Bruce, High on pain killers: I hate to tell you this, but one of you is adopted
The Batfam: …
Dick: .. only one?
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
$LAYYYTER
noise dept.

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Kiana Khansmith
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
Three Goblin Art
AnasAbdin

#extradirty
DEAR READER
cherry valley forever
sheepfilms

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@bgcpresident
Bruce, High on pain killers: I hate to tell you this, but one of you is adopted
The Batfam: …
Dick: .. only one?

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The joke that the bats see their contingency plans as a form of love is super fucking funny, don't get me wrong but honestly they probably do see it as that cause they just forget to say the second part out loud.
"after I've taken you down, obviously I'd find whatever made you like this and then find the cure."
They come from gotham where mind altering substances are basically everywhere. One of the most profound ways a gothamite could say 'i care about you' is admitting to having a plan to disarm/capture you in the case you go off the deep end, so that they could then get you a cure.
Unfortunately for the bats, no one else thinks like that cause what the actual fucks guys
For a gothamite, a contingency plan is a sign of trust and love. It means that you believe that a person is strong and capable. It means you consider them precious, and want them in their right mind. It means you trust them enough that you think that any evil committed by them is done unwillingly.
It also takes a lot of information to make a good contingency plan. It's a way to show you know a person well.
Furthermore, it takes a lot of trust to show someone the contingency for them. It's considered the declaration of a serious relationship, because not only do you trust them to know you prepared for them, but you're also saying you trust them enough to tell you still-hidden secrets and help you make their plan better.
In Gotham, the "and I'll cure you" is an implicit part of contingency making, because why bother figuring out how to take someone down safely if you don't care what happens to them.
Outside of Gotham, where mind control is less rampant, having contingencies is a sign of severe distrust.
This phenomenon can be observed in hero teams getting mad at their Bat.
It's also observed when Damian first arrives in Gotham, and Tim makes contingency plans for him. Damian takes this as a sign of distrust, and attempts to murder Tim.
Gut Feeling
DPXDC
Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.
--
“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”
Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.
AU of the Wayne family history. At the batkids’ insistence, Alfred finally agreed to read them an old, leather-bound book he’d been holding—a memoir of the very first Wayne.
Clearing his throat, Alfred began in his usual calm, measured tone. "Long ago, a celestial being descended from the heavens, landing in a field owned by a struggling farmer. The celestial arrived in a dazzling ship, unlike anything seen on Earth. But the farmer, desperate to survive, dismantled the ship and sold its parts, making himself a fortune. When the celestial discovered what had happened, he was furious and sought out the farmer to demand justice."
The kids leaned in, totally hooked.
Alfred continued, "The farmer, terrified, begged for forgiveness. He promised that one day, his descendant would marry the celestial's firstborn child to atone for his crime. The celestial, after much thought, relented. He gifted the farmer the rest of the ship as dowry. From that moment on, the Wayne family flourished, their wealth growing beyond imagination."
Bruce, who’d been half-listening while skimming through some files on genetic engineering from the Fortress of Solitude, snorted. "Someone clearly had quite an imagination."
Without saying a word, Alfred flipped the book around and held it up for Bruce to see. The smirk faded from Bruce’s face as his eyes landed on the page. There, drawn in faded ink, was a detailed sketch of the ship… emblazoned with a symbol Bruce recognized immediately.
The crest of the House of El.
Alfred straightened, his tone subdued. "It would seem, Master Bruce, that the promise made to Jor-El must now be honored, given that his firstborn son has arrived on Earth."
Bruce froze. He recalled the Fortress’ eccentric behavior toward him and broke out in cold sweat.
i spent too much time on this but fuck it
examples of what outfits they’d all wear
steph & dick (lil shirt lil pants)
babs & tim (lil shirt big pants)
dami & cass (big shirt lil pants)
jason & duke (big shirt big pants)

