Writing Wednesday

Thank you! And yes, you are right; while I’m newer around here I am no stranger to writing. I’m studying to be a story psychologist and screenwriter. Constructive criticism is always welcome. As it is, the numerous typos are a side effect of writing this little piece from my phone: autocorrect is my nemesis. I’ve already edited my post a dozen times.

I enjoy your story as well. Am a big cat person.

As for sticking around, I guess it’ll have to depend. If I read the prompt and I find I have a story to tell, I will. If not, I won’t press for one.

Till Next Time,


I can’t thik of anything to write about

That’s fair! I’m in a similar boat. In two ways, as my fics are almost entirely written on mobile as well. Either way, good to have you!

On an entirely different note, will there be a prompt this week?

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Hey everyone! It’s me, late with this week’s prompt. But here it is all the same.

In case you haven’t heard, there’s a new movie in theaters this week. A little something called Birds of Prey and the Something Something of One Something Something. In the spirit of our universal celebrations, this week’s theme is:


Write a story about a DC character experiencing the joy of freedom. It could be freedom from a physical space, or freedom from a toxic person or situation, or just a freedom from their own sticky state of mind. This is a place to explore CHARACTER GROWTH! Even if your subject isn’t QUITE at this point, or if it’s a point they may have experienced some time ago, you’re free to jump around the timeline to any point you like. Let’s see your character breathe for the first time!



She makes herself breakfast.

It’s a simple affair. Leftover bread from the bakery down the street, smeared thick with butter and honey. A handful of lone figs. Mint green tea. It’s much, much simpler than anything she’s used to. Her servants had nearly always made her breakfast before now, alongside her father, of course, when he had been there. Her simple spread is nothing compared to the lavish concoctions she’d been raised on, carefully concocted by skilled chefs, and always tasted for poisons before they’d been served.

She savors every bite.

It’s been three weeks since she’d left, and this morning, it’s finally starting to feel real.

She pages slowly through the book in front of her, letting her fingers trail over the pages. She’s leaving bits of honey everywhere, but what does she care? This book is nothing special. Not a rare text, not some ancient tome. Just some tawdry romance novel she’d grabbed from a stand on the way back. She’s halfway through. The prose is unbearably purple. The main character is unspeakably dramatic. It’s the worst thing she’s ever read. She hopes there’s a sequel.

She’s yet to get dressed. Her bedclothes are repurposed, thrift store buys made with cash to cover her trail. Worn sweatpants. Someone’s old threadbare t-shirt. Fuzzy pink slippers. Her hair is still loose and damp, hanging around her shoulders in a mess. She doesn’t care. No one’s going to see her. And she’s in no hurry to make herself presentable. She has nowhere to be.

She does not check her messages. She has nothing to check. She’d left her phone behind. Nothing that could be used to trace her. And besides, who would she call? She has no agents. No spies. No guards, no servants. There’s her boys, she supposes, but she has always preferred to see them in person. And she won’t be doing that any time soon. She misses them dearly… but she needs to be alone.

It’s funny. She had spent so much of her life defining herself by the roles laid out for her. Being what she believed she needed to be. The dutiful daughter. The forbidden love. The guiding mentor. The strict mother. The sleeping Leviathan. She regrets none of it. She loves them all still. But she has never once put herself first, never once just… been.

She has never truly tasted freedom before, and it is intoxicating in its heady sweetness. It is quiet and it is tumultuous. It is lonely and it is comforting. It is terrifying and it is wonderful. And in every contradictory aspect, it is hers.

Talia has never before been free to do what she wants. Now that she can, she finds that she isn’t sure what it is. But for once in her life, she’s free to find out.

Talia drinks her tea slowly, and watches the sun rise.

Notes: I take my Talia heavily from the Talia Head era Talia, with heavy flavoring from both Lost Days and the original O’Neill stuff. I always preferred Talia as a morally gray, complicated and sympathetic character to a straight out villain, and it’s reflected in my writing. After all the time she’s spent being defined by the men in her life – as her father’s shadow, as pining for Batman, or as Damian’s complicated mother figure, the best ending I can think for her is just to break away from it all and forge her own quiet life on her own terms somewhere.


