#FUCKING FA-
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
bexisanidiot · 5 months ago
Text
Smooches....
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes
tom-is-online · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
idk what to do with these i drew here u go
i might do more so feel free to drop suggestions
8K notes · View notes
lobeliaprince · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
don t look at m e with those e y e s
2K notes · View notes
u3pxx · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i guess i had to make with the kimchuck, coward
899 notes · View notes
fenboh · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
is this what happens in the new valentines event
1K notes · View notes
frowncake · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
call boy
393 notes · View notes
bongwalter10 · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
also. happy pride month to all the villains out there
859 notes · View notes
axoqiii · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
🐾 pochacco toya !!
2K notes · View notes
atlas-of-galaxies · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
heat abnormal
809 notes · View notes
isabelleadjani · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
JADE MIDNIGHT COWBOY (2024)
342 notes · View notes
emunenenes · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
sorcevalier comic for ruikasatober 🩹
Tumblr media
my really abridged explanation ft. my bff with vip access to most of my wips
335 notes · View notes
emotsper · 6 days ago
Text
Hi. here's the mini animatic i promised
fic (so normal about this) also no audio
258 notes · View notes
kiupido · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i dunno man, taikyaki bag
226 notes · View notes
corethetrueidiot · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
WHAT THE FUCK IS THEIR PROBLRM IM SO TIRED OF THEM . IM SO EMUNENE SICK.PLEASE SAVE ME FROM THESE SHACKLES
(og screenshot below. from the recent concert live.what is WRONG with them.)
Tumblr media
WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS IM SOBBING THROUGH THE SVREEN . THE CLOSET IS MADE OUT OF GLASS THESE FUCKERS AINT HIDING SHIT
340 notes · View notes
iyohme · 2 months ago
Text
and i know that you mean so well;
but i am not a vessel for your good intent!
("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)
Tumblr media
my serotonin got jetpack bursted into the stratosphere with this blurb by OP. Your brain is so juicy and moist and wrinkly OP. Godspeed. I'm not even into DC but the whole "Burnt out and neglected, and now a bunch of people driven by guilt guilt guilt want me back so they can feel less guilty?" just made the racoon in me rub its hands menacingly hoho
Just imagine not even living your best life; just a shadow in the lives of the illustrious Waynes, a ghost in a castle, visible only to the loyal servant and the occasional curious paparazzi who shrugs and looks away--after all, there was no mention of you in any occasion: must be the kid of in-house staff. How nice of Brucie Wayne to allow even the children of in-house staff the opportunity to study at such a high-end college! (The reporters chortle and snicker at your barely-passing marks, sighing at such a wasted opportunity. Oh well. And then they move on to the tabloid topic of the week, after the strutting socialites and the rich and the arrested Rogues.)
You gather things.
You gather pieces of a cracked dream, a single plastic teacup you had brought into the cavernous mansion the day you held Alfred's old, gnarled hand. Ears ringing and slippers still stained with your parent's blood as they were gunned down before your very eyes. You gather your things, what made you before you were "Wayne," so to say. Your mother's old cigarette box, smuggled from the crime scene, your one memento of the woman who you could not forget but never forgive.
A juxtaposition of love and hate, forever crucified. The image of the Virgin Mary inside the tin box seems to be a mockery of faith, across from her image lying cheap cigarettes.
You gather test papers, all barely passing and with more reds than blacks, and grind them up into strips with the shredder you had brought; just one time the black card Wayne had given you, and it left the bitterest, sourest aftertaste in your mouth. They burn so cozily on the school Bunsen burners, especially when sprayed with alcohol, immediately immolating like timelapse sparkler videos. You gather your name before the Incident, you cherish it, and you repeat the syllables in the dead of night, spilling past your mouth. Even if it was the name of a child-abusing monster, it was still yours, and it was still of use.
And use it, you would.
While they go and be a family, you work to begin yours.
You gather funds: it's easy to take on odd jobs when people do not suspect you. You tuck away that black card at the bottom of your study table drawers, forgotten there like scribbled-out pages of an essay, an unfinished drawing, and leftover candy wrappers. It's a bit-by-bit work, but you know the Waynes wouldn't even see it happening. Your brothers and sisters (an absurdly alien concept, as they don't even acknowledge you exist ninety-five percent of the time) are prodigies paraded around at every event. You are the unseen ghost flitting through their shadows.
Graduation comes and goes. It's laughably easy to falsify having lost your social security number and other documents--Gotham is that much of a shithole, you suppose. The man in the cowl notwithstanding. His efforts are admirable, but weak. Recidivism is common in this place, as if there were some sort of pull that incited the people in Gotham to cruelty, to madness.
It's absurdly Lovecraftian, in its own way.
You are not even living your best life, and yet you are free. Alfred knows; he always knows. If you are The Ghost, then the aged butler is a man one step between the doors of death, and he sees you every time you move. Your room is empty, and he raises an eyebrow at your satchel: all your items already stored elsewhere or given away.
Tumblr media
("I suppose this was a long time coming, Little Master."
Tap tap tap. Footsteps on marble floors, setting sun.
You shrug. "Eh. The Waynes gave me a roof and education. It's all good."
You grunt. "Well, people change. Like you know, how kids being gifted stop being gifted when they grow older." You say, instead of 'Well, if a child doesn't get any praise or attention if they do good and probably even less if they were bad, why even bother?')
A pause. "Your academics were not so lackluster when you were younger."
Tumblr media
You promise to try and stay in touch. (You crossed your fingers behind your back.) You leave, sunset on your face.
The nap you had in a dingy hotel with far too many odd stains and not enough locks you could put on was the soundest you've ever slept in years.
Freedom smells like summer air and the last rays of sun, followed by the cold blue hour.
Tumblr media
It takes three months for an out-of-state college to accept you. It's far from Gotham. It has a dormitory. Excellent. While you were indeed a mediocre academic student, you had banked everything on band scholarships.
Who knew more than a hundred clarinet players had unclaimed scholarships yearly? Packing up your small life in bags, you take a train upwards to another state.
(Meanwhile, in Gotham, there is an odd sense of unease as Bruce Wayne stops by an inconspicuous door. It's relatively clean, as expected of his manor, but the worn out brass on the handle suggests that someone had lived there before. He opens the door. Steps in. A bed, a dresser, a study table. Bare bones.
The unease intensifies. But who?)
Someone had lived in here, yes.
277 notes · View notes
tex-now · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Uncertainty
253 notes · View notes