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im jesus
judas no
this is the funniest fuckin post on this website
Hey I absolutely adore your Indian James headcanons can you do some for Harry too please <33
Okay this got too long so it's only Harry's first year at Hogwarts. At some point I might do the rest of his years but yeah. Here you go, i hope you like it :)
The first time Harry noticed his skin was darker than the people on Privet Drive was when he was four. The first time he noticed people sneered at him for it was when he was five and a half. He didn't understand it; why did they think the colour of his skin meant that he was inferior to them? He heard the words chee-chee and brownie thrown around like Dudley threw his food, and quietly pulled his shirt tighter around himself.
When Harry is eight, Dudley and his gang throw him in a ditch and throw dirt and soil on him till he's coughing and tears are running down his face. "You blend right into the mud," Piers laughs at him. The next day, the boy turns up to school with black skin. Harry sits in the corner and turns his face away, a secret grin playing on his lips.
He comes to Hogwarts, and there are so many colours. He is approached by Parvati on the second night, and she asks him if he's excited for Ganpati Chaturthi. He stares at her, and then says, "I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is." She gets offended, but they haltingly talk it out, awkward and stilted like most eleven year olds. When she realises that he's been kept from his heritage and his magic, she flies off the rails with anger. "That's it," she says, "we're friends now. No arguments."
Harry loves talking to Parvati. She's the one that tells him his father was from India. She's the one that tells him the names of his grandparents, that tells him of the importance of heritage in the magical world. They talk about religion and food and all sorts of things, and within two weeks Harry is asking her to teach him Marathi. It's hard at first; the grammar structure is more like French than English, the alphabet sequence is weird and complicated and has too many letters, but he keeps practising his svar and vyanjana and kana and matra. He will do this, he tells himself. (He doesn't tell Ron. He wants this for himself, he thinks. His family, his heritage. He wants to learn before he shares, and so he doesn't tell Ron. For now. He will, when he knows enough.)
Slowly, he starts talking to other Indian kids at Hogwarts. Padma, a seventh year Slytherin named Aarzoo who's Muslim and always has the prettiest hijabs, Gryffindor Kalyani from fourth year and Hufflepuff Rushabh from the third. Kalyani is from Maharashtra just like the Patil twins and Harry, Rushabh is from Gujarat and Aarzoo from Punjab. Harry finds it fascinating that India has so many different cultures and religions, and demands knowledge from them. Aarzoo laughs, and tells him he should have been with the 'Claws.
Harry disagrees. He was supposed to be in Slytherin, he knows, but he is in Gryffindor, where his family had been. His family had been Indian. He wants to know everything about it. If he couldn't have his parents, he would have that which had been a major part of his father's life. And so he reads and observes and studies and asks questions— hesitating at first in case they yell at him (Aunt Petunia hated questions and he feared these people would be the same), but slowly he asks more and more. He talks for hours with Kalyani and Rushabh, and they tell him about Garba and Dhol Tasha, Ganpati Chaturthi and Diwali, Eid and Gudi Padwa. They talk about the languages of India, and Harry immediately asks Aarzoo to teach him Urdu and Hindi. She laughs, and says he should focus on Marathi first. He pouts, but nods.
The Mirror of Erised shows him his father, and he can't take his eyes off. James Potter is a tall man, bulky frame covered in muscles and warm brown skin that seems to glow with happiness. His eyes are light brown, and the bold black lines drawn under them make the green specks stand out. He's dressed in what Harry knows is called a kurta, white and gold threads woven to form images of peacocks and elephants and other intricate designs. The next day, Harry asks Padma what she lines her eyes with, and she promptly hands him a little round metal box and a tiny wooden stick. "It's called kajal." She tells him the differences in pronunciation between Hindi and Marathi, and shows him how to apply it. Harry wears it everyday. It makes his eyes look bright, brighter than they already are, and he falls in love with it. Kalyani presses a kajal covered finger behind his ear every morning. "For good luck," she tells him, a grin playing on her pretty lips. Harry flushes, and smiles back shyly.
For Christmas, Aarzoo gives him perfume. It's chandan and mogra with hints of rose, she says, "and your grandfather made it. His name was Fleamont Henry Potter, and he was an exceptionally talented potioneer." Harry wears it religiously. Padma and Parvati band together and get him books on the Potter family and their historical importance, and he almost cries. Rushabh promises to teach him how to play Garba, and Kalyani gives him a cookbook for everyday Indian foods— breakfast and lunch and a few fancy stuff. Harry hugs it to his chest and thanks her with shining eyes. (he may have a bit of a crush on her. He can't help it— she's really smart, and she's pretty.)
Throughout the year, all of them work to introduce him to Indian food. At first, he thinks it will be easy. It is not. There is no such cuisine named Indian, Parvati tells him sternly. There is Punjabi, South Indian, Mughlai, Maharashtrian, North Indian, Bihari, Bengali and so many more. "The food in India changes with every twenty kilometres of travel," Aarzoo says when he mock complains about it. "It's never the same, and that's what makes it so special." He agrees.
The end of the year arrives, and Harry is still weak from his tryst down the trapdoor. When Ron and Hermione aren't present, his friends from home (because that's what India is, isn't it? His home. The home he never got to see, but is no less a part of him.) crowd around his hospital bed and have long talks with him, filled with banter and laughter. His Marathi is so much better now than it was in September, and he blushes when Kalyani compliments him on it. Rushabh winks at him, and Harry throws a pillow at him, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks at being caught out.
