I love him, your honor

pixel skylines
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
styofa doing anything
RMH
todays bird
Monterey Bay Aquarium
$LAYYYTER

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d e v o n
Keni

blake kathryn
Sweet Seals For You, Always
almost home

titsay
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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roma★

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ojovivo
seen from India

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States

seen from India

seen from Malaysia
seen from Morocco
seen from Chile
seen from Morocco

seen from Australia
seen from Netherlands
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@foxfyre999
I love him, your honor
please consider:
Tim Drake-Wayne adopting a cat from a shelter after moving into his own apartment because no one can tell him no now.
he names his kitty Irene because deep-down he’s still a dork who joined a Sherlock Holmes fan club (sidebar: THIS IS CANON YOU CAN LOOK IT UP)
when he doesn’t wanna get out of bed Irene comes up and butts him with her head because FOOD TIM C’MON
it’s really soothing to pet her because she purrs like crazy?? excellent
one time he was sitting in the middle of the living room crying and she came up to him and started purring and he petted her and it was Good
brushing her fur is also really soothing
one time Kon came over to visit and Krypto unexpectedly came with him and Tim was really nervous but Irene just came over and bapped Krypto on the nose and now they’re friends
sometimes when Tim thinks about dying on patrol he thinks about how everyone else would get on with their lives but Irene wouldn’t be able to understand. all she’d know is that one day he disappeared, and he can’t do that to her
he announces her presence to the world by posting a picture of her napping on some Important Documents and like an hour later Damian is climbing through his window demanding to see this cat, why didn’t you tell me about her Drake???
there’s definitely a fanclub for her now, along with all of Damian’s pets. Tim ends up authorizing an official plushie and all the proceeds go to no-kill shelters in Gotham.
she goes on a field trip to Titans Tower because the Titans demand to see her. Bart reads like eighty books on cats and teaches her ridiculous tricks with his newfound knowledge.
TIM ADOPTING A CAT (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
RB if you think CD drives in computers are not obsolete, but in fact still necessary, despite being artificially phased out
My ideal beginning to a Batman movie:
We start with a slow pan down to Gotham as Oracle narrates
“Ask your average person who Gotham’s most famous citizen is, and you’ll get the same response every time: Bruce Wayne. Everybody’s heard of Bruce Wayne. You’ve probably heard his name a million times before. But there are some things that the average citizen doesn’t know about him. See, to the people of Gotham, Bruce Wayne is a rich kid who never grew up. They think he’s a buffoon, an airhead, a moron. But the truth is…”
*Batman bursts out of a window, screaming, on fire*
*record scratch, freeze frame*
“…they aren’t entirely wrong about that.”
EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE
This is then followed by a series of clips from interviews with various Gotham citizens, all of whom give humorously ironic descriptions of Bruce Wayne’s idiocy:
“Bruce Wayne? I hear the guy gets through a super-car every month! Replaces every one, just like that!”
*Cut to shot of the Batmobile flipping end-over-end after slamming into one of Bane’s APCs*
“Wayne? Please! The guy would probably have accidentally killed himself years ago if he didn’t have that butler to babysit him!” *Cut to Alfred physically restraining Bruce from going out to fight Scarecrow while having a broken arm, a concussion, and the flu,*
“I bet he throws away cash like it grows on trees!”
*Cut to Batman shouting “Hey, Lucius! Ask R&D to make some kryptonite/Nth metal alloy baterangs! Y’know, just in case!”
“I’m almost jealous. Super rich and he gets to hang out with gorgeous women across the world? Sign me up!”
*Cut to Bruce being slammed face first into a wall repeatedly by Lady Shiva.*
Wow, Chocolate Guy wins again
that fucking chocolate guy finally admits to being Wonka in real life
Ok everyone, I don’t know how far this'll go, but I just have to express myself to the world. MY STUDENT LOANS HAVE BEEN FORGIVEN!!! For real, I just happened to check my servicer's website this morning, and I have a $0 balance instead of the $17,700 it was last week! I'm sooooo happy it's not hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles that I'm having trouble expressing it!
