#40 minutes of the time was the line art...
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I've decideeeed to do a "draw fast" experiment this week. Basically: given a sketch I already have on hand, I have to get to "finish" (new line art, flats, & shading) in under two hours - the closer to 1hr, the better.
The idea with this is that, like... trying to get a fast time will keep me from sitting and overthinking things, then fidgeting with it. I just gotta get stuff on the page. Don't know how, if at all, it'll help my art, but I think it'll be fun.
I figured my "three iteration" sketches I did last week were good ones to use, so have some Leo's for today. This one was at 1hr 32min.
#REUPLOAD because I put it on the Wrong Blog#to the one person who already reblogged the original post... sorry.#40 minutes of the time was the line art...#hope I can speed that up#still figuring out how to draw the 03 turtles and I think it shows lol#and I really should have turned 03 leo's head a different direction#with the way Rise was puling his mask tails#but ehhh gotta go fast#by the time I realized it was too late so I left it#BUT I really like the lighting in some places#specifically on Rise!leo#tmnt#rottmnt#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2003#yza draws a thing
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Im kind of intimidated but also thank you long term togami fans for being around... like Wow.. i admire you and think you are pretty cool. 7 years going strong with this guy and theres people whove been with it for 10+!!!!!! insane ... I must get to your level... Soon..
#byakuya togami#dumb ramble#i was a young little lad when i discovered danganronpa and it was probably either the worst or best thing to happen to me i cant tell#i feel like if i did not discover byakuya my obsession wouldve stuck with kyoya from ouran Was I Doomed from the Start?!#tbh ouran was my first anime ever i was like what 8 years old i did not understand a thing⥠Um but i appreciate the foolishness and the#beach episode simply does not exist to me!#every character there was so fucking stupid#ok but thats besides the point Thanks byakuya togami for existing you did your job as an ultimate#Now come here and let me bash you into a wall#i used to be like really bad obsessed id read his wiki page every day and listen to his 40-50 minute voice line video on youtube all the way#through to the end#multiple times#sick and twisted middle schooler#nowadays he kinda just lingers in my brain everyday and i feel immense joy when i see him in something new and unique#whether its AUs or sensible headcanons or cool ass fanfic or art or even official merch đ„čLike wow youre so cute. little Amoeba KILL HIM#sorry#i think discovering selfshipping was really cool and actually helped me a lot Although its...#what i was doing the entire time without even realizing#BUT FIGURING OUT ITS A THING ONLINE was really cool and im glad its making a resurgence and its more common in online spaces to just#straight up say you are a selfshipper for a character#people who share(either protective or otherwise) and are kind >>>>#i understand those who are nonsharing tbh just dont tell people to kill themselves in your rentries pleasw⥠Thanks
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Still reviving my old flash animations, still not sorry, still have to work in thd morning and still overcaffeinated fight me!!.. please.. getting knocked out means I go to sleep..
This one actually only took like 30 mins at the time
I go out to Amtgard (local larp community) to swordfight, and 2 blade is probably my preferred style, other than spear, spear is just best weapon, point is I understood the motions going in
#dislocated my shoulder at amtgard a few months back#hadn't gone in a while cuz covid kinda shut it down and I moved onto other things#finally came back and did really well at first#won 9 straight fights in line ditching#completely exhausted I throw the one handed longsword equivalent of a haymaker and lever my shoulder right out its socket#land on my back and can't get up to dangle it back in#on my back for 40 minutes and EMTs won't pop it back in#they had to bring me to the hospital to do it there#ambulance hit every goddamn pothole#honestly probably traumatise my gf more than me#ive been hit by worse#one time an suv#story for another time#regained my mobility slowly over 6 weeks#physiotherapy works#went out again last weekish for the second first time in a while#didn't explode#progress#art#my art#flash animation#2d animation#animation#flash#sword#fruit ninja#fruit#ninja
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So I was doing my rounds of rewatching speed paints of my own art to entertain myself...
I think it might be slightly obvious that I do all shading by hand instead of using a blur tool.
"I don't look the looks of him. He's young to be a prisoner, and those muscles?"
"...Lets not tell him about his father, aye?"
