Oct 14, 2025
oct 14th: hollow
No one's listening. No one ever is. (Or, the one where not once will Pharoah Duul Aman suffer cowards nor fools.)
or, a King Tuck AU where Tucker must prove himself a worthy descendant or succumb to the mummy rot.
seen from India
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Armenia
seen from Spain
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Denmark
seen from United States
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from Finland
seen from United States
oct 14th: hollow
No one's listening. No one ever is. (Or, the one where not once will Pharoah Duul Aman suffer cowards nor fools.)
or, a King Tuck AU where Tucker must prove himself a worthy descendant or succumb to the mummy rot.
DC & Beyond 2025 Prompts Day 1: Pumpkin Patch
It's a meeting of the half-human teen superhero club!
“At least you don’t have the scars from your death,” Danny points out one day, coiled around his tail and floating in the air.
Jason, who was poking despondently at a new scar, grunts.
“I’ve still got mine,” Danny says.
“I’ve never seen them.”
A snort. The ghost drifts down to the roof, landing on the edge with no weight. “They’re always covered up.” He pulls off a black glove and holds out his hand. “See?”
The fractal pattern glows green, spreading from the center of his hand to disappear under the sleeve of his suit. Lichtenberg figures.
Jason’s mouth pulls down at the edges, and he eyes the area where the marks vanish. “How far up does that go?”
Danny shrugs and pulls his glove back on. “Up to my shoulder, then spreads across my chest, down my hip and leg, and out my foot. Path the electricity took to leave my body.”
“Shit, man, that’s a lot.”
Read the rest here
Am I actually posting a prompt on time for once? its an October miracle!
DC&Beyond prompts day 3: "What's behind the door?"
Had some fun doing Danny's silhouette for this one, which means I didn't have to actually draw features! yay!
oct 7th: hide / seek
if only it weren't for those meddling kids and their stupid dog...
basically, what if when Wes started his whole "Fenton is Phantom!!!" campaign, his oldest friend Percy got the gang back together to try and. Well. help him out somehow because ain't no way Phantom is Fenton, man...
part 1 (here) | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
“I hate this place!” Jason’s voice echoes in the cavernous front hall.
Bruce stares.
“I hate that the ghosts of your dead parents haunt us! I hate that Dick left, but it’s like he’s dead! I hate that you want me to live around it all, to preserve it, like some kind of–fucking museum!”
Bruce stares.
“Life moves on! Shit changes!” He’s gasping for air. Screaming. Words piling up and overflowing like a swollen river. “You’re clinging to the past like none of us have any value! We’re the ghosts!”
Bruce stares.
Jason sobs, incandescent with rage and unable to express it. “I don’t want to be dead, Bruce! I don’t want to live in your fucked up mausoleum! If you cling to the past, you’ll drown.”
He knows it all too well. His life was one constant upheaval before Bruce. Ups and downs and good times and bad and terrible and wonderful. It was life. It was hard. It fucking sucked. But it was proof–proof that things were changing. The world kept turning. Every terrible day had the potential to turn into a good one.
Or maybe Jason was too stubborn to let despair win.
But here, in Wayne Manor? It's opulence beyond anything he’s ever imagined. It’s Alfred’s dry voice and dusting. It’s Bruce’s rumble and the hidden door to the Batcave. It’s Jason’s room, decorated in a style years out of date. It’s Dick’s space, frozen in time, lined with the scraps he didn’t pack. It’s the wallpaper beneath the posters, the same shade as Jason’s wall. As Bruce’s. As all the bedrooms.
It’s the way nothing changes. The inhabitants leave no marks on the house because it’s frozen in time. A last-ditch effort to hold onto the ghosts of parents, happy memories, a time long overplayed.
The house is Neverland. It’s Hell. It’s Limbo. It’s the dream turned nightmare turned death.
Haunted.
“I hate it.” Jason’s face crumples, and he curls into himself, dropping to a squat and pressing his face into his knees. “I hate it here,” he whispers. “It’s going to kill me, too.”
Like this, he can’t see Bruce, but he doesn’t have to.
There’s only ever silence.
Read the rest here!
Today, though, Bruce’s full attention is on cooking. Alfred is on a rare vacation, and Tim and Damian are visiting the Kent farm. Dick would normally be in Bludhaven, except he’s sick. An illness that Jason also caught, likely from his brother.
As soon as the two showed up in the cave for patrol the night before, complete with sneezes and runny noses, Bruce put them on mandatory bed rest. He’s now in charge of their meals, medicine, and entertainment.
“Bruce,” comes a pathetic call from the den. “I’m thirsty.”
“Just a minute, chum.” He makes sure to turn the heat off on the stove before he pulls the bottle of ginger ale from the fridge and pours a glass. Alfred usually keeps the straws…top shelf of the third cabinet, there they are.
Hiding behind the box of regular straws are the curly, crazy straws that Dick loved as a child. Bruce’s hand wavers between the two before he grabs the crazy straw and pops it in the drink.
Dick is a pathetic sight upon entering the den. He’s stretched out on one side of the couch, most of his blankets kicked off, and a pile of tissues on the floor. He lifts water eyes to Bruce, clearly believing he’s seconds away from expiring on the spot.
“Bruce, I don’t think I can make it.”
He hands over the glass. “You’ll be okay, chum. Drink up.”
Read the rest here
“Jon?” Damian reaches for one of the swords hidden under his dresser. “How good is your laser vision?”
The boy shuffles a little closer. “I can cream just about anything living.”
The crack is splitting apart, the moan growing to a wail. The creak of wood is gone, replaced by movie-perfect ghost sounds.
“And what about…unliving?”
Green light flashes, blinding Damian, and he cowers behind Jon. There’s a snap, and the light vanishes. When he manages to blink away the spots, the green crack is gone.
In its place, a person floats. White hair waves in an ethereal wind. Above his head is a glowing black crown. The being is dressed in white and black, complemented by a curling cloak.
Read the rest here