I adore this little section. I love your writing.


Thank you so much! I really appreciate it.

Rex Mason also know as Metamorpho kept on the move.

Since he had been seen on TV rescuing people held in a bank he had been on the run from some secret military types intent on capturing him.

He was in an abandoned farmhouse.

He tried not to look in the mirror. He wasn’t human any more.

He didn’t have to sleep or eat.

And the things he could do.

Alhough he had flunked chemistry he knew how to be a moveable diamond being or a gas with just the right properties. It was instinctive how his body changed to meet the need.

He could Dissolve into a invisible mist. Act like a truth drug. Elongate any part of his body. Assume any shape. Superstrong Maybe invulnerable.

Maybe immortal. The thought terrified him. He wanted this to end - the loneliness, the fear. But all his attempts to cease to be resulted in failure

Ra the Egyptian Sun God may have intended it to be a gift it was a curse.

He heard a noise. What shape should he assume, to protect himself?

A tall green humanoid appeared before him.

“Rex Mason, do not be afraid. My mame is Jonm.Jonzz, from the planet Mars. Like you I am alone. like you I was afraid, a being like no other. Like you I strive to be a hero though we are shunned just because of our sppearance. Come with me. Together we are not alone. Together you can help me find others like us and we will save this world from itself. I hold out my hand in friendship. Take it.”

Rex elongated his hand and felt hope for the first time in a long time.

His mind became free from doubt.

He had a purpose and a friend.


I am taking over the reigns this week and posting a new prompt for the writers that want to give us a taste of their writing prowess. All are free to join to tell their own individual stories and create something that they feel represents their love of DC comics.

This week’s prompt is called: MY LOVE!

Valentine’s Day is coming up, so since this is a season for LOVE! I want you to write a story from the perspective of a character you either love or have a crush on in the DC Universe. All aspects of the story are up to you, but it must be a character as described. Let us know before the story if you are telling the story of a character you crush on or just generally love their stories. Outside of that I want you to have fun this week without many limitations.

Remember This part from my first post though:

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Roy Loves Donna

Roy Harper loved Donna Troy from.the first momemt he saw her.

Well maybe it was lust.

She looked just like a younger version of that babe Wonder Woman but without the attitude about most men

Donna was naive.

He wanted to take care of her, show her the world but maybe do some bad things with her too.

Working with her in.the Original Teen Titans, he found out she was the bravest, smartest, honest, most empathetic and strongest of them all.

She because a person with unique traits to him.

Now he felt he actually loved het. All of her.

But then he went on.a bad road. One of addiction and other bad choices.

Still Donna shone bright.

Therr there were times he did good both.alone and with the Justice League.

Why didn’t he make a move then? Tell her how he felt?

Because he was afraid. Better to not say anything

Then Donna learned she was never human

His Donma started to drink. Heavily.

He knew he needed to become a better man. For her. To lead her away from.her demons.

But to do that, he would have to rid himzelf of his own.

So tomorrow he would go to the Heroes in Crisis Center

And become a better man.

For himself and for her

[I always thought it was kind of weird to crush on a fictional character, which is why I’m in denial about the fact that I probably definitely have a crush on this character.]


This isn’t unexpected. It’s typical, really, and not just in an ‘I’m mad that you keep doing this’ way. These things happen.

It does still sting a little to be stood up on Valentine’s Day, though.

I poke at my half-eaten spaghetti and muse that if I’d known I was going to be eating alone, I’d have gotten seafood instead of Italian. I probably should have just assumed. Superheroes don’t get holidays; psychopaths just love to go on themed crime sprees and someone has to clean it up.

A sympathetic-looking waiter brings over the check.

“Stood up, Miss?”

“Not recently, no.”

The waiter blanches. Crap, I am in a bad mood.