#I did use it for Hookfang's glow but only because it took three days to draw all the scales#I'm sorry I'll never do it again#But also that is 40+ minutes.#Max speed.#Max speed how the actual fuck did I get 40 minutes???#I thought I was tweaking so I started watching (screenshot above to show a pal)#No. I gave up at four minutes in.#I was in the middle of adding the shading to the scales from before I'd blurred them#That art isn't even my best why did I spend so much time it was basically filler art???#Crazy#If you zoom in on any art majority of the time you can see each shading layer#Which is âclunkyâ but I think separated me from the crowd#I need not fancy lines because my hands quiver like an earthquake if I actually tried proper those lines would be drunk#đđđ
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Happy Birthday
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader
Summary: (1.5k) After your friends forget your birthday, a stranger interrupts your plans to celebrate by yourself.
Background: Requested by a lovely anon last night. Happy (belated) Birthday! May you find some better friends, as well as a sweet (and/or whatever youâre into đ) Bucky!
Warnings: Disappointing birthday. Fluff. Meet cute? Very brief mention of insecurities (both). Sweet Bucky.
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You arenât expecting much on your birthday - a phone call, a text, maybe even a card in the mail from one of your friends - but, the day passes like any other.Â
Your phone remains relatively silent, devoid of new notifications every time you give in to the urge to look, the disappointment growing each time.Â
A bit of hope still remains, a part of you believing youâll hear from at least one of them by the time evening comes, that thereâll be some sort of acknowledgement of a day thatâs supposed to be celebrated.
Hours slowly tick by and still nothing. No one reaches out. Not one of your friends care enough to even remember to send a simple âHappy Birthday.â And now itâs almost too late to do anything about it.Â
The impulse to text them first dies before you even pick up your phone, deciding at the last minute to do something for yourself instead. As much as youâd love to have friends to wish you a happy birthday, the least you can do is celebrate on your own.
With most places already closed, given the late hour, you end up at a hole-in-the-wall diner, tucked away on a quiet street. Itâs not as empty as you expect it to be, a few patrons spread out along the booths lining the wall, a couple others sitting at opposite ends of the counter, all of them absorbed by their own form of distraction - a quiet conversation, their phone, a book.
Youâre barely even acknowledged as you walk in, the older man behind the counter passing you a menu on your way to your choice of the empty corner booth. Grateful that youâre not the only one eating alone at this late hour, you take your time choosing all your favorite items, determined to celebrate, even if itâs by yourself.
Itâs not until youâre standing at the counter to place your order that you take more notice of the man with the leather jacket, his face buried in a book. Heâs incredibly distracting, your gaze unceremoniously drifting to the stubble lining his jaw as you try to focus on getting your order right.Â
You donât know it, but he finds you equally distracting. From the moment you walked in, Bucky took notice, the familiar look of loneliness in your eyes drawing his attention. Itâs far from whatâs kept his interest though, the subtle air of confidence and determination surrounding you pulling his focus whenever youâre not looking.
The urge to initiate contact grows with every passing second, the itch to seek connection making him shift, his jaw twitching under your sporadic scrutiny. Heâs not even sure what to say, a simple âhiâ feeling too inconsequential, too impersonal.Â
And then youâre gone, having returned to your seat, waiting for your meal, the moment of possibilities dissipating before Bucky really had a chance to imagine what might happen.Â
Back in the 40âs, he wouldnât have thought twice about approaching you, and he certainly wouldnât have worried about saying the right thing or being rejected. But, Buckyâs not that man anymore and all the wishing isnât going to change that.Â
So, for now, he just watches you, careful to avoid your gaze, his heart beating wildly in his throat every time a smile crosses your face, your phone providing you some sort of entertainment.
Itâs the only distraction you have, your plethora of apps keeping you from staring at the man that feels like a walking piece of art. If today were any other day, itâs entirely possible youâd actually try to get his attention. Youâre already dealing with enough rejection though and youâre unable to handle the possibility of any more tonight.
Once your food comes, you force yourself to savor each bite, drawing out the last little bit of your birthday before itâs officially over. The disappointment over your friends will surely linger for days to come, so you may as well try to enjoy this as much as possible, no matter how alone you feel.
You save the best for last, returning to the counter to get a to-go box for your leftovers and placing an order for a slice of cake, barely managing to add, âitâs my birthdayâ at the last moment.Â
It leads to an awkward smile with the owner as he gives you a quick, âhappy birthdayâ in response, your cheeks flushing as you return to your booth. You werenât even planning to say it, no matter how much you rehearsed the words in your head before you went up there.
