The reading comprehension and overall common sense on this website is piss poor.

how dare you say we piss on the poor

all hail the 1 million note Piss Post

"Why are you still on tumblr, it's a dead site" Tumblr is the ONLY site that still works in the way of -Follow this person, see their posts- instead of -you stopped scrolling and stayed on this post for .2 seconds longer than others, here's 100 more posts like it- I hate algorithms. Tumblr has its many issues. But at least I keep my choice of what I see.

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE AT THE BACK

Tumblr is the only website that's alive. The others are all dead.

We are the last bastion of humanity online.

thats bc you can do anything you want including derailing a post so this is about Sawyer now

everyone say hi to sawyer

hi Sawyer!

Zelda says hi to Sawyer.

Oscar enters the chat.

Laszlo and Vincent would like a word treat

Miss Erzabet No Biting feel you all should admire her.

Gemma is vaguely judging everyone.

Seconding the tags. Lovely poetry

look, yes, of course a pond will kill you. A little-L lake will kill you, if you are careless enough, but they are lazy things, pitcher plant predators, and they do not hunger. The Great Lakes remember when they were the blistering endless winter and the slow crush of ice reshaping the land. They remember the implacable starvation of an unbreaking cold across the continent, and they carry that ancient ice water in their bellies, hungry still. Lake Superior wears her winter boldly, and she will wrench frigid breath from your lungs in the heat of August and pull you, unrotting, to her depths. Huron beckons you further and further from shore with such a gentle slope, so easy, until you are finally chest-deep in the water but you cannot see the shore anymore, only the endless expanse of her. Erie sends her fogs like snowfall, whiteout blizzards, blinding you to her rocky shallow basin, reaching up to claw the belly of boats. Lake Michigan pretends, charming, a child's ocean, and her longshore tides creep along her beaches and tear away anyone foolish enough to believe the clear blue lie of her docility, most lethal of all.

Ontario is no business of mine.

Here, in order of appearance: Superior, Huron, Michigan and Erie.

The Great Lakes aren't haunted. No matter what anyone says, the Lakes aren't haunted. They are the memory-eaters, the old dark painted over with charming blue, and what sinks does not rise, not even the dead. When the Lake raises goosebumps, it isn't the bodies in the depths. It's just the Lake, reminding you that you are mostly water and water calls to its own.

The oceans, the old saltwater womb, warn you with every breaker that they are dangerous. The oceans never let you forget that you crawled from their hold, with your saltwater veins, but not all of your ancestors did, and there are things beneath the ocean tides, waiting with teeth to spill the blood you stole. The oceans with their shawls of hurricanes, their steady beating, make it impossible to forget the threat of them.

But the Great Lakes? The Lakes will lie to you. The Lakes will not gift you the buoyancy of saltwater, will tempt you with still surfaces and cool drinkable freshwater. The Lakes will promise that there is nothing with teeth waiting below, as though the Lake itself is not the maw of something hungry. The Lakes are new to the world, in the scale of epochs, and they play games. They lap at your knees like they are tamed, but if you swim long enough there will be a moment where the Lake throws you sideways, pulls you under, and you remember that this is a wild thing, with teeth of ice and nothing but water in its belly. They hold the last breath of every foolish swimmer that lowered their guard for a second too long, and the carcasses of centuries of shipwrecks, and they do not surrender what they take. No, the Lakes are not haunted. The Lakes are not cursed. There is no monster waiting in the depths, only the depths themselves, and that is enough.

They say that freshwater doesn't lay quiet in its bed until it's had its measure of blood, and the Great Lakes are thrashing at their shorelines.

Oh, my darlings, bodies and shipwrecks and memories are not the only things the Great Lakes devour--seasons, too, the Lakes cling to. All summer long the Lakes hold tight to the chill of winter, scattering cool breezes off their shoulders onto the coast. All summer long the Lakes hoard heat, storing it down in the deep thermal reservoir of fresh water, the golden heart of sunlight tucked away for the dark winter months. All summer long the Lakes steal warmth from the air and store it away, and when the sharp northern winds bring winter, the Lakes breathe out the last ghost of summer and fling themselves skyward. When the air is freezing, the Lakes have held fast the deep battery of summer, and the warm memory of July evaporates from the water and crystallizes in the atmosphere as January snow. All summer long the Lakes trade in winter winds, and all winter they shake out the white storm coat of summer.

