ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.

My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813

*electric guitar riff*

And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like

reblog to give the person you reblogged from the strength to complete The Task™

Clark, vaguely panicking: Uh, so, a really important part of being Superman is to care about everyone, right?

Kon, with stars in his eyes: Right!

Clark: And that extends to helping people out, with like, day to day, non-worldending things.

Kon: Right!

Clark: So I've decided, to help you on your path, you're going to do something that I did. Something incredibly important to who I am today. I would not be the same Superman without this experience.

Kon: Awesome! What is it?!

Clark: Community service. There's this really great farm, the Kent farm-

I wish you’d write a fic where Kon is actually born stronger than Superman because of how that would vastly change their relationship dynamics

God, I am IMMEDIATELY fascinated by the idea of Clark being faced with someone who is just undeniably and completely above his weight class, but said someone thinks HE'S the ideal to aspire to and wants to be JUST like him and thinks he's this insurmountable ideal who can't EVER be matched or beaten. And like, not to be an asshole here, but how many times in his life has Clark actually met someone he KNEW he wasn't stronger than who wasn't, like, a Doomsday or a Darkseid? Someone he KNEW that he couldn't just physically force into submission if shit went wrong; who could never really actually HURT him? Much less been around someone like that for extended periods of time?

Much less someone like that who wasn't even full-grown, and therefore was probably only going to get STRONGER?

Like, really. How many times?

Clark, internally: This kid already has all my powers after roughly thirty seconds in the sun and could LITERALLY crack the planet in half with that TTK of his but sure, sure, I'M insurmountable. This is fine. This can't possibly end poorly. A MORE POWERFUL version of me who was BORN with those powers and who doesn't understand people's falibility or imperfections or shades of gray and thinks I'm PERFECT, and wants to be just LIKE me. Who didn't grow up with anyone like Ma and Pa, but in a TEST tube. Right. Yeah. This will end so, so well.

So obviously letting this kid fly off to Hawaii with minimal supervision and ethics that were installed by morally-dubious scientists who wanted to mind-control him is just NOT gonna work, but what, is Clark supposed to tell this kid who's mostly a stranger who he IS? Explain Clark Kent, and how Superman isn't perfect; how it's just a persona? A face he puts on so he can help people, but not its OWN person? Not something real or sustainable?

What's this kid going to think, if he tells him that?

What's this kid going to DO, if he tells him that?

Bruce had a habit. He checked on his kids every night before he went to sleep. To know they were home. They were safe. Their wounds had been tended to, their nerves soothed, and they could rest peacefully. Bruce couldn't truly sleep well without knowing his children were okay.

It was a full house that night, with even Jason aquescing to spend the night, if only for 'Alfie's award winning blueberry pancakes' as he put it. So he peeked in to see his children, to reassure himself, to see them breathe.

Dick was an artful tangle of limbs, squishy bat plush held snugly against his chest. Jason had a book on his nightstand with the lamp still on. Bruce turned it off for him. Tim was asleep face down on his desk. Bruce shuffled the sleep deprived teenager to his bed before tucking him in. Cass was sleeping peacefully, guarded by her army of stuffed animals. Bruce smiled and closed the door. Damian was asleep, Titus curled up around his young owner. Well, at least he hadn't brought Batcow to his bed this time. Duke had forgotten to close his blackout curtains, which Bruce did for him. The young daytime vigilante deserved as much undisturbed rest as he could get. Next room, open the door-

Bruce barely had enough time to remember that no one lived in this room before he registered someone face down on the bed. He didn't turn on the light, and instead crept forward, letting his eyes adjust to the dark and see for him.

Black haired teenager, slightly younger than Tim, breathing slowly and deeply. It wasn't how the child showed up in what was supposed to be a secure location that concerned him. It wasn't his vaguely bedraggled state or dark eyebags that were apparent even when he was asleep. No what truly concerned him were the bruises Bruce could see.

