Noxioustoxins - Words On A Page

U ever start smth and ur like haha this is such a cute SKETCH and then it turns into a 10hr painting. Anyway heres astral plane viktor as ponyo's mother

Tim, on his 13th attempt to sneak out of the mansion to go on patrol with the flu and walking pneumonia: I didn’t “lose” my spleen. To lose something is to imply you don’t know where it is, and I know exactly where my spleen is; it just isn’t in my body-

Alfred, tired™ and armed with a tranquilizer: Even so, Master Drake, I must insist you get back into bed.

I genuinely can’t draw anything right now if it’s not Tim Drake

[Tim walks in wearing a shirt that reads “i fucked an alien and all i got was this dumb Tshirt and a chest cavity full of eggs”]

Tim: hey Conner do you find this offensiv-

Conner: yes

wally and dick doodle bc I love them and experimenting with outfits

BEAST BOYY!

he's the type to have his whole notes app dedicated to cheesy pick-up lines and bad puns

THE DATE pt 2: old habits die hard

Now I can’t stop. I’m condemned to draw Damian and Capybaras forever

tiny kon and krypto running from a t-rex in adventure comics (2009) #6, for your viewing pleasure

have a little snippet of something I'm writing but can't seem to figure out

_____ JayTim_____

Jason had seen Tim in many different suits, and most of the time he couldn’t tell you the difference between one or the other, or why Tim had decided on that particular suit for that moment. He had once said that a suit and a tux were different and Jason had just walked away. This was all information that seemed to benefit Tim but to Jason, a hood rat to Red Hood, he really didn’t care. Whatever he was wearing, Tim looked good, suit, tux, whatever. The jacket, dress shirt, and trouser combo was as good as his everyday attire, despite it being as much of a costume as his vigilante wear.

However, Jason had not seen Tim in a crop top, short shorts, and fishnets before.

And he still looked good. Great even.

Tim was lean, muscular, due to the nature of their night time activities, but he never seemed to gain the size that Jason had. It made him nimble and sly in a fight, moves which apparently translated very well to the dance floor of a loud and crowded club.

Sweat glistened down Tim’s arms, causing the neon flashing lights to shine like body glitter, highlighting Tim’s sharp nose and high cheekbones. He moved freely, slick movements that had no forethought, and yet were so controlled Tim must have known where every molecule in his body was as they thrummed to the beat of an unintelligible bass line.

“Tim?” Jason hoped his voice cut through the pounding music, “What are you doing here?”

Tim raised his eyebrows, his lips curled into a sarcastic smirk. Jason rolled his eyes.

“You’re leaving.” Jason said, his lips so close to Tim’s ear they grazed the round slopes of his outer ear.

“No, I’m not.” Tim shouted back, pulling back to look Jason in the eye.

They were close. A bump from the crowd could push them together into a kiss if they were any less stable. Tim’s lips were so close, his breath fast on Jason’s mouth, a reminder of the lapse in judgment and restraint which caused Tim such anguish. Jason’s grip on his arm tightened and pull him into Jason’s warm chest.

“You look like a whore!” Jason felt the rasp of his throat more than he heard it, and hoped Tim took it for anger, though Jason knew that wasn’t its origin.

Tim whipped his head around, ripping his arm out of Jason’s grip, “Maybe I am a whore!” he screamed back. He turned back around and made his way deeper into the crowd, closer to the stage, and like a Robin in the night, he slipped away.