On the last day of school, he hugs Aarzoo around the waist and cries into her stomach. It's the first time he calls her "Aarzoo Tai", and she smiles widely, her own eyes dripping tears. "You will write," she says sternly, "okay? This might be the end of my Hogwarts years, but you are my little brother." He cries harder and nods, refuses to let go until the very last minute.
Harry goes back to Privet Drive with a heavy heart and a proud smile. He isn't inferior to the people there, he knows. He's special. He's Indian. He's James Potter's son, and he's going to live up to it.
(South) Indian Harry Potter Headcanons:
Harry knew he was Indian (mostly because the Dursley’s used to say racist shit to him) but he didn’t know where in India the potters were from until he went to Hogwarts. He finds out from the Patils, who were close with the potters because desis stick together.
The Patils are from the north and use Hindi to speak to each other. Neither of them knows Telugu/Tamil/Marathi/Malayalam/insert Southern language of choice here (I personally headcanon Telugu because it’s the only Indian language I speak and because there’s a huge diaspora of telugumandi in the west, but feel free to choose whatever you’d like). So Harry has to rediscover his heritage language on his own.
He also studies Sanskrit, and it opens up a HUGE world of spells that they don’t teach at Hogwarts (because of course Indian wizards don’t do spells in Latin). He and the Patils know a bunch of spells that nobody else does.
Harry’s pleat game is ON POINT. It makes sense, since he had to do all the chores at the Dursley’s and that includes perfectly folded and ironed laundry with the edges aligned neatly, or else he would risk being punished. But the result is that if you want your saree drape to pass the inspection of even the most judgemental auntie, you go to Harry to help with your pleats.
Even when they’ve graduated and all have their own homes, it’s a pretty regular sight for the Patil twins to come through Harry’s floo, half dressed, to have Harry pleat their sarees or their lehenga dupatta for them.
Harry LOVES spices. The dursleys only liked bland food, but Harry has always liked flavorful foods, and has no problem with (hot) spicy food either. He uses lots of spices in his own cooking now. His food is very flavorful, but when he’s cooking for himself, it’s too spicy for all his friends (even the Patils). So nobody can eat his leftovers unless he was specifically cooking with other people in mind. Ron learned this the first time he rummaged through Harry’s fridge after a night of drinking. Now Harry labels all his food as to whether or not it’s “Harry spicy”.
James LOVED to buy Lily sarees. He’d order them with custom, wizard-themed designs from weaving villages in south India. The women who made them assumed he was just very imaginative, so he wasn’t violating the statute of secrecy since saree patterns are often vibrant and unique. Harry finds some of them in the old potter manor, and they still smell like the perfumes and scented oils his mother would wear when James took her to the local temple for Hindu holidays.
Indian witches often store extra magic in or enchant pieces of their copious jewelry with spells that can keep them safe if they’re ever in a situation where they don’t have their wands. stuff like, each bangle can function as an emergency portkey that can take you to different safe locations if you say the activation word, or ones that create an instant magical shield when you tap them. Harry finds some of his mothers gajulu, gives them to his female friends.
He ties Rhaki on Ron and Neville, and all the weasley boys. Ron was the first person he ever tied it on, because Ron was the first person who he ever bonded with, and his closest brother.
Harry always cooks idli sambar or dosa for his friends for breakfast the next morning after a night of drinking together, and it’s the perfect hangover food because it definitely brings you back to full alertness/knocks the last bit of post-hangover grogginess right out of your system.
Harry’s parselmouth abilities are valued in his native culture because of the sacredness of snakes in Hinduism, and it comes to be something he’s really proud of (personally I think the ‘parselmouth connected to the horcrux’ thing is dumb, so I’ve always imagined Harry was just naturally a parselmouth).
As the number of Indian immigrants/expats continues to grow after they graduate, Harry helps some of his students (he’s the DADA teacher) start the Hogwarts “South Asian Student Union”.
He always has snacks out for his students when they come to visit his office hours, and they’re all Indian snacks and sweets. His personal favorite is kaju barfi, but he always has a good variety of both sweet and spicy treats, especially for stressed out owl and newts students.
He collaborates with Hermione, who works in the ministry, to make it mandatory for Hogwarts students to a “foreign magical language” course so they can broaden both their minds and their spell repertoires. Padma Patil becomes the “Sanskrit Spells” teacher, and Seamus teaches “Irish Gaelic”. (It took him a little longer to get his course started, since it turns out that at least 40% of Gaelic spells are just increasingly complicated and violent ways to repel the English).
Hermione and Harry also work together to make sure there are employees in the international magical cooperation department who specialize in post-colonial relations, because the magical world also has its issues with that colonialist mindset towards countries that were formerly part of the empire.
Just south Indian Harry embracing his heritage, learning about what was ripped from him, and using it to enact meaningful change in a multicultural magical society.
hi ! idk if you take requests, but i was wondering if you would do a redrawing of the yule ball, but harry is wearing a kurta on his date with parvati!
i live for indian potters, and i know you’ve drawn effie and monty potter in traditional indian wear, but i think harry going to the yule ball with parvati and not wearing a kurta is one of the biggest losses for us desi potterheads.
— @dykemarauders
I agree that Harry would 100% be in traditional clothing for the Yule ball, and I 100% will never pass up an opportunity to draw desi Harry
Thank you for your request and for being so patient!
the bitches traumatized by saltburn would never survive the fics in my ao3 history

