Tumgik
Text
I've been reading facts on Wikipedia again, and i'm overcome with the need to terrify non-Americans with the most underrated Terrifying American Thing: TORNADOES
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Due to a quirk of mountain and ocean placement, the east-central United States has a higher number of tornadoes (particularly exceptionally strong tornadoes) than any other place on Earth.
And they're so fucking scary oh my God
29K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
i like it when pit bulls do this
5K notes · View notes
Text
we should legalize polyamorous marriage  for all the other reasons we should but also because I wanna see what polygamous divorce looks like
189K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Nerd and Jock Ep 238 - Will you be there?
Twitter   Instagram   Patreon
3K notes · View notes
Text
What if Damian and Tim love each other and even like? It's just more of a situation "Manipulating others is easier ". Maybe an example will help;
Damian: Father, May I go to Zoo today?
Bruce:No Damian, you're grounded.
Tim:Oh, that's bad. I could go with you to take photos of otter, but if you are not going I think I will stay too. What's a zoo without company. Maybe I will go with Kon next week.
Bruce *Super happy in a moment of thinking his youngest kids getting along*: If you two agree not to kill each other, Damian can go
Tim and Damian:*Knowing looks*
Or situation like;
Tim who has abandoned issues and is having fear of people leaving him: Dick is mad at me. Can you stab me so he will be in his mother hen mode Instead?
Damian who would like to have 5 minutes of peace from Grayson: Say no more
6K notes · View notes
Text
I remember seeing someone say that Bruce wouldn't deny the Batman allegations. Like he will proudly tell everyone he is most definitely the Batman whenever he's asked, and it would actually do wonders with keeping the secret hidden.
Like it would be more suspicious than anything if billionaire playboy Brucie Wayne so adamantly denied any connection to the vigilante.
And yeah, so i was thinking what would his kids think about it? like they get asked during interviews and whatnot what they think about their dad being Batman.
I feel like Dick would just play along and say some shit like "if B is Batman, then I'm Nightwing" and get a look from the man
And Jason would take any opportunity to shit on B and say something along the lines of "B's Batman? I call bullshit. He's not even a man"
Tim would either:
a. pull up a 99 slided presentation about how Bruce Wayne is, in fact, NOT Batman and be internally laughing the whole time cause he is funny, and people just dont know what they're talking about.
Or b. (only when he's been up for a few days) confirm it and go "Well yes, of course he is. It'd be weird if he wasn't since the cave's under the house."
Cassandra would just smile and stare into the person's soul until they move on onto the next question.
Steph would deny it and claim that she's Batman and that Bruce is her Robin. She'd probably also manage to convince a few people to join her.
Duke would be like "He's Batman? Ohhh that explains the explosives I found in the cellar!" or something else, just as worrying.
Damian would just nod and go into a full length speech about how Batman is the best superhero (after Nightwing of course) and completely disregard the question. And before anyone can re-ask, he'd just walk off.
4K notes · View notes
Text
daily reminders
no human being is 100% happy 100% of the time
being a person is extraordinarily difficult even in the best of times
this is not the best of times
someone is grateful you exist (don't argue, it's true)
a bad day does not predict a bad existence
it's gonna be okay
67K notes · View notes
Text
i just know there was a weird little girl in the middle ages out there stealing snake's eggs and putting them in her family's chicken coop in the hope of hatching a basilisk
94K notes · View notes
Text
the only reason why ten year old girls are destroying stupidly overpriced products at sephora to make “skincare smoothies” is because they aren’t being given access to a yard with a variety of mud, sticks, rocks, puddles, and old ceramic planters to make potions in. the children yearn for the apothecary
47K notes · View notes
Text
"everybody hates me" factoid actually just a statistical error. The average person doesn't hate you, especially not your friends. You, a person who sits in your room experiencing self loathing every day, are an outlier adn should not have been counted.
59K notes · View notes
Text
i want to believe that the other batboys get so caught up in how damian NEVER acts like a normal child, that whenever they see him engaging in regular kid activities™ everyone is on high alert whilst trying to preserve the moment.
tim's with kon and they walk past jon's room to see him and damian playing toy cars? they start walking faster until they're a safe distance away, to stop in their tracks and share a mutual "what the fuck???"
jason and damian are arguing, something jason says strikes a nerve, and damian just stops and breaks the stoic act. jason has NO clue what to do with himself, because nothing he's ever said has gotten a non-violent reaction out of the kid.
dick's taking damian to the cinemas, and lets him pick what they watch. damian picks a kids movie, and doesn't make comments about it seeming 'childish' or 'boring', instead he looks genuinely interested. dick goes along with it but is really taken aback.
damian's patrolling with the other boys, and sustains a mild injury. everyone's used to him fixing himself up and never making a big deal out of it. they've seen him break bones and refuse medical attention, mainly because of how the league trained him. so when they get back to the batcave, and are all getting fixed up in the infirmary, everyone's shocked when damian, sitting to the side about to patch himself up, starts crying, because he's exhausted and hurt.
whenever the boys see damian asleep anywhere but his room, they make sure to tip-toe past and tell the others not to wake him. usually when this happens it's because he's been so exhausted, that he's sat down to watch a show, been playing with titus, or doing schoolwork, and he's just fallen asleep in the middle of it. afterwards, dick especially, makes sure that damian's sleeping enough, which is hard, because no one can tell that he's tired until he physically passes out.