“Sorry, morbid joke. Thank you.”

I need to go crash a black market site or publish a gangster’s bank account number or something. I roll myself out of the restaurant. Gotham is freezing in February, of course. Not wearing a coat was another miscalculation on my part. Once I shift myself into the van, I get out my phone and give him a call.

“Hi, you’ve reached Dick Grayson. Looks like I can’t answer at the moment. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Not surprising in any case.

“Hey, Dick. Just finished dinner. The food was good but the company left a little to be desired. A case is a case, but maybe give me a little warning next time, wiseguy.”

Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from him at all since we made plans a couple days ago.

“And send me a text or something to let me know you’re alright, will you?”

I hang up and head home.


Two hours later and still no word. Maybe I should fire up his suit tracer just to be sure. A voice in the back of my head that sounds suspiciously like Dinah tells me I’m getting “that Big Brother look” again. I’m being paranoid, of course, but if something has happened to Dick and I don’t do anything about it, I’m going to be beating myself up.

I’ve always thought the best way to deal with paranoia was to make it useful in any case.

I wheel into my control center.

“Clocktower, get me a location on Nightwing.”

“Error: Not available,” the computerized voice drones.

“Clocktower, get me his last known location.”


A holographic monitor pops up in front of me, showing him still in Blüdhaven, in a back alley early this morning. Odd. I’d expect him to be at home, or maybe already on his way into Gotham at this point.

“Clocktower, get me locations for Bike Number Forty and Car Number Ninety-Six.”

More readouts appear, showing Dick’s car parked near his apartment and his motorcycle concealed near the alley where he’d been this morning. Interesting. Seems like he wound up in this alley and then disappeared. It takes me a few minutes to pull up deeds for all of the nearby buildings. One, an apartment building that was getting old twenty years ago, is condemned. Curiously, a trip into the electric company’s system revealed it was still drawing power. Either a lot of people left their heaters on or that building isn’t as abandoned as the public records say.

I run a cell scan of the vicinity, but I come up with nothing inside the apartment. Let’s not send anyone in just yet. It could be empty, or something could be jamming wireless signals. That would also explain why I’m not picking up Nightwing’s location, assuming he’s still in there. But an old building like that? Probably has landlines. With the right resources, you could, for example, ring them one at a time until somebody picks up.

And what do you know? My little fishing expedition pays off and I get a bite.

“Who is this?” says a woman’s voice, cloying and cutesy, like a lousy Marilyn Monroe impression.

Well, if we’re doing fake voices, I should probably switch on my modulator. At least, I hope she doesn’t sound like that naturally.

“I’m more interested in who you are.”

“Tee hee. You can call me Cupid.”

‘Tee hee?’ Seriously? I start searching my files.

“I could call you that. I think I’ll call you Lieutenant Cutter instead. How does that sound? You’re a long way from Star City. If I didn’t know any better, I might even say you’ve found a new… obsession.”

“You mean… cheat on my true love?”

She sounds genuinely hurt. Have to be careful not to provoke her, which isn’t the easiest when I’m also trying to scare the crap out of her.

“I’d never,” she continues, “I’m just… trying to make him jealous. Honest! We didn’t really do anything.”

“‘We,’ huh? That’s the part I’m interested in. See, I’m worried that you might’ve hurt a very good friend of mine. If he hasn’t been harmed, you have a prime chance to get on my good side by proving that to me in, oh, the next thirty seconds or so.”

“Why should I care?”

“I found you and reached you, didn’t I? Let’s not find out what else I can do.”

There’s quiet and some shuffling.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that’s you, Oracle.”

He’s alive. Thank god.

“Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride for the moment,” he says, “But given how persuasive the invitation was, I just had to stay for dinner. I gotta say, the food in this place is actually pretty good, but the company leaves a lot to be desired.”

I suppress a snort.

“Look, just sit tight a second. I’ll see what I can do about this.”

“Not like I can do much else. Work your magic.”

