#backstory prompt

[charlies-trainhopping]

<- ARTEMIS ->

(This art is a character prompt oc challenge on facebook)

"being an animus, mind-reader and a prophet of the future, artemis already would've hidden herself away from society.

So how was she to explain her frostbreath, fire and flamesilk? Her solution: don't. It was bad enough that her strange antennae was fluffy, and had the four rounded wings to mark a SilkWing. Pushing aesthetics aside, she wasn't even sure how she was lucky enough to get a natural combination of frostbreath, fire, flamesilk, mind-reading, seeing the future and being an ANIMUS. It felt ridiculous that she had to be cursed and blessed. So she hid in the shadows, and never attempted to use her magic or flamesilk, and she tried her hardest to cancel out her visions and keep her mind-reading at bay. But her incredibly odd coloration and scales with fur didn't make anything easier to hide away herself-or her powers.

For the first 7 years of her life she was meticulously cautious and kept herself out of sight; until society found HER. The dragons took her to populated cities, preaching that Artemis was the 'Destined One' who would save all from harm.

'The Prophesized One', 'Our Goddess', 'The Huntress', 'Our Moonlit Maiden'... many nicknames was she called by. She was worshipped-praised and elevated on golden pedestal. Artemis became dragonkind's Goddess and Savior-but with such titles, they came with pressure and greed. The dragons would beg for Artemis to solve their problems with magic or her flamesilk. They demanded more and more everyday, never satisfied with her anymore-but still worshipped her and brought her gifts and offerings, acting as if material wealth would immediately make up for their selfishness and mistreatment towards her.

Eventually, Artemis-understandably-snapped. Before, she had done her best to avoid using magic, but she had no such hesitation now as she magicked anything to murder the dragons who had used and abused her for years; centuries, even! She foresaw this-and she wanted it to be reality. The screams of fear were like music to her ears, and the panicked thoughts made this incredibly enjoyable. Artemis watched the destruction with twisted glee-

revenge felt truly freeing."

[END]

[sohannabarberaesque]

Cattanooga Cats Explosion of Pedigreed Bull Headcannon (Appy Polly Loggies as per usual)

So much for the Sour Grapes Girls being the pet annoyance of The Banana Splits: Imagine the Cattanooga Cats, mainly during performances, having a group of queen cats more in the vein of the Hee Haw Honeys adding some variety without going too sexpot in presentation (especially so with audience interactions, but also playing around and sharing banter with the band).

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Al Ghul Twins, Only Not Really

I have this vague idea that I might or might not turn into a fic, but it's been in my head for weeks now.

So Bad Ending with Fentons happens, after which Danny is traumatized beyond repair. Sam and Tucker find him, and for the lack of any other possible solutions, yeet him in the Zone and destroy the portal. Clockwork finds him, and Danny, desperate for a safe place, time to rest and heal, and afraid of becoming Dan, asks him for help. Clockwork obliges and tells him he will take care of everything and for Danny to sleep and not worry about anything.

"It's going to be okay," Clockwork tells him, "You will wake up, and all this will feel like a distant dream."

So Danny sleeps. The trick is, he doesn't sleep for a day or two - Clockwork, together with Frostbite and Nocturn, put him into something equivalent to medical coma. And then, Clockwork finds a dimension where no one's ever heard of Danny, Amity Park, GIW, and everything else, and he hides Danny in there.

Danny sleeps for three centuries, in depth of the mountains where no one can find or bother him. Yet, his mere presence in the world causes some ectoplasm to start accumulating around him - he is the Ghost King, after all.

He sleeps under Nanda Parbat.

When he wakes, his past life with Fentons really does feel distant and foggy. He remembers it, but it's like a childhood memory: the details have faded away, the faces have become blurry, and it doesn't hurt anymore. He doesn't forget anything, but it becomes... less important. Less meaningful.