What's the best Billy Joel song?
Uptown Girl
Piano Man
Just the Way You Are
We Didn't Start the Fire
A Matter of Trust
It's Still Rock and Roll to Me
My Life
She's Always A Woman
Other (put in the tags)
You people actually listen to Billy Joel???
If you vote please reblog and maybe put your age I'm the tags because I'm curious as to who this reaches.
#I go to extremes is my favorite
If you can’t reblog this, unfollow me now.
it’s fucking disgusting that i just lost 6 followers
So the tire-eating potholes in my neighborhood finally killed both my rear tires and I had to get that dealt with, but while they were getting replaced, I put the dogs in puppy daycare and upon picking them up early, the attendant literally sprinted to the front desk, grabbed me by the shoulders and breathlessly exclaimed "YOUNEEDTOCOMESEEWHATYOURDOGSAREDOING"
While she escorted me back to the play yards, she explained that every time they have more than three Corgi, they have to put all the Corgs in a separate play yard because they turn into a little gang and bully the Very Large dogs by playing Cow Herding Simulator 5000 with them, and especially if Herschel is there, because corgis are bossy-pants dogs, and Herschel has the bossiest pants of them all and acts as leader.
Despite being a little Don Corgleone to the short bitch mafia, Hershcel is also a Huge Baby and will apparently cry and cry and try to climb the fence and cry and eat people's shoelaces and cry if he is separated from Charlie during playtime, so this means any time that "Corgi Party" is happening, Charlie also has to go to Corgi party, despite being full-height, running cat software and a senior citizen. he copes with being Gulliver amongst the Liliputians by climbing onto the roof of the playskool castle they have for a climbing structure in the yard, kicking the ladder down behind him, and stretching out to nap in the sun while the corgi frolic and gambol around him.
Corgi are dogs that make up and play games with secret rules, like kindergartners. "Everyone bark in sync" is a popular game, as is "follow the leader" and it's companion game "March in a circle around a tall structure like ants caught in a death loop".
So what I was greeted with, when the attendant and I snuck out to the play yard, was the sight of Charlie, sound asleep and flat on his back with his paws crossed over his chest because sighthounds sleep in the stupidest fucking positions, on top of a faux-medieval castle with gargoyles on the corners, surrounded by approximately seven Corgi, all trotting in a circle around him, barking in sync.
"They look like they're preforming some kind of ritual!" giggled the attendant as attempted to get my phone to focus.
"Yeah, they're gonna summon Corgtulhu." I said.
Unfortunately, this made the attendant literally fall on her ass laughing, and distracted Herschel and his compatriots, so they didn't get to complete the summons, and I didn't get the pic.
The attendant kept laughing because apparently she's new to puns, and had mostly gotten it under control by the time we got everyone's leashes on and back out to the front.
The manager was watching the front desk, bemused. Did you get to see them doing the ritual?"
"YEAH!" shrieks the attendant, still excitable with merriment. "THEY'RE- THEY WERE-" The attendant ends up giggling on the floor.
"You okay there Katie?" asked the manager with minimal concern.
"We think they were trying to summon Corgthulhu." I eplain, and Katie screams from the floor. "Wasn't gonna work though, you need a virgin sacrifice and Charlie had an STD when we got him."
It was the manager's turn to shriek. and for Charlie and Herschel to start barking in solidarity.
"That's right Charlie! Your sluttiness saved the world!" I told him, as he jumped up and kicked me in the face.
Anyway, that's why Charlie's nickname at daycare is now "Superman(whore)"
---
If you found this story amusing, please consider donating to my Ko-fi or pre-ordering the Family Lore book on my Patreon so I can buy the good dogs more treats.
confession: i miss tims long depression hair
Classic Live-Action DC Heroes by Alex Ross
‘i began to speak, and a voice i didn’t recognize came out…i felt batman rising from deep within’ —from kevin conroy’s dc pride story, ‘finding batman’.
we were lucky to have kevin share a piece of his soul with us through this character & define him for an entire generation🌹
Reblog if you’ve made amazing friends online and are grateful for their existence
How do I put this gently . . . You fuckers wanna see Trump actually face consequences - see Roe protected - not lose all the progress of the past 2 years under Biden? (yes ik we need more to be done i know) YOU HAVE TO FUCKING VOTE IN THE MID TERMS - POLLS ARE SHOWING A RED RESURGANCE BC PEOPLE HATE INFLATION AND THEY'RE VOTING REPUBLICAN LIKE IT'LL DO SOMETHING TO STOP IT.