Once you were standing there, though, you felt like you deserved to hear âhappy birthdayâ once more before the night ends, even if itâs from a slightly forced interaction. Itâs not like you ever have to come back here anyway.
Itâs her birthday.
The decision is made before Bucky has a chance to talk himself out of it, slinking out of his seat after he bookmarks the page heâs read at least twenty times now. After a short conversation with the owner, who for some reason enjoys his quiet company, Bucky sneaks into the back to get to work.
He doesnât have nearly everything heâd like, but heâs resourceful, making do with what he has access to, intent on making this a happier birthday for you. Torn between getting it right, and not wanting to keep you waiting, it only takes a few minutes before heâs walking back out, his gloved hand hidden behind his back.
Youâre caught off guard when you see him approaching, his smile making your stomach flutter and your pulse race. Thereâs no denying that youâre his destination, his sure footsteps leading him straight to you, your lips parting prematurely, as if youâre capable of even saying anything first.
He doesnât give you a chance, the moment heâs within reach of your table, his hidden hand returns with a flourish, producing a haphazard birthday cake. Several pieces of different types of cake sit in a oddly-shaped circle, unlit mismatched candles placed around the barely legible words âHappy Birthday.â
Tears prick your eyes the same time laughter bubbles out of you, this sudden display of kindness leaving you speechless, a range of emotions washing over you.Â
He seems to take it in stride, his head tilting as his smile grows, telling you, âHappy Birthday.â He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, his brow raised as he holds it up to ask, âHow you feel about being center of attention? Say the word and I can get this place to sing to you.â
Youâre quick to shake your head as he starts to light the candles, your skin already warm from just his attention, your voice finding you long enough to tell him, âNo, I donât - thatâs okay - thank you.â
âFair enough,â he grins, finishing the last of the candles, your eyes drawn to the reflection of the flickering flames on the sleeve of his jacket.Â
Your mind is racing with things to say, wanting to remind him to be careful so he doesnât accidentally burn himself, to ask him if he works here, to figure out why heâs being so nice. No words come until heâs introducing himself to break the ice, asking for your name in return.
You almost stumble, your own name nearly forgotten as he sits across from you, his gloved hands pushing the cake a bit closer towards you.
âWell, itâs nice to officially meet you,â he says before a rueful smile graces his face. âNow, Iâm gonna have to sing âhappy birthday.ââ When you open your mouth to protest, he shakes his head, telling you, âIt just doesnât seem right to have you blow out your candles without it.â
Another shake of your head to assure him, âYou donât have to do that.âÂ
âOh, I definitely do,â he promises with a swift nod, his tongue peaking out to wet his lips in preparation. âItâs not really a birthday celebration without it, but I promise not to draw too much attention.â
After a quick glance around the diner, ignoring the knowing look from the owner, Bucky does as promised, keeping his voice low enough not to make any of the other customers want to join in as he sings âHappy Birthdayâ to you.
As overwhelmed as it makes you feel, itâs hard to ignore the warmth that settles over you, each line of the song erasing some of the disappointment from the day. Hearing your name fall from his lips, even as part of the song, finally breaks your resolve, the tears that have been threatening to build starting to blur your vision.
If Bucky notices, he keeps it to himself, encouraging you to buy into the premise and close your eyes to make a wish. Itâs hard not to give in, finally letting yourself live fully in the moment, to allow yourself to be celebrated with a complete stranger.
The wish you make isnât anything new, but as you open your eyes, finding Bucky still smiling at you, ready to cut the cake and continue this celebration, youâre struck with a feeling thatâs impossible to shake.
Maybe today isnât about rejection after all, maybe you just needed to be reminded of what you deserve.
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Happy Birthday, anon! I wasn't sure what you were looking for, but I hope you like it. Feel free to ask for a continuation đ©¶
Everyone, please use the comments (or reblogs!) to wish anon a happy birthday!
Main Masterlist
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x plus size female reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky barnes x curvy reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky#bucky fanfiction#bucky fic#bucky x plus size female reader#bucky x plus size reader#bucky x curvy reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you#fanfiction#fic#x plus size female reader#x plus size reader#x curvy reader#x female reader#x reader#x you#sebastian stan#das fic#das ask
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Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things canât stay hidden and starts to question whatâs real and whatâs fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 3.6K
Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you donât like, donât read, but if you do like, youâre my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Main Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Chapter 2

Present Day
Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.
What?
You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.
At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.