But the first thing he feels just a few minutes after he wakes is a soul. A soul of a child, crying in pain, and its lifeless body being submerged into Danny's ectoplasm (Lazarus Pits have all come from Danny's excess ecto over the years of his sleep, so he can feel them and he can control them to an extent, albeit Ra's has really badly polluted them over the years).

Danny is a hero, that didn't change even after his very long sleep. So he tries to help, but in the process, he accidentally gets roped into the Pit, since a) it's corrupted ecto, b) he has zero ide what he's doing, c) he is the Ghost King and he might put more power in it than he intended, d) he just woke up, cut him some slack.

Talia, who put Damian's body into the Pit, is very damn surprised when two Damians emerge, and that's putting it lightly.

At least they are both very much alive.

[just-writing-ideas]

cw: abuse and trauma and other unsavory things

interesting character backstories

because "my parents hit me or force me to be perfect" won't cut it for every character in the cast

-characters who grew up poor. poverty is traumatizing, people. i wanna see characters who never ask for anything, count dollars and coins, freak out when the bill isn't split fairly and immediately suspect bed bugs when someone says they're itchy. and mention the ugly stuff too. smelling bad and having water stains on the walls. ice cream for dinner and not eating breakfast. lights going out and fourteen year olds supporting a family of five.

-characters who were neglected. not physically abused, neglected. who don't understand why people care when they don't show up, or seem kind of down today, or leave a party without saying goodbye. who are too independent for their own good. who can't think of anything to say when asked to describe their parents. who are okay with being lonely. who always feel lonely. who get uncomfortable if you even ask them how their day was. who does that?

-characters who were smothered. who were treated like a toddler well into their teens. who were practically stalked by their own parents, never allowed a moment of privacy. who were constantly belittled and denied their autonomy as the adults in their life made every decision for them. regardless of how loved they truly were, this is abuse. this could go in two diverging directions: end result of a very guarded, mature character feeling a constant need to prove themself, or end result of a passive, immature character who requires attention, praise and constant assistance. both have extremely low self-esteem.

-characters who are fundamentally different from their family. maybe they're queer, or adopted, or disabled, or aren't fully related to the rest of them (bonus points if they aren't the same race as their family). characters who watch like a ghost as everyone else smiles and bonds. and maybe it's their fault that they're like this, or maybe it's their fault for not reaching out to the family themself, but... nobody else had to ask for it.

i forgot about this blog

[angstandhappiness]

He heh, rite of passage

Conversation Prompt

“Is this going to lead to another horrific story about your childhood?”

“Yes. They all tend to be fairly gruesome, if I’m honest. Although, it only got really bad once I turned sixteen. In some places, that’s considered adulthood.”

[heavyheavycream]

feedist kinktober 10 - full moon

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Guide: Character Backstory

What is your character’s name?

What is your character’s age?

Where was your character born?

What does your character look like?

What does your character act like?

Who are your character’s parents?

What is your character’s educational background?

What is your character’s best friend?

Who is your character’s first love?

How did they become friends?

Where does your character live?

Does your character live with anyone?

Is your character married?

Does your character have kids?

What is your character’s job?

Is your character religious?

What is your character’s value system / moral code?

What does your character believe about the world?

Is your character introverted or extroverted?

What is your character’s daily routine and why?

Name 3 things that your character loves (& why).

Name 3 things that your character hates (& why).

What’s your character’s greatest flaw?

What’s your character’s greatest virtue?

What is your character’s secret vice? What’s the origin?

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Character-Building Character Creation ⚜ How to Write a Character ⚜ Notes: On Backstory

[shywhumpauthor]

A Whumper with fire powers branding their Whumpee not just with their name or initials, but their handprints.

Two palms scarred against either side of Whumpee’s neck, fingers wrapping around their throat in a collar that can never be removed. Hands on their sides, just below their broken ribs, a touch that will never relent. Fingers wrapped around their wrists in shackles that won’t be unlocked. A handprint against their face, cupping their cheek that had already suffered so many punches. The small of their back. A single hand just between their shoulder blades. Dragging down their thighs.

