outerworldscans

[oliveoomph]

Jeannine Gaspár

[grasshopperqueen]

What drew you to Gotham?

“Well cause it’s the farthest I could get away from my hometown without leaving the country of course!”

Insecta snickered, her hooked nose crinkling from her wide fanged smile as she did so.

“Nah but seriously, it just seemed like the best place to go to my 22-year-old mind, I was fresh outa university and didn’t want to stay in Sacramento for another minute”

Especially since I poisoned the entirety of the hospital staff with fire ant venom before I left

“I knew Gotham had a high crime rate, so what’s another D-lister? Though nowadays I like to think of myself as more B tier. I’ve been living here a while though now, and I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”

“Oh oh! Also the littering problem here is huge, so there’s a crazy amount of little friends here!”

[chloesimaginationthings]

Wait hold is Mike...?

Drawing his siblings?

He never stops thinking about them,,

[elyfonart]

Hii I just saw your latest zosan art it was super cutee!! What if you drew a bonus drawing of sanji joining chopper and zoro then the 3 of them play together.

I think this would probably happen :)

(for context)

[shalom-iamcominghome]

If anyone is interested, please feel free to light a digital candle through Illuminate. I got a name a few years back, and it's a name I won't forget. May every name we have found be a blessing. May their names never be forgotten. May we never forget.

Never again means now.

[huginsmemory]

The one thing led to another night is very much likely hinting at Bill and Ford fucking, but considering Stan's penchant for getting married while drunk, LITERALLY at one point to ol' Goldie, a horrifying gold panning statue souvenir dispenser(?), may mean that Ford would also have a penchant for that. So Ford marrying Bill that night, instead of them fucking (or marrying and fucking) is actually plausible, and also EXTREMELY FUNNY to me. Both of them have such terrible romance track records.

Also like, I know there's a lot of jokes going around about Stanley being like YOU FUCKED A TRIANGLE? Which I love btw, but like. SIR YOU MARRIED A MAYBE CURSED SOUVENIR DISPENSER THATS A STATUE OF A HORRIFYING OLD MAN GOLD PANNING, DO YOU REALLY HAVE A LEG TO STAND ON?

[wszczebrzyszynie]

This is very much an experimental unsure thing but now that the student experience is slowly catching up to me im thinking of opening commissions for portraits in the style of those gravity fals one i made? As i really like making them and dont really have the time to sell more polished arts. Well i dont know if theres an interest in that. Theyd be for 20 usd i think. Well alright

[somerandomcockroach]

[itagakimizuki]

THIS LOVE DOESN'T HAVE LONG BEANS (2024) 1.08

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Never gonna live that down.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[oliveoomph]

Kathrin Anne Heß

[liauditore]

how many belts and buckles does she need someone save me.

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Danny is just a kid ya know? Like he is just a little guy. A baby really. 14? Tiny child! Look at him, he needs to be protected. Someone has to help this poor little dude. I mean he forgets to use his own powers to avoid attacks all the time.

Anyway cut to Batfam not knowing all of Dannys power set cause the lil dingus keeps forgetting he can do that stuff in the heat of battle.

Danny uses his invisibility all the time… to avoid being followed. But in a fight? Oopsies hes too busy thinking of funny one liners to realise he could do that.

Intangibility? Give the guy a break. I mean who calls themselves condiment king. Even he was stunned.

He so rarely actually uses his biggest advantage powers that the League doubt he actually has them. He, like any naive child, trusts them and reported fully on his power set. Instead of just asking him to demonstrate his powers they instead start watching him and try to find evidence of his powers.

At least they know duplication was true since they watched him make a copy of himself to go to the bathroom and not miss any of his fav tv show.

[keepthetension]

it's been days since wandee goodday episode 05 but i keep thinking about how this guy?

ended up finding someone who cares in the same way

[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.

[mostlyfate]

Klaus and Caroline in "Pictures of You" — Klaus? Klaus! Kla... Hello. Did you not hear me? Of course I heard you, Caroline. I think the whole of Mystic Falls heard you. I’m in no mood for company. Well, I’m sorry that you’re having personal issues, but I have a real crisis on my hands. Elena stole my prom dress.