Vacantname00

The streets of Gotham City are a dangerous place, even more so when the optimistic shine of the sun fades into a looming darkness. Fortunately though, there were heroes who thrived in the darkness. Batman was a myth amongst the criminals of Gotham for years from the inhuman way he lurked in the darkness of the night. He almost found comfort there. It's a teaching he passed down to the many protégés he’s guided throughout his many years donning the cape of The Dark Knight. Dick Grayson was the first to learn Batman’s many methods of vigilantism. Though Dick developed his own strategies after trading the Robin moniker for Nightwing, he still valued the teachings of his mentor…most of the time at least. Nightwing returns to The Batcave on his motorbike, clearly not the victor in one of the many conflicts throughout a nightly patrol over Gotham. His black and blue suit matched the patches of his face beaten to the same shade. The suit itself was torn in certain patches, exposing the

Today was finally my big day! The day I could finally prove to everyone that I was right for pursuing my dreams in journalism. I couldn’t wait for a magic wish to whisk me away to an endless amount of success. I needed to trust myself. If only I was ever good at that though. I mean, the few interviews I’d conducted had been on a smaller scale. They were local people, fishermen, bakers and so on. What I’d somehow ended up achieving on this day was…let’s just say to a larger scale. The King of Rosas himself invited me to interview him for the local paper I worked for. Me, of all people! Of course everyone I knew was thrilled, but that didn’t calm my nerves much. Of course, I was thrilled myself, too! I’d always admired The King, and maybe had a little bit of a crush on him. It was harmless though. I’d been led through the abundance of hallways by various clumps of armour, identical to one another in every way. Any ounce of uniqueness was trapped beneath their sealed helmets. They sat

Silver moonlight leers through a small window. It's nothing more than a gap carved out, with iron rods welded between the top and bottom. The curious light crept through the jagged space, exploring a compact interior. Aged bricks are layered on top of one another, marked by an assortment of tallies and other various carved graffiti. Each told a story, which the light gradually revealed. The same strong concrete material layered the floor and ceiling, but with a much smoother complexion. Facing the window was a titanium door, impossible to breach from the inside or out. The room was cold, with the culprit surprisingly not being the open gusts drifting through the window. The icy temperature was a presence. In the distant corner of the dense space was a hunched figure. Their shape was shrouded in the darkness. The moonlight wouldn’t dare approach. Their feet were exposed, resting idly against the course floor. Their stillness was silent. Yet even through the fog of black, intense eyes

Following a successful expedition, you return to your camp with pockets filled with priceless riches. Shimmering necklaces, rings and bracelets each could have been sold to an eager vendor in exchange for a sum of coin. There’s something to be noticed in the glistening bodies of these findings. Traces of magic, each varying in their quantities. Discarding of such valuables to a local vendor may prove to be a reckless decision, even with the guarantee of coin. Fortunately, you have plans to put the treasures to a better, more productive use. Out of the many companions your adventures have led you to, one held a keen knowledge of everything magical. Not just a knowledge, but also a hunger. This was of course Gale Dekarios, a wizard prodigy with an elaborate backstory of twists and turns. The more you learnt about him, the more you found yourself drawn to him. It’s through this closeness that he eventually confided in you about something personal. Gale is cursed by a magical ticking

Our story takes place just a few short weeks before Christmas Day. The days for the elves at The North Pole only grow quicker, as does the pace of their assembly line. With all sorts of toys of all different shapes and designs being loaded up for the big day. Only a few particularly strong elves were trusted more and more with this very special task each passing day. With strong arms and broad shoulders, these larger than life elves are more than capable of lugging a ten ton crate of toy parts from one side of the workshop to the other. It was a necessary task, or else Santa’s sleigh would be empty on Christmas Day! The very strongest of these elves was named Higgs Everly, the third generation of his family trusted with loading Santa’s sleigh. With a beyond six foot stature and wide arms, he was essentially bred for the position he found himself in. Of course, his towering posture was always easy to spot amongst the clutter of other green and red outfits across the workshop floor

Halloween is probably my second favourite holiday behind Christmas. It’s a close one though! I mean, who could hate a day dedicated to endless amounts of cheap candy, pumpkin decor and for it to be socially acceptable to dress up like an axe wielding psychopath? The dressing up part is probably my favourite aspect of the holiday. For my dad though, it’s of course the abundance of cheap candy. This year however, there’s an event which aligns both of our Halloween interests. There’s a local town hall hosting a Halloween party this year. That’s not all though, as it also includes a costume contest for pairs. What might the prize be for winning such a contest? Only a bucket load of candy, of course! That was enough to convince my dad to enter the contest with me. If anything, he seemed more invested than I was. The theme for our costumes wasn’t overly complicated. I went with the idea of a scientist and his monstrous creation, with myself playing the scientist. Hard to imagine my dad

Deep in the heart of Central City, battles between heroism and villainy are commonplace. Cars driving along a cramped city road were forced to screech to a halt, as a burst of red and yellow lightning bolted by! People could recognise the flurry of light as The Flash, if they were lucky enough to even realise he’d passed them. His vigorous velocity would be challenged constantly by various villains of many designs. Today, he combated the versatile arsenal of the deadly accurate killer for hire, Deadshot. Using his firearms, he’d blast at The Flash as he weaved through the idle rows of traffic. With every thunderous shot that rung from the barrel, The Flash would feel the bullet narrowly graze his cowl. The shots were getting tighter, faster and harder to predict. If he wanted to avoid being shot, The Flash needed to act as quickly as he ran! Launching forward like a javelin, he’s able to push back Deadshot. Both men crash into a nearby building, with the mercenary taking the brunt

Like most other Sundays, both myself and my dad were free to lounge around all day. I’d kept myself busy with a few things here and there. I’d practised some more baking, which dad certainly seemed to appreciate. In the later portion of the day, I decided to catch up on a show I’d been meaning to watch for a while now. Meanwhile, my dad sat at the other end of the sofa, trying his very best to follow along with the crowded space battle on the television. Truly, it was another ordinary Sunday. “Are you hungry for dinner yet, dad?” I realised the time. It was almost six. My dad turned to me, giving off an eager smile. “I’m always hungry, buddy.” He chuckled, clearly his eagerness was directed towards the joke he knew he’d be capable of telling. “Stupid question really.” I scoffed with a smile. “I’ll start after this episode.” As my attention returned to the vibrancy of the flashing colours, it was quickly snatched away. At the front door we sat several feet from, there was a

What started as the gentle falling of snow had quickly turned into a roaring blizzard. The dried landscape of the woods had been suffocated by a rising blanket of snow. It was almost impossible to navigate the harsh gusts of wind, only made even more challenging from the gloomy night sky. The darkness shrouded the area, as the strong oak trees stretched incredibly high. Their branches swung as if they were sharp claws! The journey ahead was certainly treacherous. However, the relentless storm could not prevent a fearless ice harvester from trekking onward. Kristoff was headed home before the snow struck. Even with the use of a wooden sled, and the efforts of his trusted reindeer, Kristoff still struggled to plough through the ever growing mounds of snow. The tracks left behind in the snow would be covered as soon as they were made, leaving no sign of the traveller. Even his fur trimmed jacket had been smothered in clumps on snow. The horizon was nothing but an empty vacancy of