𝙾𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙻𝙴

drafts are in single digits for the first time this year .. what a rush <3

“ i think i’m definitely a sophie. ” a beat, he studies @ioracle with intent for a moment. “ you’re more of an eloise. ”

❝ i’m absolutely taking that as a compliment. ❞ lips curl at the corner, an eyebrow raising. how could it have been anything but? after all, why wouldn’t she want to be an eloise? ❝ i’m also an elizabeth and a jo. i wear it like a badge of honour. ❞

he detested balls. they were a breeding ground for gossip, and he more often than not found himself at the center. it was so easy, wasn’t it? even though he was not his parents, the circumstance of their whirlwind marriage and his birth was always at the forefront of discussion, and he could not stand it. he was not his parents. he was not his grandparents. however, because of this, it didn’t really matter what he did. it would be blamed on his upbringing.

barbara was also the topic of discussion it would seem, though not for any fault of her own. perhaps that was why he was drawn to her in the first place. no one would say a thing. of course they were dancing together, no one else would dance with them. or perhaps some young men have asked her, and she’s turned them away like she’s trying to do now. “ i was planning to, actually. fear not, i have no concern for my feet. ” he laughs. “ at the very least, may i fetch you some lemonade? ”

barbara knows she must be the topic of many discussions. after all, it was lady whistledown herself who had announced her presence. the new earl of huntly and his daughter returning to london was always going to make headlines. said daughter being bound to a chair following what should have been a fatal shooting was even juicer news still. and while most of london seem to be enthusiastically swapping all the gossip they can about her, none seem keen to actually speak to her. a fact barbara finds herself somewhat grateful for.

then again, there is the man in front of her. suspicious eye takes him in, determining whether he be a potential friend or a gossip hunter. she decides, for now, to trust him. ❝ lemonade would be delightful. ❞ from across the ballroom she catches her father’s eye, who gives her an encouraging nod. oh great, now he’s going to start getting ideas. ❝ you are a braver man than most, though i fear you do not take the danger your feet are in with the upmost seriousness it requires. after all, how can you dance with all the eligible young ladies after i’ve squashed all your toes? ❞

“ hm. inspirational. ” the edges of laughter threaten to replace her voice in response to barbara’s corny impression of her father. aylen does well in curbing it, but has already lost the battle in holding back a biting grin. babs always did have a knack for lighting up a room.

she kills the heat and stirs the rice one more time for good measure before reaching over towards the ceramic bowls prepped to the side. with her free hand, she shoos her compatriot over to the table. an unspoken gesture: i got it.

“ remember when i picked up some takeout for tim during patrol last week ? that chinese place on 5th street. ” the food is delivered to the dining table with a swiftness. as she continues to speak, aylen pours them each a glass of water. “ thought i’d try something similar. ”

❝ you can laugh. ❞ barbara prompts, mirth slipping from her lips. ❝ dad’s always had a sense of humour, though i’m not entirely sure this gift was supposed to be ironic. ❞ still, she’d thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and a gentle merry christmas. i always worry about you, is what he’d once said. she’s luckier than some for that alone. it doesn’t stop her from throwing the book into a drawer, where it’s likely never to be picked up again.

❝ remember? i’ve been practically dreaming about that place. ❞ there are very few things barbara takes as seriously as food. she’s not much of a cook, not because she doesn’t have the talent for it but because she rarely has the time, and so she’s become very acquainted with gotham’s take out offerings. ❝ that special fried rice was divine. ❞

barbara grabs utensils from their designated drawer, taking them with her over to the small dining table. ❝ i’m sure yours will be even better, though. ❞ she passes cutlery over to aylen, taking her bowl with a grateful thank you. ❝ okay chef, you get the honours of taking the first bite. ❞

beside barbara, the holiday outing doesn’t feel as taxing as she expected it to be. in truth, there was a moment, under the safety of her blankets, that kara thought about canceling. it was the mental image of barbara’s face that stopped her, but the cold isolation of the season still was overwhelming. it’s almost odd how it escapes her now – kara doesn’t even realize it has.

despite a lack of an actual hunger, kara lights up brighter than any white twinkling bulb at the mention. “ really? where? ” her head turns once each way, nose sniffing like a dog set on a mission, brown hair shaking snow off as it whips over each shoulder. “ are you hungry? ” spinning the inquiry back to barbara, like she isn’t moments from dashing off, “ we should go check it. ” her head tilts one way, her nose has done it’s job. “ i think i smell cinnamon hot chocolate. ” blue hopeful eyes meet barbara’s. pleading.

❝ oh, i’m hungry. ❞ a laugh escapes from barbara’s lips, hand giving kara’s a soft squeeze. ❝ pretty sure they heard my stomach rumble all the way in australia. ❞ which means the blonde next to her absolutely heard it, though barbara appreciates the pretence. to the outside world they probably don’t seem like anyone out of the ordinary. just two girlfriends enjoying an overly busy christmas market, as many do this time of year. how odd, to feel so ordinary with someone so extraordinary. to feel so normal beside someone so super. some might call that love. her cheeks start to burn at the thought.

