was I out?...3 days...I can imagine he's been worried."

"Y/N?"

"That's me, dead or alive," I answer not even turning to the voice. I look at the newcomer. Green eyes stare at me from his chair. His face is pale, but stoic nonetheless. "are you even happy to see me?"

He saunters over as if stalking me. He places a hand on my forehead.

"You're running a fever. Lay back down."

"You're running your mouth, you lay down."

"Cheap retorts won't save you from bed rest."

"Worth a shot."

"Tell me what happened back there."

"I took care of things." I lift my arms. "Same way I escaped back then." He tenderly grabs my arm and grazes the scabs with his thumb. I try not to wince.

"What are they?"

I frown. "Everything and nothing, they're infinity stones. Normally a celestial would be able to use them, but I've adapted to use them. The last time I did, I nearly lost myself. Consumed them. I nearly lost a friend to them. They tried to merge with me. They've attempted to do so again." I give him a smile. "I need to leave, it's started. I have to find an abandoned planet now."

        I attempt to move, but an arm stops me it wraps around my waist keeping me in place. I give the boy a tired look.

"Damian?"

"Shut up. You'll stay under house arrest until further notice. You will not leave this city." I push him off, his hand still holds my wrist.

"It was a joke! I have to stay here anyway." He lets out a shaky sigh bringing my hand to his face.

"Don't do this again. Ever, please."

"Can you take me home then?"

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I haven't been allowed to move to do anything to do for a while now. Damian made sure of that. Every time I got up to even make a cup of tea I was forced back into bed, the couch, or the chair. I have been bored out of my mind. Even watching anything was followed by concern. "Damian, if you don't let me watch my show in peace I will jump out the window!"

"Well, you shouldn't have allowed yourself to expend your abilities to the point of not being able to use them."

"I can still use pockets. It's just a matter of healing and everything else Involved."

        As luck would have it I had managed to drain myself to the point of actual pain. The others helped remove scales from my body, but because I wasn't healing I've had to change my bandages just about every day. They haven't been healing as fast as they should. Even slower than the human standard. The stones drained me alright but at least they haven't tried to merge with me, for now.

        I've had time to tell Damian more about the stones. Thanos, the infinity sword, the wars. He was happy I didn't take part in the war. But after hearing about Thanos he asked about more of our villains. I was more than happy to tell him. I started with the mutant ones and ended with Thanos. I even had Nightmare pull up my comm so I can share my database with him. But even with my extensive list, it didn't go on for long. I was so tired of talking I started playing I dream of Jeannie. It wasn't up to his standard, so he turned it off.

        I'm still pouting when he brings me my tea. I smell it and frown.

"Your drink will get cold."

"It's a sleepy-time tea. I asked for Lady Gray."

"What you want isn't always what you want, and you can't have caffeine. It's almost midnight."

"Party pooper." I twist the ring on my finger watching it catch the light. I hear him sip, but I feel his eyes in my skull. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"Would you let me take care of you more often?"

"Hell to the no." He laughs.

"Then stop getting hurt, or you will have no choice." Still holding his cup he kicks my couch making it spring open. Then he sets his mug down and helps me to the bed.

"You could have taken me to my room."

"Then you wouldn't sleep you would stay up till daybreak and blame the sun for existing."

"Valid point you make about the sun, however-" He shoves the tea to my face.

"If you drink it, and get 10 hours max sleep. I will do whatever you want tomorrow. No exceptions." I raise my eyebrow.

"Anything?"

"Yes."

"In a dress dancing like a monkey speaking Klingon?"

"If I must." I take the entire drink in one go and through the covers over my head. He follows suit turning off the lights. And as I start drifting I recall he said nothing about what the minimum amount was. But I think the library is open at 6. And he will not awake till 8.

[just-an-aussie-fandom-hermit]

Some #Only in Gotham posts because I’m stressed and this is my coping mechanism

Guys guys guys

So I was in Central City today visiting some friends earlier this morning, and then the city gets attacked by these... aliens? Weird reptillian cryptids?? Who knows, but they were not happy nor friendly. We were all at this nice cafe just vibing in the outdoor area when this bipedal, green-gray reptile thing pops out of the manhole outside the cafe and goes absolutely feral. He was super close to my group so I grab my croc repellant (for non gothamites, its’ basically pepper spray but really bad-smelling to ward off croc if he ever shows up) out in an instant and I sprayed it right in the face.