You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.
Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?
For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.
When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.
You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.
Sobriety sucked.
The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.
"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.
Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.
Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.
You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.
"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.
The younger guy snorts.
"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.
"Who's asking?"
He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. Weâre from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."
At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.
It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.
That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.
Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-
You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"
"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.
"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."
âNo.â Agent Butcher holds up a photo.
You keep your face impassive. Itâs a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them. Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.
âYouâre here to talk to me about my mom?â You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.
âYour mom?â Agent Campbell looks confused.
âYeah. Indigo? I mean yâall can come in if you want-â You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. âI apologize in advance. Iâm not quite myself, I was up late working.â You pause halfway into the kitchen. âIâm going to make some coffee, you guys want some?â You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"
âCoffee is fine."
You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.
You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.
You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.
So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.
Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.
You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.
"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.
"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.
Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?
"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.
"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.
âYouâre really good.â Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.
âThanks.â
âSo your mum eh?â Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.
He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.
âYes?â You raise an eyebrow to challenge him
âYou look a lot like her.â
âThanks. I think thereâs a compliment in there somewhere.â You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."
"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.
"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.
"How did you-â
"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.
The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.
âBut you have the same name.â Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.
âShe named me after herself. Iâm sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."
âRight.â Agent Butcher smiles, but itâs tight lipped.
You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?â
âWell is your mum around-â
You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."
They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.
âReally? I thought Indigo-â Itâs enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.
âDonât read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldnât protect her from that.â You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.
Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.
âIt wasnât in the news.â He grunts.
âThey covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Canât be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesnât look good.â You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. âWhat did you want to talk to her about?â
âSoldier Boy.â Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.
âDid she talk to you at all about him?â Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.
âYeah.â You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. âHe really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."
The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.
âIâm so sorry for your loss.â Hughie looks sincere when he says it.
Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.
âItâs been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. Itâs kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.â You smile to yourself at the joke.
âSo youâre a supe?â Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.
âNo I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesnât work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasnât a supe so maybe it just diluted.â You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air.Â
âBut she did talk to you about him?â Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.
âYeah.â
âAnd?â
âI mean what do you want to hear? Thereâs a lot.â The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.
âStart at the beginning.â
âWell.â You take another sip of coffee. âI donât know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia. All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-â You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.
âThey were dating?â Agent Butcher asks.
The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.
âNo, but he really hurt her-â You avoid their gaze.
âWhat did he do?â Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.
âThey had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.â
âDo you know anything about how he died?â
The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.
âIt hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.â
âWas she there when Soldier Boy died?â Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.
âNo. She left Payback before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.â You force a shrug. âI think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.â
âSo she didnât know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?â Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.
You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. âWhat are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.â
âWell I think weâve wasted enough of your time.â
They get up to leave.
âWait-â
 Agent Butcher turns to look at you.Â
âWhy are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"
"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."
You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.
âSo do you believe her?â Hughieâs voice echoes in your ears.
âNot a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."
Russia? Why would they go to Russia?
You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.
You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadnât been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didnât eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.
You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.
She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-
Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.
You think again about Countess. She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.
Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)
Taglist: @roseblue373
#jensen ackles soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#the boys#the boys fanfic#soldier boy#the boys amazon#jensen#soldier boy/ben#soldier boy fic#soldier boy fanfiction#jensen ackles#the boys series#the boys season 3
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This started as a 1-hour challenge. I managed to do the line art and colors in under 40 minutes. But shading was the real challenge⊠the shading and editing took about 5 hours? I'm being generous about the time here really⊠so yeah. somewhat happy with it.
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How do you have the time to manage art with so many other interests?
I HAVE NO IDEA. I'm juggling uni, character design, hiking, vintage toy restoration, birdwatching, painting figurines, and everyday chores and I do NOT know how I'm doing it. I thiiink if I had any tip it would be to do a little bit of everything, and it doesn't have to be daily. I go hiking once a week, I restore vintage toys every few weeks to a month, I go to uni daily but work on art during lectures, I paint figurines while studying via vidio/audio, and I completely ignore my chores until I get freaked out at the mess and have to force myself to do them [:
ANOTHER THING! if you look closely at my art, you'll notice I use a pencil brush and some of the lines are a little sketchy. this is both a stylistic choice AND an amazing timesaver! I don't really Do sketches. only for commissions where I'll need to check in with the client to change poses, clothes, expressions, etc. my lineart IS my sketch. this means I can cut my drawing time in HALF a lot of the time.
this took me around 40 minutes!