❝ come on. ❞ barbara tugs on kara’s hand, pulling her in the direction of a collection of huts that advertise all different types of food. german sausages, hot chocolate of all kinds, the famed raclette, wraps filled with turkey and cranberry, and all other such delights. ❝ alright, there’s the play; we get a bunch of small plates from each hut and share, that way we can try a bit of everything. ❞ mouth curls up into a light smirk as her stomach lets out another rumble. ❝ lets divide and conquer, you grab some dishes from the huts on the left and i’ll go right. ❞

if she’s intruding, it is in fact welcome or as welcome as any visit can be when it’s the child of someone you know. though whatever she comes for, he can’t at all imagine it’s social or neighborly in nature, no matter how long he’s known her, “ good, i’m glad to hear that, ” yet, he entertains. jim gordon is perhaps one of a few men that rafael respects, trusts. that’s no small achievement or measure of a man in gotham. barbara has by extension been bestowed the same respect. “ ah, ” and there it is. nodding his head, “ straight to the point then, ” inhaling, “ your brother got thirty years, from what i recall, ” the but is unsaid but obviously there, “ at arkham, ” where people are more likely to be seen walking down main street next tuesday than they are to see a sentence out from start to finish, “ but you already know that, ” his head tilts, curiosity more piqued as he talks out loud, “ and i’m guessing you’ve already tried there, ” looking of course implies she didn’t find him. “ what did they tell you? ”

lips part to speak - she knew that - but rafael beats her to it. he earns a quirk at the corner of her lips. ❝ they didn’t want to tell me much. ❞ of course, it’s embarrassing to admit they’ve lost sights on one of their most prolific inmates. the son of the commissioner, none the less. ❝ he was given day parole to visit my mother, apparently she had an operation. ❞ perhaps something she should have known. some daughters would have been by their mother’s side. bringing flowers and holding her hand. then again, most daughters had probably spoken to their mothers in the last ten years. barbara sr had made her choice. ❝ he never returned. mom couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell them anything. ❞ gaze diverts for a second. something washes over her; fear, worry, paranoia. would he be coming back for the family who had abandoned him? had he already done so, gun in hand? ❝ you know his case inside out. i was wondering if he had any kind of . . hideout, i guess, here in gotham. ❞

                        despite saying so, aerith would never entertain such a thought. it would undermine everything she has built here — an operation carried out behind closed doors, here not just for the sake of the vigilantes running rampant through gotham’s streets, but for the people too. for the gothamites who have nowhere else to turn, who cannot reach a hospital in time, or cannot afford its care at all. aerith heals without charge, and without questions. she intends to keep it this way.

❝ don’t be silly, you’re a natural, barbara.   maybe we can get you a little friend to hang out with you. oracle’s very own sidekick.   ❞ she considers for a moment, then tilts her head. ❝ a peace lily, maybe? they’re quite easy to take care of … not nearly as stubborn as some of these little guys.   ❞ she looks to the plants they’ve just set in soil and shrugs, as though the greenery might understand her words. ❝ no offense.   ❞ aerith adds, speaking to plants instead of barbara briefly.

brushing the dirt from her hands against her dress, smudging the pink fabric with soil, before then reaching for a dry cloth to offer to barbara for her own hands. ❝ you flatter me, but … it’s the least i can do. this city has it rough. and sure, it’s got people like you watching over it. but, i suppose i just want to do my part too.   ❞ when barbara’s hand finds her, the simple gesture of recognition has aerith’s cheeks dusting. ❝ is this an application?   ❞ she laughs lightly, then shakes her head. ❝ that really means a lot, and especially coming from you. i mean, you’re an original! ❞

oracle’s very own sidekick. the words earn aerith a soft laugh, one that float’s from her mouth in a moment of rare lightness. for this brief moment barbara’s cares seem to be forgotten. or, at the very least, put to the back burner. she can’t remember the last time she was able to simply be. her worries, her responsibilities, always seem to be carried on her shoulders. it’s a burden she’s learned to life with. still, it’s nice to feel normal for a brief moment. to simply be one friend spending time with another.

❝ i’m not sure about that. i’m a terrible plant-parent. ❞ lips remain curled upwards, a smile painted from one corner to the other. ❝ dad got me an orchid when i moved into my place, it was dead within a week. ❞ the poor thing. she’d done all she could to keep it alive. followed all the advice the internet had to offer. still, the plant seemed to wilt and wither until it was practically facedown against the soil. ❝ what’s the opposite of a green thumb? that’s what i have. ❞

she takes the cloth with a small thank you, carefully wiping the dirt from her fingers. no doubt she’ll be digging it out from underneath her nails for the next few days, but it would be more than worth it. gaze wonders around the room again, taking in the magnitude of plants surrounding them. they will help so many. to even be a small part of that is an honour. ❝ no application needed, you have automatic acceptance. ❞ when her hands are as clean as she’s likely to get them she places the cloth on a nearby surface. ❝ the birds are more than just kicking the bad guy’s butts, we’re doing all we can to help people who need us. i think you fit in perfectly. ❞ and, perhaps, barbara’s been preparing for this moment for a while now. ❝ so, if this is your offical acceptance then you better start thinking of a codename. ❞

“that isn’t good.” his voice is dry, but barbara knows him well enough to catch the faintest hint of humor (or at least some vague attempt at it). “it looks like bruce wayne could use a security checkup at the manor. you’re right.” if this killer is out targeting the wealthy, eliminating those they deem unworthy of that inherited money… “or maybe they’re only killing those that just got the funds from their deceased family. more recent inheritance, not…” it’s some vague attempt at guessing away from himself, but again, @ioracle knows him way too well. she’ll see right through it. “triangulate the locations of each murder. were these other victims also in attendance at wayne manor? that might give us a better picture.”

he abandons his place at barbara’s desk and approaches the left-most display, its high-definition pixels appearing to float in the air before her desk. only the best waynetech for oracle — only the fastest servers, the most data, the best tools she can use to assist him on the streets of gotham. barbara has consistently remained one of bruce’s best allies, and their friendship stands every test of time or strain on their position. he trusts her with his life every day. he relies on her.

