Latest Posts by candle-burner - Page 2
My favorite flavor of Danny Phantom in the dpxdc universes is the ordinary on the first glance teenager who stands before an unimaginable, indestructible threat and throws his hands up to yell BITCH DO I LOOK LIKE I GOT TIME FOR THIS I GOT FINALS NEXT WEEK FUCK OFF and the threat retreats and crawls back where it came from
If your ADHD is causing you to fuck up more, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the ADHD is getting worse.. you could just be doing more things which gives you more opportunity to fuck up.
This is one of the reasons, ADHD can get ‘worse’ as an adult. A child has very few responsibilities. An adult on the other hand, has all kinds of opportunities to fuck up on.
Imagine if you locked Light and Patrick Bateman in a room together. They would be having the most generic conversation but you wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of their overlapping internal monologues. There would be a few seconds where their monologues both play in sync to say something misogynistic.
people who don't wear glasses are so weird like you just wake up and your eyes are pussy fresh??
I want you to remember:
The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.
REBLOG: go to your blog and click the egg to see what hatches
i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point
starting to suspect that tech bros actually just don’t know what reading is
“As early as the 1920s, researchers giving IQ tests to non-Westerners realized that any test of intelligence is strongly, if subtly, imbued with cultural biases… Samoans, when given a test requiring them to trace a route form point A to point B, often chose not the most direct route (the “correct” answer), but rather the most aesthetically pleasing one. Australian aborigines find it difficult to understand why a friend would ask them to solve a difficult puzzle and not help them with it. Indeed, the assumption that one must provide answers alone, without assistance from those who are older and wiser, is a statement about the culture-bound view of intelligence. Certainly the smartest thing to do, when face with a difficult problem, is to seek the advice of more experienced relatives and friends!”
— Jonathan Marks - Anthropology and the Bell Curve (via leofarto)
im obsessed with the difference between the Wayne family and the Kent family. like i can imagine Clark and Bruce working on some kind of case at the watchtower when Kon storms in angrily talking about how Jon won’t stop whining to play games on his phone and it’s really getting on his nerves and Clark needs to go and tell him off bcs he won’t listen to Kon, and Clark sighs before turning to Bruce with an eye-roll like ‘kids amiright?’ and then they hear a far off scream from Dick on the other end of the watchtower that’s like ‘BRUCE JASON KEEPS DRESSING UP AS NIGHTWING AND KILLING PEOPLE IN BLUDHAVEN AND NOW IM BEING INVESTIGATED FOR FUCKING MURDER AGAIN!’ followed by an evil Jason-like cackle and a crash, and Bruce just grunts and stands up to go investigate with a chuckle, returning Clark’s look like ‘oh don’t i know it haha’ as if the two are in any way comparable and Clark isn’t staring at him like his whole family is insane
Great Mouse Detective version of Dracula happening simultaneously as the events of Dracula, so there’s just five mice in Victorian clothes unnoticed by the human cast desperately trying to kill a bat.
>First, we’ve discovered that about a quarter of all the internet connection in or out of the house were ad related. In a few hours, that’s about 10,000 out of 40,000 processed.
>We also discovered that every link on Twitter was blocked. This was solved by whitelisting the https://t.co domain.
>Once out browsing the Web, everything is loading pretty much instantly. It turns out most of that Page Loading malarkey we’ve been accustomed to is related to sites running auctions to sell Ad space to show you before the page loads. All gone now.
>We then found that the Samsung TV (which I really like) is very fond of yapping all about itself to Samsung HQ. All stopped now. No sign of any breakages in its function, so I’m happy enough with that.
>The primary source of distress came from the habitual Lemmings player in the house, who found they could no longer watch ads to build up their in-app gold. A workaround is being considered for this.
>The next ambition is to advance the Ad blocking so that it seamlessly removed YouTube Ads. This is the subject of ongoing research, and tinkering continues. All in all, a very successful experiment.
>Certainly this exceeds my equivalent childhood project of disassembling and assembling our rotary dial telephone. A project whose only utility was finding out how to make the phone ring when nobody was calling.
>Update: All4 on the telly appears not to have any ads any more. Goodbye Arnold Clarke!
>Lemmings problem now solved.
>Can confirm, after small tests, that RTÉ Player ads are now gone and the player on the phone is now just delivering swift, ad free streams at first click.
>Some queries along the lines of “Are you not stealing the internet?” Firstly, this is my network, so I may set it up as I please (or, you know, my son can do it and I can give him a stupid thumbs up in response). But there is a wider question, based on the ads=internet model.