5K notes · View notes
Text
i do feel sympathy for my parents because they often got called to school for meetings whenever i got a little too macabre. My special interests from second grade on were the Bubonic Plague and Vlad the Impaler so this happened as often as you might imagine,
so anyway my school made us go through Confirmation in seventh grade as 12 year olds, which is whack. It’s the Catholic sacrament wherein you retake the vows your guardians made on your behalf at your baptism. It signifies your transition to adulthood in the eyes of the church and God. So you should be, you know, an adult. All of my other friends did it between ages 16 & 20.
You can’t really commit in a genuine way when you’re 12 and the sacrament is written into your class curriculum as homework.
But I digress.
When you get confirmed, you choose a Catholic saint as your patron and learn everything about them and try to model yourself after their values and faith to follow their example.
You’re supposed to envision the sort of person you want to become in the church and look into saints with relevant patronages.
But I got in trouble because my teacher found me googling specifically which saints were martyred by Rome via “eaten by wild beasts” as my baseline criteria
18K notes · View notes
Text
my favorite thing about the mystery genre is that we all accept the concept of "world famous detective" without hesitation even though that is absolutely not a real category of celebrity
124K notes · View notes
Text
Mama - a Red Hood fanfic
Directly inspired by this post by @webshood
Excerpt:
You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.
The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.
Among the top Don’ts were:
Crime in Crime Alley
Crimes against women in Crime Alley
Crimes against children in Crime Alley
Mama
It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been so goddam cute.
Felicia Aidia, barely a year old. Couldn’t quite walk yet, but she could stand unassisted for five seconds of startled jubilance before her own shock at the situation would send her flopping back on her adorable diapered butt. Huge almond eyes that were nearly black, wispy black hair and full pink cheeks, she looked altogether too cherubic to be real.
Felicia had been strapped safely in a booster seat, poking at the condensation on the window of the rideshare car she was in with her babysitter, when they were carjacked by an idiot with either a death wish or less situational awareness than a stoned beetle.
There was no other excuse for why this man jacked a She-Share, one of the brightly-marked cars in a fleet that was famous for being Gotham’s first rideshare company to boast child seats in every one of their vehicles at no extra cost.
They were famously affordable and primarily utilised by single parents in low-income areas such as Crime Alley.
You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.
The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.
Among the top Don’ts were:
Crime in Crime Alley
Crimes against women in Crime Alley
Crimes against children in Crime Alley
The car thief had shoved the driver and Felicia’s babysitter out of the vehicle but utterly failed to notice the giant car seat and the appropriately-sized child occupying it.
A city-wide Amber Alert was out within minutes, which honestly was pretty good considering it happened in Crime Alley and Gotham police liked to pretend that area was just a mysterious Bermuda Triangle kinda place where people just mysteriously went missing, who can say why, oh well, what can you do.
The police were fast but Red Hood was faster.
The vigilante was leaping across rooftops with the speed of a panther. One police helicopter pilot completely forgot their assignment and started following him instead of the stolen car. People livestreamed blurry videos of the car careening around corners that hadn’t yet been blocked off, panning up to catch a glimpse of red metal and brown leather streaking across the sky in pursuit.
The end was anticlimactic. Hood crashed onto the roof of the car from the awning of a deli like a feral beast and punched straight through the driver’s side window. He knocked the driver out and wrested control of the vehicle until it skidded to a stop a few blocks away from the official police cordon.
Before any officers got there, Hood had hogtied the unconscious car thief and carefully extracted Felicia from her carseat.
She let out a small, uncertain wail at the sight and sound of cheering locals, crowding close to film and too boisterous with relief to realise they were scaring a baby.
Felicia pouted. It had been loud, and then fast, and then unfamiliar, and then loud again, and suddenly she was outside, and she was supposed to be napping, and she didn’t know any of these people.
Wait, yes she did. The man cradling her protectively with one arm and holding the other out to the crowd, telling them to, “Back off, back off, give her some space,”, she’d seen him before. She didn’t know how but he was familiar. His big red face (no eyes, very strange, no mouth too! How did he suck his thumb?) wasn’t scary. He was the man on the wall painting! The big wall near the playground had a picture of him painted on it. The playground was safe, and he reminded her of the playground. He was holding her protectively and he was all nice and warm.
Felicia didn’t know many words. But she did know the word she used for the person who felt safest.
