#in general the newer the piece the more finalized!!

[cherubchoirs]

hullo!!! i wanted to draw your silly little fallen gabriel.. do you perhaps have a reference or any images i could use on hand? itd be super appreciated!! thank you!!!!!!

I WISH I HAD PROPER REFS....but since i don't, i'll give you a ref sheet that covers all of the angles as well as provides a palette!!

the colors presented in the palette are likely a little different from any in a finished piece, but that's just because i use a gradient/color fills on all of my pieces! it's usually just a blue to pink gradient (specifically #9adcfb and #ff8fce, it's my go to!!)

i hope this helps!!!! because it means so much to me that you would like to draw him 💖💖🙏

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again. 

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them. 

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway. 

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut. 

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit. 

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd. 

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?” 

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.” 

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face. 

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully. 

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece. 

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble. 

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting. 

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over. 

“Did you see them?” 

“See who?” 

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?” 

‘You’re not his type.’  Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.” 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it. 

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face. 

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule. 

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway. 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up. 

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’ 

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax. 

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes. 

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all  the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home. 

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them. 

“Tim…” 

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?” 

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.” 

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!” 

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week. 

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-” 

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face. 

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours. 

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not. 

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful. 

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred. 

“You never said anything.” 

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them. 

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them. 

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying. 

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-” 

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.” 

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him.  Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own. 

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself. 

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred. 

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle. 

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes. 

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued. 

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–” 

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his. 

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice. 

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money. 

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him. 

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of. 

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian…. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left. 

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family. 

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads. 

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage. 

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used. 

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes. 

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo. 

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’  Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines. 

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair. 

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves. 

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?” 

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this! 

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt. 

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it? 

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?” 

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.” 

���You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?” 

“I did. So we can talk freely.” 

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.” 

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it. 

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu. 

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.” 

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live. 

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this. 

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.” 

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.” 

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains. 

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app. 

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game. 

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs. 

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway. 

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick 

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on. 

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest. 

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item. 

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.” 

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor. 

Not worthy of anything. 

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her. 

“Thank you.” 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder. 

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral. 

Just how Batman does. 

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified? 

“You did great Y/N!” 

“Looking beautiful Y/N.” 

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!” 

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils. 

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work. 

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.” 

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause. 

“...What?” 

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all. 

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne. 

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes. 

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.” 

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.” 

“At least let them change, Dick.” 

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that  it is snowing outside.” 

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms. 

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call– 

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today. 

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?” 

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet. 

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them. 

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run. 

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

[artfromsaturn]

Collection of Free Art Tutorials

I don't usually make text post on this blog, but a nice artist I know was asking for tutorials a while back and I forgot to send some to them while in school. So here's a post on it since it's easiest to grab and go this way. :)

This list focuses on the basics. I'm focusing on the foundations of art, so medium is generally irrelevant and you can use physical or digital with these. You'll have to google more specific tutorials on things like character design and such.

One of the biggest pieces of advice I can give to you is strangely, introduce things to yourself one at a time. In art class, we took whole topics week by week. For high school, we did a few exercises then spent a week drawing/painting and doing your piece(s). For basic art 1 & 2 in college, we did 1-2 exercises and then did 1-2 drawings, followed by HW (which we turned in next week) and sketchbook practice (which she'd check at midpoints). For basic art lessons with a tutor, we did practice then our own art. You can see the pattern here - the point is don't be distressed if you don't get everything at once, or the lesson in 2 weeks, or the lesson in 3 years - we practice and do a lot over time, and you'll pick up on things you need to improve naturally and through help with others. Take time to be proud of your art in mini steps too, even if it's not the best! You tried and attempting to climb an obstacle over and over again before finally leapfrogging it is still progress to it.

Overall tutorials:

DrawABox.com is a site that's dedicated to art exercises and practicing when you can. They talk about the basics of art as well as how practice is important. It can get tough at times and it's ok to stop and do a balance of say those practices and doodles if you choose to try and do all of it's stuff - but you don't have to either. It's just a nice basic education done by some art nerds who like going hard.

Ethering Brothers - these guys are famous for their 40billion tutorials. If you need help on a specific idea, search their gallery and you'll likely find something.

Thundercluck's Art Fundamentals - She did a good huge ass tutorials on how things work, and it's the least overwhelming of the 3 I got in this section, so I suggest it as one of the first to look at for digital stuff.