>I’m afraid I passed the You Wouldn’t Download A Car point back when I first installed ad-blocking plug-ins on a browser. But consider my chatty TV. Individual consumer choice is not the method of addressing pervasive commercial surveillance.
>Should I feel morally obliged not to mute the TV when the ads come on? No, this is a standing tension- a clash of interests. But I think my interest in my family not being under intrusive or covert surveillance at home is superior to the ad company’s wish to profile them.
>Aside: 24 hours of Pi Hole stats suggests that Samsung TVs are very chatty. 14,170 chats a day.
>YouTube blocking seems difficult, as the ads usually come from the same domain as the videos. Haven’t tried it, but all of the content can also be delivered from a no-cookies version of the YouTube domain, which doesn’t have the ads. I have asked my son to poke at that idea.
“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”
Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water
it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.
I Couldn't Give What It Cost Me
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58929406
Who would have thought following Casper High’s lab safety protocols would leave him in the same place as if he followed his parents’, just infinitely more spooky looking?
Hell, Danny had even pulled out the worn piece of paper from their first class, the one that listed all the PPE needed to deal with a high school level of science and beyond! Sure, the tidbits about the different levels of HAZMAT suits were probably just fun facts, but his parents never fought him or Jazz on wearing their HAZMAT suits in the lab, nevermind the gas masks and goggles. If his parents’ research had any chance of radiation or burning them, he was wearing the PPE.
Sam and Tucker complained about the stiff suits, brightly coloured and stiff, all too large as they were back ups for Danny’s mom and dad. When Danny had pulled out his own, he was on some level happy that his white one was nearly the proper size, if still too large. It was always better safe than sorry in his parents’ lab, one too many chemical burns from unknown substances proved that.
“Y’know Danny, we could totally take these and trick or treat in them, they’re just creepy enough that we can pass as Pestilence, a horsemen of the apocalypse,” Sam said, voice muffled as she adjusted her mask.
“Oh, for sure, just after we explain why Pestilence is wearing a bright orange HAZMAT suit,” Danny pulled on his gas mask, breathing slowly as he got used to the odd, wheezing sound. He looked around the lab, huffing, “man, dad must’ve updated my suit without telling me. I think he added a welding shield on it, I can’t see anything.”
“Oh, don’t worry Danny, it makes you look spookier, especially with the white suit!” Sam smiled, though Danny couldn’t see it. “How about you keep your mask off till we get to the portal, then put it on when we get the picture?”
“Wait, we’re getting a picture?”
It was pointless to argue, so after getting to the portal and showing the waste of space off, and after a lot of directing, both Sam and Tucker annoyed at the small steps Danny took inside the portal, he was ready. He didn’t go too far into the tunnel, he kept mostly in the middle, he even smiled for Sam’s picture, decked out in his full suit, completely safe.
It wasn’t enough.
There was an unexpected jolt of electricity, sparks falling from the top of the tunnel that was the portal, and well, Danny couldn’t really see anything, so the sudden light was a surprise. It started him, and no one really ever talked about how hard it was to move gracefully in a full HAZMAT suit, especially one that was a size or two too big. He stumbled back, and wires that littered the floor tripped him. Danny’s hand fell against the wall as he tried to catch himself, tried to not fall onto the floor and embarrass himself, he couldn’t see the bright buttons that said ON and OFF, inside of the portal.
It was just pain after that.
Pain that flooded him so completely, overwhelming every sense until all he knew as pain. Bright, shocking, both burning and freezing, it was overwhelming all his senses, but it wouldn’t stop.
Sam and Tucker said it was a haunting sight when he stepped out of the portal.
Neither told him of how long they stood frozen, just listening to their friend’s death throes.
Being Phantom was easy. It was easier than it should have been.
He struggled yes, he phased through silverware when he was, alive, breathing, human, he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the beakers in chemistry anymore, his parents’ machines all homed in on him when he stepped through the front door. That was all part of his new, life, unlife, death? Not death. Scrodinger’s cat, a box unopened, was he dead or alive?
Fighting ghosts was easy, fun even.