Just. Branded handprints.

[cepheusgalaxy]

Classic: character compulsively washing their hands trying to get rid of blood stains that nobody but them can see, after having had to kill someone or watching someonde die in their arms, but the stains won't go away.

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

[leahkentwriter]

Backstories for girls and women in stories that *don't* involve sexual assault.

I beta read a lot, and am involved in writing communities of various kinds, and I briefly taught English way back in the day, and I consume storytelling media in general - and one of my biggest pet peeves is sexual assault backstories. While I think this is improving, it's still annoying to me that a lot of writers (of all genders, but particularly men) fall back on a sexual assault backstory whenever they need to make a girl or woman in a story complicated or haunted or fucked up in some way.

Unless your story is dealing with the topic of sexual assault in some way, please don't use it as a way to give a character depth or angst.

Here are some prompts, just to get you started with some ideas.

Why would a woman be trying to escape her past? Why would she be seeking a fresh start?

She hated her small town; the people there didn't understand her and she never felt like she fit in - she's queer, she has a weird birthmark, she's got unique interests, she has magical powers, etc.

She's a criminal - she robbed banks or stole cars and she wanted a fresh start

She was an addict and hurt people, and she wants a fresh start now that she's sober

Her parent is a criminal or an addict and she's trying to outrun the stigma of being related to them

She didn't get along with a stepparent and skipped town as soon as she turned 18

She had big dreams of being something else, and left to pursue them

Her childhood home was haunted, but no one believed her

She got married young then divorced, and wants to start over somewhere that no one knows her

Heartbreak of any variety - she's leaving a place that reminds her too much of someone she lost or couldn't have

She wants better; maybe more money, or a career, or simply a higher quality of life

Some other violent tragedy occurred - a school shooting, an explosion at the plant, police brutality, her best friend was killed, etc.

Her hometown no longer exists (climate change, the main factory shut down, it was overrun by rabid squirrels, etc.)

What would make a woman distrustful of others?

Heartbreak; being lied to, cheated on, left for her best friend, etc.

A big betrayal - her former best friend told everyone a secret about her, someone weaponized her trauma or her past or a major flaw she's sensitive about, etc.

She witnessed a traumatizing event as a child

Her mother was a grifter and used her as part of her scams

One parent cheated on the other and broke up the family

Her older brother isn't dead after all, he was disowned for being gay and now she's questioning everything her parents ever told her

She has problems with her memory, and is never quite sure what the truth is

She's bad at reading people and has been taken advantage of

She finds out a dark secret about someone she loves and is having trouble processing it

She gradually comes to see that someone she idealized as a child is not at all what they seem

Someone she thought was a good, kind, and genuine person is arrested for a terrible crime

Spiritual abuse - the worldview she was taught was right turns out to be exploitative, represses women, etc., so she leaves

What would cause a woman to have mental health issues?

Any form of abuse - doesn't have to be sexual

Her parents had really high expectations that she couldn't live up to

It simply runs in the family

Survivor's guilt - she survived something that someone else did not

She was bullied and no one protected her

Her parents were very controlling and destroyed her confidence

Her sibling was the golden child and she was the scapegoat

She's had issues since childhood but her parents refused to admit there was anything wrong with her, so she didn't get help

Being a part of any oppressed group of people who experience discrimination - she's a person of color, she's an immigrant, she's got a disability, she's queer, etc.

Any major trauma, either witnessed or being a part of - weather events and natural disasters, infrastructure collapse, crashes and accidents, fires, a shooting or a murder, etc.

You're a writer - get creative. There are lots of ways to traumatize and haunt a girl/woman character without having to resort to a sexual assault backstory. You can even make her the problem! Maybe she's the one who did something bad and is trying to outrun the guilt.

