joanofpen

[joanofpen]

2 genres of fanfiction:

1) put that guy into situations

2) take that guy OUT of situations for the love of GOD let them REST 

[joanofpen]

Weird. My first thought was that his arms are really skinny compared to the rest of him.

‘germanic warrior with helmet’ - osmar schindler (1902)

[joanofpen]

I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.

You know the kind of shows I mean.

The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.

So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.

Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)

(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))

Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.

[joanofpen]

You know, after a hundred days of strike, I have noticed absolutely no differences.

I mean, they say shows are canceled because of it, but they would cancel shows for any reason or no reason at all. They often wouldn't tell us one way or another for months or years. Functionally, the uncertainty is the same.

The same goes for delays. How the hell am I supposed to tell if some show or another was delayed? They were never released in any sort of timely fashion before. What does a delay even mean when there is nothing even resembling a schedule? I mean, there wasn't even something like "within the first two weeks of august we will put something up for you to watch."

Zero accountability means they got away with whatever bullshit practices they wanted to, but now its cutting both ways. Any claim that this strike is negatively impacting me is meaningless because Netflix and most the other entities like them have built a system where it is extremely difficult to hold anyone accountable for anything.

And now they seem to think they can just bring accountability back? If they had numbers they could point to maybe it would work, but that's half the battle here. They are desperate to avoid releasing anything that tells anyone outside the company what the hell is going on. So we are just supposed to take their word for it, no really bro, it's actually really bad for you and all the strikers fault if only you could see the numbers that we refuse to show you, you're just gonna have to trust us bro.

[joanofpen]

As someone who has organized a gangbang, it is SO HARD to Wrangle People towards the sexy parts and away from the crafted table of snacks which just so happens to be in front of your book shelf and OMG you have THIS gaming System?? That was Kickstarter exclusive! Like, no. Stop. Please return the game book to the shelf and remove your clothes. Please?

well thank god it's not just me

[joanofpen]

A housewife takes a lover during the day, while her husband is at work. Not aware that 9 year old son was hiding in the closet. Her husband came home unexpectedly, so she hid her lover in the closet. The boy now has company.

Boy: ‟Dark in here.” Man: ‟Yes it is.” Boy: ‟I have a baseball.” Man: ‟That’s nice.” Boy: ‟Want to buy it?” Man: ‟No, thanks.” Boy: ‟That’s my dad outside.” Man: ‟How much did you say the baseball was again?” Boy: ‟$250.”

In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the mom’s lover are in the closet together.

Boy: ‟Dark in here.” Man: ‟Yes, it is..” Boy: ‟I have a baseball glove.” Man: ‟That’s nice.” Boy: ‟Want to buy it?” Man: ‟No, thanks.” Boy: ‟I think I just remembered something I needed to tell my dad.” Man: ‟How much did you say the glove was again?” Boy: ‟$750.” Man: ‟Fine.”

A few days later, the father says to the boy, ‟Grab your glove. Let’s go outside and toss the baseball!” The boy says, ‟I can’t. I sold them.” The father asks, ‟How much did you sell them for?” The son says, ‟$1,000.” The father says, ‟It’s terrible to over-charge your friends like that. That is way more than those two things cost. I’m going to take you to church and make you confess.”

They go to church and the father alerts the priest and makes the little boy sit in the confession booth and closes the door.

The boy says, ‟Dark in here.” The priest says, ‟Do not start that shit again.”

[joanofpen]

[joanofpen]

This is just The Magnus Institute.

[joanofpen]

[joanofpen]

Font sites are a joy and delight.

June 12 2023

I'm deciding on a new font for our logo and one of these images is not like the others........

My tasks this week are to make a tutorial video about how to use multiplayer (which will be launching this month!!!!!), and to make some edits to our graphic design...

Because our current font makes the 'N' in Figmin lowercase, many people misread the name as 'Figma' - which is an entirely different software altogether. My goal is to find a new font with better readability that still captures the same retro, whimsical feel as our current one!

I'm also gonna be removing the person silhouette from all our banner designs. The silhouette is less detailed than everything else and kinda doesn't mesh well - also, it's a silhouette of a male and I don't really wanna have any particular gendered-ness to our marketing.

Figmin is for everyone, and I want our graphic design to reflect that!

[joanofpen]

I’m hoping some of my writblr friends can help this break containment but I have questions.