#thank you for the ask!! I know it was a genuine question but I'm also flattered because I do NOT think I'm managing all my interests well#so it's nice to hear that someone thinks I'm doing one billion things at once and have sage advice to offer#WHICH I HOPE I HAVE!!!#the guy is an OC for a world my friend (HAPPY BIRTHDAY) is making!!!!
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youtube
this video sucks ass lmfao
so heres a list of things i found ass about this video:
the video suggests that the best way to handle modern nazi sympathizers is through ridicule, but that alone isnt rlly helpful. laughing at them doesnât actively counter their ideology, dismantle their rhetoric, etc. "pointing and laughing" doesnât challenge the structural and ideological foundations that allow nazis to persist.
literally just fifteen minutes of dancing around the idea of engaging with reichblr members, at one point saying, "use your judgment" when it comes to harassment [1:40]. and then saying "if theyre adults, um, someone needs to punch them in the face" [3:52] casually encouraging assault against innocent people
"holocaust is not a joking matter in any way whatsoever it's it's straight up awful and I disagree with anyone turning into a joke" who joked about the holocaust. who??? nobody on reichblr, as far as ive been here, has joked about the holocaust
the creator claims to respect history and historical research while dismissing entire parts of the history community (reichblr) they personally donât like. for example, preferring "smart people" in certain history communities while dunking on the reichblr community, this comes off as arbitrary.
the video spends more time ridiculing the artistic quality of fan art but not a single second addressing actual nazis. which i personally think is a waste of time & was supposed to be the point of the video but okay.
"to this day there is still a very vocal minority of individuals that like them [nazis]" no, no there isnt. if there are, theyre not in the reichblr community.
also they use artwork, some from my moots, without permissions. pretty sure thats not ethical. oh and they called their art a "waste of time & skill" which is just a dick move and such an unnecessary comment to make on a video that discusses (or atleast tried to) something so serious as nazis.
"like glorifying nazi germany is horrible" [4:55] no proof of anybody glorifying nazi germany. then continues to say "nobody needs to be drawing that [anime hitler]" which makes me think their supposed idea of a nazi is somebody who just draws nazis then support them.
overall the video feels so confusing. itâs hard to tell what the creatorâs actual point is because theyâre jumping between mocking random nazi-related fan art and discussing extreme online subcultures without a clear direction. it sounds like theyâre mostly frustrated with people who romanticize nazi imagery onlineâparticularly the niche reichblr stuffâbut then they go off on tangents about how these people might be dumb, or how their art is bad, without actually addressing the deeper, more dangerous parts of neo-nazi ideology.
the video seems to be trying to say that anyone who engages with or posts nazi-related content (even as art or a joke which ninety percent of the reichblr fandom does) is problematic, but then doesnt make it clear where the line is. are they talking about people who simply appreciate history? or those who glorify nazi leaders and their actions? its unclear.
plus, the mocking tone just adds confusion because they mock the fan art but also say that mocking them isnât enough, but then the creator doesnât really offer any solutions or actions beyond "laugh at them."
i did watch this video while half asleep (im also writing this half asleep but shhh), but if i can still find bullshit in ur video with one of my eyes closed and my brain struggling to work i think u may be in the wrong.
in summary the creator js rants, makes unnecessary comments about art they dont like, and cannot even be bothered to point out any real nazis amongst the reichblr community by simply generalising all of us into being a nazi.
its crazy how they claimed artist on reichblr were wasting their time and skill on their art whilst the creator of this video actually wasted their time making this dumbass video that didnt proove or disproove shit.
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Propaganda
Yvonne De Carlo (Frontier Gal, The Ten Commandments, Casbah)â Although most famous for playing Lily Munster in The Munsters, Yvonne De Carlo had a successful movie career throughout the 1940s and 1950s, appearing in such films as âThe Ten Commandmentsâ, âSea Devilsâ and two Munster movies later in life.