Let's also let go of the idea that it's meeting and falling in love with a man that saves her from her trauma. Let her have a healing arc that doesn't involve a man - a love story can still be there, but it can't be the magic healing balm that fixes her. Make her have to save herself. Give her autonomy to both make her own mistakes, and improve her own situation. Don't let your man go into savior mode - let him get frustrated with her. Let her push him away without him clinging to her in a desperate bid to show her what unconditional love is. Don't let him be a martyr to her trauma.

Women are complicated for many reasons. We have trauma for many reasons. We have mental health issues for many reasons. We may want to escape our past for many reasons. We're angsty and weird for many reasons.

Please pick literally anything other than sexual assault.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

[sohannabarberaesque]

Just picture how Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy are likely to fix ravioli (especially the meat such)

As in taking a decent-sized splatterware roasting pan, filling it with a bag of frozen beef ravioli, topping with half a jar of decent spaghetti sauce (hopefully such without added sugars and sodium as low as feasable) and sprinkling on some Parmesan cheese ... and repeating such with a second layer.

Then baking it at 400° Fahrenheit/205° Celsius/Gas Mark 6 for about 45 minutes.

[moss-on-trees]

dp x dc prompt: you're my dad now au

danny goes to the edge of town to brood.

his parents are as hazardous to his safety as ever and jazz keeps calling him from college to convince him to stop being phantom and act like a normal kid. he thinks he deserves the right to vent a little, if only to himself. he doesn't want to bother sam and tucker in the middle of the night again.

"i wish i could have a family i can be honest with. people i wouldn't have to hide injuries from. who would have my back and who would understand i don't patrol in the middle of the night because i want to, but because someone needs to do it," he says with a sigh.

he doesn't notice desiree's out to play until it's too late.

"well, i guess that's one way to get rid of you, ghost boy. your wish is granted!"

and he's teleported right inside the batcave.

well, danny's always been one to roll with the punches.

"hello! it's nice to meet you," he says brightly to a scowling batman. "i guess you're my dad now."

[cassiebones]

Happy birthday to @imyouraziraphale and here is your bday ficlet

Agatha hated her mother. It had taken her quite a while to admit that to herself, let alone aloud to the only person who may have had an equal hatred for Evanora Harkness: Rio Vidal.

Agatha had spent her entire life trying to earn her mother's love, watching the other children in her coven receive their mothers' love so freely and openly. Agatha was envious of them from the beginning, glaring at them as a small child, watching as they held their mothers' hands and received hugs and kisses that Agatha never got from Evanora.

Instead, she received whacks on her behind. She received sharp-tongued insults and admonishments for...well, she often didn't know what she had done wrong, but she always replied with the same four words: "I can be good!" Her mother scoffed at those words, but Agatha still tried. She wanted to be good so badly. For her mother.

Whom she loved.

But then her mother had tried to have her executed and Agatha had to confront the fact that, while she had loved her mother, her mother had not loved her.

It still took a decade to really come to terms with it. It took another decade before Agatha realized that she did not love her mother at all. She loathed her. She was happy that she was dead, rather than relief, which had been her first reaction despite her guilt at the killing.

Rio was right there with her, hating her mother. She had watched Agatha's execution, staying silent with the knowledge of what was about to happen. It hadn't been Agatha's time; Rio knew that. She grinned when all eight of the witches blasted Agatha with their magic, silencing her begging for mercy. She knew what was about to happen and she thrilled at the power this young witch had. She was practically salivating.

The blue rays turned to purple and Agatha's eyes widened in shock as she involuntarily drained the other witches of their magic, of the lives. Her eyes widened further as the euphoria of siphoning hit her, the relief that came with it. She released her hands from their bindings and faced her mother head on, though she was once again begging for mercy. Mercy that a mother should not be begged for.

"Please!" Agatha had said. "I can be good!"