Art Instructions Blog - Another good & simpler website that goes great into fundamentals. They focus more on traditional art but if you're digital, you can replicate most of the techniques - art fundamentals and subjects cover all mediums. Very important

Drawsh - Particularly notes on Construction: construction is the basics of building an illusion of a 3D image on a page. Figuring out how to build shape gives depth to your work, and learning how to see in 3D lets you be able to draw an item then move it around in your head (sometimes, when you're good enough, don't be afraid to pull out a reference or use live subjects). Construction is how to figure out the foundation of your drawing, and good planning = better picture! This link starts at the back, hit newer post to go forward.

There's a lot on anatomy and other nitty gritty details for when you want to practice those as well.

Griz and Norm's Assorted tips - Long time artist talk about various tips and tricks they use in art and how to avoid certain pitfalls. It's eclectic but great to look through.

James Gurney's Blog - He's got a lot of thoughts, a lot of tips, and a lot of adventures he catalogues. It's the least organized out of these but fortunately he has plenty of tags and most post have something neat going on. He's fantastic!🥰

BEFORE ALL OTHER BASICS….

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Mindset

There's a lot of artist with different perspectives on how to approach art and your mindset while doing it, but the general consensus is that it's a process and sometimes you have to remind yourself to enjoy art!

Line

How to draw straight lines without a ruler. …but for the love of all that's good do NOT feel bad about using one! This talks about how to hold your pencil and how to do some good freehand stuff, some good practice.

5 grips for holding a Pencil for Drawing - This goes for pencil, pen, tablet, etc.. Get comfortable and figure out what's right for you and your pictures. I'd like to note that paintbrush holding will overlap, but some will differ.

A few line drawing exercises that help with line confidence.

Types of line drawings & what they are.

Contour Line & exercises with Mrs. Cook - Contour lines are one of the first art exercises I do in all the drawing classes I've taken. The good news is that they're surprisingly fun & look neat, even the blind contours!

Good deep thoughts on lines and how to use them.

Line Weight Tutorial

Lineart Weight Tips!

How to show variation in your line art: part 1 & part 2.

Some teacher's Drawing 1 & 2 lessons put online.

Light, Shadow, & Value

An introduction to tonal values.

Why values are important. The main reasons are that they give depth to a piece, and values literally shape our world.

Tonal Values: Everything you need to know

How does light work & the basics on Light

Light & Shadow in Art - much more in depth of the above! Highly recommended if you have time to spare.

Understanding grayscale/monochrome art. Great for shading & planning.

A guide to Cross Hatching (and hatching in general) - As a side note, crosshatching is one of the early things taught as it marries Line + Value into a nice neat package and helps add form with just a pen.

Crosshatching for Comics

Learn more about coloring by working in grayscale

How to Make Your Art Look Nice - Contrast!

Using lighting to make your art look nice.

Some light & shadow classifications.

Edges - notes on how they work in shading.

Color

A side note - color theory doesn't differ much, but color MIXING will change between mediums. If you're doing traditional colored pencil, you're overlapping 2 or more pigments on top of each other. If you're doing traditional paint, you're mixing & creating a solution/emulsion (depends on the pigment and binding) of pigments with the particles reflecting light in different ways. In digital, overlapping colors & blending colors depend on how the program you use calculates it if you're not just putting 2 color side by side. This just means you have to adjust your mixing when you switch between them. :)

Slawek Fedorczuk's Light & Color Tips - also shows how to guide through a scene.

The Color Tutorial Part 1 & 2 by Sashas - A personal favorite.

Color Studies 1-6 by Sheri Doty Amazingly nice breakdown on how color works in simple terms.

Sarah Culture's Tips on Color

The value of underpainting

A few notes on reflective light.

Experimental color techniques with Alai Ganuza: first post, second, & third.

Color zones of the face charts

Composition

Good Tips on Composition

Here's an example of how you can search the Etherington Brothers' stuff and get like 10 tutorials and tips on one subject. Composition & Cover Design, Shadow Composition, Two Line Composition - plus more.

How to make your art look nice: Thumbnailing!

And don't be afraid to make silly thumbnails or sketches.

Composition Examples - charts like these are great when you can't think of something yourself. There's no shame in using them.

Flow and Rhythm

Formulas for landscape composition.

Perspective

Perspective Drawing Tutorial by Julie Duell

Linear & Atmospheric Perspective Guide

One Point Perspective City Tut by Swingerzetta

Niso Explains Perspective - these are great for drawing figures in perspective!

Putting characters into scenes and drawing backgrounds

Backgrounds that make your character stand out!

Using background detail to guide the eye.

Odds and Ends

I shit you not, probably 1/3rd of my color, value, & structure knowledge comes from pixel art since I've done so much of it and it is all about challenging yourself to do the most you can with limitations. Check out lospec's tutorial database for fun and see how it compares to art techniques you're doing - even if you never try a medium, it's always interesting to see how it works. :D

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Reference Images & Style, Pushing Proportions, and developing style.

