InertialPsychopomp



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    Through the carnage came a figure cloaked in shadow, she appeared to move through the bodies rather than step on top of them. Even standing somewhere around seven or eight feet tall, she was far too humanoid to be a foe, they had long since abandoned their ruse of playing at humanity. She wore a cloak that appeared to dissipate and knit together like threads of smoke, the gossamer threads like the grey of a new dawn. Under the hood, he could only just make out her eyes, a clouded sky blue, pupils, and her gaze unending.

    She stopped before him, their eyes meeting through his tears. There was no empathy in her gaze, only his own agony reflected back at him, though her hand was light as a soft breeze as she tipped his chin up.

    “Please,” Dick said, even though he didn’t know what he was asking for: release, mercy, death.

    “You long to go back.”

    “Yes.”

    “For a different outcome.”

    Dick nearly choked on the word, “yes.”

    “I can make it so. I can give you the gift of foresight, but I warn you, it comes at great sacrifice as it does for anyone else who it is bestowed upon.”

     

    Dick Grayson may not be able to change everything, but my god, is he going to try.

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    18 Feb 2026

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    He’s nine again– nine and new and knows so many things now so rather than try to go back–

    He thinks he has the chance to make things right.

    The bright blue trainers he puts on are a pair he hasn’t worn in forever, something he never thought about after he grew out of them (will grow out of?) a year from now, and sets off into the night and into the rain.

    The plan he has in his brain is not really a plan, moreso just a couple of half thrown ideas and maybe five steps into building back the life he had in the most painless way he could.

    Maybe, he thinks, maybe this plan can start off with the family he misses– because he’s sixty and most of them too injured or too old or too dead–

    Call him selfish but he misses them. He would rather find them than get himself back into that lonely existence he called a life before he woke up at nine.

    Dick makes do because that’s all he can do really.

    -🦇-

    Dick gets sent back in time, but don't worry, he's got this. (Probably)

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    18 Feb 2026

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    So, it didn’t start out like this.

     

    Alfred would scoff at the statement, about how Bruce was trying to justify the whole situation to himself. It had started out as a simple design, black everything with black outlines and black hood. It got a little more intense as the world went on, got wind of his ghost on the streets, and became scared of The Bat . So Bruce got a little more creative with it, Alfred and him had a good laugh over the name, the scare, and Alfred had a vicious streak of humor that he had passed onto his ward-

     

    So now the suit had a visible bat-theme, an insignia to drape in the shadows and to paint across the streets of Gotham.

     

    It only took a year into the whole charade of heroism for Bruce to overhear a conversation between some goons- some low level thug hired by the Riddler this week- about nothing at all pertaining to what the hell the Riddler was doing in the sewers but instead:

    “ The Batman can fly, you know, I’ve seen his wings.”

    --

    A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.

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    25 Dec 2025

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    "Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

    “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

    “Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

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    07 Dec 2025

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    23 Nov 2025