"No," Evanora said, sighing as if the information disappointed her, "you cannot." She blasted Agatha again, apparently learning absolutely nothing from what had just happened before her very eyes, and had her powers almost instantly drained by her daughter.

Imbecile.

Rio continued to watch Agatha as the young woman stumbled away from the stake, walking toward her mother's body, her chin angled up (though she couldn't truly hide the tears in her eyes) as she leaned down, snatching her mother's locket. Then she flew off like some kind of beautiful bird, leaving Rio gazing after her in awe.

"Who are you?" Rio jumped then glared at the spirit of Evanora Harkness, who was glaring at her with her hands on her hips.

"I am Death," Rio growled at her. "I have come to take you to-"

"You aren't taking me anywhere," Evanora huffed. "I cannot leave this earth until that evil girl has been sent straight to hell, where she belongs!"

"She's not the one who has a spot reserved in hell," Rio huffed, leaning closer. Evanora's eyes practically filled with fire as she refused to move from her spot above her own body.

Rio just rolled her eyes, turning to the other spirits floating around, trying to ignore their wails as they lamented not only the loss of their own lives, but the fear and devastation their children must soon feel once they learned of their deaths.

At least there were some good mothers in this coven, Rio thought bitterly as she collected their souls, ignoring their pleas for more time and protection for their young children. She led them to the other side, ignoring Evanora, who stayed back as she preferred to stay a ghost (Rio hated ghosts, the stubborn bastards), and quickly returned to the land of the living, seeking out the powerful young witch.

She found her sitting beneath a tree by the river, looking out at the water as she played with the locket she'd taken off her own mother's body. As Rio watched her from behind a neighboring tree, she looked down at the locket, glaring at it for a moment, then made as if to toss it into the water....then she didn't. Instead, she placed it into her pocket, then pulled her knees up to her chest, then buried her face into her skirts and sobbed.

Rio felt something in that moment, in her chest. It felt...uncomfortable, beating out a rhythm against her ribcage. She placed her skeletal hand against her chest and closed her eyes, listening. She had heard this sound before. It sounded like...a heartbeat.

That was impossible, though. Death had no heart. Where could that be coming from, though? What could it be if not a heart? Like humans had.

She looked back up at the girl, who rested her chin on her folded arms, her blue eyes deep as the ocean as she stared out at the river, tears still falling down soft, beautiful cheeks. She was so beautiful...

"Show yourself," her voice said, suddenly. "I can hear you breathing. You might as well come out of hiding."

"I do not breathe," Rio huffed. Well, okay, that was a breath. But that was atypical for her. She schooled her features, putting on the visage of a girl approximately this one's age, and stepped out of the shadows.

The girl's eyes widened at the sight of her, her cheeks turning pink. Rio felt the rhythm of her new heart pick up in response. The girl stood as Rio approached her. Up close, she was even more gorgeous than Rio had first thought. She was the most beautiful human that Rio had ever seen (and she'd been around since the very first humans died, so that was truly saying something).

Her hair was long and dark brown, a contrast to the bright blue eyes. Her skin was almost as pale as the moonlight, but her cheeks were still pink, showing her the proof of the heart that pumped in her chest, the blood that ran through her veins. She was still pulsing with the power of eight witches, plus her own. She seemed to glow with it.

Rio swallowed thickly at the sight of her. She'd never had to swallow before. She was not human, not bound by human rules and impulses, but being this close to this woman...she felt distinctly human.

"Who are you?" she asked once Rio was just a few feet away. Rio paused in her steps when she saw the other girl's hands glow purple with her magic.

"I've had many names," Rio said, "over the years. Many have been unkind, but some have been...respectful." She shrugged. "You, however," she smiled at Agatha, softly, "may call me Rio."

"Rio." Oh, Rio's chosen name sounded absolutely musical on her tongue. Her lips wrapped around it perfectly.

"And what is yours?" Rio asked, tilting her head to the side, offering her another grin.