Then I grabbed the nearest thing—some poor old guy’s metal walking frame—and whacked the reptile in the back of the head and it crumpled basically instantly.

And after the JL had stepped in to deal with the rest of them (not many, from what I’ve heard, but better safe than sorry I guess), heaps of people were freaking out about it because, well, this is Central City, they don’t get this kind of crime, they’re not prepared for this, yada yada.

Then that manhole pops up and everyone freaks out again because “oh god they’re back” but it’s just Batman dragging a bunch of tied up reptiles out of the sewers using some kind of winch set-up. It was almost comical—a daisy chain of reptiles being lifted out of this manhole in Central City by our favourite Goth Cryptid.

The cops were completely floored. The civilians didn’t know whether to be more scared of Bats or the reptiles. I mean, it was literally the middle of the day, and it’s rare to see Batman in daytime in Gotham but I guess this was an extenuating circumstance, so I guess I see why they were scared.

Batman just looks down at me standing over an unconscious reptilian holding the can of croc repellant and he’s just like “I’m guessing you’re from Gotham.”

I was like “yeah. Can’t escape the damn cryptids wherever I am.”

And tHEN he LAUGHS. Like, it was a small and quiet snort but it happened and I’m still shook. I have officially joined the “I made Batman laugh” squad. I can ascend peacefully now.

He seemed super embarrassed but asked if my friends and I were okay before he turned on his heel and stalked over to Flash and Woner Woman, a daisy-chain of reptiles in tow.

#lmao #onlyingotham #Batman #IMadeBatmanLaugh #ITookDownAReptileCryptid #GothamIsWeirdOkay #WeGottaBePreparedForAnything

———

I just heard this Metropolis guy try and trash Bruce Wayne to his friend at this diner and like five seperate people (myself included) turned around to roast the hell outta him. Like, yeah, he’s a billionaire, which is a whole can of worms I don’t wanna open right now, but he’s basically the only reason this city’s still standing and functioning (especially after the quakes and the no-man’s-land bs). His kids—most are poc and would not have thrived in the system—are all successful and work with their communities to better other people’s lives. Bruce Wayne is basically the only reason I got through high school (and am now in college); a scholarship is the only reason most of my friends have enough money to make rent. He “accidentally” spilled wine on Lex Luthor when he made a sexist remark. Also, didn’t it come out recently that he’s basically been funding the JL o at least is a major financial backer? An icon. You can shut your mouth, Jeremy.

One girl Instagram lived the whole exchange (she was filming beforehand I think) and it was magical.

Later on, Robin (the newest one, with the swords) shows up and he’s like “thank you for defending the honour of Mr Wayne”. I was like “kid,,,, you don’t need to thank me but you’re welcome”. he just kinda looks at me for a second and says “you eat free tonight” and chucks a bunch of dollar notes at me and disappears into the wilderness (ie. an alleyway). It was so surreal.

#GiveWayneABreak #BruceWayne #LetTheManLiveHisLife #GothamitesProtectTheirOwn #EvenTheBatkidsAreProtectiveOfHim

———

Yeah so....... I just saw some of Two-Face’s goons about to enter a bank, weapons drawn, and I’m scared because their boss is in Arkham, and the Rogues’ most loyal people always get antsy and trigger-happy when their bosses are off the board. I’d dialed 911 when I first saw them and ducked into an alley.

But then I see one of them stop dead in their tracks—Goon A we’ll call him—and says “hey, Wayne’s in there”.

Goon B: “Oh, we’re not meant to go after Wayne. Pack it in fellas.”

Goon C: “Huh? why not?”

Goon A: “Boss-man said so. Wayne used to be his best bud. Helped him campaign to be DA and stuff. Went to college together. Nice man.”

Goon B: “Got no problem wth that. Wayne’s the only reason my boys got through school. Besides, we mess with Wayne, the boss and Harley will be on our asses.”

Goon C: “Huh. Fair enough. We’ll go to the other location then.”

And then they just,,,, left.

