Holy Batman Quotes

Holy Hawt Chemisty, Batman!

It's just another of Robin's sayings. Like, 'Holy strawberries, Batman, we're in a jam! Or, Holy Kleenex, Batman, it was right under our nose and we blew it!

Holy bad boy Batman!

Actually I'd always thought he sat in the library with a slim volume of metaphysical poetry until the commissioner called him on the bat phone and summoned him into action. Holy paranormal activity, Nightingale - to the Jag mobile.

Ryodan says softly, “Holy strawberries, Dani, we’re in a jam.” I look at him like he’s sprouted two heads. Holy strawberries? In a jam? Even Barrons looks stumped. He continues, “But don’t worry. Holy priceless collection of Etruscan snoods—you really butchered that one, by the way—I’ve got it in the bag. How about this one: holy borrowing bibliophile, let’s book.

Word of advice. These have a kick, so don’t suck too hard—” Holy hypoxia, Batman.

Holy silicone suppository, Batman!” Ethan said, grinning. Dan snorted, Parker coughed to disguise a laugh, and I glared at them all. “What?” My brother shrugged defensively. “That’s what it looks like.

(At the back of the cave, Phoebe placed her hand against one of the stones where a spring release opened an elevator door. Chris gave an over exaggerated gape.) Holy Hand Grenade, Batman, it’s a bat cave. (Chris)

Oberon "Holy revelations Druidman! She's on to us!" Atticus "Gods below, I think you're right! Quick, to the Geekmobile!

Holy Avon, Batman, I thought as worry relaxed into annoyance-tinged humor, I’ve been attacked by a multilevel marketer.

I smack myself in the forehead. “Holy priceless collection of Etruscan snoods, they’re not moving!” I exclaim. There’s a choking noise over my head somewhere. “Etruscan snoods?” I glow quietly inside. Some accomplishments mean more than others. I am officially the Shit. Now and forever. “Dude, watch your question marks. I just pried one out of you.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Admit it, you lost your eternal fecking composure.” “You have an obsession with a delusion about how I end my sentences. What the fuck are Etruscan snoods?” “Dunno. It’s just another of Robin’s sayings. Like, ‘Holy strawberries, Batman, we’re in a jam!’ ” “Strawberries.” “Or, ‘Holy Kleenex, Batman, it was right under our nose and we blew it!’

Holy hypixia, Batman

Holy fucking understatement of the year, Batman

We may not be able to stop and undo the hard old wrongs of the great world outside, but through you and me no evil shall come either in the unknown where you are going, or in this imperfect and haunted dimension of awareness through which I move.

Holy secret tunnels, Batman!

Holy shit, dude. I think you just saved my life!' 'I think you broke my ribs.' 'I can't believe you dove at me like fucking batman. It was kind of badass actually.' 'That's me. The high school badass.

Holy Adam West!

No matter how many times I'd fantasized about being with a guy, being with Owen, it had never come close to the reality. I love, love, loved everything about this. Holy sexual paradise, Batman, I was so fucking glad I was gay! (Jordan)

Elle's gaze hadn't left the front door. "But holy cow hotness, Batman, really, you want to see this." "Why?" "He's in a suit, that's why. My eyes don't know what to do with themselves." Will whipped around so fast she gave herself whiplash.

Lonny finishes his drink and stands. “So what’s our plan?” “You don’t have to go,” I tell him, shrugging out of Carmindor’s jacket. “I’m sort of going AWOL, so it’s not in your contract.” “Then as far as I’m concerned, I’m off the clock,” he says, straightening his suit. “I can do whatever I want with my time, and I want to help you out. So what’s the plan?” “First,” I say, “to the vending machines. With all this good luck, they gotta have an Orange Crush.” And holy gods of soda, Batman, by the glowing light of the great vending machines on the third floor, I spot a beautiful Orange Crush button, and when I push it an orange bottle rolls out. I crack the seal and drink to the sweet, sweet taste of victory. “That’s your plan?” Lonny says. “To drink a soda?

He’s a hero!” I scoffed. “Apparently there’s Batman, Wonder Woman, and Greg Heyward. He’s replacing Superman in the Holy Trinity.

Holy Kama Sutra Batman!

Fucking hell. Shit sounds like I’m writing for ladies who lunch on Fifth Avenue. Unending vortex of ugly? Holy sensationalism, Batman! Who the fuck am I writing for? I could move in closer, get to the real Singer, but I’ll just fail like every other journalist

Holy broken nose, Batman!

Holy fucking Batman there’s a panther in my bed.

He winked at her, his eyes twinkling in recognition. Lilith laughed. Holy hotness, Batman!

Holy denial, Batman. I feel this way because I love her. I

Holy hotness, Batman.

Holy imposter syndrome, Batman.

Holy donut holes, Batman!

Holy Freudian slip, Batman. Leave

And you’re definitely not allowed to have a huge fucking erection right now,” I shout, staring up at the ceiling because … holy hot cock, Batman.

Holy freaking heartbreaking Batman.

Holy muscled body, Batman.

Holy muscled body, Batman

Holy Washington monument, batman. He was huge, like leaning tower of Pisa plus Big Ben, plus Ron Jeremy huge.

Holy ppm, Batman!

Well, holy tight ass, Batman. Gareth was a man-virgin. The devil on my shoulder reared its ugly head to encourage me, as the angel slapped my rising prick.

Holy expensive taste, Batman." Jacob gawked at the jewel-encrusted depiction of Adam and Eve standing under an ornate tree on the ceiling.

Holy hotness, Batman. Someone call the fire department. This guy was out of control.

Holy Wrath of God, Batman, your ass was going to be ours soon, you soul-trapping son of a bitch.

Holy conspiracies, Batman!