Aw heck I missed Eddie Fitz Day...

So here’s a different fun fact for you: the steel-skinned Lakers, the great cargo ships that haul iron from the shores of Superior and beyond—many of them are old, as ships go. An ocean-going cargo ship has a working life of fifteen years; thirty if the salt does not bite too deeply. But the Great Lakes keep what they take, and what they take endures. Those who are not local to the area may not know that there is a massive industrial shipping route leading from the Great Lakes east to the Atlantic, and west to the Mississippi. Mostly these cargo ships--limited in size to only a little more than 1000 feet due to the length capacity of the Soo Locks on the St. Mary River, the gate from Lake Superior to Huron--carry raw materials. Iron, from the deep veins of the Mesabi Iron Range; taconite; powdered cement, limestone and salt and grain. The Lakers, hollow bellied, carry their burdens for decades. Many Lakers serve for eighty or more years; The SS Medusa Challenger, launched in 1906; converted into a barge in 2014 and renamed the St. Mary's Challenger, still carries cement a hundred and seventeen years after her first launch. The oldest of the Lakers in service today, the SS Alpena, was launched in the 1942, and still carries faithfully.

And if you like to watch the big boats go by, then here's the Sault Ste Marie webcams.

Happy birthday to AO3 🎂🎉

Red Hood gets himself into some sort of mess with a cult and as he’s getting himself out runs into Batman. He’s pissed and being reckless on purpose because it’s the one thing that scares Bruce the most.

Bruce takes a hit and is de-aged and as nice as it would be to call the Justice League or even the bats, Jason doesn’t really want to get arrested and resolves himself to figuring it out on his own.

Bruce is uncooperative, non-talkative, and thinks he’s been abducted. Jason has very little time so he’s speed running through a lot of personal things he knows about Bruce and his trauma that he wouldn’t tell anyone else about. Neither of them are happy about this.

Bruce stops fighting when Jason takes a bullet for him. It finally sinks in what sort of danger they’re in and Jason really is doing his best. He’s trying to get back to the manor without alerting any major players about their movements.

After their understanding, Jason catches himself thinking Bruce really isn’t too bad of a kid. He wouldn’t say they’re getting along, but it’s better.

When they do get back to the manor, Bruce refuses to leave Jason’s side. At all. Alfred is the only one who isn’t surprised by this as everyone else tries to approach him and he basically sticks to Jason. (I can’t decide what age he should be because either he’s young enough to try and hide behind Jason, who picks him up, or he’s old enough that Jason stands slightly in front of him and redirects his siblings as best as possible without being too obvious).

Jason is benched to recover from the bullet wound and the other batsiblings are out trying to undo the spell. He doesn’t press Bruce for anything but does sit next to him on the couch in the library reading aloud. Or Bruce helps him hobble down to the kitchen where they watch Alfred make dinner and talk quietly. It’s a side of Jason no one thought existed anymore.

Bruce can tell that Jason tenses whenever one of his siblings is in the room, and that puts Bruce on edge because no matter how much the others tell them they’re safe, Jason remains on alert. All of the batsiblings try and corner Jason since he’s finally at the manor but Bruce is the perfect excuse for them to leave him alone and he’s grateful for the space.

When they do eventually figure out the spell and a way to reverse its effects, Jason and Alfred are the only ones who realize how nervous Bruce really is. Jason talks to whoever is going to do the spell and asks if they don’t mind going somewhere slightly more private than the middle of the batcave. Jason holds Bruce’s hand for the spell and tells him to breathe.

When he changes back, Bruce sees Jason looking at him openly, more vulnerable than he’s ever seen him. It’s disorienting and he doesn’t let go of his son’s hand. He can see Jason about to put his walls back up and pulls, telegraphing everything. He hugs him and tells him thank you for looking after him for the week. He asks about his shoulder. It’s more words than Jason has heard from Bruce for months. He wants to bristle and fight him except he can’t stop seeing all of the ways that the boy he met is super imposed over the image of his father. It’s throwing them both off. So Jason sighs and tries to relax his shoulders and just leans against his father. It’s doesn’t solve everything, but it’s a start.