#EvenTheRoguesWannaProtectHim #BruceWayne #HarveyDent #TheGuysGotCaughtAfter #IToldDetectiveMontoya #AndSheJustSighedForAReallyLongTime #OnlyInGotham #GothamIsWeird

———

Today I was in a Zoom call with some of my coworkers on the other side of the world, sitting in the kitchen facing the living room, when Red Robin comes crashing through my window. I just kinda turned around to see if he was badly injured (he wasn’t, couldn’t even see any blood) so I just continued on with what I was saying and he sheepishly left through the same window.

My coworkers are looking at me like “Jacob are you okay??” And I’m like, “yeah man, that was just Red Robin, he has unfortunate luck with windows. Soon enough one of the other Bats will come knocking with a replacement or a cash refund. Though, I should probably just invest in plexi-glass.”

One of my coworkers went on a bit of a rant about “vigilantes causing property damage and disrupting the peace” and i’m like “Mark I’d rather Batman crashing through my door or window once a month to getting buried in my twenties in his abscence,” and he was like “yeah, fair enough” so we just continued with our call.

After my call, Blonde Batgirl shows up and apologises for the window. I ask about plexi-glass and if Red Robin is alright.

She’s like “yeah he’s fine but he’s getting Bat-Lectured for being reckless which is why I’m here. Also from what Oracle can tell you should be able to get plex-glass installed within the week.”

#OnlyInGotham #GettingBatLecturedDoesNotSoundFun #ThanksOracle #BatmanDontBeTooHardOnTheKid #Gothamite #MeanwhileInGothamCity #GothamCity #RedRobin

———

So, Red Hood piggy-backed me up to my apartment yesterday because my heel broke when I was fleeing from these guys trying to mug me (or worse) and I sprained my ankle. He carried me up four flights of stairs and helped me get into my apartment and wrap my foot properly.

I told him to take some of my nana’s lasagna (because our local vigilante needs to keep his strength up! Man’s gotta eat, and from what I hear he’s not swimming in cash) and he got real quiet for a while before saying “yeah, sure”.

So he ate some lasagna while I called in sick to work (who were very understanding, surprisingly).

Then after a little while he’s like “bye” and jumps outta my window.

An icon.

#RedHood #OnyInGotham #WeStanALegend #IHopeYouLikedTheLasagna #MyNanaSaysSheWillMakeMoreForYou #GrowingUpInCrimeAlley

[legends-live-in-memories]

Downtown Detour

ayo its ya boi back with more timari and ignoring my wips cuz im plagued with timari brainrot

written in the same au as: 

Rooftop Rendezvous and 

Alleyway Altercation (NSFW)

AO3 link to the series

Timari 2.2K words, no warnings other than references to intimate relations

Summary:

“Red Robin makes a breakthrough in his investigation of the new Gotham Rogue and goes to confront her about it.”

without further ado

Tim could not believe this. The new Rogue, Karma—Marinette Dupain-Cheng— had been spotted a total of three times since their last encounter by either his brothers or the cops and none have been able to subdue her for more than fleeting seconds. She was caught breaking into a politician’s house when the man was away on another one of his exotic hunting trips; another artefact was stolen from the museum after that, one they were unable to retrieve; and finally she was last seen escaping from Robin by the mayor’s office, only no one know what was taken from there. All three times she was spotted and nothing to show for it other than bruised egos and missing items. 

During his little investigation into her supposed civilian name, he came across a series of interesting police reports from Paris, France of all places. A penchant for grand theft auto since her teenage years as well as a series of vandalism and reports of stolen student records from her high school at the time. There was even a rescinded expulsion, a litany of suspensions and a plethora of unexcused absences. She was a cookie cutter criminal in the making. But for Tim, it didn’t make sense. While all the evidence points to a child delinquent grown into an adult criminal, something about the situation set Tim’s teeth on edge. There was something missing. Something she wanted Tim to find out, if her giving him her name was anything to go by. But what?

She had no local address on file and the last piece of legal information that had any traceable location was a one-way ticket to Shanghai from four years ago. Immediately after her high school graduation. All her social media was deleted around the same time. She had effectively gone off the grid up until her emergence as a part of Gotham less than stellar night life. But why?