“maybe i might recognize st james and fontaine if you bring up their photos.” a glance back at barbara. “and if they were also at wayne manor with kilfish… your theory about bruce wayne might be correct after all.”

barbara does as asked. not because she agrees that her theory could be wrong - in fact, she’s convinced that she’s very, very right - but because she knows bruce. she knows he’ll need to rule out every probability first. still, she sends a quick message to alfred instructing him to run tests on the manor’s systems. it’s better to be safe than sorry, and she’s not sure how much time they have to play with. ❝ diagnostics done. ❞ screen flashes with information. a list of every party the victims had attended, all accompanied by paparazzi photos. ❝ they all attended the same parties in the last six months. bruce wayne included. ❞

there’s another list. one that only includes four names, others that had also been in attendance at all the same parties. four other potential victims. heads of dynasties who had inherited millions, even billions, of dollars from their parents. three around bruce’s age, one slightly younger. every screen displays a different picture. the three known victims and the five potential. bruce’s face, baring a smile and a wave, gazes at them from the centre. ❝ st james and fontaine. ❞ she points to a snooty looking girl and a somewhat sad looking male. ❝ and these four - they all attended the same parties as the victims and wayne. every single one. ❞

❝ it could mean nothing. ❞ she turns to bruce, careful with her words. ❝ but they could also be in danger. we still don’t know where and when the killer will strike next. ❞ in her lap her fingers twitch. her mind already buzzing with the next steps. they need to lay a trap, but they also need to make sure everyone is safe. ❝ batman, i think it’s time we call in calvary. ❞

“   uh huh. knew the star maps were different here. ” and where exactly would here be? gotham — the state — the country? perhaps the entirety of the universe. the dimension, itself. these are stars with names not unknown, but unfamiliar to them. they hum to him in their unacquainted static; pull at the corners of their chest with claws unknown. “   the sky isn’t like this where i come from. it’s like i’m lookin’ at a whole different sky … what do ya even do with somethin’ like that? ”

CAPTAIN’S LOG: sc, @ioracle.

fascinating. her mind feels like it’s running in overdrive to process everything. an unfamiliar person from a galaxy unknown. somehow both alien and human. barbara’s always known that other dimensions exist, has heard stories from friends who have tip toed the lines between them, but it’s entirely different to witness it in person. ❝ well, usually we use gps. ❞ lips curl at the corners, a mix of amusement and wonder in her voice. ❝ luckily, man hasn’t used the stars to navigate for, oh, hundreds of years. ❞ humour is all she can really offer. for once, barbara doesn’t have any answers. can’t offer them a way back home. ❝ i don’t suppose you have a copy of your world’s star maps on you? i want to test out a theory. ❞

⸺ project hail mary.

it isn’t, is it? the rot stretches beyond their lives, infecting the whole city. harleen can’t look barbara in the eyes, or won’t. even she doesn’t know anymore. how much of this could she have stopped? she slept next to the man monsterfor the better part of a year. it would have been so easy to pull the trigger. is all of this her fault?

“ i loved gotham, ” harleen says, just to fill the silence. “ i thought that i was going to save it. i don’t know that i believe that that’s possible anymore. not me, but him. ” her chance at doing any good slipped away a long, long time ago. until now, she’s believed in bruce.

“ do you wish that he were dead? ” she finds the nerve to ask, though she won’t speak his name, lest he burst from a shadow laughing maniacally. the bats have their line, all of them. harleen had always assumed that enough blood would eventually be spilled to wash it away. “ would you kill him, if you could? ”

@ioracle

her heart seems to sit heavy in her chest. head tilts, trying to catch the eye that can’t seem to look at her. they’ve all suffered at the joker’s hands. there might not be a single person in gotham who hasn’t had their life altered, in some way, by the man. perhaps by harleen, too. but at least she’s trying. she’s making amends. for that barbara can’t begrudge her.

the question stills her. hands balling into fists in her lap, tugging at the material of her trousers. head and heart battle for the answer. ❝ it’s complicated. ❞ she manages to mutter, features pulled into something of a grimace. something twists in her gut. a truth long buried, thoughts that she has always been ashamed of.

❝ i did, once. ❞ she swallows down the lump in her throat, pushing down with it the anxieties that threaten to overspill. she’s told very few of this. ❝ i once told bruce he should have killed him. after jason died . . he could have stopped that from happening. i told him that joker wouldn’t stop. but eventually i understood. killing him would make us no better than him. ❞ head shakes, chin lifting ever so slightly. even all these years later it’s hard to keep the emotions at bay. ❝ so . . no, i wouldn’t. i hope he rots in arkham. ❞

bound by tragedy

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· · ─ · ☠︎︎ · ─ · · [ 3 AM ] 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙶𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙼 𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚈 – 𝙼𝙸𝙳 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝚄𝚁𝙰𝚁𝚈 , @ioracle

winter’s fog had settled in low an hour prior,   lingering callously past the soft glow of dusk,   smooth over the edges of a snow - clad tombstone.   flakes have fallen,   slow and deliberate,   almost as if sentient.   cold granite had pressed against the material of his leather glove,   a refusal of allowing bare fingertips to grace the cold and leave behind his whereabouts,   despite no longer obtaining fingerprints.   it’s vulnerable,   a bit much for him,   as though the souls of all who rest here will hollow him entirely if he gets too close.   reclaim him,   somehow,   like the anomaly of his rebirth.   this graveyard,   past ancient iron gates,   sat midst the heart of this bleak city,   bled mostly quiet,   but just the enraged timbre of frostbitten wind along the trees,   nipping at the exposed skin of his neck.   rubbed raw and red.