I’m doing publishing research and looking at self publishing. Can anybody who has self published talk about your experiences? Does your book get to the demographic you want it to? Do any self published books go into print or is it mainly online? It seems like a lot of people are for it over trad publishing but I think it still scares me a little.

[joanofpen]

283,000 likes………giant meteor strike the earth rn holy shit. oh my god.

[joanofpen]

Shana, this is one of the stories I'm most invested in and I'm *delighted* that you've continued it, even a little. 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💞✨💞💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

(I'm not the requester.)

Happy happy birthday 🎂🎉🥳 Are you still doing the “cursed identity porn” au where LWJ can’t really see the Yiling Patriarch (because the mask?), but still tries to settle into being married to him? (Or JC traveling back in time?) Thanks!

a continuation of 1

“Where do you want the talisman?”

Lan Wangji looks up from checking over his pack one last time to see his husband in his doorway. He lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m going to be wearing the mask but there’s no reason for the enchantment to affect you,” Wei Wuxian says. “You already know what I look like. I have to paint it somewhere on your body – preferably someplace there’s no chance of anyone else seeing.”

Ah. That explains why Wen Qing have never seemed to have the same problems looking at Wei Wuxian that everyone else did during the war.

Lan Wangji considers several locations before untying his belt and shrugging off several layers of robes, letting them pool at his elbows and leaving his chest bare. “Wherever you think is best.”

Wei Wuxian hasn’t so much as given him a covetous glance since their marriage. Lan Wangji can endure it, if he must, endure the lack of his husband’s affection and even endure the way he seems so willing to share it with others. He does not have the soft, delicate features and willowy body of Wen Ning, Meng Yao, or Jiang Yanli. But if nothing else, his place as the number two most eligible male cultivator means that he’s not without his charms.

If he is completely outside of his husband’s tastes, it’s best that he knows that now.

He braces himself for indifference, keeping his expression bland to ensure that Wei Wuxian can’t see how surely it’ll crush him.

“Oh! Uh, um, sure, great,” Wei Wuxian says, voice at least two pitches higher than it is normally as his eyes dart up then down several times, blood rushing to his cheeks and painting them scarlet.

Lan Wangji stares. He has seen Wei Wuxian walk across a battlefield and stare down sect leaders and be harassed by a dozen uncles at once and surrounded by three screaming children and never has he seemed as out of sorts as he does right now.

He lifts up the brush and hesitates. “Is it okay – do you mind if I, is this okay?”

“Yes. You can touch me anywhere,” he says.

Wei Wuxian freezes, blinking rapidly before he swallows. “Oh. Kay.”

This is the best day of Lan Wangji’s life.

His husband steps closer, curling one hand around his bare shoulder to keep him steady and using the other to make small, sure brush strokes against the skin of his left side of his chest, right above his heart. He likes the symbolism. He also likes how Wei Wuxian’s blush doesn’t fade at all.

“There,” he says a few moments later. “Just give it time to dry and it should be fine for a week or so, then I’ll have to reapply. “

“Thank you,” he says, quirking his lips up at the corners when Wei Wuxian finally manages to look him in the eye

His returning grin is blinding. His eyes fall lower twice more before he leaves and Lan Wangji feels the low hum of satisfaction down his spine that he normally only gets from a particularly difficult spar.

His husband is capable of finding him attractive.

He just has to somehow encourage this behavior.

Twenty minutes later Meng Yao sticks his head into his room and demands, “What did you do to him?”

Lan Wangji pauses. Is he upset that he’s gotten Wei Wuxian’s attention? He never seems to mind Wen Ning, but perhaps that arrangement has already been settled between them and he sees Lan Wangji as an intrusion, regardless of his status.

“This is hilarious. Whatever it was, do it again,” he orders before continuing his way down the hall.

With pleasure.

[joanofpen]

Love that they put “a sense of impending doom” as one of the symptoms of a heart attack, like girl, that’s just how it is to be alive these days, you’re gonna have to be more specific

[joanofpen]

i'm not the praying sort, but i'll probably always have a soft spot for the astronaut's prayer

[joanofpen]

Every time there's a big writer's strike or whatnot it becomes starkly clear how many self-proclaimed leftists think that only people who perform manual labour which results in a physical product that you can hold in your hands count as workers and everybody else is a parasite of some description.