he was there during siege of the North. he infiltrated the spirit oasis. he has an uncle who studies spirits and the spirit world. he watched the sky go dark then the moon suddenly reappear like everyone else in the entire world did. and most importantly he watched zhao get eaten by a giant godzilla fish spirit.
Also, Iroh was there? He literally watched Sokka make out with the moon spirit. And you want to tell me that a romantic sap like him would not have immediately told Zuko about this romantic tragedy? Please, Zuko has known about this for ages, he just knows that this is not an acceptable situation in which to say âyeah, I know.â
Tim, walking into the Batcave and noticing everyoneâs distraught appearance: Whatâs wrong?? Who died??
Stephanie: We have bad news Tim. You should sit down.
Tim: Oh shit did someone actually die?? Who was it this time?
Dick: Remember that civilian that we catch trailing after us every so often? The one who was involved in the Penguin incident awhile ago?
Tim: Oh. Clarissa OâNeal? What about her?
Damian: She was taken hostage by one of Black Masks henchmen. We didnât make it in time to save her.
Tim: ? And thatâs why you guys are so upset? Câmon guys lighten up, itâs movie night
Jason, getting visibly pissed: What the Fuck dude. A civilian we were close to fucking died because we didnât make it in time
Dick: I know you didnât like her much but show a bit of empathy Timmy. You usually take these situations seriously
Tim: Iâve been trying to kill her off for ages. Why would I be upset??
Steph: Tim you have 10 seconds to fix your attitude before i fix it for you
Jason: Since when do you take peopleâs lives so lightly? Dude you need to leave before I do something i regret.
Tim: I didnât know you guys were so attached to her. I could revive her if you want, but honestly itâs more effort than itâs worth. And she was getting unwanted attention from the rogues so she had to go.
Damian: Revive?? Timothy what are you on about? And why are you saying that like you personally set up her demise?
Tim: Because I did? The planning for it took forever but I have to admit everything went a lot better than I was expecting.
Dick: TIM WHATâ
Jason: WHAT THE HELLâ
Damian: MURDER? You?!
Steph, screaming over everyone else: WAIT SHUT UP
Steph: TIM NO YOU DID NOT
Steph: TIM DONâT TELL ME YOU DID IT AGAIN
Dick: Again?!? What are you talking about?!
Steph, laughing: Guys calm down. HE was Clarissa
Tim: You guys didnât know??
Jason: HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT THE HISPANIC LOOKING WOMEN IN HER MID TWENTIES AND A CRIME ALLEY ACCENT WAS YOU
Dick: Tim i am THIS CLOSE to burning down your disguise room.
Damian: Timothy explain yourself
Tim: I had an undercover op that I needed a female field agent for a couple years ago to infiltrate penguins operations. Over time She became a bit too important and Black mask was threatening her. So I decided to kill her off. I got the info I needed already and it was becoming a bit of a drag keeping up appearances
Steph: You need to stop getting us emotionally invested in your aliases and then killing them off. This is the fourth time you did this to me. Iâll never forgive you for Alvin Draper, I still grieve him even though i know youâre alive!
Tim: YOU guys need to start recognizing me in disguise. Worlds greatest detectives MY ASS
Jason: DUDE YOU GAVE YOURSELF DOUBLE Dâs WHY WOULD WE ASSUME THAT WAS YOU
Damian: My training in this area has been neglected. Timothy show me your disguise lair
Tim: Sure, after movie night. Letâs go
Dick: This is gonna bite us in the ass. Damian is already so good at impressions. We will never know if someone we are talking to is him or not
Tim: LMAO When iâm done with him? Yea everyoneâs fucked
Steph: Itâs gonna give Roger from American dad
Bruce from the corner: *Breathes a sigh of relief*
Bruce at the Batcomputer: *Sighs and moves Clarissa OâNeal from âReal Civilian Deathâ folder to âTimâs Fake Identitiesâ folder. Creates new folder labeled âDamianâs Fake Identitiesâ
Danny had spent the last six years building something stable out of the Infinite Realms.
Which, honestly, still sounded ridiculous when he thought about it too hard.
At twenty years old, Danny Phantom was somehow the acting Leader of the Infinite Realms version of the League of Assassins, mediator of territorial disputes, protector of portals, the peacemaker, and â according to Frostbite â âa deeply beloved young lord.â
Danny personally thought that title lost meaning the third time he had to stop two eldritch entities from starting a war over haunted soup recipes.