jason pulled his coat tighter,   vintage leather,   of course,   bruce’s old thing from a decade past,   and layered with long sleeves and thermals.   the gesture felt pointless.   a harsh shiver fell down his spine regardless of how hard he tried,   the cold settling in beneath his ribs and finding a way to rest on the underside of his bones.   cold bumps line his skin,   stinging,   a warning sign,   some harsh - half whispered reminder to leave and find some semblance warmth.   instead he crouches,   eye - to - eye with the name carved delicately into the stone.   here rests—

❛❛       not wise to sneak up on people.   y'have no clue—        ❜❜     hands sneak into deep pockets,   fingers curling over a weapon hidden from public sight.   a glance to the left,    another pause;   within the haze a familiar shade of red.   for all he heard was the loud crunch of new snow on paved paths,   too loud for the stillness of the atmosphere.   visitors weren’t allowed at this time of night,   only a matter of time before gotham chiefs and their guns would be on the way.   but no matter.   there’s an immediate tonal shift,   his guard drops again,   hands freed,   an exhale of stolen breath exists in a cloud of white.      ❛❛       y'ain’t have to come,  babs.  you should be gettin'   …   beauty rest.  —  i don’t.  s'why i look like this.  handsome and shitty.      ❜❜

the emotional weight kicks in.   blood rises,   a surge of warmth cascades and is quickly defeated by another gust of sharp wind,   by soft flecks of snow falling into his eyes,   resting on his pretty - boy lashes.   the weather is announcing her disapproval;   her guttural cries are ignored.      ❛❛       just wanted to see my mama.   ALONE.   i didn’t wanna come when everyone else was here.        ❜❜

perhaps she had become too attune to his movements. she had felt it the moment the lock clicked, the lack of his presence turning the air cold. there was little hesitation as barbara removed herself from cotton sheets, or as she reached into her wardrobe in order to wrap herself up against the winter chill. she wouldn’t be able to sleep now, anyway, worried as she was. jason had a head start on her. was already far from her vision by the time the door to her apartment closed behind her. it didn’t matter, she knew where he was going.

body vibrates with a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold as she weaves between the graves. she doesn’t find herself here often, not since jason returned to her life. yet she knows the path he’s trodden. the same path she’s taken many times before. wheel tracks follow his boot prints to where she knows the todds lay in rest. a hunched body is illuminated by the moonlight and suddenly he looks so young. an echo of the boy she had met so many years ago. the one she still feels a surge of protection over.

❝ i’ll bare that in mind. ❞ her voice is soft. so gentle it could get blown away with the wind. the movement of his hand in his pocket, no doubt where he’s hiding a weapon, isn’t missed by sharp eyes. but barbara doesn’t flinch. doesn’t reach for her own weapon concealed within her chair. she knows jason won’t hurt her. she knows it’s simply reflexes. her hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, as pushes her chair closer to his side. so close that she could be there in seconds if he needed her.

❝ beauty sleep is a myth, jason, you should know that by now. ❞ a weak attempt at a joke. she doesn’t sleep much, anyway. too often plagued by nightmares. her mind using her own memories to curate a terror of it’s own design. she knows he understands what that’s like. ❝ we’re alone. ❞ she’s made sure of that. set her system to flag that any 911 calls that mention a break in at the graveyard alert the handler that officers blake and dinkley had already checked the area and found nothing out of the ordinary. ❝ tell me about her. ❞

graphite  from  his  earlier  studies  &  notes  has  stained  his  fingers,     smudged  to  the  whirls  of  his  distinct  fingerprint.      𝑅obb  finds  himself  considering  his  hands,     glancing  wayward  at  the  stone  wall  just  ‘fore  him   to  keep  himself  from  staring  at  the  crown  of  her  head,      where  gold  &  copper  meet.        dithering  near  her,     a  shield  of  flesh  &  bone,     as   𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓  𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔  cast  the  two  of  them  in  blinding  white  light        — —        he  thinks  its  best  to  stay  inside,     just  'til   the  blizzard  passes.        his  own  drink  of  ale  has  come  &  gone,     warming  his  throat,     he  sets  his  tankard  to  the  side.     {     soon,     a  servant  girl  will  come  &  pluck  it  from  him  to  return  it  to  the  kitchens,     he  will  barely  notice  her  while  with  his  guest     }        ❛❛     i  hope  the  journey  wasn't  strenuous  for  you,      coming  𝕹𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉   can  be  a  difficult  journey,   for  all  its  beauty.       ❜❜       …       ❛❛      i  am  glad  to  have  you,      things  have  been  awf'lly  quiet,     as  of  late.       i was   worried  i  might  h've  died  of  boredom  if  you  hadn't  passed  through.     ❜❜
⠀⠀⠀⠀the  morning  is  young   &  the  castle  bustles  to  life  with  northmen.        from  the  deadened  branches  just  t'wards  the  weirwoods,      there  is  the  cry   of  crows   to   the  wolves  prowling  the  snow.      robb  pitches  nearer,      to  avoid  losing  her  voice  to  the  howling  winds  just  outside  the  tower's  walls.      a  quick  sweeping  glance,      𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅   Stark  mirrors  her  in  an  futile  attempt  to  see  his  𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆  as  an  outlander  would      :      a  vast  evergreen  concealed  by  pigmentless  led,       the  GODSWOOD  a  speck  of  bleeding  color  in  the  white.        he  wants  to  smile,     it  settles  into  the  apple  of  his  cheek,      a  frozen  fist  squeezing  'round  his  lungs  as  he  breathes  a  laugh  into  the  dawn'd  air.     ❛❛     it  will  snow  for  the  rest  of  the  season,     'til  summer.     then  we  will  enjoy  the  flurries  that  come  with  the  sun.      we  have  the  glass  gardens  for  harvest,     mercifully.       ❜❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛❛    .  .  .    SOON,      winter  will  be  all  you  see.     do  you  dislike  the  snow   ?    ❜❜