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RIP Anthony Bourdain
#armys, we won BIG for bare chested jungkook 😘
Humans and technology
You see, humans don't interact with the universe the way most other species do.
We thought they would be elegant as the Borath from the design of their vessels, thoughtful as Saalax from the care of their grreting broadcasts, calm as J'lanyua from the precise manner of their docking.
We were in for a shock. For all the collective order and discipline, there is a chaos inherent to individuals and should one succumb to it the chances they will take others with them are high.
We learned quickly to not underestimate these contradictory bipeds, but not before they shocked us rigid with their grasp of high technology.
They don't even have Dulchan drives but they stepped into one of the ancient platforms and immediately identified features we never discerned. The space platforms are thousands of rotations older than our space travels, the original builders are long gone and until the humans came we had to simply trust the computers would not fail and we would remain protected.
It took a lot of persuasion to let them near the computer cores, even when they begged to see them close up, but eventually we relented. What was the harm? No one understood them, no one could even unlock them.
They made many strange noises of appreciation, as most who see the ancient technology do. Their commander grew bored "Not a nerd like them," he grumbled, so we went back to the main habitation area.
A sleep cycle later, we ventured back to find the nerds.
"Well? Got any ideas?" The Commander asked.
"Ideas?" Charlie let out a shocking noise that made my feathers quiver, a laugh. "Spade's already got it running Doom."
me listening to take two:

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Day 79
A quick sketch that inspired the sweetest twitter drabble from the talented @caitybellfics. Highly recommend giving it a read.
gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining
because we as a species were so lonely and we wanted friends so bad, we wanted to meet other species and we wanted to talk to them and we wanted to learn from them and to stop being the only people in the universe
and we started realizing that things were maybe not going so good for us— we got scared that we were going to blow each other up, we got scared that we were going to break our planet permanently, we got scared that in a hundred years we were all going to be dead and gone and even if there were other people out there, we’d never get to meet them
and then
we built robots?
and we gave them names and we gave them brains made out of silicon and we pretended they were people and we told them hey you wanna go exploring, and of course they did, because we had made them in our own image
and maybe in a hundred years we won’t be around any more, maybe yeah the planet will be a mess and we’ll all be dead, and if other people come from the stars we won’t be around to meet them and say hi! how are you! we’re people, too! you’re not alone any more!, maybe we’ll be gone
but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?
the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.
and they told us to tell you hello.
Reblogging again because I just love this