#blood ⚠️

[cupcek]

ིུ͠༄📵!♤ ⃨۪۪̃۟ #Iamthebatman ▞𖢅𝅮 ꦿ

ဒေါက်မြင့်ဖိနပ်စီးပြီး လမ်းလျှောက်တယ်။

[soggy-fishsticks]

[kurakuradon]

🌕 forever together, at the bottom of space 💫

♪ そして君は月になった (And Then You Became the Moon)

[somecupoftea14]

Should I draw other characters? 👀🌟

[kathegoose]

biiirffdayy,..,,

WHEEE HOO!!!!1!! so i did make art for my birthday too, cuz the model just wasn't enough!!! i need mimic!!!

less- & non crusty versions yayaaa!!y

[particle-e]

polly

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

He was once beloved, hailed as a shining beacon of hope in the darkness...

Now, he sees himself as nothing more than a coward...

⚠️ TW // CW ⚠️ Blood + mild gore

[3scapethevoid]

Psynarc—blooded!

 when one has psychotic narcissism / narcissistic psychopathy running through their veins.

(exclusive to those with npd and/or a psychotic disorder)

part of @rwuffles’s x—blooded gender system!

if someone could help me id the flag, it would be ver much appreciated, i struggle to id more complex flags. :(

[mrspinkloveheart]

⚠️: Blood, weapon(?), a tiny spoiler to my circus Au!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

With and without extra shading

[psychicvoidtale]

[timeshift-playground]

THE DEFECTIVE.

[tomokafinds]

[finalbiohazard]

shout out to all the Mexican girls that punch them selves

[kathegoose]

me if i was like SUPER cool

so is this like a fursona or what

[ashton-glover]

From: adg665@qmail.com To: angelsonata@qmail.com

A— ...

Ashton stared at his phone, stuck, again. This must be the millionth time he was attempting to email his sister, and sorely failing.

What could he write that hasn't already been said? That won't come back undelivered? Had she changed her e-mail address like she did her phone number? Did she do it or did their parents make her do it? Do they know he'd been trying to contact her since they shipped him off to America? Is that why he couldn't get a hold of her?

In great frustration, Ashton shoved his phone at the back of his jeans, withdrawing an emptying pack of cigarettes. Or rather, cigarette. The very last. And a broken one at that. Just his fuckin' luck. He left the broken piece in the pack, wanting to make good use of it later, and lit the remaining half.

It was Tuesday evening, and Ashton was at the back alley behind the little restaurant where he worked. With Blake and Ridley busy inside, he took this time to have his fifteen-minute break before the dinner crowd rushed in. Desperate for a smoke, he didn't think he could wait until Blake's break to inhale the nicotine deep in his lungs.

Taking another drag, the tiny specks of brilliant amber crawled up the length of his cigarette, burning paper on its way, but gave him no relief to exhale. His thoughts were too disorganised, too jumbled like an itch he couldn't scratch; and the voices didn't help, either. They never help...

"Ashton! Ashton, no!!!"

The moment Ashton closed his eyes, his sister's screaming amplified in his head, instantly bringing him back to five years ago. She had sounded so terrified then, and the desperation in her voice and in her blue eyes haunted him in his sleep, even to this day.

"What have you done?! Are you alright? Ash, look at me! Are you hurt? Ashton? Ashton!!"

"Ashton..." A familiar voice echoed closer to home. "Ash!" The worry in her voice sounded too real that it snapped Ashton back to reality where he found himself facing his girlfriend, Blake, who looked horror-stricken.

"Wha—?" He heard his voice come out of his mouth but couldn't remember saying the word itself.

"What do you mean 'what'?!" Blake's emerald green eyes looked up at him in terror. "Your hand!"

Ashton looked down at his hand, and immediately understood. While there were deep crescents made against his pale palm, it was nothing compared to the fresh blood dripping from his battered knuckles. It seemed he had been punching the brick alley wall without him realising it.

Ashton blinked and saw that a couple of waitresses from the restaurant had come to peek behind the back door. They must've been on their break and saw him in his manic state. He wouldn't be surprised if they were the very same ones to call Blake for help.

"Let's get you inside and—..."

One look was all it took for Blake to understand that Ashton was in no state to work for the rest of the night.

"Okay, okay," she murmured softly, wrapping his bloodied hand with the bandana he wore. "Wait for me here, I'll tell Ben you're not well and we'll get you home, okay?"

All Ashton could do was nod, slumping onto an empty crate to sit and wait for his girlfriend. The other waitresses had left, clearly afraid of what he might do next. And while the screaming in his head never quite ceased, it dulled enough for him to calm down, enough to notice his last cigarette as it laid there on the cold, wet street, burned, crumpled, and blood-stained like the rest of him.

[ozymoron]

i need to make my art less palatable