Setsuko Hara (Tokyo Story, Late Spring, The Idiot)â "'The only time I saw Susan Sontag cry,' a writer once told me, his voice hushed, 'was at a screening of a Setsuko film.' What Setsuko had wasnât glamourâshe was just too sensible for thatâit was glow, one that ebbed away and left you concerned, involved. You got the sense that this glow, like that of dawn, couldnât be bought. But her smiles were human and held minute-long acts, ones with important intermissions. When she looked away, she absented herself; you felt that sheâd dimmed a fire and clapped a lid on something about to spill. Over the last decade, whenever anyone brought up her lipsâ'Setsukoâs eternal smile,' critics said, that day we learned that sheâd diedâI thought instead of the thing she made us feel when she let it fall." - Moeko Fujii
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]
Yvonne de Carlo:

The woman who brought Burt Lancaster to his knees.


Setsuko Hara:

One of the best Japanese actresses of all time; a symbol of the golden era of Japanese cinema of the 1950s After seeing a Setsuko Hara film, the novelist Shësaku Endà wrote: "We would sigh or let out a great breath from the depths of our hearts, for what we felt was precisely this: Can it be possible that there is such a woman in this world?"


One of the greatest Japanese actresses of all time!! Best known for acting in many of Yasujiro Ozu's films of the 40s and 50s. Also she has a stunning smile and beautiful charm!



Linked gifset
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She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

"No other actor has ever mastered the art of the smile to the same extent as Setsuko Hara (1920â2015), a celebrated star and highly regarded idol who was one of the outstanding actors of 40s and 50s Japanese cinema. Her radiant smile floods whole scenes and at times cautiously undermines the expectations made of her in coy, ironic fashion. Yet her smile's impressive range also encompasses its darker shades: Hara's delicate, dignified, melancholy smile with which she responds to disappointments, papers over the emotions churning under the surface, and flanks life's sobering realizations. Her smiles don't just function as a condensed version of her ever-precise, expressive, yet understated acting ability, they also allow the very essence of the films they appear in to shine through for a brief moment, often studies of the everyday, post-war dramas which revolve around the break-up of family structures or the failure of marriages. Her performances tread a fine line between social expectation and personal desire in post-war Japan, as Hara attempts to lay claim to the autonomy of the female characters she plays â frequently with a smile." [link]

Leading lady of classic Japanese cinema with a million dollar smile
Maybe the most iconic Japanese actress ever? She rose to fame making films with Yasujiro Ozu, becoming one of the most well-known and beloved actresses in Japan, working from the 30s through the 60s in over 100 hundred. She is still considered one of the greatest Japanese actresses ever, and in my opinion, just one of the greatest actresses of all time. And she was HOT! Satoshi Kon's film Millennium Actress was largely based on her life and her career.

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Saw your reblog! Could have sworn I sent an ask in a bit ago but Iâll try again just in case. ^^
Hello! I really enjoy a lot of your Penny/Maru art and headcanons. However, recently I saw you were also fond of Jodi/Caroline. I was curious as to what headcanons you had of the two and/or if you had any possible art for the ship? :0
I did see your other ask, and I was hanging onto it because I actually haven't drawn Jodi/Caroline yet but I wanted to for a while, and didn't have time to reply this week until now! I also knew this was gonna take a while to write up haha so thanks for being patient
this is the first time I've drawn them! I put a little bit of how I draw Abigail and Sam into their features c:
Headcanons and stuff below the cut because it's really long
The whole ship for me spawned from like⊠when I was first playing stardew, I noticed Caroline has so much dialog about how she's frustrated with Pierre for being so consumed with work that he's absent when it comes to his family. She also doesn't seem to like being a homemaker, having lines about getting takeout often, while Pierre seems to value those things, as shown in that Abigail heart event where he wants her to help with the cooking at home đŹ And in Jodi's case, she's really badly overworked and talks repeatedly about regretting having kids so young and not being able to live her life. Though after learning more about Sam's storyline, I'm a little less empathetic toward Jodi as I initially was because she's the type of mom who takes on more work for herself and then complains she's overwhelmed, instead of like, having her kids or husband do chores to ease the burden. And like of course Jodi and Caroline are always talking together in the plaza, or at festivals đ
So this is the basis: They're both unhappy with their families/husbands, and I could imagine a scenario where they both just throw it all away for each other. If you'd want it to be extra angsty, you could have them be really conflicted and question whether it was the right choice, but they've already come that far so they're afraid that they wouldn't be able to go back even if they wanted to now. I suppose you could also have them just be cheating on their husbands if that's your thing, but I personally hate infidelity and am really choosy about how and when it's used in a story, so I would be happier with them just cutting ties and running off together.