There’s some more shuffling.

“See? He’s fine. We’re having a good time.”

“Right. You know, that jammer you’re using to keep me out is pretty nice. Probably expensive. I wonder how you paid for it.”

“You’ll never know,” she says.

Yeah, right.

“I guess not. I can only speculate. For example, right now I’m speculating that the money came from this foreign bank account you opened under a pseudonym three months ago.”


“And- Oh, my, that’s very generous of you.”

“You can’t-”

“I mean, donating all of your money to various disaster relief efforts around the world? Maybe I had you pegged all wrong, Carrie. Can I call you Carrie?”

“Stop it or I will hurt him! Don’t make me!”

“Look. Your background. Experimented on by a shady government project? That’s messed up. Sympathetic, even. But Carrie, if you don’t let my friend go, maybe I start talking to them. I could expose some of the creeps, you know. Or maybe they deal with you for me. Or you could just let him go.”

“W-why should I trust you?”

“I don’t think you understand, Carrie. I’m not promising not to hurt you. I’m threatening to hurt you worse. Trust that.”

Come on, break, you crackpot.

“You’re just- just jealous of us!”

“I don’t recall my motives entering into this. There’s just you, and how you want this to end.”

I hear some clattering on the other end, and then silence. I hold my breath. A minute passes. Gripping my chair’s armrests this tight probably isn’t good for them. Two minutes. Is it just me or does the clock outside sound louder than usual? Three minutes.

My Bat-Communicator beeps.

“It’s me,” I reply, a bit more breathlessly than I mean to.

“By the by, happy Valentine’s Day,” Dick says, annoyingly casually.

That ton of bricks on my shoulders finally shifts off.

“You missed dinner, you jerk.”

“We’ll have to see about making that up tomorrow. By the way, my date tried to make a getaway after she cut me loose.”


“She’s tied up inside. I called BPD to pick her up.”

“How are you so calm about all this?”

“You and I have both dealt with much worse than Cupid. I knew I could count on you.”

[Bluh, I don’t like how this came out. I was trying to do too many different things with it. Needed to be longer, just romance, or just action.]

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I can’t think of anything to write about

For once, @dccool90sboyhotboy, I’m with you.

I just gotta say, this thread is awesome!


It is simple, write a story from the perspective of a character you love. For example, @HubCityQuestion could write a story from the perspective of Vic. @dccool90sboyhotboy, could write a story from Gar’s perspective. The rest of the details is solely up the person writing the story. You have a lot of free reign with this one. Write your own fantasy story with your favorite character. :slight_smile:

is weighing his choices between new Red Hood and Lobo stories, or something entirely new, like 'Mazing Man

Decisions, decisions…

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:neutral_face: I don’t know.

So many to choose from…how ‘bout an ultimate team up of characters I love?!
I’m on it!

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They could go anywhere they wanted. Anywhere on Earth, and just about anywhere off it. And yet today, Clark Kent and Lois Lane are staying in. Kara is watching Jon, Jimmy is watching Krypto, and John Henry is watching Metropolis. And the two of them are… watching a movie.

It’s a silly little thing, perhaps. But for two of the busiest people on Earth, finding the time to sit down and watch something for hours without interruption is the rarest of luxuries.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Farm Boy,” Lois mutters, leaning a head on his shoulder.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Kent.”

“You know damn well I kept my byline, Mr. Lane,” she laughs, tossing a handful of popcorn at him

Clark laughs, not bothering to catch them. “Shh,” he says. “You’ll miss the movie.”

Sometimes, 90 minutes is all the time you need. And sometimes, the smallest moments matter most.

Jessica Cruz has given up on Tinder, and OKCupid, and Caper, and right now just dating in general. Right now, she’s happy just spending the day with her friend Simon.

“Hey, can you go grab us more pistachios?” she asks, flopping over on her couch.

“Only if you come with me,” Simon challenges, folding his arms.