Purpling marks around his thin wrist in the shape of a far larger hand. Bruises and small cuts on his forearms, the kind Batman would see on someone who had tried to protect themselves. And a large bruise on the child's cheek, the kind he had seen on his own children when someone got in a good punch to the face. But he'd also seen it on other children. Children who were scared, and alone, and betrayed by the people who were supposed to take care of him. Bruce felt a sinking ceartinty that there were more wounds he couldn't see on the teenager.

The detective in him wanted to wake the kid up. Learn everything he could, get his answers, assess a potential threat.

The father in him... said that this kid had no one to check on him at bedtime. To adjust his blankets, turn off his lights, close the curtains, make sure he was happy, safe.

Bruce looked at this thin, bruised child, and pulled a blanket up to the teenager's shoulders. Questions could wait until tommorow. Until then, Bruce hoped the kid slept soundly in what may have been the safest place they'd been in a while.

decided to rewatch the Million Dollar Ghost episode and… guys. Vlad says the skeleton key (used later on to free Pariah Dark) can be used to “travel to any realm”.

…why don’t we use the key for crossover shenanigans???

Danny, too tired to phase back into the house, mixes up his house key and the skeleton key and accidentally steps through the doorway into a Completely Different World and just has to Deal With That with 0 preparation, almost no powers due to how tired he is, and like 2 hours of sleep in the past 4 days.

This leads to a very very tired Danny collapsing into the first bed he finds.

…Who’s bed it is depends on the crossover you want, but just think of the POSSIBILITIES of “finds Danny in their bed” being the first meeting.

the best fanfic is the one the author had fun writing actually.

pls don’t let this flop

Honestly, I am both. And on writing too. One moment I'm commenting on the flow and thought provoking interactions with characters, the next I am viscerally screaming and pointing at foreshadowing like it's the zombie apocalypse on the horizon.

An observation

I love that identity reveals between Jim Gordon and Bruce in fic almost always go the same way. Bruce goes "How did you know? Was it my acting?" and nine times out of ten Jim says something along the lines of "No, your acting was phenomenal. You gave yourself away by caring too much, Mr. Wayne."

Because the billionaire playboy cover was perfect and damn near airtight until one Bruce Wayne leapt in front of someone else during a holdup at a gala and "accidentally" got shot. No self-involved airhead with that much money riding on his life would ever -- ever -- let himself think of someone else in that moment.

Well, imo, Danny is part of an endangered species. Three halfas in existence, will any more ever exist? He doesn't know. (He hopes not.) So Danny can actually get some existential crises off his chest. It... actually helps a bit. To talk about the despair. The fear. One day he will be gone. They might remember the hero Phantom and his tales, but will they know Danny and his stories? Any halfas that come after, will they know? Will his species fade into obscurity? He doesn't know.

He's afraid.

I was drawing a picture of older Danny. (Not complete yet). (Based on a superboy picture).

Although that's not really important.

But when I read certain fics, they talk about Danny glowing or his telekinesis glowing green.

So I was outlining Danny in his infamous neon ghost green. And he looked familiar.

So I thought about what would happen if the Justice League meets Danny when he's older and mistakes him for a new green lantern.

In some versions of the JL, there are already 3 green lanterns that go by green lantern. I can only imagine Hal (the original) throwing a fit, over there being a new one in his sector that no one told him about. He's supposed to be in charge of earth and the surrounding planets.

In some Phantom fics, he also makes green constructs like shields or weapons. That probably looks exactly like the green lanterns. They glow and everything.

Not to even mention the ring of rage supposedly glows, too. From far away, it probably looks like a green lantern ring. I can only imagine the Justice League assuming he's alien based on his extra powers and his odd coloration.

Now, what if Danny does it on purpose? Like he saw just how similar he looks to the lanterns and just uses that as a cover. He can change the way his ring of rage looks and mimics the power rings. It's like if he's in hiding, from the GIW, and pretending to be a lantern to fit in.

This just popped into my head and won't leave me alone. Feel free to take it and run wild.

@spacedace