Danny, Phantom, got pummeled often. He threw shitty punches and was hit with thousands of pounds worth of force back, he struggled with his powers, new ones appearing everyday. The Lunch Lady was hard, at first. Skulker, Technus, Plasmius, Box Ghost, Spectra, Ghostwriter, all of them. They were all hard to beat, at first. They all treated Danny, Phantom, like he was an adult, that he should be able to withstand them, should be able to survive their attacks, and he proved that he could. It was the first time in years that it felt like he could try his best, and that he could, and would, succeed. The ghosts pouring through his parents’ portal saw Danny, saw Phantom, and sometimes, it seemed like they were expecting his best too. They saw something more than a Fenton Freak, a boy who dreamed of the starts that were always going to stay out of reach.
People feared him, but they saw him.
They saw his ghostly form, the pitch black HAZMAT suit that he wore to death, the gas mask covering his face completely, the hood that covered his hair. Phantom looked like a harbinger of doom, a horseman of the apocalypse, something solely and completely otherworldly.
The threats got bigger and bigger, the stakes climbing as Danny, as Phantom, was the only person, the only thing, standing between the ghosts of the realm his parents opened, and the small town of Amity Park. As the GIW showed up, as mom and dad became more and more obsessed with Phantom, everything pouring and spilling on top of one another.
Something was bound to break.
Of course they captured him.
Of course they let him go.
Of course, they left the mask on until they had already cut him open, until after they had removed his organs, taken samples of his skin, broken bones and stole them.
Maybe they wanted to save his brain for last.
Maybe they thought if they touched his brain, he would dissolve like the others before him.
The Fentons never did understand cores.
Maybe, the fear in their eyes was more for what they had done than what they had seen under Danny’s mask.
He wouldn’t know, he never looked.
He didn’t want to see what death left under his mask.
Sam, Tucker, Jazz, they all knew. They respected his death enough to not describe it to him.
Maybe what laid underneath would be what sent him over the edge.
Mom and Dad, Maddie and Jack, the Fentons, they let him go, somehow. They helped him hide his trail from the GIW, somehow, and with help from Sam and Tuck, he made it to Gotham. From there it was up to him, with the equipment his parents, the Fentons, shoved into a duffle bag, and cash that Sam had been saving for him. It had to be enough to make a new life.
Now, Danny just had to deal with the ghosts and nightmares.
It was mostly wishful thinking that he could put Phantom in the past.
It was mostly wishful thinking that Gotham was going to be fine with its knights of the night.
It was mostly wishful thinking that he wouldn’t have to deal with the Bats.
A mysterious new meta who seemed to only target ghosts? That same mysterious new meta suddenly, without provocation, killing a new rogue?
What can Danny, what can Phantom, say. He really, really, hated Freakshow. That tended to happen when you mind control someone, especially when you made that person kidnap a Robin and threaten to have him walk a tightrope, one that was bound to break if it was anything like last time.
Danny was struggling. He knew, logically, that he should just go with the Bats, to explain why he did what he did, they were probably used to people blaming mind control for their actions, they had to know when someone wasn’t lying.
Right?
Danny couldn’t take the risk. Couldn’t chance them leading the GIW right to him while his guard was down. They were already sniffing around Gotham, he just.
He couldn’t.
Danny watched in horror as Batman’s gas mask was cracked, as the Dark Knight threw the person off, only in appearances trying to walk off the powerful punch.
Danny knew better.
He could tell Batman was holding his breath as he felt along his utility belt for something, anything, to filter the fear gas that was being pumped onto the street.
He knew he would find nothing.
If you asked Danny afterwards, he didn’t know why he went ghost, why he walked up to Batman, the very person Danny had been dodging for months now, and removed the ghostly gas mask from his face. He tried not to look at Batman’s face when he shoved it over his cowl, unsure how the fear gas will work on him.
Was it best used as an aerosol, breathed in and absorbed through the lungs? It had to work through mucous channels, maybe just less effectively through the eyes and mouth? It didn’t matter, Danny was dead, alive, Scrodinger’s cat, he could stop his breathing for minutes on end but eventually he had to take a breath, and that mattered less if the gas worked through mucus channels.
“Take it, don’t argue,” Danny said, surprised at how, normal, his voice sounded. He hadn’t thought about how he never really spoke when his mask was off, how it betrayed how young he was. Only just under fifteen, so close to his anniversary.
He couldn’t see any part of Batman’s face, the upper half covered further by the cowl and the visor on his gas mask, the lower now covered by the gas mask’s main components.
“Do you know if the gas works through mucous channels?” He asked, trying to maintain eye contact with the older man, unsure if he is even succeeding. Batman has never been known to be chatty, but this is concerning, not even a grunt in response.
