#batman#dc#bruce wayne#dick grayson#dc comics#tim drake#batfamily#batfam#dc fanart
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I think you should come join me while i work on the #bloodset for my #Necromancer costume on @twitchcreative ! Link in profile i am digitally sculpting till 4 pst! #twitch #twitchstream #twitchcreative #Steam #vertvixen #cosplay #zbrush #3dart #diablo #diablo3
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I will be doing a community spotlight stream for @twitch and @blizzard 7/3 and 7/4 on the time listed above :). I will be working on the Blood Set for the new Necromancer class in #Diablo3 for #Blizzcon ! Tomorrow i will be digitially sculpting armor and 7/4 I will be building leg armor out of worbla! Super excited! Link to the stream in my profile!! #diablo #twitchcreative #twitch #twitchstream #stream #vertvixen #Necromancer #bloodset #blizzard #blizzcon2017
practice, practice, practice. your mouth was dry and you could taste a vague brass flavour, a result from near constant use of your instrument with little reprieve over the hours that left the room engulfed in darkness. very few breaks were offered, supposed they expected you to be able to play and play until fingers were burning, oesophagus threatening to expel your lunch. just the two of you left in the room, chairs scrapped against the hard wood as bodies rushed for the exit [who knows when they would next be free?] hand rummages through bag, desperately searching for anything past you had left, coming up with mostly wrappers and receipts before fingers reach something, you pull your hand out and disappointment is clear across your face. almond joy. nobody’s favourite, why you had it? you weren’t sure. “hey, dude— you want this?” vague gesture to the candy.
@bloodset: nobody likes almond joy. – jeffrey dahmer. that’s it. he’s the only one.
“...why do you know that?” niche knowledge, you think. or maybe it’s common and you just missed the memo somewhere— it wouldn’t be the first time. but maybe you’d expect it from someone else that you had painted as a fanatic, not the guy on drums whose name had been sieved out of your thoughts. “it fits, though. i don’t know who decided that a good combination would be coconut [already, yuck!]” tongue stuck out for dramatic effect, continuing, “then whole almonds just slapped on the top. it’s like they want me to choke, or! die from anaphylaxis because it’s called almond joy, i didn’t expect to find coconut. finished with regular, boring chocolate. — it brings no one joy, they should rename it ‘sad almond wood chips’, right?”
𝚖𝚊𝚎𝚟𝚎’𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚖, 𝟹:𝟺𝟿𝚙𝚖, 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚞. you couldn’t recall the last time you had slept through the night, or even slept at all. a hazardous cycle– you don’t sleep to avoid dreams, you avoid dreams by not sleeping at all. [don’t other college students have classes? you couldn’t even find peace in slumber through the afternoon– own roommate too often napping as if you weren’t up and 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 the floor] “i hate it. (it’s like she does it to spite me, she sleeps all night too, by the way. in case you think i’m just being a bitch for the sake of it.) any other power, i'd swap. 𝚒'𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜.” a groan, last flick of a cigarette out of your window before it’s slammed closed, throwing your body back onto heightened mattress. just two more hours. two more hours and you can force your body back into sleep.
@bloodset: you can't help what you are. none of us can.
“jesus– did you decide to 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢 and not tell me?” you laugh as you speak, peeking out from beneath arm that had landed across your eyes in the move from window. pushed your body up, back resting against the bricks behind. prolonged insomnia left you with 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 from yourself and the world around you; as if you watched it all from the outside, and let yourself fall into the familiar routine of aloneness, a hidden comfort that you could pull across your body like an old coat that still fit. “i never thought i’d hear the great andrew neiman speak with such defeat.”
@bloodset sent i saw you struggling with it. i didn't want to say anything.
she didn't have anyone to help her move in. hell, she didn't have anything much worth moving in. her real shit, shit that tied her to her life outside of god u, that was off site with someone who could make sure nothing happened to it while she was away. she did have a couple things though, boxes with new bedding, her clothes, a new laptop. in terms of personal things though, she had a guitar. she'd bought it at a pawn shop on her way here. it seemed like a good idea. alice hadn't thought about moving it into her dorm. she'd been trying to carry everything at once with the case strapped to her back. it was embarrassing how many doors she'd struggled to open. she wasn't going to ask for help, but someone actually coming to help was nice. it was a better start than she expected. "well, i appreciate it. i-uh- didn't consider the whole moving in on my own thing would be a pain in the ass. not enough shit for a cart, too much shit to hold all at once." it was meant to be a joke, she hoped it came off as one.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE BEEN HERE BEFORE? wary hands tending to the night's injuries. so many residual scars & still - healing wounds. she can't help but wonder when he might give himself a break. ❝ this looks bad, andrew. ❞ stating the obvious, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 when faced with the gore of it?
❝ i don't even really know how it happened. ❞ - @BLOODSET from (...)
she believes him actually, bore witness herself to the way he wasn't always fully there. 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝙾 𝙸𝚂 𝙶𝚄𝙸𝙻𝚃𝚈 𝙾𝙵. their ability to drift. despite her wanting to know, she lets it go. for now. ❝ you should take it easy for the next few days, at least. ❞ even saying it, she's doubtful he'll concede. these restless hands of his. she feels the need to relay the message anyway. maybe just this once he'll see things her way. that or the pleading of her eyes might instill enough guilt to get him to lay off a day or two. LET HIMSELF STITCH BACK TOGETHER. maybe he'll begin to understand how it feels to wipe blood from his split skin. how often she'd swear he doesn't feel it. not even a little.
@bloodset ╱ starter call.
in the hushed sanctum of their dimly lit dorm, jordan ignited the packed bowl of their blog— the soft gurgle of water bubbling bouncing off the thin walls. it's become a nightly ritual for the two, a brief respite from the misery of being a college student. [not mentioning the fact— being a college student as a supe.] exhaling slowly, a swirling mist of smoke unfurls from their lips. jordan coughs in response, waving the vapor lingering in their face before attempting to speak.
“did you see the new rankings?” the bong is handed off to the right, eyes rolling at their own words— evidence of bad news to come. “we got fucked again. both of us this time.”
❝ i've run out of nice things to say. ❞ (@bloodset, sc.)
