#guys his hands

[kimis-gloves]

#1 aussie in my heart

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[soaked-doors]

when it rains, it pours

[chloesimaginationthings]

Gregory fears FNAF DJ music man...Abby does not

[forgettable-au]

I think about this call so much

[demigods-posts]

currently obsessed with the idea of everyone viewing percy as a forced to never be messed with. for the sea is unpredictable and does not like to be restrained and all that jazz. except, frank and hazel. who only see him as just a little guy. a soldier left to his own devices out on the streets with nothing to comfort him but a panda pillow pet and a lingering memory of a girl he loves. he's just a little guy you guys.

[egophiliac]

(looks at upcoming card releases)

I'm in danger :)

[bruciemilf]

Alfred honestly can’t say shit about Bruce bringing in strays, because what if the Waynes got him the same way?

I genuinely can’t recall HOW Alfred, British special forces extraordinaire, ended up working for Gotham’s (scary) sweethearts.

In my mind, he came to them bleeding.

There’s a tang of bitterness pooling in his gut. Soldiers don’t have friends. They have guns. And he’s all out.

Just when Alfred thought all is in peril, a tiny little hand gently covers a nasty bullet hole on his abdomen.

The first thing Alfred thinks about is: ‘Jesus, this kid has scary eyes.’

“Hi, Alfred.”

“…How do you—“

“Bruce! Jesus FUCKING Christ, I swear, I’m not paying for your ransom next time you run o—…What the fuck is that?”

If there’s one thing about Thomas that Alfred will never forget is his voice; The bass , so chasmic and powerful it could shake the whole world, and the burning care in his eyes despite his vulgarity.

Bruce, — who’s the tiniest bundle of a boy Alfred witnessed, is yanked up by his father’s strong hands, squeezed to his chest carefully. “Hurt,” he says. There’s a tiny, red handprint on Thomas’ shirt.

“Yeah, I didn’t notice,” Thomas mumbling, looking around.

Maybe local gangs? The bullet point is too precise, too calculated. “Who the hell are you?”

Alfred, with his raspy breath, says, “I’m the terribly rude bloke dying on your doorstep, I’m afraid. Alfred Pennyworth. At your service.”

For a guy who’s about to bleed his last, he sounds awfully sarcastic.

“Yeah, wise guy, no one’s dying on my kid’s birthday. Bruce, tell Dotty to prep up the basement. And tell your mama to get my Budlight out of the cooler. Jesus Christ.”

Alfred ends up hoisted on this man’s back. Thomas asks if he has anyone he wants to call? Anyone that’ll come pick him up? Anyone to bury him, if it comes to it.

Alfred whispers he does not.

Thomas sighs. “Well. Kid‘a been asking for a playmate.”

[mochipong]

Two heartbreakers🎀

[doglikecadaver]

So like… do you guys think women want him… fish fear him???

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[rat-king-they-them]

[sadmages]

In my mind palace my tav and Astarion are playing the exact same game of 5D chess and they don't realize it yet

[hinamie]

brighter days ahead

[heatherskept]

frolicking in da fields with the bff

[lavb-b]

Canon, I think.

[chloesimaginationthings]

I love the idea that Michael is always gloomy and low-energy with a bit of snark but the mere IDEA of Foxy turns him into the most easily excitable person on the planet

YES, but I also extent that to every animatronic he really likes!!