Since I've started writing my fic, and thus had them in it as side characters, I've started writing their husbands as all being more attentive than in the canon (Demetrius to Robin especially-- I know we're not talking about them currently but I'm such a ride or die for Demetrius I feel the need to say đ) so I haven't thought as much about this ship as I did right when I very first got into stardew valley. But I think the potential is there!!
Maybe it starts as like.. they're having these green tea afternoons together and Caroline feels so good being appreciated and listened to for once, and Jodi feels so at peace being able to relax even just for a few minutes, that they're like oh god⊠I kind of want this forever. This, and nothing else. It's a selfish choice but it's also something understandable, given how unhappy they are and how much they've put their families before themselves. What if for once, they put themselves first and just absolutely salt the earth on their way out? đ
I think also that Caroline gives off the vibes that she's adventurous? It's kinda implied in some of her dialog (I think especially if you romance Abigail?) that she was a wild young woman who never saw herself settling down even though she ultimately did. In Jodi's case, she had Sam so young she never got to properly enjoy her youth. So I think they would have a blast together living out the wild 20's they never got to experience now that they're women in their 40's :3 and they kiss of course that's the most important part đ
#jodiline#sdv jodi#sdv caroline#stardew valley#sdv#headcanons#replies#sdv fanart#stardew valley fanart
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"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell
There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?
It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.
You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.
You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!
Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.
COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)
Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.
There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.
You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.
No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.
We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.
COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)
"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga
I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?
While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".
Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."
BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.
Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.
You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.
It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.
COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)
"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger
It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:
"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.
Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.
You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.
COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky
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Girls time with Alyssa, continued
Strolling the storybook streets of Vieux-Montréal (Old Montreal) with my friend and tour guide, Alyssa! @alyssa-ai
We started on cobblestoned Rue Saint-PaulâMontrealâs oldest street, paved way back in 1672 when fur traders hauled their pelts from the river to the market. Today itâs lined with indie jewelers, art galleries, and boutiques, so of course we had to do some shopping. ïżŒ
Fast-forward to golden hour and we slipped into Restaurant Bonaparte, (Alyssa must know someone to get us in last minute) nestled inside a 19th-century brick beauty just steps from Notre-Dame. The roomâs Empire-style chandeliers have been twinkling over classic French plates for 40 years. The Fleur de saumon fumĂ© was delicious!!
Thank you Alyssa for a wonderful day, and for showing me around your beautiful city. Maybe next time we can do it near my home.
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i'm loving seeing you post more of your art!! out of curiosity, how long have you been drawing? is there anything specific you do to practice or do you just pick something and draw it? (i've been trying to learn to draw myself for the past year or so, and seeing your art more often has become somewhat of an inspiration for me!)
ive been doodling all my life! thought when i say "doodle" i mean "as an unmedicated youth i was unable to focus on a drawing for more than 45 minutes at a time"
here's some posts from an art blog i had in middle school, and the first year of highschool.




what most critically separates this art from the art ive been doing recently is that i NEVER used any refrence. ever. i looked at stuff to make sure i knew what it looked like, but the rest was always roughly estimated based on what i thought would look good (which was largely based on cartoons).
but i only ever started trying to "learn how to draw" over the past year. here's the thing: spending a bunch of hours practicing drawing cubes and cylinders is like. all you have to do to see yourself start improving in real time.
draw a bunch of cubes and cylinders, and learn how to make them look realistic in proportion to each other using references to guide you. practice drawing stuff like basic buildings, cans of soda, maybe a cake (3 short fat cylinders on top of each other) if you're feeling daring. then try to draw slightly more complicated shapes, like spheres and cones and stuff. layer these shapes on top of each other to make more complicated shapes. you're gettin the picture.
infuriatingly, basic shapes is like 40% of the "getting it to click" work done.
after than, move on to 30 second sketches of nude models using this site. yeah, only 30 seconds. it doesnt matter if it comes out looking like shit, the point is learning how to simplify complicated shapes down into their most basic lines. dont waste time erasing. dont waste time pressing ctrl-z. erasing is your enemy. you arent learning how to erase, you're learning how to draw. (you'll get your eraser back later).
do this hundreds of times. yeah, hundreds. put on a podcast or something. get in a voice call with your friends. but ya gotta practice this one. that's the next 20% of making it "click".
now, unfortunately, the last 40% is just a matter of slamming your head against the wall of art until things slowly start to look better and better. it's sort of like a chemical formula, in that the closer you get to 100% purity, the more and more difficult it becomes to distill it.
the key is to ALWAYS use reference. you cannot learn how to realistically draw something you've conjured from your mind if you cannot depict something that's right in front of you realistically.
im currently in this valley, as most artists are. in fact i dont think it's possible to make art "click" in your mind 100%, but it sure is fun to inch closer and closer!
below is a bunch of art in chronological order from april to now. you'll see that it's not really a straight road of getting better and better, but you'll see my lines slowly getting more confident and details becoming more clearly defined!