Still, the system worked.
So Danny did his rounds.
Checking territories. Listening to complaints. Solving problems before they became catastrophes.
And unfortunately, that included Walkerâs Prison.
The prison loomed in the distance like a rusted beast made of iron and misery. Chains rattled endlessly somewhere in the fog while ghosts scattered out of Dannyâs way the moment they spotted him.
Walker himself appeared almost immediately.
âLord Phantom,â Walker greeted stiffly, eye twitching like it physically pained him to be respectful.
Danny gave him a lazy salute. âWalker. Any riots? Escape attempts? Illegal soul harvesting rings?â
âOnly three this week.â
Danny snorted quietly and continued walking through the massive prison halls, half-listening as Walker listed updates about inmates, contraband, and a smuggling operation involving cursed playing cards.
Then Danny stopped dead.
His body just⊠halted.
Like every instinct he had suddenly slammed into a wall.
Down in the cafeteria, surrounded by dead warlords, failed tyrants, and extradimensional criminals, sat a living human.
An older man with sharp green eyes and a white streaks in dark hair, perfect posture despite the prison uniform.
Dannyâs core went ice cold.
Walker noticed immediately. âLord Phantom?â
Danny didnât answer at first.
Because there was no way.
No fucking way.
But Danny knew that face.
He remembered that face looking down at him with complete indifference.
He remembered being ten years old and realizing, in those final moments, that this man had never loved him at all.
ââŠWalker,â Danny said quietly.
Walker straightened.
âWho,â Danny asked with terrifying calm, âis the Mortal?â
âOh. Raâs al Ghul,â Walker answered. âImprisoned for the illegal misuse and contamination of Lazarus Waters across multiple realms.â
Danny stared.
Then he laughed.
It was sharp. Breathless. Wrong.
Several nearby ghosts immediately pretended they had somewhere else to be.
âOh,â Danny murmured. âOh, this is rich.â
His eyes flared green.
Not the bright, clean ectoplasmic green most ghosts associated with Phantom.
This was darker.
Sickly.
The color of corrupted Lazarus Waters.
Walker took one instinctive step backward.
Every survival instinct he had developed over centuries screamed at him to leave immediately and pretend he had never seen anything.
Unfortunately, it was his prison.
Phantom started walking again.
Slowly.
The cafeteria quieted almost immediately as inmates noticed him approaching. Conversations died mid-sentence. Trays stopped moving.
Raâs looked up at the disturbance with visible annoyance.
Then confusion.
Because the being walking toward him looked young, young enough to be almost insulting.
Tall now, broad-shouldered, clad in black and white with space itself curling unnaturally through the edges of his aura â but still young.
And furious.
âRaâs al Ghul,â Phantom said pleasantly.
The room went still at the tone.
âWell,â Phantom continued, smiling without warmth, âthis is a surprise.â
Raâs narrowed his eyes. âShould I know you?â
Phantomâs smile widened.
âYou know,â Phantom said conversationally, âthat answer honestly hurts my feelings a little.â
Raâs opened his mouth, but he never got to speak.
One second he was sitting down.
The next, his face slammed into the metal cafeteria table hard enough to crater it.
The sound echoed through the entire prison.
Several inmates screamed.
One ghost in the back dropped his lunch tray and whispered, âOh, thank Ancients itâs not me this time.â
Phantom had Raâs pinned before anyone could react, one hand twisted into the manâs hair while his other pressed him against the ruined table.
âDonât worry,â Phantom called casually over his shoulder. âIâll fix the table later.â
Walker stared at the destroyed table.
ââŠYou always say that.â
âI usually mean it.â
Raâs struggled violently beneath him. Phantom barely had to use force anymore. Twenty years old in human age meant very little when his existence had become something vast and ancient enough to make lesser ghosts instinctively lower their heads around him.
Phantom shoved Raâs to the floor instead.
Hard.
Then planted a boot against his throat.
The entire cafeteria watched in horrified silence.
Because Phantom was kind.
Phantom negotiated treaties.
Phantom gave second chances.
Phantom once sat through a forty-hour mediation between two warlords because one had allegedly âstolen the otherâs emotional support leviathan.â
This?
This was something else.
Phantom looked down at Raâs with open hatred.
Not rage.
Not blind fury.
Hatred aged over ten long years.
Carefully preserved.
