#go snap

[puppetmaster13u]

Y'know sometimes I wonder what Ras reaction was to the Justice League. Like he practically offered Bruce the chance to be one of his generals, straight up offered for him to be his heir, and was turned down.

Do you think he's offended. Because oh, so his organization isn't good enough, but that merry band of idiots is?!

[regonold]

Danny doesn't get why everyone looks at him suspiciously hes just a guy he hasn't even turned phantom since he got to Gotham like seriously this is the most normal he's been in years why are they looking at him like he announced he was going to be a villain

Gotham as a whole does not trust the new guy who moved there everyone knows who he is because he's so kind clearly a ploy to lure them into a false sense of security so they'll be shocked when he becomes a new rouge well not this time oh no

Or

Danny moves to Gotham and no one trusts him no matter what because every time a goodytwoshoes from out side the city tries to be kind and helpful they end up twisted and insane and they ain't bying that this kid is all sunshine and rainbows

[xxplastic-cubexx]

brain please wake up and draw

bonus :

[qifreyplushie]

can i see your necklace for a second, your highness? ^__^

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[everwalldigan]

Dick: were you even a Robin if you haven’t climbed up Bruce and sat on his shoulders?

(Later)

Bruce: Hello Damia- What are you doing??

Damian (arms crossed sitting on Bruce’s shoulders): fulfilling my duties as Robin, what does it look like I’m doing?

[montereybayaquarium]

Listen sometimes you’ve just gotta make do with what you’ve got when you can’t use copyrighted music 🤷

Okay but seariously, sea otters always gotta be hot to go to survive in the chilly waters of the Monterey Bay. Inside their exhibit where our dancers, er, divers are cleaning is the same temperature as the bay thanks to our open water system—on average about 55 degrees fahrenheit or 13 degrees celsius. Thick wetsuits and, of course, fun dances keep the humans warm while they work, much like layers of air trapped in a sea otter’s thick pelt keeps them warm. The sea otters haven’t quite figured out how to dance though…

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[nikkisticki]

RULE

[wolfchans]

[lotus-pear]

the day i picked up dazai or smth idk i've never read it

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Aang, you're really in it now...

This is Zu—I mean, Jian Li and Katara's second meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU. The first proper one, anyway.

Once they get through a minor difference of opinion or two (“I can carry my own basket!” “Never said you—” “I'm not weak!” “I didn't—” “Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean—” “Would you listen for once, woman?!” ) they'll become nearly inseparable.

For now Jian Li will carry Katara's basket all the way to the Kyoshi Warriors' dojo and, once there, they'll mercilessly tease Sokka when they see him in uniform.

[chloesimaginationthings]

I love whenever she makes this face, her face getting intense is always funny to me

Vanessa doing her ABSOLUTE best not to snap

[xxplastic-cubexx]

[right to left]

STILL thinking about drunk chess actually

stupid as hell bonus:

[circusinarun]

You don't have to wait for Friday to be flat fuck

[yeyinde]

Father John Price has been acting strange lately.

It started as little things most wouldn't notice—an odd slur to his words, far rougher than what you were used to hearing. A sway to his gait when he walked as if he was unfamiliar with the layout to the monastery. Gaps in his memory when pried for pieces of information that he should have known better than anyone else within the walls of the old building. Little slips. Missteps.

Nothing to worry about.

Not at first, anyway.

Not until it bleeds out, grows. Turns into touches. A searing, angry gaze drilling into your head whenever you look away from him. Ire lashing over each word he growls out in the alcoves he corners you inside, the guise of polite conversation falling to pieces when he slips his foot between yours, prying your thighs apart to stand between them. Towering over you as he rasps out commands for you to tell him about how you spent the evening prior on your knees—

Praying, you whisper feverishly, feeling the deep indents of the rosary beads imbedded into your fingers.

But that never seems to matter much to him. Not when the prayer is always an afterthought, and he makes noises like a wounded animal when you breathe out how long you stayed like that, and how—unable to resist temptation after gripping the rosary for long—you had to slide your cold fingers under your robes, numb, shaking hands seeking the blistering heat between your thighs.

("not close enough to tempt the devil," you mutter, shamefaced, heart lurching when the noise he makes in the back of the throat sounds like a misfiring gun. "But—" he drops his head to the wall, heaving. Eyes burning into your temple as you stare at the crooked tilt of his collar, unable to meet his gaze. Scared of what you might find. "But close enough that I had to—to pray again—")

And as the distant, unflappable mask of a seemingly incorruptible man begins to crack, breaking apart to unveil a yawning chasm, you find yourself trapped in confessional box with him after dark, quickly realising that the man you devoted your life to has fallen into that crater.

And something else has taken his place.