Justice League Unlimited | Cadmus Arc

I don’t care if it makes people sad that my favorite justice league stories are from this show and not the comics.

Bruce Tim is a god

(via catch-11)


morphia-writes:

littlemoongoddess:

onemuseleft:

ittlebitz:

starrysleeper:

Wait a minute…

I have been laughing at this for hours now…

So, true story. The woman in this photo is Kendra Kaplan. Her husband was in Iraq for twelve months but the military has this thing called leave. Some of us may recognize the concept from old episodes of Star Trek. In this photo she is five months pregnant after conceiving her second child during her husband’s leave. That envelope in her hand is the ultrasound results. She waited for him to come home to find out if it was a girl or a boy.
There’s been several articles about it.The photo resulted in this woman receiving so much hate mail, from both internet cut-ups and the actual media, that she even took a paternity test and provided proof of her husband’s leave schedule. Her real life friends have stopped talking to her over these rumors.  
Oh, and by the way, that baby bump is a two year old by now. People are still shitting on this woman over a nasty internet meme two years later.
So in short, you’re mocking a faithful wife for something that isn’t any of our damn business anyway and has long since been disproven. 
Good job Internet.

Thank you for this!

Finally a rebloggable version of this idiotic post. 

morphia-writes:

littlemoongoddess:

onemuseleft:

ittlebitz:

starrysleeper:

Wait a minute…

I have been laughing at this for hours now…

So, true story. The woman in this photo is Kendra Kaplan. Her husband was in Iraq for twelve months but the military has this thing called leave. Some of us may recognize the concept from old episodes of Star Trek. In this photo she is five months pregnant after conceiving her second child during her husband’s leave. That envelope in her hand is the ultrasound results. She waited for him to come home to find out if it was a girl or a boy.

There’s been several articles about it.The photo resulted in this woman receiving so much hate mail, from both internet cut-ups and the actual media, that she even took a paternity test and provided proof of her husband’s leave schedule. Her real life friends have stopped talking to her over these rumors.  

Oh, and by the way, that baby bump is a two year old by now. People are still shitting on this woman over a nasty internet meme two years later.

So in short, you’re mocking a faithful wife for something that isn’t any of our damn business anyway and has long since been disproven. 

Good job Internet.

Thank you for this!

Finally a rebloggable version of this idiotic post. 

(via slimshadysummers)


I like that my super formal and business like head publisher ends all his emails to me with a smiley face emoticon


danielmcbatman:

  • Abraham Lincoln never fought vampires or zombies 
  • Adolph Hitler was not machine gunned to death in a movie theater in Paris
  • Marty McFly did not invent Rock and Roll
  • Richard Nixon never dispatched Dr. Manhattan to end the Vietnam War

You never complained about these changes to history, so shut the fuck up about a black man playing a fictional spy, you idiotic, racist pricks. 

(via slimshadysummers)


my-patronus-is-obamas-face:

fuckyeah-nerdery:

le-claire-de-lune:

secondlina:

twodefenestrate:

bombaycake:

rraaaarrl:

"I do not hate men, Sub-mariner. I merely know I’m as good as they are.”

FEMINISM: a definition

Always reblog

I need this as a poster.

I would adore this as a poster. 

This was from like the 70s or 80s too. Marvel knew what was up.

"If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen" I love that quote

yes

my-patronus-is-obamas-face:

fuckyeah-nerdery:

le-claire-de-lune:

secondlina:

twodefenestrate:

bombaycake:

rraaaarrl:

"I do not hate men, Sub-mariner. I merely know I’m as good as they are.”

FEMINISM: a definition

Always reblog

I need this as a poster.

I would adore this as a poster. 

This was from like the 70s or 80s too. Marvel knew what was up.

"If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen" I love that quote

yes

(via slimshadysummers)


phenomenarwhal:

sqvad:

im fuckin crying

It took me several times to see the employee getting massacred by that raft.

phenomenarwhal:

sqvad:

im fuckin crying

It took me several times to see the employee getting massacred by that raft.

(via slimshadysummers)


callmeoutis:

armorgan66:

hints-of-sarcasm:

There needs to be a phrase for “I acknowledge your apology and appreciate it but it does not make things better.” instead of just saying “It’s okay.” all the time. 