“How old are you?” His voice was muffled by the gas mask, maybe it was a good thing, Danny was pretty positive that Batman wasn’t putting on the deeper voice he usually did.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m dead, not dead. Ughhh, think of Scrodinger’s cat, both dead and alive till you open up the box,” he never wanted to open the box, if he is completely honest, “Keep the gas mask on, don’t know how long it took me to get it to stop being in welding mode and don’t want to know,” keep talking, distract, “does fear gas work through mucous membranes? Do I have to keep my mouth shut, eyes closed?”
It was pointless, somehow, he broke Batman. Danny could hear the Scarecrow laughing somewhere in the distance, people screaming in fear, people fighting against things only they could see and understand.
Danny froze as he caught sight of white suits, teal and orange HAZMATs, through the crowd.
He took a deep breath.
Phantom had already lived his worst nightmare.
The problem with trying to map out the DC fictional cities is that, they are always changing, sometimes Gotham is in New York, sometimes Metropolis is across the river from Gotham and sometimes it's half-way across the states, depending on which comic/movie/show you're watching. So technically, everyone is right about where they think the cities are, statistically speaking there's a canon where that's where they are.
Yep!!! Most DC locations are very generalized. they are somewhere in California or somewhere on this coast. It’s a mess. Quite a lot of the maps you see online are speculated locations for the cities to be located.
DC rule #1: Continuity is a sham. Everything is canon and also not and also it is but only slightly.
My main view on all comics is to just build your own personal canon. There’s 75 years worth of comics. There’s no way you’re gonna read ALL of it. Pick and choose the comics you like and ideas you enjoy and build your own personal view of the character and world. Mine might be different than yours and that’s ok, that’s how comics are meant to be.
If ya think metropolis is on the east coast? Sure. Why not. Go for it. In DC time is a thick soup and the world is Mr. Mxyzptlk’s playground. Anything is possible.
Vicki Vale: Mr. Wayne are you Batman?
Bruce Wayne: What is a “Bat man?”
—
Vicki Vale: Mr. Drake are you Red Robin?
Tim Drake: Like the restaurant?
—
Vicki Vale: So Cassandra, are you Orphan?
Cassandra Cain: No I’m not an orphan. I have a dad.
—
Vicki Vale: Mr. Thomas are you Signal?
Duke Thomas: Am I what?
Vicki Vale: Are you the Bat Signal?
Duke Thomas: That is the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked.
—
Vicki Vale: Damian, are you Robin?
Damian Wayne: Tt, I am not a bird. Are you well, Ms. Vale? I’m concerned for your mental state.
AI disturbance overlays for those who don't have Ibis paint premium. found them on tiktok
A story within a story where a mother sits her rowdy children down and tells them a story about a the world's sweetest, kindest mother who never lost her temper, never cursed and never yelled at her children, no matter how rowdy they could get. She would only gently, kindly told them to not do the dangerous things. One day she sweetly, kindly told her children to not go play at the riverbank, because it's dangerous and they might slip on the rocks, fall into the water, and die. Her children do not listen. They go play at the riverbank, where they slip on the rocks, fall into the water, and die.
And the sweet perfect mother of the story comes to the riverbank, sees that all her children drowned, and starts crying so bitterly that angels overhear her, and the angels say to each other, "she does not deserve this, this woman has never done anything wrong in her life, this should not have happened to her", and feeling great pity for her, bring her children back to life, and after that they always listened to their mother and lived happily ever after.
And the storyteller's children, who at this point are familiar with the concept that these stories are supposed to have some sort of a moral or lesson in them, interject to point out that their mother hasn't always done everything perfectly, she isn't always sweet, curses a lot, and as a matter of fact loses her shit at her kids all the time. She isn't like the mother of the story at all.
And their mother agrees: Her children are correct. She is not a perfect mother who has never done anything wrong. Angels will not have pity on her, and they will not bring her little shits back to life if they go to the river and die. So they better fucking not go get themselves killed in the first place.
Bruce goes to meet the other fathers? Have a barbecue with Clark, Oliver, Berry and talk about their kids?
"Damian told me that I was cool, it's been a while since one of my kids told me that" or "Mia is doing so well at school these days"
those moments when they are all (old men) father proud of the mess the kids are?
The dads: *lounging on beach chairs*
Clark: It's nice to finally get a day off. I think Jon needed it more than me. He's still reeling from growing up and suddenly turning back into a kid again.
Ollie: How'd that happen, anyway?
Duke, walking by: That's just this blog.
Clark: What?
Duke: Nothing. Hey, B, can we use the jacuzzi?
