#I have no clue. Fucking hell

[composing-the-future]

sometimes i worry that im being too autistic on the autism website

[iyohme]

and i know that you mean so well;

but i am not a vessel for your good intent!

("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)

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.

("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."

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.

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.

[sep-hia]

i uh...i really like sitri

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

Okay I saw more of your art and had to come back (if it’s okay)

Maybe this time….King Marty? Like in a kings outfit with the septor

and crown and stuff? Idk

no problem at all! i'm just happy you enjoy :D

anyone with any remote knowledge of historical dress from any vague period or region please avert your eyes.

[thinkingofausername]

istg the fandom is gonna give me an aneurism. "stop glazing curly" "why doesn't anyone admit curly fucked up" "fun fact curly isn't innocent" WHO'S GLAZING HIM????? WHERE????? i'm about to purposefully search for those people cause i haven't seen a single one and i wish i had. all i see is curly hate and i'm finding it harder and harder to interact with the fandom

[dokkywokky]

Now, I want to stress that I'm not an old school monster hunter fan. I'm not exactly *new* either; I started with World and I've really only played that and Rise. Now, I played world at Launch on a shitty Intel gaming PC that was about five years out of date by the point I wanted to test the game out. So I know what normal capcom potato graphics are supposed to look like.

This is not that.

I don't know. WHAT HAPPENED. (Say hi to my Hunter, Jade, by the way.) This? This mess? This is supposed to be a gunlance.

This was apparently what became of the tutorial Chatacabra. Now, I'm not harping on Wilds. This is the best Gunlance has ever felt, the visdev is (probably) gorgeous, and I love the UI design and character creator. The VAing here is excellent, and from what I was able to see that wasn't completely fucked, the lipsync and character animations were great. Unfortunately, it somehow got worse over time??? I'll let my live reactions speak for themselves.

This is some Vinesauce Corruptions tier shit. It's hilarious. In fact, I found it funny enough to try and stream it to a couple of friends who happened to be on call, and while we were dying laughing at *whatever the fuck* this was, five minutes later, this happened.

Apparently this is an uncommon issue some folks have had with Wilds. So, y'know. On one hand, watch out. But on the other hand, definitely stream this if you get these weird-ass corruption graphics. It's great.

[krynutsreal]

haiii posting some old sky au doodles happy Valentine's day :]

OK. ALSO. THMEM. KISSING OR WBAGEVER .

holds head innhands . guys they'r so bad at it they're so bad . someone come push them off a cliff for me

[tundraplateau]

So I go on tumblr, and decide to look up the Chima tag because it was a Lego theme I loved when I was younger.

And I guess I was right about the internet: “You will learn something, wether you like it or not.”

WHAT DO YOU MEAN CHIMA’S CANON TO NINJAGO?!

[cluster-b-culture-is]

cluster B culture is getting an email from quora about a thread called "cluster b unmasked" and already knowing it's going to be full of ableist crap and questioning why you got an account in the first place

.

[regulusrules]

olympics are all fun and games until you see how the people in your country shame the olympians that don't score, and suddenly all your hard work and your dream prospect of going there slowly diminishes as you realise that this might happen to you too if/when you reach there

[apricusapollo]

would've, could've, should've by taylor swift is literally the most theo @ the dread doctors coded song ever

[bugsnakes]

Hi Oomf ! How the fuck do I tween on alight motion

so you just

[zincbot]

man. after getting the ending where you ride off with meryl i find out that i missed out on the homoerotic otacon ending

[chewysgummies]

Them (Disassembly Drones from Murder Drones)

//SPOILER FOR MURDER DRONES

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Oh shit-

Hell yeah, J!! I haven't watched murder drones (kinda don't want to honestly) But if I were to choose who I like in the series, I would pick j. Idk why though, the others are pretty cool too. (Also Tessa too mainly because of the bow she has on her head and the suit she's wearing)

Also I just wanna say, what the fuck happened here?? Why she look like that bro 😭😭 (I know that Tessa dead or whatever. But damn, she's ugly lmao. Why they kill Tessa for this bro. What she do??? /Jk)

[quietwingsinthesky]

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[astonmartingf]

i checked my schedule and i can watch the race and still have enough time to sleep before my shift starts????