"Agatha," she said, but she offered no surname.

"Agatha," Rio echoed. "Beautiful."

The flush on Agatha's cheeks deepened and spread to the tips of her ears, sending a thrill through Rio. She loved being the one to elicit this reaction from such a beautiful human. She wanted to do it again. And again. And again and again and again.

Until the very end of time.

"Why are you here?" Agatha asked, her voice trying for firm but ending up a little shaky. "What has brought you to my covens' land?"

The coven had set up cabins around the lake just outside Salem. They were close enough that they could go to the markets for food and other materials they might need, but far enough that they could perform spells without alerting the townspeople. These were dangerous times for witches, after all.

"Death," Rio said, simply. Agatha's face blanched, all color leaving her at once. "Not yours, obviously," Rio said. "But there are about eight other corpses in a circle about..." She turned in the direction of the stake, which she could not see through the thicket of trees, "a mile that way. Good job, by the-"

When she turned back, Agatha was running away, her hands sparking purple at her sides, refusing to carry her in flight. Rio rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers, appearing in Agatha's path. Agatha did not react quickly enough to stop and ended up nearly knocking Rio over instead. Rio was sturdy, though, and was able to stay upright. She grasped Agatha's arms, holding onto her as she attempted to run away again.

"Please stop," Rio sighed. "I am not going to hurt you."

"Lies! You will tell the townspeople! I will be tried as a witch!"

"Are you not one?" Rio snorted. "You could have fooled me."

"What do you want from me?" Agatha hissed, still struggling.

"I want to teach you," Rio said, remembering Agatha's pleas from before. Agatha stopped struggling and Rio smiled. "I want to help you. I want you to take more power."

"Take more...why?" Agatha asked, furrowing her brow. "Why would I take the power of others? I've killed them!"

"I saw," Rio said, giving her an almost unhinged grin, it was so excited. "I liked it. It makes my job that much easier."

"Your...job?" Agatha looked Rio up and down, not quite understanding. Rio sighed, closing her eyes as she shifted her features. She didn't open her eyes again. She didn't want to see Agatha's reaction.

Humans had always been put off by Rio's skull-like features. They had screamed and ran and pleaded for her not to hurt them. Agatha had run even from Rio's most attractive visage, so how would she react to--

She felt the fingers brush against her jaw and her eyes opened immediately, staring into wide blue ones. Agatha's gaze was soft as it traced over every ridge and line of Rio's skull, her thumbs brushing over the ridge of her cheekbones. Rio felt hot under her touch, grateful that her skull could not blush lest she be found out.

"Magnificent," Agatha breathed. Rio leaned into her touch, feeling her heartbeat quicken again. Her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled deeply. Rio's hold on Agatha loosened, but the other woman did not move away. Instead, she stepped closer, her fingers now running over the place where Rio's lips would have been. "So beautiful," she breathed, her eyes going wide and cheeks going pink as if she hadn't meant to say those words aloud.

"You, too," Rio replied, softly, lifting one skeletal hand to cup Agatha's cheek. The other woman gasped slightly, but she too leaned into the touch.

It was that moment that made Rio certain that she would do anything to protect Agatha Harkness, at all costs.

And she did.

For decades, she held Agatha through her night terrors, rocking with her in her lap, pressing kisses to her cheeks and her forehead and her nose and anywhere she could reach as she assured Agatha that she was not evil and that her mother could not get to her. She taught Agatha everything she could about magic, collecting spells for her to place in her own journal, watching in awe as Agatha mastered each one. She watched from a safe distance as Agatha lured powerful witches to her with promises she never intended to keep, collecting their bodies with a smile and a kiss to her love's lips as she ferried their souls.

She proposed to Agatha next to the lake where they first met, pledging her very existence to Agatha, all her love and devotion pouring from her heart. Agatha accepted this proposal by knocking Rio to the ground, placing kisses all over her face, then her neck, then lower.