A closer look at her time in Paris led him to discover an interesting trend but it wasn’t anything concrete. Starting about when Karma—Marinette— was thirteen, her unexcused absences lined up with some of their infamous akuma attacks. While at first it could be argued that many children had unexcused absences in the beginning, and she had less than perfect attendance even before then, her disappearances also coincided with attacks far from her school which was where she should have been at those times. Then there were reports filed by police who spoke with her parents about her sneaking out at night which also lined up with notable akuma attacks. Either she was an overzealous fan of the city’s temporary heroes, or she was constantly in the thick of the action and kept it a secret from people close to her, letting her reputation suffer for it.

‘Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years,’ she had said. ‘Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,’ she continued. ‘Something you could try emulating.’

Her words echoed in his mind. He never thought much of them before, his mind preoccupied with other things her mouth was doing that night. It could also be chalked up to everyone being the hero of their own story and she had just coloured her own experiences. But just maybe… 

Before he could entertain that train of thinking, his phone alarm was alerting him of his scheduled patrol. Hopefully he could catch a hold of his current person of interest and get some more answers. And perhaps get a read on what her intentions are in this city. With him.

~~~~~~~~

The skyline was a welcoming sight as he flung himself from building to building. The wind beneath him carried him across the sky like an actual bird and the thrill of the freefall lit his nerves on fire. His route was quiet but his appearance should coax out a certain thief. Red Hood was investigating a weapons smuggling deal that was set to take place by the Gotham Harbour. Nightwing was back in Bludhaven with Signal, introducing him to nighttime patrol. Robin and Black Bat were tracking a drug deal that was rumoured to disrupt the balance of the Narrows. Spoiler was with Batman doing their regular routes and Batwoman was doing her own thing somewhere. Oracle, as always, was on standby on comms and monitoring everything. This was the perfect opportunity for Karma to strike so Red Robin just had to be patient. The night was young.

An hour into his sweep of the city and Oracle was patching him into a radio call about a break-in in some pawnshop back in the Fashion District. It wasn’t on his route tonight but Oracle figured that with their likely suspect, and his arrangement with her, he was their best shot at apprehending her. If only temporarily. 

He arrived at the pawnshop without fanfare and found the storefront window broken into. Further inspection led him face to face with the object of his affection. Karma was posed calmly behind the cashier counter rifling through an assortment of jewelry that was left on display in the glass cases. It was only the faint twitch in her eyebrow that indicated her awareness of his presence. Other than that he went completely ignored. That won’t do. Not tonight. He approached her slowly and stopped on the other side of the counter, leaning into her space. He could faintly smell her rose-scented perfume. Her strawberry shampoo. Even the cherry lip gloss she wears under the mask. He’s tasted it enough times to know how strong it was. For a vision clad in black she was rather fond of red flavours. 

“Can I help you, Tweety Bird?” her voice was soft, sprinkled with faux indifference, not wanting to disrupt the background noise of rings and necklaces clanking together. She hasn’t looked at him once.

“Breaking and entering and attempted theft are serious crimes, Karma.” He saw a faint twitch of amusement in her eyebrow but her posture was relaxed and non-assuming.

“That’s not why you’re here. That’s not why I’m here either.” Her eyes sweep up to him as she stops searching the jewelry. She’s staring intently at him as if he’s to understand the meaning behind the words she’s not saying. He does. They’ve played this back and forth before. Danced their little tango of push and pull. 

“You wanted to see me then? Thought this was the best way to get my attention, hmm?” He leaned in, pressing his weight more into the counter. She matched his advance and propped her face in the palm of her hand. Her finger tapped on her mask. He figured if the accessory wasn’t there she’d be biting that finger instead. 

“Well it worked. Didn’t it? You’re here after plenty of time to conduct a rather thorough investigation into who I am. Or was.” She took off the mask, finally, and he was right. Her lips were shining in the dim light of the night with the familiar hues of her lip gloss. He presses on to not let himself get distracted by the slight smile on her face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. Paris, born and raised. Above average student in terms of grades but a disciplinary streak about a hundred miles wide.” At this her head tilts in amusement. Her faint nod encourages him to divulge all the aspects of his research. “Absences and tardies more often than any recorded presences. About twelve suspensions in the span of three years and a rescinded expulsion when you were about fourteen. A couple run-ins with the police in regards to charges of theft and property destruction.” Her face scrunched in an adorable pout at that as if it were a reminder of an embarrassing moment and not outlines of criminal offenses.  

