Happy Birthday, @gangleadiing/Shell! You are wonderful, beautiful and I love you. â€ïž

#dc comics#dc#batman#dick grayson#dc fanart#bruce wayne#tim drake#batfam#batfamily



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Happy Birthday, @gangleadiing/Shell! You are wonderful, beautiful and I love you. â€ïž

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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â hey. masaomi, was it ?  i could use another hook-up at that russia sushi place, if you got any. â   /   @gangleadiingâ
     [ txt. ]  barely noon ???
     [ txt. ]  & how long have you been awake ??
     [ txt. ]  i bet itâs not JUST BARELY NOON for you ! <(ïœ^ÂŽ)>
@gangleadiing  |  ask.
      eyes  soften  as  she  was  fussed  over  ââ  rarely  does  she  get  visibly  injured  ⊠ but,  alas,  bruises  and  bandages  were  inevitable  after  her  last  battle.  she  knew  she  should  refrain  from  seeing  him  like  this  ;  but  she  wanted,  or  rather,  needed  to.  there  was  an  unbearable  emptiness  when  he  wasnât  by  her  side  ⊠ perhaps  thatâs  why  she  managed  to  come  back  again  and  again. â  sorry  ⊠ i  know  i  was  gone  for  a  while  ⊠ i  have  some  explaining  to  do.  â  //  @gangleadiing
@gangleadiing because why tf not.
     Footfalls CEASE, militant air nigh suffocating in its STEELED exudation. Lithe digits are CONCEALED per confinement to the front pockets of DARKENED denim. Only the SLIGHTEST of glances is spared to he oâer shoulder, RISEN brow apparent in turn of ROSEATE crown. A serendipitous hue BETRAYING of hardened persona with its SOFT sheen. A clear of throat is INTENDED to gain full attentiveness of the youth, words to BLOOM in lieu.          â You coming along, or not? â

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.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
        The Yellow Turbans? Apparently, theyâre quite popular--or so her friends say. Honestly, she doesnât know much about them. So, when she finds herself on vacation overseas--luck has it that the bandâs back in town for a show. Which brings her, here. The blonde standing in the middle of the crowd as the people cheer and holler.Â
Maybe she shouldnât have come to a concert alone. There she stands, watching. Feeling herself get into the beat and body naturally reacting. Though, clearly nowhere near the extent of the others surrounding her. Something just felt a little--off. Cerulean hues set upon each member of the group, one by one. The lead guitarist, last. Thatâs when it hit her. His singingâs definitely off-key. Not completely terrible or âbooâ worthy, but definitely off-key.
Just as sheâs about to shift her gaze, she catches herself make eye contact. Half-expecting him to look away, she does nothing. Though, the eye contact remains--catching an air of familiarity. And so it remains. The two catching glimpses of each other through the remainder of the show.
@gangleadiing
@gangleadiing /  âĄ
    thereâs no way in HELL that boyâs a natural blonde. holden hates people who dye their hair -- itâs so goddamn PHONY. â thatâs not your natural hair, is it ? â he asks, quick and to the point. he figureâs itâs a little dumb to pose it as a question, but simply telling the boy that his hair is unnatural would be a little odd and frankly redundant in retrospect.Â
@gangleadiing â€âd for a thingy !
     His perception is a heightened one, and he can sense immediately when a SMALL WEIGHT is taken from his person. Turning his head a little, he sees the silhouette of a young boy just at his side, walking his opposite direction on the road. Reading his movements already leads to a general conclusion, and he stops walking, not wanting to look the boy in the eye.
     â You know, â he begins, tilting his SUGEGASA a little to let some light into the dim shadows cast by his hat, â you should learn to steal FOOD PACKS from strangers is without getting caught, that you should. â  Â