ladies and gents, welcome to fabulous

frostbittenbucky:

comatose–overdose:

meggimed:

frostbittenbucky:

frostbittenbucky:

frostbittenbucky:

frostbittenbucky:

Ok so here’s the scene

You’re currently being chased by the Batman, it’s terrifying, he’s like a damn freight train. But you’re fast, real fast

You think you’re gonna make it, you think you can loose him. You almost feel glee as you start to hear his steps get further in the distance

Then you hear it

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground. It was his cape

He dropped his cape

Now you hear him quickly coming up behind you, he’s going at least 30% faster

Then you realize it

He turned on sports mode

@t4t-ricstar you’ve killed me

And that was the inspiration 😌

@interplanetary-redacted NO WAIT NEW DAD BRUCE WOULD FUCKING DO THIS THE DUMBASS WOULD FORGET HE HAD DICKWITH HIM

@small-helm SROP WHY AM I IMAGINING ROBIN TURNING INTO A BALL LIKE SONIC AND GOING AFTER THE BAD GUY

Batman with Robins under his cape is like Rock Lee with his weights. Once remove, he tenfolds the speed.

Originally posted by iwam-swim

Originally posted by iwam-swim

“Robins” in this case can be a full-size adult Red Hood or Nightwing, in which case you are fucked.

He just fuckin…….. Keeps all his kids in baby carriers on his back SOMEHOW …..and theyre hidden by his cape SOMEHOW….. And he deploys them at will depending on the situation……

Also correct

Also, if robin wasn’t there, it’d be wind resistance. So still fast

luminescentauthor:

consider: Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne, is way more of a cryptid than Batman, so far as Gotham is concerned

basically, this is what the average Gothamite knows:

Jason Todd, the first adopted son of Bruce Wayne – while he did adopt Dick Grayson, his first ward, it wasn’t until Grayson was well into adulthood – was presumed dead following a tragic incident while he was studying abroad in the Middle East. Then, many years later, Todd returned to Gotham, revealing that he had survived, and took over ownership of the Iceberg Lounge for a few months, and then promptly vanished again. (Everything in this paragraph is canon, btw. Most of it is from RHatO 2016, particularly issue 32.)

Was his death faked? Did Wayne know he survived? Where is he now???? Nobody knows.

If you want to include preboot canon, you can add “Bruce Wayne lost custody of him for a time and he was briefly adopted by Natalia Knight, who was secretly the villain Nocturna; Wayne regained custody after her criminal activities were exposed. Did his disappearance have something to do with her?”

Somehow, Jason’s civilian identity is literally a bigger cryptid than any of their vigilante identities, including Red Hood. The entire family is like “thanks, I hate it!” Jason himself can’t decide if he thinks it’s hilarious or if he hates it.

He nonetheless makes a point to use his actual name for some innocuous thing about once a year, always in completely random places scattered around the globe. Generally he lets one (1) person get a semi-decent picture of him, and then he vanishes again. The internet always blows up over the sighting of the cryptid Wayne son. Jason is enjoying it more than he should. (Barbara will never admit it, but as Oracle, she finds it incredibly funny.)

Vicki Vale is suffering.

katy-l-wood:

outpastthemoat:

today i’m sad about that one line from the creator’s commetary about how zuko is a tsungi horn prodigy and the little letter zuko, aged 7, sends iroh in “legacy of the fire nation” where he very politely requests that iroh come home and teach him pai sho tricks, because that casts such a different light on their interactions in book one.  it was never iroh trying to push his own favorite things - pai sho and music night - on an uninterested zuko, it was iroh desperately trying to reconnect with zuko by recreating the activities he knows zuko used to enjoy.  zuko, aged 7, once begged iroh to come home and play board games with him and now zuko wants nothing to do with him and you know that eats iroh up alive

NO THANK YOU. THIS IS TOO SAD FOR A FRIDAY MORNING.

moveslikekeithrichards:

horror movie from the perspective of someone who just watched a scary movie & is really anxious afterwards so every scene is framed like its gonna be scary but nothing happens & they just go to bed

rainbow-femme:

Candyman is such a hard villain to dislike cause you literally gotta ask him to kill you. You’re gonna pick up the supernatural phone, dial the number of a supernatural murderer, file what you know is a murder request, then get upset when he murders you?