“Definitely not my finer moments, I assure, but keep going. You’re doing so well,” she interrupted him. She had shifted so that she could jump over the counter and sit atop it, her legs crossed and her arms bearing her weight behind her. Red Robin was temporarily silenced by the arch in her back and the lean lines of her exposed neck. He rose to his full height; just barely reaching her shoulder, due to her new vantage point. 

“You disappeared after your high school graduation, my investigation says you ran off to Shanghai but I believe there’s more to it than that.” She had uncrossed her legs to accommodate him between them and drew him closer by his shoulders. Acting on instinct, his arms found purchase on her waist and he was brushing the pad of his gloved thumb across the exposed skin. It was uncharacteristically soft but neither heeded mind to it.

“You think there’s more to me than that?” She leans in, almost breathing the same air as him. “You’d be the first,” she continued while snaking a hand up his neck to scratch lightly at his scalp. The touch sent shivers down his spine and had his toes curling in anticipation.

“So tell me then,” he licked his lips and stared at her through the film of his mask. “What is Paris’s Lady Luck doing here causing mischief in Gotham?” The question was a gamble and could upset the rapport he had with Karma. He was the team’s only lead on her, for better or worse, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was between them.

It was probably the right thing to say though, because she hasn’t left him yet but instead was staring at him with something indescribable in her eyes. Excitement? Approval? Affection? Red Robin wasn’t sure what to make of the glimmer of emotion in her eyes other than to take it as a good sign.

“You got this far in your investigation, Tweety Bird,” she leaned in closer, just a hair’s width away. “Why ruin the chase and tell you everything now?” Her lips were brushing against his as she spoke and the cherry flavour was almost distracting. His tongue peaked out to swipe a stronger taste. The arms around her waist tightened and he pulled her to the edge of the counter, her legs wrapping around him on instinct.

“Surely you could reward me for figuring out this much, right?” His voice was pitched so low if she wasn’t already breathing in his words he would have worried that she didn’t hear him. “After all, it’s not everyday someone discovers the identity of the allusive Ladybug.”

“The bird wants a reward, does he?” She finally sealed his lips with hers, stealing any half-baked retort he might have had. This kiss was different from the multitude they’ve exchanged in their times together, carrying over the unanswered emotions from their last encounter and introducing new ones into the mix. The air felt still and cool on his face and the fingers in his hair tightened even further. 

They were like that for what felt like hours but was merely a few minutes; just calmly exchanging kisses, nothing straying beyond that silently defined line. They didn’t need anymore for tonight. Karma had taken to progress this further by trailing her lips to the sharp cut of his jaw. She alternated between small kisses and even smaller bites as she made her way up to his ear. Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear and he leaned into the faint contact. A lick and a bite later, her lips were curled up into a smirk as her hand in his hair held him in place. 

They stayed like that for moments lost to time. Neither making the next move, nerves buzzing with anticipation. He felt an itch for more that only she could scratch and she was denying him that satisfaction. Despite that he made no inclination to instigate more, letting the ball stay in her court. After more silent minutes he felt rather than heard her chuckle against his ear. She jumped off the counter, pressing every curve of her body against his. Even then, he unconsciously tried to pull her closer, pressing her against his front and the tempered glass of the counter. Before he could do as he pleased with his new leverage, she wiggled out of his grasp and moved towards the broken storefront window, mask in hand. 

“It was great to see you tonight,” she throws a glance over her shoulder, readjusting the mask over the lower half of her face. “And I’m glad my assumptions of you were right.”

“What assumptions? What do you mean?” The confusion was almost palpable beneath the traces of cherries. He moved to reach for her, to keep her here for a bit longer. To explain herself. To not leave him. She evaded his grasp and leapt out the broken window. From outside the building she turned to him and aimed what was clearly Red Robin’s grappling hook out to the nearest building.

Instead of answering him she chuckled and tilted her head in amusement at his growing distress. 

“See you around, Tim.” Her parting words were lost to the air as she shot off with the grapple into the night. Red Robin stood frozen, rooted in place at the use of his civilian name. How did she know? Who exactly did he decide to get entangled with? Among the cacophony of new questions one thing was for certain.

He was utterly fucked.