active leagues

—and Alfred is my grandpa, while Babs is like a sister and mentor to me. Going out from there is when things can get tricky. Former Commissioner Gordon is somewhat like a grandpa, though he’s more like a cool uncle I get to hang out with sometimes, and while Ivy and Harley are technically rivals like the Joker they treat me and padre like family, so they’re sort of like my aunts, and—

Carey Price has never won the Stanley Cup yet he’s considered a goalie god. Henrik Lundqvist hasn’t won one either yet he’s called “King Henrik”. Their skills destroyed the notion that you have to win a cup to be an amazing goalie.

Same thing goes with Alex Ovechkin. His skills and talent should not be defined by how many cups he hasn’t won. He is one of the best active players in the league no matter what, cup wins or no cup wins. It shouldn’t be a contest.

Skill and talent makes a great hockey player, not championship wins. Winning the Stanley Cup is a team effort, not individual.

They CALLED desperately for her presence;They needed her just as much as the gold desired to be worn by her silohuette.—- just AS MUCH as an individual required the air to preserve such desired element called LIFE. &&. Who was her to deny such requirement ?
A mortal who lived to be praised would never abandon those who encouraged HER

                                                                  Private &. Selective.

asks (5)

@bat-trix said: I’m laughing so hard bc your reasons to be happy post with dami and the deer made me think of that post about calling your dog a man instead of a boy and I’m just imagining Dami very seriously looking into Titus’s eyes and being like ‘you’re a good man titus’

[with tears in my eyes] thank you… for the single greatest ask I have ever received 

Anonymous said: reasons to be happy: you and your blog exist

Awwww thanks anon

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Priscilla Presley performs as a mannequin at the Church of Scientology’s 11th Annual Christmas Stories Fundraiser to benefit the Hollywood Police Activities League’s annual Christmas party for underprivileged children, as well as their year-round inner city youth programs at the Church of Scientology Celebrity Centre in Los Angeles, California, December 6, 2003.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: villain!Tim

I just… really love the idea of dark Tim mostly because he would be such a great villain and maybe people would actually pay attention to him. So… what if after all the deaths he went through, losing Robin, being called crazy by his family… Tim just had enough.

“Good evening Detective,” came a familiar, devilish tone from within Tim’s latest safe house. Tim thinks he ought to be worried that Ra’s al Ghul was not only able to find his hideout but also bypass all his defenses, but he seemed to stop caring about such things a while ago. About the same time he stopped caring for things in general.

“Good morning Ra’s, I trust my security didn’t give you much trouble.” Tim responded, not looking up from his computer as he continued his frantic typing. It was exhausting, but ultimately easy work to dismantle the mainframes of Gotham’s greatest gangs. It was a lot easier when he didn’t even consider the collateral damage such a swift and merciless attack would cause.

“It’s actually late evening young man but I suppose I can forgive you seeing as you’ve been hard at work,” Ra’s responded with a light little grin. “It’s a good thing your little nest here is soundproof, outside these walls this city is collapsing in on itself.” Tim shrugged, taking a moment to roll his aching shoulders before continuing to destroy Black Mask’s empire.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Batman made this city into a freak show and then prevented it from pyretic self-destruction. Maybe this city needs to burn itself to ground, take out all the disease within it and start over.” Ra’s hums and settles himself behind Tim’s chair.

“That’s how I have always viewed the situation, though I never imagined you would share those views Timothy.” A suspicious look crosses his aged face. “Might I enquire as to what caused this change of heart?” Tim laughed, something cold and bitter and broken. He can’t remember the last time he laughed genuinely, perhaps he never will again. Maybe one day he’ll stop missing it.

“I think you mean what didn’t happen? Stephanie, my dad, Conner, Bart, Bruce.” Tim takes a moment to harshly rub his palm into his eye where his last vestiges of love and emotion were bubbling up. “Then your bratty grandson stole my costume, my brother, my life. Dick and Alfred, two people I trusted more than anything, pushed me aside to make room for him. They wouldn’t even listen to me when I said Bruce was alive.” The vulnerability within him twisted and turned into something hot and vicious, something much easier to deal with. “After all I’d done for them, after all the times my theories were proven right, all the times my skills saved them, and they dare to call me crazy.” He said through gritted teeth as Black Mask’s finances crumpled and Tim left a neat paper trail leading back to the Red Hood. Jason had never done anything but try to kill him, Tim figures he might as well return the favor.

 "You have been through a great deal my boy, suffered more than any man should be expected to in one lifetime.“ A weathered hand landed on Tim’s shoulder. “I’ve always admired your skills Timothy, you’ve always proven yourself to be superior to your fellows. You always had a sense of clarity and decisiveness that was refreshing. The League will welcome you with open arms, train you, hone your skills into something truly remarkable.” Tim hummed absently as he continued typing, finishing up his last bit of work before the criminal infrastructure of Gotham collapsed entirely. He’ll have done in a few thousand key strokes what Batman had been struggling for his entire life, how fitting that the hadn’t lived to see it.

“Thanks but no thanks Ra’s.” Tim said after a few more minutes finishing up his work. “I’m not doing this for attention, like Jason or misplaced obsession like Bruce.” He spun around and faced the Demon’s Head with a blank expression, save for his eyes which were bright and hard as stone. "I’m doing this because I am pissed, because I am sick and tired of being pushed aside and written off. Well they can’t call me the boring Robin anymore; I just wiped Gotham City off the map.“

"That you did, will you stick around to see what your family will say? Or what about the Batman, you mentioned he was alive.” Tim stood up and stretched as he adjusted the collar of his shirt and reached for his coat on the back of his chair.