I recognize the council has made an apology, but given that it is a stupid ass apology, I have elected to ignore it.

image

thank you director fury

(via invisibilityprotocol)


Q
Which X-books will be affected by Xavier's will(in terms of cast changes/other major changes)
Anonymous
A

brianmichaelbendis:

All of them. even teen Titans.

Bendis won the internet ages ago, now he just keeps it, like a prize.


This is what jean felt like

This is what jean felt like


How it feels to live with hearing loss

(Written for presentation of physical flaws for the camp I work for, which is why a couple things might not make sense)

I figured it out when I was pretty young. Someone would put a phone to my right ear, I would shift it to my left. Someone would sit to the right of me, chatting for an age, and I wouldn’t even notice that they were there.

Every moment of our lives is filled with noise. The rustle of wind through the trees, the sounds of birds. The roar of engines, the crunch of rubber tires across pavement. The sound of the Tv’s blaring, of music jangling, people talking, shouting, laughing, crying, whispering, giggling.

Noise connects us with the exterior world almost as much as sight. Noise connects us with people, allowing us to communicate. To express love, and hate, and excitement, and sadness and anything else in as many words as we can think of!

Our world is filled with noise, creating language, creating communication. Telling jokes in a crowded room, bellowing “Buddies!” Down at the choff. Whispering secrets in the middle of the night. The ding of the bell for food, the shrill of the whistle of zman mosh. The voices of children asking me if they can go to the me’er pa because they feel some vague discomfort.

The whole world is filled with noise, the shouting, screaming, clambering signs of life, and proof of our existence on this planet.

I figured it out when I was pretty young. Someone would put a phone to my right ear, I would shift it to my left. Someone would sit to the right of me, chatting for an age, and I wouldn’t even notice that they were there.

I wake up in the morning to dull sounds with my good ear pressed against the pillow. I walk out the door without noticing the birds, or cars, or the TV, or the music. I can vaguely hear them, I know that they are there. But nothing is clear enough for me to truly focus on it if I want to avoid a headache. I know my right next door neighbor is wishing me good morning, because my mother has informed me that he has been trying to do that every day since we moved in. so I turn to wish him the same. But really I’m just guessing, He could have been telling me I smell bad, or that there’s a storm coming, only to always receive a nonchalant “Same to you.” In reply.

Someone is shouting at me. I know they are shouting, but not what they are saying. I ignore them. Someone is talking to me. I don’t want to keep saying “What?” again and again, so I have to guess half of the words being said to me.

Someone is sitting to the right of me. To me, they don’t exist. Nothing to the right of me exists. Peripheral vision means nothing without sound. The world to my right doesn’t exist. I sit in the corner, desperately trying to keep the world to my left, to keep it in focus, or it doesn’t exist. If I don’t, then I am not really there. I sit, not interacting, not really. I sit, and I laugh when I see the smiles on other people’s faces even though I didn’t hear the joke. I cannot sit in a crowded room and truly be there. I can’t make out individual voices enough to truly slip into the conversation. All I hear is noise, like a roaring static of vocals, no specifics or syllables manage to break through.

I laugh and I shout, my voice booming and strong. It’s not because I love the way my voice sounds, but because I can’t hear any others. I can’t even tell if I’m shouting or muttering unless I’m told.

Don’t whisper at me!

I walk down through the path, I think people are calling my name, but I can’t be sure so I don’t respond. I walk down through lower, through the ropes, into the chof. Water lapping at my legs, my thighs, my chest, my neck. I know someone is laughing at how hairy I am. I don’t care. I can’t even hear them anymore.

My head goes under the water. The rush of indiscriminate noises, like a blurry photograph, turns to the absolute silence that comes with being underwater. There is nothing to miss now. The true silence, the more absolute isolation envelops me.

I prefer the silence here, the stillness, how properly. It is better to be more completely alone like this, than to be aware of the world around me without being able to truly go in it.

But I don’t have gills, or an oxygen tank. I come up for air, back to a world of noise that my brain has made impossible to fully understand.

The whole world is filled with noise, the shouting, screaming, clambering signs of life, proof of our existence on this planet.

And I can’t hear a damn thing



Cyclops, by Hal Laren.

Cyclops, by Hal Laren.

(via allofyoufuckers)


abigalmills:

im not crying there’s just overpriced college education in my eye

(via invisibilityprotocol)


It’s too late

It’s too late


Atomic dreams

Atomic dreams


At midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do