Holy Necrophilia, Batman

Holy horrible taste, Batman

I should be exhausted, but I'm not. I'm much too keyed up to sleep. Probably it's myour imagination, but when I close my eyes and sit very still, I swear I can feel the baby inside me. Not moving, nothing like that, it's far too early. Just a kind of warm and hopeful presence, this new soul my body carries, waiting to be born into the world. I feel ... what's the word? Happy. I feel happy. Shots outside. I am going to look. *****END OF DOCUMENT***** Recovered at Roswell Site ("Roswell Massacre")

I understand that it’s disheartening to pour effort and money into a work of art and find that others do not value it with the same intensity. I’ve been to this rodeo more than a few times, and yes, it’s painful and hard on the soul. It is also the sort of thing that grown-ups do every day. Anyone deluded enough to think they are owed monetary success because they bled for their art is in for some hard, hard knocks and buckets full of tears. There will be many cries of “unfair” and much jealousy and hatred. And to be fair, all authors go through this every time they watch their books ride the waves of bestseller charts and the ego torture chamber known as Goodreads reviews. Even the most well-adjusted of us watch that horrible piece of shit book beat our baby to pieces and gnash our teeth and shout at our monitors demanding to know what brain-donors are shopping on amazon.com these days. But holy Smart Bitch on a cracker, Batman, to write a post about how stupid readers are and worse to actually put it out there on the internet is so beyond the pale there’s a special hell for that kind of idiocy. Let me repeat: authors exist at the pleasure of readers. Without the people who buy and read my books, I am just another dizzy broad writing shit down. Readers aren’t just an author’s audience; they are her lifeblood. --

She strong-armed the swinging door and walked through. Straight into an acid flashback. Clara’s first reaction was to laugh. She stood stunned for a moment then started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh until she thought she’d piddle. Peter was soon infected and began laughing. And Gamache, who up until this moment had only seen a travesty, smiled, then chuckled, then laughed and within moments was laughing so hard he had to wipe away tears. ‘Holy horrible taste, Batman,’ said Clara to Peter who doubled over, laughing some more. ‘Solid, man, solid,’ he gasped and managed to raise a peace sign before having to put both hands on his knees to support his heaving body.

Owen gave a quiet sob. ‘It is. Dear God, it is.’ He crossed himself and began chanting. ‘Our Father, who aren’t in Devon, hallowed be thy new persona as a dame. Give us this day my coach and horses and do unto them before it is nobler in the mind, a sling, or an arrow – anything, God and saints preserve us, holy outrageous fortune Batman, partibus deus biggus omnibus dieu et mon droit gaudete all around my hat, inshallah, inshallah, Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha‑olam, ha‑gomel lahayavim tovot sheg'malani kol tov! Ooh Mummy, Phuphox ache, cor luv a duck, amen.’ Owen, having covered his available gibbering-bases, then covered his face in his hands and wept.

Beside me, Millie leans up to my ear and whispers, "Holy fucking hotness, Batman! It's like Tom Hardy, Channing Tatum, and Tom Ellis made a baby with the Brawny Man. Fuck me in the ass with no lube. I think I'm in love." "I already licked him. He's mine," I respond

Holy tits, batman,

Holy Hell Hounds, Batman.” Her gaze drops to my cock and then back up to my face. “Lucifer sent you, didn’t he?” “Excuse me?” “Satan had to have sent you here to destroy my soul and my pussy. You can’t convince me otherwise.” “Better say your prayers then.” I press my palm on the top of her head. “On your knees works best.

Holy Hell Hounds, Batman.” Her gaze drops to my cock and then back up to my face. “Lucifer sent you, didn’t he?” “Excuse me?” “Satan had to have sent you here to destroy my soul and my pussy. You can’t convince me otherwise.” “Better say your prayers then.” I press

I reach out and grab the hem of Benny's T-shirt between two fingers, then turn and pull him along behind me as I look for someplace more private. I walk with purpose, as if I have a spot picked out already, which I totally don't. But when I come upon an unoccupied pantry, I pull Benny in after me. Closing the door, I turn to face him. And find his face reeeal close to mine. The corners of his mouth are starting to tick up in a smile in spite of his efforts to hide it. "Hey there." I swallow the heady feeling I get at the sound of his voice this close, low and rumbly. There are only a couple of inches between our chests, no more than that between our faces, which are almost level. This would certainly be easier in, say, an open field. I press my back flat against the door and clear my throat. "My cardigan. Give it back." "I enjoyed our conversation on Saturday," he continues in that smooth bass as if I haven't said anything. "What kind of kidnapper leaves a note identifying themselves as the kidnapper, anyway? What are you playing at?" I bite out with a frustration that is quickly fleeing my body. Benny's eyes flit down to the floor almost sheepishly. "I don't enjoy what brought on our talk at the cookout, or hearing what you go through. But I was honored that you told me, and I like talking to you. I'd listen to you talk like that every day if you let me." His words almost stop my breath, despite the weirdness of this situation he's facilitated and the way we're having two totally different conversations. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, but they pop back open when I feel something brush past my hair. Benny stares at me intently, and I register that he's put one palm flat against the door beside my head. He leans in closer, and I try my damnedest not to notice all the muscles in that arm flexing so close to me, but holy biceps, Batman, and oh my, how much closer can he get before he--- "Reese," he breathes, and I feel the word brush against my lips even though they still haven't made contact with his. I don't think I'm breathing at all.

Holy Lesbos, Batman!

Holy sexual paradise, Batman, I was so fucking glad I was gay!

Holy Greek gods, Batman. Owen had bulked up more this past year, but it was all muscle. He looked like a figure from a naughty version of Mt. Olympus

There are no other men when it comes to you, do you understand me, Holly? None. You belong to me.” Whoa. Holy possessive alpha-male alert, Batman.