“Oh he was alive, stuck in time somewhere, before I tricked Booster Gold into manipulating the timestreams. Now he’s never getting out, he’d be better off dead but I guess I was more mad at him than I thought.” Tim said beginning the final shut down procedures on his computer, when he walked out of this place, this whole building would blow sky high. “And I don’t have a family, I’m only just realizing that I never really did.” He responded, gently maneuvering his arm so a knife slid from his coat sleeve into his palm.

“So where will you go?” Ra’s asked, seemingly relaxed as he watched Tim’s computers purge itself of all data.

“Somewhere no one will find me. With all the chaos that’ll be going on in Gotham, Tim Drake will be just another hapless victim. No one will care and no one will look for him. I’ll disappear and start over somewhere new.” Ra’s raised an annoyed eyebrow.

“You’re too talented to simply walk away from all this. You are free to go find yourself but know one day I will be at your doorstep offering you an opportunity to better yourself.” Tim smiled, one Dick used to call his sweet smile, as he walked past Ra’s and dragged his knife deep across the immortal’s throat. Tim almost felt offended by the surprise written on the man’s face as the blood gushed down his chest. Even now, people were still underestimating him. In the second or two Ra’s had been distracted by his wound, Tim grabbed the man’s head and twisted it violently until he heard the spine snap. The body fell to the floor with a graceless thump.

“No,” Tim said calmly and he dropped the knife and flicked off some blood from his hands. “You won’t.” Without a second glance at the dead man at his feet, the life he’d taken with his own two hands, Tim walked out of his underground safe house as he protocols began to activate. The League would probably trace Ra’s back to Gotham, possibly even to this site. They’d most likely blame the Bats for their Master’s death and even if they did discover Tim’s part, they’d never be able to find him. He flipped open his phone where there were almost a dozen messages waiting for him.

He listened to them as he strolled out onto the streets of Gotham, listening to the chaos and panic begin to build as the city’s criminals rose and rioted against each other. The first few messages were from Dick and Alfred, casually asking where he was. The next were more frantic as the city had started falling apart and they begged for Tim to come back and lend aid to the impending disaster. Damian even called once, speaking quietly into the phone so no one else could hear, demanding that Tim stop sulking and come back. The last one was from Dick, while the previous messages were filled with noise in the background this one was silent except for Dick’s haggard breathing.

“Tim… Barbara traced the coding on these hacks. Those are your codes that are tearing this city in two.” Dick paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if someone stole them or if you’re being forced into this but please, Timmy, you need to come home and help us. We need you, we’ve always needed you, now more than ever. I need you to come home and tell me it’s not what I think it is, that you aren’t doing this, purposely.” Dick grinds out as if the word physically pains him. “Please little brother, please end this.” Tim gazes thoughtfully at his phone before dropping it to the ground and smashing it into pieces.

Tim did what Dick asked, he ended it. No more chasing the costumed maniacs across Gotham for the millionth time, no more batsignals in the sky or the feel of gravel beneath your feet just before you dive off a rooftop. He’d ended the endless madness of Gotham City and single handedly brought down the Batman. He smirked, not even the JLA could do that, not bad for the Robin no one seemed to remember. And he would be forgotten, only this time on his own terms.

Maybe Ra’s was right. He was awfully talented and it was a shame to let all that talent go to waste. He’d get out of Gotham and reinvent himself curtesy of the few billion he liberated from Gotham’s worst. But maybe one day he’d come back, if not to Gotham than to another part of the world that slowly being consumed by it’s own wickedness. Maybe he’d show them what really happens to those who are forgotten; those who slip quietly out of view only to come back something else entirely.

Active muses list.

For all of your Alexis-finding needs. In order of activity, from most to least active:

Diana [League of Legends] -

Calypso [OC / independent] -

Aranea [Homestuck] -

Marche [Homestuck? / Pseudo-OC] - this blog.

Muses that are available on-request or if the motivation finds me:

Lapis [Steven Universe] -

Eisler [OC / xkrates universe] -

W [OC / independent] -

Archaea [OC / independent] -

Every other blog is, for the moment, completely dead. I may revive them at any time, if I get the urge, but for now, that’s it! I know, only eight blogs. I’m slipping.

stargifts  asked:

hi could u unfollow me on all social media and maybe recuse urself from all league activities? u as a white man makes me feel unsafe and triggers me ?

first of all we’ve got something real special here and i ain’t gonna let you throw that away. second of all, i’m a little offended that you’d just assume i’m white like that? you don’t know my heritage, barry. i will have you know i’m half irish and half italian.  


Patrick takes another lap, breaking up some fresh ice when he sees his family start to make their way onto the rink.

He skates over to them. “Hey buddy, you ready to skate?” Patrick asks as he comes to a stop in front of his son.

Mason nods his head in response. He’s all bundled up for the outdoor rink and one of his tiny hands is clutching Jonny’s. Patrick skates up next to Mason’s other side and holds his hand out for him to take.

Patrick and Jonny share a smile. “You lace him up or did he do it himself?” Patrick asks Jonny.

“I did it, daddy!” Mason shouts before Jonny can answer.

“I helped,” Jonny mouths to Patrick.

They skate around the rink a few times, passing by other Hawks and their families. They stop to say hi every now and then, but Mason keeps breaking up their conversations with other people by tugging on Jonny and Patrick’s hands and pulling them forward.

“I want to skate!” Mason says.

“You are skating, bud,” Jonny responds, laughing.

“I want to skate forever, papa,” Mason corrects. Jonny looks over at Patrick and grins.

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