“‘I didn’t think the Candyman would murder ME!’ says person who submitted Candyman murder victim application”

do-you-have-a-flag:

i know there’s more than this out there but it really is incredible that people will look at a fictional character someone else wrote and collectively say “I will write you a hundred happy endings.”

weallbelievedinghosts:

you died alone

and that wasn’t so bad, really

i think it would have hurt more knowing that your father was watching

it was hard, though

it would have been nice, maybe, if you could have held his hand

i think you would have liked that, the comfort

you always liked it when you got to hold his hand

even if you pretended you were too grown up for that

it made you feel safe

at least he didn’t have to watch you burn,

it was good he wasn’t there,

i don’t think you would have wanted him to see that

you died alone, and in pain, and you father wasn’t there, but maybe that was for the best

you never did like to let him see you cry

and you were crying as you died

from the pain

and you knew he wasn’t there

that he wasn’t coming

you might have said goodbye, if he had been there

he might have held your hand, and you could whisper your goodbyes to him, and he could wipe away your tears

maybe he’d even tell you it was going to be okay

even if you’d both know he was lying

sometimes it’s just nice to hear the words

but

you didn’t get to say goodbye, or hold his hand

and he never told you he loved you, or wiped away your tears

you just died, alone, and hurting, and scared

you just died.

ok, so i have SO many thoughts but - the last two lines kill me, because it could be switching here between Jason and Bruce here. Like B get’s there and his kid is still warm (explosion or what) but just that thought echoes: “you just died.”

inkskinned:

i have been thinking about the way we, in love, give power to others. this sense - i am allowing you enough room that you could set the house on fire.

when i was younger, people used to tell me it was going to be different after-your-first-love. it has been. it’s been easier, most of the time. i know who i am. i used to think it was romantic to say i gave him everything i am. now i know that the right people will not ask for that - they don’t want to take from you, only to help you build. i used to think it was lonely, the way adults said we have our own lives. now i know what it is to have that other-life be separated - how wonderful, to have someone i can share with, and someone who celebrates my life and the way i have grown into it.

people said: after you have been hurt, it will be different.

this is true about most things, after all. my experiences were branded on my body. i don’t talk about the scars, and you’re too smart to ask, and we’re both healing. i used to be able to do certain gymnastics tricks - but i fell once, and i haven’t been able to get over the mental barrier since then.

the thing is - we learn these stop-measures because someone took advantage of us first. we learn how far is too far because someone forced us too-far. as a kid, i thought there is no too far was romantic. i didn’t know better.

it took me a very long time to rebuild parts of my life after him. it took me a very long time to rebuild parts of my character. i think i probably still have rooms without any floors. places that only go down. ceilings full of spraypainted warnings.

i have been thinking about the ways new love comes in. and we crack open each sealed door together, one-at-a-time. and i hear myself in front of her, nervous, saying if you start a fire, please keep it contained in here, it’s a place i can afford to lose.

and i hear her, time and time again, utterly confused: why would i do that? it’s beautiful in here. i don’t want to hurt you.

the way we know it can hurt, and we love anyway. the way we walk the thin ice and say - the risk is worth the skating.

afloweroutofstone:

3:45 pm, time to get up and get ready for the day I guess

targuzzler:

sarcasticguitarguy:

targuzzler:

never understood people who let candy melt in their mouth. ill bite down on a damn jolly rancher because i lack the patience 

It’s like a dishwasher

i dont understand even a little bit thank you

weallbelievedinghosts:

here’s the thing about dying

it ends

and the ones who loved you grieve

and they visit your grave

(it’s a beautiful grave)

and they speak of you

of who you were

(so very young, that poor boy)

(his poor father)

and they move on, eventually

(they don’t fight anymore, your brother and father, i think you would be glad of that, if you were here)

and sometimes your memory haunts them

like a cool breeze on a warm summer night

(it hurts, it hurts, it hurts)

and they don’t blame you, for dying

(you were so young)

and they whisper of you in hushed tones,

and they share fond memories

and they put flowers on your grave

(it’s a beautiful grave)

here’s the thing about living

it hurts

and your father is so angry (so terribly sad)

and your father feels so guilty

(he was so young, your brother, just a little boy)

and it hurts in the morning, when you make your toast the way he liked it

and it hurts in the evening, when you see his face on the news

(he looks so young in the photo they use)

your father doesn’t smile anymore

and he feels so guilty

(he wasn’t there)

(he didn’t save you)

you can’t blame him, your father, he’s all you have left

he blames himself enough anyway

and you put flowers on his grave

(it’s a beautiful grave)

here’s the thing about losing a child

it’s your fault

and it hurts to remember him

(it hurts worse to forget)

and he was your little boy

so very young

and you should have been a better father

you should have protected him

(he was so smart, your boy, he was going to go to college)

you can’t forget, can’t turn away from the pain

(he wanted to do an english major)

and you put his photo on your bedside

and you look at it every night

(his memory encased in glass)

and you put flowers on his grave

(it should be your grave)

crows-murder:

Guys,,,,, can we have ONE normal conversation??

@geminibabyhere @fanfictiongreenirises @fidothefinch