Gav’s Tavern Hi, I hope you like this. It is different from what I usually do. Also it was a lot of work.

dammit, you made me cry over a cartoon skull

give me a damian and tim who act like they hate each other but they’re just constantly on the same wavelength

they’re not allowed to patrol together cause criminals start ending up even more traumatized than before. tim makes the plans and damian executes them FLAWLESSLY

their missions together end with a blown up building, a flawlessly completed mission (even with said blown up building), damian with a new stray, and tim with a new criminal connection. also with damian trying to stab tim who’s paying for their ice cream instead of going back to the cave for their report

yesterday I told a friend "drown your sorrows tonight but save one bottle to make a molotov tomorrow" and I'm actually very proud of that. might embroider it on a pillow

multilingual batkids. they learn each others languages so they can mix and match. for example:

tim in french: have you figured out how we’re gonna tell b we’re not going to that gala yet?

damian in arabic: no i thought that was thomas’ job?

duke french: me? no jason said he’d do something

jason in arabic: hey don’t drag me into this!

dick in romani: i’m gonna kill him i really i am

steph in russian: who are we killing?

dick in english: ah! nobody! wait i didn’t know you spoke romani

tim in greek: you’re an asshole

jason in english: wait my greek is rusty say it again slowly

tim in greek: you’re an asshole

jason: …. you motherfucker

cass signing: nice drawing

damian in chinese: thank you

dick yelling at bruce about something he did

jason in spanish: what language is he speaking right now?

tim also in spanish: uh all of them i think

jason: does bruce even know-

tim: no he doesn’t

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

the reblog map is all of us holding hands btw

We are each other's night sky. No one is alone here.

Reblog to hug prev poster (they need a hug)

important family group chat discussions

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The thing they don't tell you about fried egg runny yolk is that if you put it in a sandwich it will be the best most delicious thing and you can mop up the egg with the bread, but in exchange you Will get so so messy and covered in egg yolk

Eggy sandwich

Checklist 1, 2, 3— Wait how many kids do I have?

Bruce getting tired of adoption and puts himself on a ban. Unfortunately, his kids just do the adopting for him and Bruce can't figure out if these kids are new or not.

He is sleep-deprived when a figure runs past him in the manor and goes through a checklist:

Conclusion: Cass.

Bruce would then nod to himself, throwing a "don't run in the hall!" over his shoulder and move on to his destination. Only to freeze because he has a hard enough time detecting Cass on a good day, so how did he see her on -56 hours of sleep?

"Sorry!"

That...

That wasn't his daughter's voice.

He blinks a few times, not moving from his spot while he re-catalogues his observation.

Who was he missing?

It isn't until he hears an infuriated yell and the sharpie-doodled face of his third son dashing through the hall that he determines that the figure is not one of his at all.

It was one of Clark's, Conner Kent.

Bruce sees Billy for the first time and mistakes him for Jason even though Jason is 21 because Billy looks exactly like Jason did as a kid complete with the small stature, ratty shoes, ripped baggy jeans and dirty red hoodie.

The kids proceed to gaslight him like "Really, B? You already forgot that's Billy?"

And that's not even counting his most mortifying moment where Clark Kent was invited into the manor one early morning and was waiting patiently on the couch in the living room. All Bruce saw was black hair and assumed it was one of his kids even though the only ones close to that build would be Jason (who wasn't coming over to the manor until much later) or Bruce himself. He reached over and ruffled the head of hair, huffing fondly "What are you doing up so early, hm? Pretty sure we have the day off, sweetheart, go back to bed."

The bat and super mutually agree to never speak about it. Yet, the family finds out anyway. (Bruce has no doubt Alfred was the one to tattle)

This amuses his kids to no end and they begin smuggling fellow heroes and friends alike to see how many they can trick Bruce into thinking they were one of his.

(it really only becomes a problem when they put Lian Harper at the dining table one breakfast and Bruce doesn't even blink before scooping her up and cooing "Good morning my darling" as if she's been his since day 1 which wasn't the problem. The problem was trying to get Lian back to return to Roy. They don't involve babies in their plans after that.)

People from other cities: How can Batman keep training these child soldiers for his crusade? It's child cruelty and he should be investigated!

Gothamites: The children yearn to fight crime. At least the birds have adult supervision, cause I sure as hell didn't.