for as forlorn as barbara might inwardly feel, robb manages to pull a smile from her lips. it’s almost too easy to forget her worries in the company of a friend. keep your wits about you, her father would say. their world is seeped in a game of politics and one wrong move may see her become a pawn. she doesn’t believe that of robb. she would not have been sent north for safety if her father thought that of the starks, either. ❝ i’m sure you would have found many a way to entertain yourself. ❞ the smile that teases her lips is both sincere and amused. a reminder of a friendship from many moons ago. ❝ i seem to recall last time i was here one of your siblings hit me flat across the face with a snowball. they siad my cheeks looked as red as my hair. ❞ ah, the days before. when travel wasn’t quite so arduous a task. when her days were much more evenly split between keeping her father company at king’s landing and their family home in the reach. when visits to other noble seats were far more common. gaze turns back to the view of winterfell. last time she was here snow could still crunch underfoot.

she takes another sip of her ale, relishing in the warmth it brings. they may be sheltered from the worst of the blizzard, but still the cold seems to have seeped into her very core. ❝ i didn’t used to mind it so much. in fact, i would say i once enjoyed the novelty of it. ❞ the snowball fights, the domes made of ice, the men moulded from snow and sticks. memories precious because of the rarity of them. snow may be common here, but in her home it was reserved only for the coldest of days in the dead of the winter months. ❝ now it only proves to be cumbersome. it is much harder to move across when confined to a chair. ❞

in the dark recesses of that purling city, an empire of steel and limestone brewing in the belly of something far larger than most of her dwellers can comprehend, warlock loiters beyond the ambient glow of artificial light. outside of the clock tower, standing sentinel to vermin scurrying along urine-stained streets and filthy gutters, the people of gotham city seem not to be individuals happening to inhabit its wicked confines, but extensions of the sprawl itself, as though hundreds of thousands of eyes drew forth and peered in hivemind comprehension. their misery seems to feed the pulsing municipality, leeched from the very essence of their spirits, which enfolds around their psyche in floccose, whetted spines. perturbed by the mass anguish hanging as low as fog among her inhabitants, yet not unaccustomed to the intimate sensation of astral torment, adam warlock folds his arms over his chest as though creating a physical barrier against the abstract onslaught.

“ you remind me of an old friend; he is, by all accounts, a genius—scorned by his work, but a genius nonetheless. ” their opaline leer meets the oracle’s likeness. though their disposition hardly softens, warlock speaks with a keen understanding of the burden engulfing her shoulders. “ no less is he just as vexed at the arcane. ‘tis magic that you detect on these sensors. there is no logic or reason to its advent, and its nature seems highly capricious. this should come to no surprise, for you and yours live in a profoundly mystical region of space. ” their folded arms unravel, gently curling his fingers around the back of her chair. their free hand reaches forth, gesturing towards the humming screen. “ fortunately, i can be of some assistance. these rifts in reality are not unfamiliar to my eyes, and i would be foolish to leave their expunging to most anyone else. ”

correspondence: @ioracle, starter call.

it seems the city is at it’s worst. the skyline faded into the cloud, fog engulfing the streetlights, while the pavement dampens from the rain. only few could call gotham beautiful. those who have only known it’s dreary streets, who have walked down their roads in the sun, the rain, and the snow. those who had vowed to protect her with all their might. perhaps it would come to no surprise to some to know that barbara counts herself among them. gotham is, after all, her home. even if it has not always protected her in the way she has protected it, as she does now. head turns from one screen to another, the clocktower filled with the tak tak tak of her keys as information is pulled. before the duo a mystery takes shape, one she’s hoping the warlock behind her can help solve.

❝ sounds like a friend i’d like to know. ❞ adam is, momentarily, reward with a smile. one that curls at the edges of her lips and quirks up an eyebrow. an acknowledgment of her genius always strokes at her ego. but the moment is only a blip. features turn back to neutral, gaze focused, as the anomaly data becomes the centre of attention. it started as one small red dot on a scanner, now multiplied into many across the city. the details of each reading the same, completely foreign to oracle. ❝ i have acquaintances who know magic, this is nothing like anything i’ve seen from them. ❞ which leads her to wonder - ❝ is it not from our universe? ❞ intense gaze turns from the screens, from the data that has become burned into her brain, to adam. ❝ you’ve seen this before . . tell me everything. ❞

barbara ‘i’m not on social media’ gordon has 10 burner accounts

okay here is a fresh new mains / exclusivescall! as previously mentioned i’ve temporarily taken down the page on carrd and i’m treating this as a fresh start/reset. if we had previously established something and would like to continue that i am, of course, happy to! reversely if you feel the connection no longer serves you and would rather let it go or establish something new then that’s absolutely fine too and i won’t harbour any hard feelings. i’m basically open to discussing anything, as i want any connections to serve us both, as well as our muses, so we can make the most out of this fun silly hobby! please note that while i am open to discussing affiliation, this is something that i will be more selective in establishing.

if this is something you’re interested in please give this a like and i will hop into your dms.

