Lirabuswavi - LiraBuswavi

ok i think what gets me about the kind of post that's like '[children's media] has child soldiers, where are their parents!!' is that those stories really and truly aren't for people who'll think about that, they're for the people the children's age, who don't, for the most part, want to be kept safe or told they're too young to participate in the world, they want to be given a sword

I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.

You know the kind of shows I mean.

The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.

So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.

Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)

(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))

Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.

DP Prompt

Danny starts growing ice horns and claws after he discovers his ice powers so he travels to the far frozen once again with more questions.

Turns out so many Yeti's have ice spines, horns and claws because it is their core's way of releasing energy to prevent build up.

Danny learns along with his horns he will also have a lower body temperature as his body naturally releases cold energy. Turns out the far frozen wasn't always so frozen, it was a combination of so many ice core ghosts living in one place that made it what it was today.

shakes you in a tupperware /affectionate

how’s everyone doin tonight i just broke tumblr

There are several beats where no one talks. It stretches. Phantom tilts his head. "Is there a further issue?" He asks.

"Yeah, you're possessing my little brother's fucking corpse. He-fuck!" The red helmeted one (he should probably ask for names) snarled and kicked out at the wall.

"Hood-" the one in black and blue tries to speak, but is ferociously cut off.

"No, don't you DARE tell me to fucking calm down! He's dead! Tim fucking died! Another Robin died alone and in pain in a warehouse, help just a few minutes too late and- fuck! Motherfucking," Hood let out an incensate noise of raise, half cry of anger half sob, "We heard our little brother die, and you ask me if there's a fucking ISSUE?!" It was at this point that Hood turned violently and accusatorily to Phantom.

Phantom paused. He... rarely dealt with the bereaved anymore. He remembered guilt. He remembered grief. He knew that in each moment of intense grief, he imagined that it had felt like dying. Again. He knew better now.

But he also knew it was distant. It had been so, so long since he was human and felt things the way they did. He had long gotten over that, but every so often it panged back into him. The feeling of other. The feeling that though he may command Space, there was still so much between him and others.

Phantom slid off the box he was sitting on and approached Hood. The beings around him scrambled; to get out of or into his way, he didn't know. Hood refused to move. Phantom stopped in front of him.

"I grieve with you," He spoke through still healing vocal cords (deadaloneafraidpainnononoIwanttolivenonoIwantmyDad-) and let the tears he had hardly noticed holding back began to fall. "Your grief is mine, and I grieve with you," And then Phantom began to Sing.

It wasn't in any human tongue. It didn't use vocal cords so it wouldn't strain the child's (a child) body any further.

It echoed and reverberated through the warehouse and heard as others began to sob underneath its weight. It was loss. It was grief. It was despair and pain made into a noise and driven into the soul in horrible, haunting melody.

But there was hope. Of course he added hope, this wasn't the end. Trauma and memories would remain, as would scars, but healing would be found in time. A new joy of lost loved ones coming back because they would not truly rest until they did. It wasn't the end. Not a goodbye, but until I see you again.

Death was not the end.

His Song tapered off in one final warble that rang through the warehouse until silence returned. The people within stared at him. The pretty magic user sniffed heavily before lowering her head. Good, she knew the significance of a Song delivered by one of the dead.

"We are honoured," She spoke tremulously through her own tears.

Phantom inclined his head in return. "The honour is mine," he replied. Then paused. "Hood?" He asked.

"What?" The man asked, voice warbling and broken through his helmet. There was a sharp burst of static that might've been a sniff.

The edges of Phatom's vision through this body was darkening and blurring at the edges. He had forgotten a lot of things about blood loss. Like the dizziness that came with, lightheadedness, and fainting.

"You might want to catch. I don't think adding a concussion to the list of injuries is a good idea," Phantom collapsed in a rush of darkened vision and briefly feeling strong arms catch him and hearing buzzing shouts before he was out.

Danny's Nest

Tim gets sacrificed in a ritual to summon "the ALL powerful conqueror, Phantom". And by sacrificed, I mean Tim really dies and Danny is forced into his body forcefully.

There's no coming back from that. Not even after the cultists are stopped.

They couldn't let Geordi in on the "does Data count as a person?" discussion because he would have immediately obliterated anyone arguing he doesn't. Geordi would hear someone try to argue Data's perception isn't real because it's electrical signals or whatever and he'd just be like "so like how my visor works?" and then they'd start backpedaling

hi! I've been reading your fic athazagoraphobia n AO3 and can I say I just Love the way you write Oscar and ozpin and how ozpin instantly adopts oscar while Oscar is slowly warming up to ozpin like a half feral kitten, and the way you have each set of chapters be two halves of each other is SO unique and interesting, and I just --the fic is very good and I enjoy it a lot, and wanted to let you know

Thank you so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying it, it's always nice to hear what people like about my stories.

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