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âïž đĄđČđ đ¶đđČđș! Inferno EngineâšWeapon (greatsword), very rare (requires attunement) ___ The edges of this hulking greatsword are virtually blunt; on a hit, it deals bludgeoning damage, instead of slashing. A gap splits the blade in two, where a fiery contraption emits a constant blaze. The flame sheds bright light in a 40-foot radius and dim light for an additional 40 feet. While holding the sword, you can use a bonus action to magically extinguish the flame or cause it to reignite. While the flame is alight, the sword deals an extra 1d10 fire damage to any target it hits. When it does, the sword also gains a number of charges equal to the number rolled on the d10. Any charge gained by the sword is lost after 1 minute. You can use an action to level the sword in front of you and expend any number of its charges. The flame at the center of the sword then releases a roaring gout of flames in a 5-foot-wide line. The line is 10 feet long if you expend 10 or fewer charges, 20 feet long if you expend 11â20 charges, and 30 feet long if you expend 21â30 charges. Each creature within the line must make a DC 16 Dexterity saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes fire damage equal to the number of expended charges, or half as much damage on a successful one. You can use a bonus action while holding the sword to vent the flames harmlessly, expending any number of charges each time you do. If the sword reaches more than 30 charges, it immediately erupts in a fiery blast and loses all its charges. Each creature within 30 feet of you must make a DC 16 Dexterity saving throw. A creature takes 2d10 fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. You automatically fail the saving throw. Any flammable objects within the area that arenât being worn or carried are also ignited. ___ âš Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!
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full body commissions, at long last!
the base price is $100 for a single figure, and then you add on the price for colors if you want that! flat color prices vary on complexity. if you have someone in a suit, then it's just +$30, but it's more like a complex period costume, then it's closer to +$40-50 (same for simple renders)
(simple renders are not an additional fee on top of the flat colors! I realize that it might be a little confusing, flat colors + simple renders is it's own thing, which starts at +$40)
anything over $100 can be paid either in it's entirety up front, or $100 up front, and the rest once completed (for this, I'll send a lower resolution jpeg of the finished illustration when it's finished, and the high res png when the payment goes through)
visual references are a big help! either art of the character, or things like a face claim or actor. if you have a character from a specific time period, please also send references of the clothes you'd like them in! if you have a pose in mind, feel free to tell me! It can be anything from standing around, to sitting down, jumping, etc.
these prices are for private commissions only! which means you can go ahead and get 'em printed or whatever for your own personal use but you can't use them commercially
currently, I don't have prices for a commission with a second full body figure! if you really want something like that, we can work out a price.
I'm also using a dead line weight in these examples, but if you want something that looks more like the inking style that I use in Trikaranos, just let me know!
đ commissions will be on a 10x15 in canvas at 300dpi :)
đ email me at [email protected], and we can talk details! I use paypal for payment, do not send me money ahead of time because this is not my paypal email and I use invoices.
if I don't reply in like, a day, feel free to message me here and I'll give you my other email where we can hash out details because sometimes, the perils of having an email on public display is that people will sign your email up for junk mail and it takes a minute to mark it all as spam
things I'll draw: established characters, ocs, your favorite dead roman or greek hero, I'm cool with it all!
things I won't draw: generally, I'm not too keen on drawing anyone under 18, as you may realize from the fact that many characters on my blog are vaguely in their 30s. like, it's not a hard rule, but I will fully admit right here that I'm better at drawing people over 20.
(also! again. money this month sucks, and the economy is honestly just a huge bummer for literally everyone everywhere. if my prices for full body comms are out of your range, I'm cool to do payments in $50 a month installments!)
#also my finances are a little yikes this month: if you get a full body commission i'll also throw in a little thank you head sketch of your#character. but that's a secret. shhhh.#commissions tag
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