i’ve also just popped a little run down of what each connection means to me below the cut, as i know they can mean different things to different people.

mains. our portrayals compliment each other and you are considered my ‘go-to’ for your muse. this means that you get priority with replies and plot ideas, and that i have permission to spam you with tiktoks, tag you in dash games, and just generally ramble to you about our muses. being mains means that we are committed to creating a fleshed out and meaningful dynamic between our muses, and i would ask that anything we plot is not reused elsewhere. at the moment i will only be having a maximum of two mains for any 'canon’ characters. i ask that we have previously established some kind of relationship between our muses, be that through threads or plotting, before becoming mains.

exclusives. the above applies with the added caveat that your portrayal is the only one i will write, follow, and engage with. i do expect this to be mutual. i do also practice ship exclusives, where your portrayal of your muse is the only one i will engage in a ship with. as general rule i don’t usually ship with more than one portrayal of a muse, unless there are special circumstances, but i’m more than happy to make it official!

affiliates. for portrayals who are integral and intertwined with my portrayal of barbara. we’ve established a deep bond with our muses and are dedicated to nurturing it. affiliates have the highest priority with replies and plots, and, while we can discuss whether this would also mean being exclusive, i would be unlikely to engage with other portrayals of your muse either way. your muse may also be referenced in replies to others and in headcanons/metas, depending on what has been established (e.g if they are someone from barbara’s 'canon’ they may be referenced more often than a crossover, though any crossover would be considered part of my blog canon). basically being affiliated means i think you’re really cool and talented, and everything we’ve created has become very special to me. due to the nature of this connection i will reserving this for close friends/those who i have significantly plotted with.

After attacking Iran, Israel has closed all crossings into Gaza, shutting off humanitarian aid and escalating the dire humanitarian crisis facing Palestinians.

Gaza is under siege, and the price of staples has climbed tremendously. Community kitchens have been forced to close due to lack of supplies, and have been unable to afford to replenish their stocks.

Gaza Soup Kitchen is a grassroots organization that uses money from global donors to feed thousands of people every day. Their most recent campaign was to provide food parcels for Ramadan, and they are going to struggle to keep people fed in the midst of this new, horrifying war.

If you are able to, consider donating money to Gaza Soup Kitchen through their GoFundMe or GiveButter accounts to help stave off hunger in the midst of this chaos.

dick awaits barbara’s response with bated breath, sharp eyes scanning her shocked face for any signs of offense to be ready with an apology. instead, he is soothed by witnessing the proverbial gears of her beautiful mind as she considers his idea.

“ my offer is genuine. i can think of many worse fates than making you my duchess ” he assures her with a gentle smile. he lowers to a kneeling position beside her chair, placing gloved hand upon her’s. “ those hearts are of precious little concern me compared to yours. ”

then, a pregnant pause, the eldest wayne considering the implications of such a proposal, his expression becoming more serious before her eyes. “ what of you? would you tie yourself to me for as long as we live? ” the mere thought causes his heart to race in his chest, though a practiced mask obscures that fact well. “ if not, then we shall think of an alternative that will satisfy your father… i would never dare be another male voice in your life dictating your marriage prospects for you. ”

her traitorous heart beats ever faster. gaze darting from blue eyes to the gloved hand that rests upon her own. my duchess. it feels a little like a dream. something her wild imagination might have conjured to save her from the realities of a worse fate. but she knows, even without pinching herself, that this is real. that dick grayson, her best friend since childhood, has now become her knight in shining armour.

❝ there could be no better man to be forever tied to. ❞ and she finds that she does not wish for another man. he may be the most handsome, the kindest, the richest man in london and yet he would not hold a candle the one in front of her now. ❝ besides, my father will not be satisfied until a ring is placed on my finger. ❞ while she curses it, she knows he means well. all he wants is her security, that she will not be left at the will of a random relative upon his death. instead he would leave her at the will of a husband.

she takes a deep breath, forcing her gaze to meet dick’s once again. ❝ i would gladly accept your offer. ❞ the smile on her lips is sincere, it blooms from one corner and soon overtakes every inch of her lips. they could find happiness, she’s sure. little would truly need to change. other than her name, really, and the addition of new jewellery on her finger. a naïve thought, she would later find out.  ❝ you are doing more for me than you even realise. i am not sure i can ever truly repay you. ❞

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . . 𝙰𝙻𝚃 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂
𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝚃𝙾 @batscain

a groan escapes the lips of the older, gaze falling to the younger, as the string quartet start another rendition. the quadrille . . . again. does society truly not tire of performing the same dances over and over? she couldn’t think of anything worse. ❝ i fear i may be in danger of dying from boredom. ❞ barbara mutters, an eyebrow quirking upwards as she follows cassandra’s gaze to the dance floor. she finds no one of interest. after all this ball is attended by the same lords and ladies who have attended every ball. ❝ oh, do not tell me that someone has caught your eye. i thought you would be my sister in spinsterhood. ❞

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . . 𝙰𝙻𝚃 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂
𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝚃𝙾 @systemsred

❝ it was very kind of you to invite me to promenade. ❞ an invitation barbara had intended to politely decline, however her father had insisted she make friends in london and so the decision to go was made for her. gaze shifts upwards towards marina. a person of interesting conversation, at least. though she can’t help but wonder if her father’s pushing her to make a friend, especially one already married, is less about companionship and more hope that it may guide barbara down the aisle herself. ❝ though i must say, if my father has enlisted you in his effort to find me a husband then you will find your efforts shall come to nothing. ❞

