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Very Good - Blog Posts
im testing something out. reblog and put your opinions on:
1. seaweed (food)
2. honeydew melons
3. cantaloupe
4. lychee
5. parmesan cheese
6. if youre old enough and drink, liquors
Agent Stern, after betraying the government: fuck the police
Barclay, watching him: You know, I think I just might
Five Floors to Fall (Rodydeku fic)
Summary:
Rody gets a new neighbor and is completely out of his element when it comes to him.
Rating: G
Thanks
I draw gaster guys, I tried my best on him and hope you guys like it.
See ya guys! 😋
"The med cat rule is stupid" if you can't understand the potential angst that could come from giving all of yourself to your faith only to realize you are drawn to living connections just as much as a sort of forbidden fruit you decided on at a young age to abstain from... look girls who get it, get it, those who don't. dont.
Commission Info
Dm me for my discord and more info! :D
Spring Break! That means vacation! Which is why I am currently on my way to San Juan. Drew these on the plane! (Also, it is my birthday! Makes this trip even better!)
so cute 🥰 Now I need one of Tim finding something of equivalence with Danny. Like, maybe Danny takes notes on the back of his blueprints while he works, and they start to be filled with things to tell Tim later, or something.
Love, Scribbled in the Margins
Tim keeps journals—pages filled with scattered thoughts, half-formed ideas, reminders hastily scribbled in the margins before they slip from his mind. His penmanship is erratic, sometimes neat, sometimes a barely legible scrawl. There’s no structure, no careful curation—just the unfiltered chaos of his thoughts, poured onto the pages with reckless honesty.
Danny finds them everywhere.
There’s one on Tim’s desk, filled with quick notes and unfinished sketches. Another by the bed, pages warped from where Tim has knocked over his coffee more than once. One tucked into his jacket, carried with him wherever he goes. And when Danny opens them, he finds something unexpected.
Not plans for patrols. Not mission reports or Gotham’s latest conspiracies.
No, these journals are something else. Something just for Danny.
There are messy, hurried notes—things Tim meant to tell him but hadn’t yet, thoughts that slipped his mind in the rush of the day. Scattered reminders: Tell Danny about the ghost dog that stole my sandwich. Ask Danny if ectoplasm works the same way as Lazarus water. Danny likes lemon biscuits. Find a good recipe?
There are doodles, too. Little sketches of Danny in the margins, some more detailed than others. A rough, unfinished one of him asleep on the couch, another of his hands, a quick, cartoonish scribble of Danny sticking his tongue out with the words annoying boyfriend scrawled underneath.
It’s messy. It’s chaotic. And it’s so Tim.
Danny had always imagined love as something poetic, something grand and beautiful, the kind of thing written in sweeping verses that promised forever. The kind of love you read about in stories, in letters written with elegant penmanship, every word crafted with care.
Tim’s love isn’t like that. It isn’t neatly composed or carefully written.
It’s raw. It’s real. It’s a thousand little moments captured in ink-stained fingers and smudged notes. It’s love scribbled into the corners of his life, unpolished and unfiltered.
And Danny? Danny wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Because love, he realizes, isn’t always the kind you find in poetry. Sometimes, it’s a journal filled with half-finished thoughts and silly drawings. Sometimes, it’s a name written absentmindedly in the corner of a page, over and over again. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a note that says, Thinking of you.
Love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. It doesn’t have to be grand to mean everything.
And like honey pulled straight from the comb, love is sweetest when it’s raw.
as close as we could ever get you’ll be just out of reach.
based on this song, i think isa would enjoy the math puns hehe: Asymptotic (by Louie Zong)