“Mama!” she said loudly, clinging to the red man’s arm. “Mama!”
“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said in a very soothing voice for someone without a mouth, “We’ll get your mom.”
A police officer arrived and tried to take Felicia away. She did not appreciate it.
“Mama!” she cried louder, torn between frustration and fear. No one ever listened to her! She reached for the red man. “MAMA!”
Well. Like we said. She was so goddam cute. All eyes were on her fat little face, her adorable, freshly-rescued, chubby little hands reaching out to Red Hood. Everyone was filming her on their phones.
And she called the Red Hood “Mama”, in a perfectly clear, tiny, adorable little baby voice.
Of course it went viral.
For a while, it was a fun in-joke between Gothamites. People playing vigilante bingo to see who they’d spot each night would jokingly ask each other if they’d seen “Mama” down by the docks. Goons blustered amongst themselves that “Mama” didn’t scare them, as they kept their heads down and prayed he didn’t notice them. One bold news website captioned a picture as “Red Hood/Mama” in a story about Felicia’s rescue, while the commenters lost their minds either rofl skull skull skull dying laughing or warning the editors that they should be careful in case the trigger-happy vigilante didn’t have a sense of humour.
Closer to Hood’s home though, the reception was different. And, to him, wholly unexpected.
It started with Felix, the 16-year-old who’d been a sex worker until Hood cleaned up the under-18 scene in the Alley, and who now helped shuttle street kids to the lowkey safehouses Hood and his team had set up. Felix was a good middleman the kids trusted to take them somewhere with food, water, electricity, and no one called CPS. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good compromise until Hood could clean the stink out of the city’s social services.
Felix was smoking on a stack of crates one night, chatting to a couple of his friends, when Hood strolled over.
“Hola, Mama,” Felix greeted casually, taking a drag of his cigarette as his friends choked.
Hood just sighed. “Not you too.” With a weary exhale, he got to business. “I got those extra blankets you needed for the safehouse on Cedar. They’re at the Warehouse B if you want to run them over tonight. Sheila knows you’re coming, she’ll sort you out.”
And so, with Felix not dead and two witnesses with big mouths to tell the tale, word spread. It was open season on Red Hood’s new nickname.
“Hey, mama!” called the girls on the corner as Hood checked to make sure none of the johns had gotten too rough.
“Mama’s here!” crowed the gays and theys across the block as he dropped off condoms and hot soup.
“It’s mama!” announced the receptionist at the shelter when Red Hood stopped by to do an inventory check.
Everywhere he went.
Whatever. It would pass. People’s attention spans were shot to shit, and the loudest viral jokes always burnt out the fastest. At least, Hood was pretty sure. He wasn’t really online much but it was impossible to exist in the world without hearing a few meme references, and they always seemed to die out fast. When was the last time anyone talked about Baby Shark? Or that kid who said “corn” weird? This would blow over.
Granted, it was taking a bit longer than Hood initially expected.
When Dick gleefully changed his name in the Family Chat, Jason ignored it. He never replied to that thing anyway.
When Red Robin said, “Mama, you’re clear,” in perfectly neutral tones during an otherwise routine surveillance operation, and several comm lines immediately muted themselves, Jason ignored it.
When Damian’s new black kitten, with huge blue eyes and a white streak on the forehead, was named Mama, Jason started to get annoyed. Even DAMIAN?
When Roy answered his call with, “Mama, I missed you!” followed by thirty seconds of unhinged cackling, Jason hung up the phone and didn’t speak to Roy for three days.
When Cass used the ASL sign for Mom to relay information to him during a mission brief, his shoulders dropped.
When Alfred gave him an exquisite pink cupcake on the second Sunday of May, Jason thanked him, left the room, walked into the nearest bathroom, carefully put the cupcake on the bench, and screamed into a towel for six minutes.
When Duke finished a story about growing up in the Narrows with, “Mama knows what I’m talking about, right?”, Jason was defeated.
Fine. They win. Everyone wins.
He worked so hard on a legacy. He dug out of his own GRAVE. He clawed himself back from insanity and anger and reclaimed himself, reclaimed Red Hood, reclaimed his home. He carved a new space for himself, not quite a vigilante, not quite a villain. He made his own rules. He built an empire.
And now, he’s FUCKING Mama.
Life isn’t fair. Sometimes the Joker kills you and you sever heads and butcher bad guys and build up a reputation and then one goddam adorable child says two goddam syllables and you’re fucking MAMA for the rest of your goddam life.
Fuck it. He’s going home. He’s too tired for this shit.
844 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
10K notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
574K notes · View notes
Text
"if you see someone shoplifting, no you didn't" no but like. i really didn't. i have never in my life seen someone shoplifting because i'm not watching anyone else in the grocery store..? how are y'all noticing things like that. my only goals are enter the store, survive, exit the store
157K notes · View notes