Bruce: Sure, go ahead.
Duke: *gives Emiko a thumbs up*
Emiko: *drains the jacuzzi*
Harper and Cullen: *start cleaning the pipes*
Ollie: I know how you feel, Clark. Roy's the happiest I've seen him with Lian back but it's still a big change. We're working on getting her enrolled in school this fall so she can catch up on what she's missed.
Roy: *sprays the tub with disinfectant*
Jason: *dries it with a leaf blower*
Hal: Speaking of changes, Jaime graduated with honors. I know he's not my kid but I can't help but feel like a proud uncle. Kyle got a new concept artist job, by the way, and I think he really likes it.
Jaime: *turns the jacuzzi back on*
Kyle: *sets up folding tables*
Barry, chuckling: Bart tried to enter a marathon the other day.
Clark: Kon wanted to pay money to go skydiving. I don't get it.
Aquaman: I remember when Kaldur joined an amateur scuba class at that age. Perhaps it's an attempt to feel more human.
Bruce: It's easy for us to forget sometimes too.
Kon, carrying a giant pot: Boiling hot soup, coming through!
Kon: *pours it into the jacuzzi*
Cass: *adds spices*
Tim, with a clipboard: One down, eleven more to go. Bart, stop eating the ingredients.
Bart: It's just tofu.
Tim: That's for Damian. What's he gonna do now, starve?
Bruce: Dick's been coming home more often lately. I can tell Alfred's really happy when he sees us all together.
Dick: *drapes tablecloths over the tables*
Wally: *sets up plates*
Steve, walking in: Mind if I join? Diana's running a little late so she sent me and the girls ahead.
Clark: Of course, feel free.
Donna, holding a basket: Where do these vegetables go?
Barbara: I'll take them. Could one of you get some spoons from the kitchen?
Cassie: On it.
Steve: So where are all the ladies?
Bruce: They're in the living room. Selina's showing off her latest... um... collection. Alfred has tea in the kitchen if you want some.
Steve: Don't mind if I do.
Yara: Should I put the meat in now?
Jon: One sec.
Jon: *scoops some soup aside*
Jon: You're good now. I just needed a vegetarian portion for Dami.
Kon: MORE SOUP COMING!
Ollie: Honestly, I'm surprised everyone's doing fairly well given the industry we're in.
Steph, leading a crowd into the yard: And here's where our main event will be.
Bette: *checking names off a guest list*
Bette: That's almost everyone. Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are gonna be a little late. Avery's on a mission in Shanghai so she can't make it. Beast Boy and Raven stopped to buy desserts. And the We Are Robin kids just got stuck on a stalled subway train but they should be here pretty soon.
Clark: I think it's a matter of good mentorship and giving them plenty of time and space to get acclimated to the superhero lifestyle.
Jesse: *making lemonade*
Ace: *fills the coolers with ice*
Garth and Kaldur: *handing out drinks*
Barry: And giving them plenty of room to grow at their own pace.
Hal: Very true.
Bruce, sighing contently: You can't help but be proud of them.
The kids, chanting: HOT POT! HOT POT!
purge of 2002? of 2012? what ARE those?
Oh, how quickly the past is forgotten.
They are part of the reason A03 is a thing now. Not the whole reason, but part of it.
The Great Purges of 2002 and 2012 are when ff.net got a wild hair up their ass about THINK OF THE CHILDREN and nuked any fic posted on there that was explicit. Thousands upon thousands of nc-17 smutfics were lost.
It’s what led to the creation of alternate hosting sites for smutty fic…AdultFanfiction was the one I went to…but thousands of fics would never be recovered.
When Jason starts building his crime lord career, people start inexplicably comparing him to Matches Malone. They have the same mannerisms, the same fighting styles and a similar build. Some rogues even have theories that they're the same guy.
So when ever Matches is mentioned, red hood mutters "fuck that guy" under his breath and since Bruce puts his whole batussy into his personas, he's starts reciprocating that energy. All the rogues are scrambling to find out what happened to cause this beef. The entire Gotham underground now has to pick a side between one of their own who they've worked with and gotten to know over the years versus the new up and coming crime lord that's offering jobs and improving their lives. While Jason is wondering what he can do to stop being compared to Bruce, Bruce is trying to be a supportive parent (which means making sure the rogues don't turn on J) while protecting his persona he's been curating for years.
Reblog this if you had to learn cursive writing as a child
If you were ever told or were made to learn cursive writing when you were in grade school. I wanna see how many of you suffered like I did.