They married there later that week, neither able to wait much longer to entwine their souls.

Rio vowed to protect Agatha from anything and everything that might do her true harm. She sealed that vow with a kiss that took Agatha's breath away as well as her own.

Over three hundred years later, that still had not changed.

"Leave her," Evanora's ghost said, an evil smile spreading across her lips, "with me."

Agatha's eyes immediately widened with fear as she looked down at her mother. Rio's body flushed with rage, her hand gripping her knife more tightly.

"No!" she growled. "No way!"

She felt Agatha's gaze snap toward her.

"A minute ago, you were ready to slit her throat!" Jennifer Kale (annoying ass bitch that she was) exclaimed.

It's called foreplay, Jennifer!

"Yeah, well," Rio said, still glaring at Evanora, "her mother can't have her!" Over Rio's dead body.

And Rio was Death, so...

Agatha started to descend the steps, eyes locked on Rio, shock and awe in her tear-filled gaze. Rio's eyes softened on hers for a moment before returning her glare full-force to Evanora, who floated toward her. Rio adjusted her stance, unafraid.

This bitch...

She didn't know how to get rid of ghosts. If she did, the world would be rid of each and every phantom that had ever existed. But she'd be damned if she let this particular spooky bitch near her wife.

Not a chance in hell.

So she surged toward Evanora, brandishing her knife. Weapons were typically useless against those with incorporeal forms, but Rio was Death and this blade in her hand, however changed it was by the Maximoff abomination, was still forged for Death, so it must be able to do something, right?

Evanora must have thought so because she moved back, away from Rio as she pointed said knife straight at her, marching forward, ready to slit her throat now (in a very not foreplay way, for the record).

"You are making a mistake!" Evanora cried out, her voice not quite as strong as before. "She will kill you all!"

"Leave!" Rio boomed, using her Death voice. "Go back to hell where you came from, bitch!"

"You--" Evanora tried.

"Leave!" Rio raised the knife above her head and Evanora faded away in a matter of seconds. Her body heaved with her heavy breaths, her glared still fixed on the spot where Evanora had been.

"Rio," a voice gasped next to her. Rio turned, eyes wide, as Agatha surged into her, hugging her again like she had the night before. Rio wrapped her tightly in her arms, squeezing her tight. She felt a few sobs from Agatha's body, but they were so light so as to not be noticed by anybody else. She pressed a kiss to Agatha's temple as she pulled back, cupping her love's cheeks, swiping away the tears on Agatha's skin with her thumb. "You...why did you...?"

"I told you that I'd always protect you, didn't I?" Rio replied, her lips curving up in a tiny smile. "It was part of our vows."

"Your vows!?" Alice exclaimed.

"You two are married?" Lilia asked.

"Of course Agatha would be married to the creepy bitch," Jen huffed.

"Guys, time is running out!" Teen said, pointing at his watch.

"Go say goodbye then," Rio huffed, motioning to the Ouija Board as she continued to hold her wife in her arms. Agatha melted against her body, pressing her face into Rio's shoulder. Rio sheathed her knife and ran her fingers through the tangle of Agatha's curls. Wow, she really liked this hairstyle on her. She wanted to see more of it, for sure.

The rest of the group used the Ouija Board to spell out goodbye, but Agatha and Rio stayed holding one another. Rio pressed a kiss to Agatha's cheek. Agatha pulled back and kissed her lips, running her hands through Rio's hair like she'd done for decades. Rio held her wrists, as she had always done.

"Gross," she heard Jen Kale huff behind her. "Quit making out; the trial is over. We can leave."

Rio didn't stop kissing her wife. But she did take one of her hands off of Agatha's wrist to flip Jen the bird.

Agatha kissed her harder for that.

[angstandhappiness]

OOOF

Quote Prompt

“One of my first memories is my mother’s screams, my father’s arms, and the blood of my best friend being splattered across my face.”