Vote. Encourage your friends to vote. Vote at all levels. It does make a difference! If it didn't they wouldn't be trying so hard to discourage us from voting!
They are coming for Social Security and Medicare and they are talking about this in the open!
https://talkingpointsmemo.com/news/scalise-mccarthy-medicare-social-security-debt-ceiling
Vote, for fucks sake.
Ask yourself why they say it makes no difference if it really made no difference. Someone wants to stop you, that's why.
Your mother, father, grandparents, they paid their own money into Social Security and the republicans say it's a "perk"…no. It's their money. You're paying into it with every paycheck. It's your money too.
They want it. They want the poor poorer.
Make a difference. It's one day. A few hours. Make a difference to your parents, your grandparents.
To you.
Reblog if you’ve made amazing friends online and are grateful for their existence
Hello! I recently stumbled across your AO3 writings and they are phenomenal. I notice you've been absent for awhile, and so I sincerely hope you are well in whatever endeavors you are pursuing!
Hello babe.
Ah, you are very right! It’s been a while since I’ve been on 😅
That has more to do with my job and fam tbh. Kiddo is eight now and third grade after a year remote has seen a share of challenges. My mom is disabled now so I’ve taken over some of her care as happens when your parents get older.
Tbh, mostly I’ve been kind of ashamed to log on because I haven’t been writing much for enjoyment. My job, while the best job I’ve had so far in this industry, is intense, stressful, and mentally draining if not satisfying. So, yeah. Life is moving forward and much more busy than it was even five years ago.
That said, I’m not giving up on any of the fics I have out there. As a matter of fact, I decided to post a fic pile on Ao3 of nothing but works-in-progress. It’s all the half-assed things I have on my Google Doc. Well, except for a few done ficlets I’ve finished, like the next chapter of Broken Trust and a side fic for Dead Birds with a crossover starring everyone’s favorite X-Men. So, movement.
But I’m still around and kicking, still thinking up plots and endings. Things are what they are in our crazy world, and I’m glad you had the time to take a look at my works. I hope you enjoyed some of those ramblings ❤️ Just, thank-you babe for hitting me up and reminding me I’m still relevant and there are still people out there discovering how amazing this fandom is.
So, remember this idea in from the Dead Birds verse ^ Yeah, I'm done with that crossover side fic so here it is :D
Short Dead Birds / Marvel Crossover
Dammit Discord babes. Enablers, the lot of you.
I hate that I laughed at this
“Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there,” and another one appears. And dodges the downward sweep of claws, darting to the side, bouncing off the pentagram’s barriers, and tripping over the demon’s tail. “In the Vatican!” she cries out as she moves, using the State Farm Agent summoning charm to modify the situation as she was taught, and mentally thanking her trainer for expecting her to be fast enough to do it on the first incantation.
Most State Farm agents, when they run into trouble, have to get the customer to do the jingle a second time. That guy with the buffalo was lucky.
The magic takes hold, and she materializes in the aisle of St. Peter’s Basilica, still holding the demon by the tail, in the middle of Sunday morning Mass. The music clatters unprofessionally to a halt as laypeople, deacons, priests, monks, nuns, and the Pope all turn their attention to the surprised demon whose fifth course of dinner has turned, unaccountably, into a visit to one of his least favorite places on Earth.
There is chanting in Latin, and vaguely cross-shaped gestures, and clouds of incense, and the demon vanishes in a puff of smoke, whether from the efforts of the clergy or of his own volition no one can say. The Agent doesn’t wait, fleeing towards the doors and escaping in the confusion.
She gains the exit and walks, purposefully, toward Rome proper; there, she ducks into the nearest alley. A burner cell phone comes out of one of the less-used pockets of her purse, and she dials a number from memory.
“Allstate,” says a smooth masculine voice after three rings.
“State Farm,” she answers. “I’m calling in a favor.”
“Yeah?” Interest. “What sort?”
As she talks she’s pulling out her smartphone, keying an app that was activated by the summoning, and pulling up the policyholder data that enabled the incantation to work.