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . . 𝙰𝙻𝚃 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂
𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝚃𝙾 @aratsaka

barbara’s happy at the edge of things. watching the ton from her secluded corner, a glass of lemonade in hand. some spare her a glance, though she isn’t sure if it’s pity or curiosity in their gaze. some start to step in her direction, mostly eligible men no doubt coerced by her father, but a withering stare seems fit to stop them in their tracks. all but one, it seems. ❝ i hope you do not dare to ask me to dance. ❞ despite frosty words, it’s a smile that plays on her lips. ❝ i worn you that i have yet to master the art of dance in this thing, ❞ hands gesture to her chair, ❝ and so your feet may very well be in grave danger. ❞

ALT

more babs posting :)

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . .
𝙳𝙴𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 @redlands
“ …what if there was a way we could make both our fathers happy and take you off the marriage market? ” dick beheld spectacled green eyes with his trademark sincerity, assuring barbara that his query is no mere jest. her beauty arrests him, a pang in his chest alongside quickening pulse. he knows for a fact that he’s blushing and making a right fool of himself, but he takes the leap regardless.
“ what if i proposed? ”

barbara had been upset - no, positively angry, for well over 24 hours now. since her father, who had never before pushed her towards the marriage mart, had sat her down and informed her it was time to marry. as if to find a husband was as easy as buying a new ribbon. as barbara should want to do such a thing. to get married was to tie her value . . her very life to some man. one who would surely not understand her, who might not treat her well, if the horror stories were to be believed. barbara did not want to be one of those women who were sold like cattle to the highest bidder. she would not let herself enter a marriage because her father deemed it right.

it wasn’t that she was against marriage, really. she would just rather it be for love.

well, it seemed she truly had no choice now.

dick’s words finally break through the roaring of anger in her ear. it takes a moment, a blink and another, for them to really register. head snaps in his direction, green meeting brilliant blue, and for a rare moment she’s rendered speechless. what if i proposed? ❝ that is - i mean - ❞ mouth opens, then closes again. could she really be considering this? perhaps marrying her best friend might be as close as could be to marrying for love. ❝ that is to say, are you sure that would be wise? you would be tying yourself to me forever. ❞ this is an action that could never be undone. what if, through helping her, he misses out on his own chance of finding true love? ❝ and leaving behind a string of broken hearts, no doubt. ❞

a whole bunch of gazan mutual aid projects and nonprofits. if the decision of which individual fundraiser to give to feels too daunting, or if you just want to help as many people as possible in one go, these are great initiatives to support.

• care for gaza - focuses on providing food and essential supplies. donate here or here.
• connecting humanity - securing internet access via donations of virtual sim cards (esims). if you can’t afford a whole plan yourself, crips for esims is a communal pool that will use your donation to purchase and maintain esims
• gaza soup kitchen - provides food, medical care, and classes for children. also has a gofundme
• glia gaza medical support initiative - provides medical care through field clinics and tents at hospitals. donations can also be sent through their website.
• ele elna elak - provides clean water, food, clothing, and shelter. they also have a gofundme
• life for gaza - raising money for the gaza municipality to repair water and waste management infrastructure
• taawon - partners with local civil organizations to provide food, water, medical care, shelter, and basic supplies
• the sameer project - running various initiatives providing tents, medical care, and necessities. they have their own encampment project focused on sheltering families with children, sick and disabled members, or members in need of perinatal care
• islamic relief worldwide’s gaza emergency appeal - provides food, water, hygiene kits, medical supplies, and psychological support
• baitulmaal - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, shelter, and medical supplies
• gaza mutual aid fund - distributes food, hygiene products, water, and other essential supplies, including financial support. run by @/el-shab-hussein’s amazing friend Mona. updates can be found on her instagram.
• hygiene kits for gaza - provides hygiene supplies including menstrual products, wipes, and toothbrushes/toothpaste
• anera - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, hygiene supplies, medicine, blankets and mattresses, and psychological care
• palestine children’s relief fund - provides supplies and support with a focus on children. also has an initiative for lebanon
• dahnoun mutual aid - provides water, food, tents, baby supplies, financial support, and other necessities. updates can be found through their instagram

certainly this is not an exhaustive list, so please feel free to add on other projects or organizations that i didn’t include. and as always, please take the time to donate if you can and share. it truly makes all the difference.

still on my regency bs someone consider a dick.babs marriage of convenience plot

hi give this a like for a small starter from one of my alt verses; sw: rebel, sw: jedi, bg3, mass effect, or regency! please comment which alt verse you would prefer. multis please specify which muse you would like the starter for <3

HARRIET SLATER as Clara Dunn (Trenchard)
Belgravia: The Next Chapter (2024)

right so regency era barbara absolutely would consider herself to be a spinster

ok tripped and fell and wrote out a whole verse please indulge me <3

the gordon family where one of great noble esteem. james gordon, the heir to the earl of huntly, was considered quite the catch. what a shame, the marriage minded mama’s used to say, that he left for the americas, in search of purpose and instead found a wife. it was a suitable match, there was no doubt. though barbara kean’s family where not of noble birth, they were of high wealth and position. propelling jim to high standing in their settlement of gotham, close to new york. for some time they were happy, welcoming a daughter, at first, and soon a son. james gordon jr, a birth celebrated across many nations. for he would, one day, inherit the earl of huntly. or, so it was believed at the time. as james jr aged he would show odd tendencies, ones not becoming of a titled young man. he would play too roughly, hurt and frighten other children, and toy with animals in way that disturbed his older sister. he was a teen when the doctor’s diagnosed him with what they called ‘the madness’. he had an unexplainable urge to do terrible things. a condition unbecoming of an heir to a prestigious title. with a scandal brewing, and feeling as though they had little options, it was spread about that the young man had become quite ill with a fever. an illness of the lungs. some days later, it was announced that he had died. weeks later, it was announced his wife had died of the same illness. it was merciful, some would say, that the future earl and his eldest daughter survived the outbreak.