Jess pushes herself up slightly, peering plaintively over the arm of the sofa. “Come on, Simon. You’re gonna make me leave the house on Valentine’s Day?

“When better?”

Jess sticks her tongue out at him, and reluctantly grabs her coat.

And then they’re halfway to the store before she really realizes she’s left.

It’s funny, how Simon does that. How he manages to distract her like that. Jess has gotten a lot better in the long months since becoming a Green Lantern, but there’s still so many days when she has to force herself to walk out the door. But Simon had made her laugh, joked with her, and she’d just… done it.

She doesn’t think she’s fooling herself about not wanting anything romantic from him. But romance isn’t the only type of love.

It’s raining heavily today, covering Gotham in a thick, gray mist. It’s the sort of thing a guy would think would kill the view, but honestly, Jason Todd feels like the city looks better than ever. A guy can forget what’s really down there like this, can believe the city can really change. Like all the grit and filth just blurred away, washed down the drain, leaving just twinkling lights in the distance.

That, or it’s just the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels by his side. Well, ⅔ empty after this swig. Whatever.

He’d grown up here. In squalid apartments and abandoned warehouses. Struggling to keep himself and his mother alive, then just struggling to keep himself alive. He’d grown up in the streets, and then he’d grown up in the rooftops. Flying across the street, bright and fearless and magic. It was magic.

Gotham was always so beautiful from above.

He spends most of his days in the streets again, now. Among the grit and the filth. Fighting to control the things he can’t stop, and stop the things he can’t control. And it’s so easy to forget those days, when everything was bright and wonderful.

His point is, it’s just… he doesn’t know. It probably says something about Gotham, that it only really looks good when half drunk and from a distance, washed out and faded. It definitely says something about him, that it’s Valentine’s Day and he’s spending it drinking it alone on a rooftop in the rain.

But sometimes, Jason loves this city as much as he hates it, and maybe today, it’s just one of those days.

… or maybe it’s time to start that second bottle. Either way.

Chinese takeout has been her Valentine’s tradition for as long as she can remember.

She’d started the tradition for somewhat darker reasons, not long after she’d first been paralyzed. She’d felt confined then, restricted, and more than that, she’d felt powerless. So many places in the city were inaccessible, and instead of being angry at them, instead of fighting to make them accessible, she’d just kind of… given up. Let herself be driven out of her own spaces, and retreated to her apartment with her computer and her takeout.

She’s come a long way since then, and so has Gotham. But sometimes, she still just wants to stay in, and sometimes, a tradition can be treasured even when its roots are complicated.

So she orders her favorite – kung pao, extra spicy – and spends a day in, with her takeout and her computers, and this time, with Dinah and Helena and even Dick, albeit only remotely. And despite everything, dammit, it’s a good day.

Barbara Gordon is about nothing if not making the best of complicated roots.

Cassandra Cain is at ballet.

She’d never known before. How everything could be…

When she was young, she’d thought it was a game. The fighting. The dancing. And then she’d killed. Without knowing. Without understanding. And she’d thought it could only be evil. That her skills could only be used to hurt.

Then she’d found the Bat. And she’d learned that she could use her skills to protect. But even then, there had been hurting. Not killing, never killing. But hurting.

And then there’d been ballet. And she’d never known, that something could be so beautiful, without being terrible. No cost. No sacrifice. That she could just… be.

Steph had been worried about Cass being alone on Valentine’s Day. But Cass isn’t alone. She has the crowd, and the dancers below, and most important… she has peace.

NOTE: Despite the title, this is definitely not all the heroes I have loved. My original ambitions for this fic were much grander in scope, but ultimately, trying to get The Comprehensive Rundown of Every DC Character I’ve Loved wasn’t working. So I decided to stick with the core group of characters who’ve been helping me get through this past year. They’re not the only ones I love, but I do very, very much love them all.

Happy belated Valentine’s Day, everyone!


Happy late valentine’s day, @mysterious_stranger! Great story :slightly_smiling_face:
Happy late valentine’s day to all!