“Insurance fraud,” she said, and can almost hear teeth sharpening on the other end of the line. She gives him the name, the address, the policy number. “Someone needs some mayhem.”
“That’s my name,” the man says.
She smiles. “Someone needs all the mayhem.”
He chuckles. Slow. Evil. Even with the echoes of demonic laughter ringing in her ears, she’s impressed. “Don’t worry,” he says, almost purring.
“You’re in good hands.”
OH MY FUCKING GOD I just read insurance commercial fan fiction and it was so good, bless you, I’m going to remember this day forever.
IT COMES BACK TO ME! *preens*
Part 2:
It’s not too long later—State Farm will occasionally loan out their teleportation trick, though Heaven help anyone who tries to use it to compete with them—and the man they call Mayhem is squatting next to a demonic circle with tacky half-dried blood under the leather soles of his shoes. Whoever dispelled the circle didn’t do a good job of it; the ring is still faintly smoldering and Mayhem has already singed his fingers on the air above it. He’s in the basement of a house with a State Farm homeowner’s policy, waiting for his partner in, erm, crime, to show up.
“Oh, good heavens.” He smiles at the sound of someone hopping delicately back, then carefully tiptoeing through the mess. Demons are messy eaters, and Flo’s wearing all white.
She steps gingerly over what might be most of a femur, looks from circle to Mayhem to—is that half a skull on the floor? “Freaky. Whaddaya need?”
“Tech,” he says. “State Farm knows the homeowner summoned them, but the Agent reported at least five people present. Maybe six. She isn’t sure, what with being busy evading a demon inside a very small space with zappy walls.”
Flo’s already got a—where does she get those from anyway? a cardboard box in her hands. Mayhem watches as she unfolds it, refolds it, and ends up with something significantly bigger, shaped like a satellite dish. He tries to watch how she does it; they may be working together, but they’re still rivals and his own higher-ups will be very interested in the latest whatever-it-does that Progressive has come up with.
A blue glow lights up the concave side. Mayhem is pretty sure cardboard doesn’t work that way. Flo makes a pleased sound, and starts rattling off names, addresses, policy numbers.
Impressed, Mayhem asks, “How the fuck?” If Progressive is developing some sort of superspy technology, well, that’s kind of ominous.
Flo grins and looks embarrassed. “I, ah, have occasional dealings with a couple guys from That Other Insurance Company. One of them knows someone who knows someone who works in quality control for the Infernal Realms, and it turns out Hell monitors all their summoned manifestations for safety purposes. His contact got me the list of who was there.”
Mayhem nods. He’s had occasional encounters That Other Insurance Company himself. Bland, grey-suited, timid men who are even worse spies than they are insurance agents. “Wait, Hell has a quality control department?”
“And all other forms of administration,” Flo says. “I understand it’s to generate maximum paperwork. It is a place of punishment, after all.”
Mayhem actually winces. “That’s definitely hellish. All right. The Agent who called me in is flying back from Italy and should meet us in a few hours. Should give us plenty of time to plan an attack. Are they all State Farm customers?”
“Just the one,” Flo replies, folding her toy up, and Mayhem watches with vague envy as it becomes a giant sword. “One Allstate, one Progressive, one Geico, two Farmers. We gonna invite anyone else to the party?” She hopes so. Mayhem’s precision strikes on any sort of insurance fraud perpetrators are the stuff of legend, and the Farmers guys would bring in enough absurdity to make it a work of art.
Mayhem’s grin is something that ought to haunt her nightmares. Instead, she finds herself matching it. “Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”
Part 3:
The sun is just a suggestion behind the horizon, but the morning traffic jam is already clogging up the freeways by the time Mayhem and Flo leave the scene of the crime. Flo is driving, weaving her motorcycle expertly through the sea of zombie commuters, and already some jackass in a twenty-year-old Honda has rolled down his window to sneer at Mayhem for riding behind a woman and in the process taken his eyes off the road long enough to rear-end a state trooper.
By the time the sun is peeking over the edge of the world, the freeway has been exchanged for fast-food restaurants and traffic lights, and Mayhem is contemplating commercials. “I’m another motorist doing something you disapprove of” is warring with “I’m a state trooper,” and Mayhem is leaning toward the latter because it might give him an excuse to put on the uniform, when Flo erupts in giggles, jerking her head subtly to the right. Mayhem finds what she’s looking at and nearly pisses himself.