but the coffins buried where empty and, some time later, two mysterious figures would depart to the australia colonies in the dead of the night.

after a suitable period of mourning, james gordon sr remarried. sarah essen was a respectable woman, the daughter of a detective, who shared a deep love with her new husband. she treated his daughter, now approaching womanhood, as her own. by all accounts, she fit into the family as if she had been there the whole time. yet, despite all hopes, she never bared him any children. could not produce a new heir, though she most desperately tried. the future of the family line would fall to jim’s only surviving child; barbara.

a self-proclaimed spinster at the age of one and twenty. barbara had no dreams of marriage, was far too invested in solving the crimes that plagued their city. muggings and murders were becoming all too common in gotham. with her father helping to shape the police department, barbara would, on more than one occasion, find herself accompanying him on his many visits to the department. it was not a woman’s job to solve such heinous crimes, she would be told, and yet it seemed no man could do so either. with the help of close friends barbara did what many grown men could not, she tracked down the man who had been tormenting the city. a man called the joker. they had him on the run, nothing but a rat hiding in the sewers, with it being only a matter of time until he was caught. they never dreamed he would strike in plain sight. that he would be waiting on the other side of a door, gun in hand, to make his last move before being taken to pay for his crimes. a bullet to the spine almost took her life. they said she was lucky to be alive, even if to be alive now meant to be confined to a chair. the joker had the same madness as her brother, her father informed her, and he would never see the light of day again. somehow it was little comfort.

soon after they returned to scotland. news had reached gotham of her grandfather’s ill-health. come say your goodbyes, said the letter. within days he was dead, and jim became the new heir of huntly. an earl with no heir. and so all eyes turned to barbara. she must marry, the lawyers insisted. even if she cannot produce an heir, she must marry for her own security. for what life could there be for a spinster once her father died? a new earl might not be so kind to her. he might throw her out on the streets. barbara declared she would be a governess, rather work for her keep than give her life over to a man. her father only sighed and shook his head, and she knew her fate was sealed. that same year, at the age of five and twenty and much too old to be a debutante, barbara gordon debuted on the london marriage mart.

okay but i love how bg babs is like fun and flirty and cool and oracle babs is like i know your social security number you can’t hide from me

barbara.

his plan to show her what he dreamed about almost every night had been abandoned, ignoring opened shutters and picture perfect view. why look up when what he really wanted was right in front of him? with an adorably confusing look on her face, one that matched his own, he was sure. part of him worried, briefly, he’d sounded too disbelieving. or as though he wanted to avoid being the subject of her wishes, like he had hoped she meant someone else. exactly the opposite, anxiety faded the moment she seemed to catch realization of her own. he took another step, just in time with her last question. would it be, so bad? to get what he’d been wanting for so long now?

“ no. no, i don’t think it would be. ” a voice so regularly enthusiastic, boastful, now simmered down into tender thoughtfulness. as much as he feared wrecking what brilliance they shared, he ached to tow the line a little further. “ i don’t see why meaning it could ever be bad. ” closing the space between them, he stopped short of her chair, their knees briefly making gentle contact. he reached for one of her hands to relieve their tenseness, and to give his own something to do. kneeling in time with pressing her palm to his cheek, every movement kept cautious on the off chance he was still so horribly wrong.

“ but that doesn’t mean the other ones meant nothing to me. ” he clarified in a whisper, a small ring of light blooming around each pupil. so very obvious in such a dark space. “ on christmas. new year’s. those meant something to me. ” short inhale, his grip tightening. silence swallowed him whole, his expression hesitant for a moment, before tenacity broke through, confession made among blossoming revelation. “ y’know, i only kiss when i’m in love. ”

the world suddenly seemed so silent. like a pin dropping would sound like a firework right above their heads. barbara might be holding her breath. waiting. watching. analysing. gaze fixed on johnny’s careful movements. following him as he closes the space between them, flickering only he’s so close that she can feel his warmth sinking into her very bones. the thumping of her heart only increasing in furiosity as he guides her touch. her fingers curl around his cheek, lost to the soft feel of his skin beneath her fingertip. how could this ever be bad? oh, there’s probably a million reasons her rational mind could come up with, but it’s all drowned out by her heart.

❝ they meant something to me. ❞ her words are practically a whisper. a secret shared from her heart to his. denying it had become impossible. continuing to pretend they were just friends untenable. barbara had always been a good liar, had always needed to be, and yet continuing with the ruse of being causal had become almost impossible. back lifts from her chair, body drifting ever closer - like a planet caught in his orbit. ❝ you mean something to me. ❞ but how can she put it into words? the lifting of her heart in his mere presence, the fogging of her mind when he steps just a little too close, the joy in seeing his name appear across her screens.

he seems to find the word for her.

head tilts, and it doesn’t escape her that they would fit together so perfectly. the smile that blooms across her lips, lifting up each corner, uncontrollable. ❝ are you saying you’re in love with me, johnny storm? ❞ never have words felt so brave. never has it been such a battle to contain the storm within. the apprehension and excitement. the hope and anticipation. the hand that had rested against her leg now reaches for his other, linking their fingers together. the light of his eyes, she’s sure, now reflecting back in the dark green of her irises. ❝ i’ve found it’s quite impossible not to fall in love with you, too. ❞