âWalker,â Phantom said calmly, never taking his eyes off Raâs, âhow much money would it take to transfer custody of this inmate to me?â
âWhat?â
Phantom finally glanced back. âI asked how much.â
Walker blinked.
Then blinked again.
Because somehow that was the part that disturbed him most. Phantom â the paragon of individual rights and resident goodie-two-shoes â would never ask something like, "How much money do you want for him?" as if this were a slave market.
Pointdexter slowly raised a hand from one of the cafeteria tables. âUh⊠Lord Phantom? Respectfully? What the fuck is happening?â
Phantom ignored him.
Raâs finally managed to rasp out, âWho⊠are you?â
Phantom stared at him.
Actually stared.
And his grip tightened slightly against Raâs throat.
"Seriously? You don't recognize me even after all the hints I gave you?" Phantom mocked. "Don't you remember how you treated me? Like a punching bag? Like a spare? Don't you remember putting your foot on my neck until I died, only to use my body like some twisted kind of footrest?!"
Raâs went still.
Walkerâs expression changed instantly.
âOh,â Pointdexter whispered faintly.
Phantomâs voice never rose.
That somehow made it worse.
âNo,â he breathed, face going pale.
Recognition finally hit him.
âOh,â Phantom mocked quietly, smiling. âThere it is.â
ââŠTariq?â
The name sounded wrong coming from him.
Phantomâs eyes glowed violently green.
âDonât.â The word cracked through the cafeteria like thunder. âYou donât get to say my name like you know me, grandfather.â
ive invented (note: dubious claim) something i call the bear diet which is mostly fruits and vegetables with fish as the main protein source and something like once a month you eat a few hyperprocessed foods of your liking because that is when you, the bear, raid a dumpster in the suburbs
ok so I looked it up, and it turns out they made a track out of PVC pipes, down a hill. The owner didn't realise PVC expanded in the heat, so on a turn the track just fell apart and the dude inside went over a fucking free way and into a swamp.
The funniest part is that the inspector was watching the whole time, and once the ball stopped he left without saying anything. Park management just shut it down then and there.
"The ball cleared a small hill, briefly going airborne, then zipped right across Route 94, the two-lane road splitting the park. Cars honked and slammed on their brakes. If there had been opposing traffic, Frank would have become part of a real-life game of Pong, volleying from one bumper to another.
Still in pursuit, we followed the ball toward a small lake in Motor World that had been earmarked for a fleet of tiny bumper boats for children. The area wasnât open yet, but the empty boats were being tested and floated on the surface. The ball soared over the grass and smashed into several of them, scattering the others with rippling waves from the impact, which launched some of the boats several feet in the air.
Charlie and Ken waded into the water looking for the hatch. After some difficulty, they got it open. Charlie pulled Frank out by grabbing him under his armpits like a baby. Frank crawled up the bank, coughing and sputtering. He splayed across the grass as we all stared at the ball, which bobbed in the water like it was attached to a fishing lure.
We did not ask for the inspectorâs report, nor did we ever hear of one being filed. Ken Bailey returned to Canada. The snow-makers cleared away the PVC. Told to dispose of the Bailey Ball, they rolled it into the woods, where it remained for many years."
I don't know that this beats the teeth story, but it's pretty great.
we gotta get back to torrent distribution, i just watched someone eat eight grand in bandwidth charges because they ran a direct-download piracy site with local file hosting through cloudflare. torrents were invented literally for this exact reason
i have a file or folder on my pc that i want to share with other people. let's call it gayshit.mp3
unfortunately gayshit.mp3 is 750mb and im not paying for discord nitro so i need another way to send it
i put it into qbittorrent and it makes a torrent file. this is essentially a very small file that points to gayshit.mp3 so other computers can find it. kinda like a treasure map
i send this tiny file to my friend, who loads it into qbittorrent. their computer takes a moment to find mine over the vast expanse of cyberspace and then (as long as my pc is running and the file is still where it should be), it gets copied from my hard drive to theirs
this is the cool part: if somebody else loads that tiny file, they can download it from both of us. if i'm offline but my friend is on, the third person can still get it. this also means that if two people have separate halves of the file, they can download the other half from each other. as long as some combination of people have the pieces between them, they can all have the whole thing.
crucially this does not require a server!!! you can just upload the file to a few people and as long as they keep it, it's still accessible. as long as somebody, somewhere is still connected, it's available forever. the only way it goes away is if everybody disconnects from it.