A van, the type that practically screams “covert surveillance,” is parked in the entrance to a Starbucks. Two men in bland gray suits and the sort of ties that give insult to all intelligent life are sitting in the front seat, coffee cups in hand. Mayhem sees the moment they set eyes on Flo—they both jerk upwards in their seats as if jabbed with a cattle prod—and then the moment where they realize who her passenger is. The one in the driver’s seat boggles and reflexively inhales half his coffee; the passenger reaches over to slap him on the back, sees Mayhem, and spills his own beverage all over the dashboard.
When Flo passes the driveway she gives a little wave to the men, and they both dive for cover. Mayhem would be surprised at the level of ineptitude That Other Insurance Company lets their agents display, but he’s seen one of them try to hide behind a stop sign. Surprise has long since left the station, leaving amusement and a hint of second-hand embarrassment which Mayhem relishes rather than winces at.
He’s jarred from his thoughts as Flo hits the brakes, neatly avoiding the SUV that has just moved into their lane without signaling on her way to the upcoming right-turn lane. The driver diverts attention from her cell phone long enough glare at Flo and stick a manicured middle finger in their general direction, and turns to the road just in time to watch as her car veers off the shoulder and makes intimate congress with a speed limit sign. And then the flashing lights come on from somewhere behind them and Mayhem’s faith in humanity is restored.
He revises. “I’m a middle-management commuter on a cell phone.”
Flo pulls over to let the cop car pass, and Mayhem sneaks a look back at the van. God have mercy, the one in the passenger seat has binoculars.
“Shall we lose them or let them follow us?” Flo’s voice interrupts his giggle-fit.
No question. Not like they’re a threat. “Let’s keep ‘em. They’re entertaining.”
Flo merges back into traffic and signals a move to the left lane. Since the lady in the SUV is still in view, glaring up at them as the police officer steps up to her window, Mayhem is extra gratified that she waits five whole blinks before merging into the next lane. It’s doubtless for the benefit of their pursuers, who otherwise might manage to keep with them if Mayhem draws a map and passes it to them at a stoplight, but his black and petty heart rejoices anyway.
It takes them awhile to get to the suburban park where Mayhem has arranged to meet the State Farm agent who called him in. Or rather, it takes them awhile to get there without losing their inept pursuers; twice, Flo has to double back and be found again, and once the van gets stuck behind a railroad crossing and Flo and Mayhem have to stop and pick up a box of donuts in order to still be there when the train finishes blocking the road. The park is a lovely little spot complete with playground equipment and a little waterfall, as completely removed from this business with demons and human sacrifice as a person could want. There’s one car in the lot already, a rental, and a figure in red shirt and khaki skirt standing beside it.
“Is that the Agent?” Flo asks, and Mayhem nods. The woman is short, dark, curvy—very pretty—and the two guys from That Other are in serious danger of twisting their heads off their shoulders as they drive past. Whether it’s for that reason, or because there’s now three insurance companies having a little meeting in a city park like some exceedingly bad spy thriller, Mayhem isn’t sure.
Flo parks the motorcycle and goes up to introduce herself; Mayhem stays put and watches the van make an awkward U-turn in the middle of the road and come back. The State Farm agent walks up to Mayhem and offers a hand, and he is distracted from the spectacle by a warm-toned “A pleasure to meet you” and a gaze and smile as predatory as a shark’s. It’s enough to distract his attention well and properly. This is the person to whom he’s promised vengeance, and this is the face of a person who has fought and outsmarted a demon.
Damn, he’s glad he picked up the phone.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” is what he says, and then Flo lets out a mirthful squeak. Mayhem and the Agent both follow her gaze, just in time to see the surveillance van leave the road, bouncing over the curb and smashing into a tree.
The Agent is staring, her lips curving into an amused smirk, and Mayhem composes another commercial. “I’m stupid, and I come in pairs.”