Mama Wonder Woman AU: âNo Cass?!â âNo Cass!â
Danny had done something wrong. Heâd fucked up enough that Diana had to actually punish him. A rare situation considering that Danny, a hero and one whoâs worked solo for years, rarely made mistakes big enough to deserve punishment or went against Diana. From the moment sheâd rescued him from Jack and Maddieâs lab heâd been a total mamaâs boy. Still, itâd happened and now Diana had to act as a proper parent and punish him for it.
Now then, how do Bruce and Clark do this? âYou are grounded,â the tone sheâd said this with made it clear that there was no way around it.
âBut what about my hero work?â It wasnât a well known fact outside the hero community, and even then it still wasnât well known, but Danny actually needed to be a hero. Heâs a guardian spirit. While his obsession is space he also needs to make sure people are safe.
âOther than work,â Diana agreed easily. She wasnât about to deny her boy one of his base needs, as confusing as it was at first for her to understand that heroism is a need for him. âAnd no TV,â she tacked on mainly because it didnât seem like a punishment so far.
Danny sheepishly mentioned with a shrug, âMy TVâs broken.â Ah. Right. It had been broken by one of her boyâs rouges. The hunter. Skulker she thinks Danny called him. The hunter should hope she never got her hands on him or heâd learn sheâs not nearly as forgiving as her son is.
âThen no computer,â she pivoted. It made sense to her. He used it a lot to play games with his friends back in Amity Park.
âI need the computer for school,â Danny once again corrected her. Sheâd forgotten that too. Her boy had asked to go to school online so he wouldnât be beholden to the stringent schedules of a typical education. Ever since heâd started going to school online his grades had soared and Diana couldnât be prouder of him. Heâd always diminished his intelligence, comparing himself to his elder sister, and it had only gotten worse since his partial death at the hands of his parents negligence. The ghosts her boy fought at all hours of the day and night made it all but impossible for him to complete a school day unimpeded or to finish his homework without it being damaged. Diana had made it a mission of hers to help her boy see himself for the amazing young man that he is.
âThen uh,â she was really grasping at straws here. She couldnât take his TV away since itâs broken, he needed his computer for school, and she couldnât ground him from his obsessions without hurting him. What would Bruce do? Wait, thatâs it! âNo Cassandra.â
The girl in question popped her head out of the vent above and slightly behind Danny with a cry of âWhat?!â Diana was woman enough to admit that yes, she did startle. Both at the girlâs presence since she hadnât had even known she was in the state but also because of the girl using her voice. She hadnât thought it was one of the girlâs vocal days. Still though, considering who it was who startled her she wasnât too embarrassed by that fact. Cassandra was the stealthiest of Bruceâs brood, including the man himself.
Simultaneously Danny interjected incredulously, âNo Cass?!â
âNo Cass!â She repeated herself. She was proud of herself for having picked and appropriate punishment even as both teens looked crestfallen.
Danny, over the PA: Ding-Dong and happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Vlad: Oh God!
Danny: I hope everyone is ready for the annual Turkey Purge!
Tucker: Screw you my cholesterol!
Danny: The assignment is the same as last year! One person will be selected at random to be the Turkey, and every other student will earn grades by beating the crap out of them!
Valerie: Prepare to get Plymoth Rocked Dash!
Dash: Valerie, you don't know if I'm gonna get picked.
Valerie: Uncertainty is for filler arcs!
Star: Can we not let one holiday go by without marking it with violence?
Danny: And for anyone curious; No we can not let one holiday go by without ferociously marking it with violence!
Star: Yay.
Danny: Let's take a moment and remember the highlights of maiming Vlad last year! There was Jazz, who brought Acid Cranberry Sauce, which we threw at Vlad! And Wes! Who brought Potato Salad Grenades, which we also threw at Vlad! Paulina's chainsaw may not have been thematically appropriate, but we still threw them at Vlad!
Paulina: I will not not have cheerleader practice.
Danny: Even sweet Sam got in on it bringing a flock of Turkeys to peck Vlad within an inch of his life!
Sam: The land remembers heathens.
Danny: And the lucky turkey will be; Dash!
Vlad: Yes!
Dash: What?! No! Valerie!
Valerie: Democracy is dead! I paid $20 to have my way!
Danny: Let the hunt: Begin!
Dash: No guys, can we all just agree this tradition is a little outdated?
Paulina, slamming into the room with a sledgehammer: My Life for the Cheer Team!
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