Foervraengd talks about how he expanded his comfort zone with concept art & landscape drawing.

Luna Art talks about what they're thinking when doing concept art.

Repeating visual motifs in character design looks cool.

Eric's Thoughts on Drawing Backgrounds and Props.

Show vs. Tell: Why Visual is Not Optional in comics.

The Lost Vocabulary of Visual Story Telling Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, & Day 4.

Traditional Animation's 2 Digital Library books, The Know-How of Cartooning by Ken Hultgren & Advanced Animation by Preston Blair are two books from the golden age of animation they have up on their site for free viewing!

Animation resources dot org has a lot of cool stuff. Here's Nat Falk's How to Make Animated Cartoons (part 1). Their pages on Instruction & Theory are a good start.

Books

Good news: the internet archive has a TON of resources. Make sure to check around and toggle filters, it's a bit weird with organization. For example, a book can be under art or drawing - techniques, depending on who catalogues it.

Andrew Loomis is someone artist tend to die-hard reccomend. His work is collected here & here on the internet archive (one is Andrew Loomis, the other is Loomis, Andrew - thanks). I own Figure Drawing for All It's Worth and I recommend checking all of his stuff out, especially if you're having trouble with bodies and hands.

The Animator's Survival Guide by Richard Williams is mandatory in animation classes for good reason - it's fantastic!

Perspective for Comic Book Artist by David Chelsea is great for any type of artist. So is Extreme Perspective & Perspective in Action.

Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, & Making Comics. The first one is on the internet archive, the second two are likely avaliable at your library or at a bookstore as they're pretty popular.

Speaking of comics, Drawing Comics the Marvel Way has been a favorite of comic artist for years no matter what comic book companies and artist you like, it's a good introduction.

Anything by or endorsed by James Gurney, Color and Light: A Guide for the Realistic Painter is one of my favorites (this is his official page but you can get them elsewhere for cheaper too).

Art resource blogs with good tagging systems: @artist-refs , @help-me-draw , @helpfulharrie , @art-res , @drawingden , & @how-to-art

Lastly, I suggest if you find something you like online for free, SAVE IT! Whether it is through the Wayback Machine, screenshotting a whole webpage, reblogging/retweeting something, or putting it on pinterest, digital media is fickle and tends to go up in smoke when you least expect it. I have a partially organized Pinterest board that helped me find most of the stuff I wanted to keep. Figure out what works for you and save what you can.

[drdemonprince]

Do you have any favourite scary movies?

I love the ambiguity and grief of The Orphanage, and the main character's emotional journey is absolutely gutting.

The Strangers has some of the most subtle, dread-inducing scares of any horror film of its era; if you liked the hidden ghosts in Mike Flanagan's Haunting of Hill House, it owes some inspiration to this film, I think. It truly gave me nightmares.

The newer Suspiria has really stayed with me, and I loved Flawed Peacock's analysis of the film on Youtube as well. I watched both this and the original back-to-back a few months ago, and they're both great in different ways, but nothing tops the haunting, sickening beauty of the end of this one.

28 Days Later is the only zombie movie for me, and yes part of that is because Cillian Murphy was so fuckable in it. I'll never forget the quiet, contemplative air of this movie, which is rivaled only by The Last of Us games. The zombie genre is bloated with derivative crap, but this movie rang in a whole new generation, and did it so well you don't need most of the rest.

The original Saw is a hell of a stage-play-slash-bottle-episode, and it's far more sophisticated in its writing than any of the rest in the series. It really holds up in my opinion.

The Cell isn't really that scary, to me, but it's fucking cunty as hell with incredible costumes and set pieces, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Bonus points for having a minor corruption/hypnosis aspect really tickled my imagination. I just wish that element had lasted for longer.

Speaking of movies that are actually plays -- there's no better Stephen King adaptation than Misery. Kathy Bates absolutely crushes in a nauseating, confining performance here, and the hobbling scene is one you just never forget. To me it's a perfectly paced film, and it holds up shockingly well in the era of stans and superfandoms.

Ghost Ship is my favorite bad stupid horror movie. The opening scene is enough creative nonsense carnage to justify its existence, but stick around through the end for a very weird trip-hop montage.

Dead Silence is another goofy one that gets really inventive with its gore. I love horror movies that do just downright disrespectful, creepy shit with corpses, and that's what this one is all about.

The Boy is a fucking laugh riot to me. The entire premise is so transparent from the very beginning and the thrills are so awkward and tame that it's a great Halloween party movie. If you're anything like me, you and your friends will walk around the house talking about the Boy for days afterward. Brahms is an age regressor king

Some people find Aronofsky's movies to be too over-the-top to connect with, but I think he nailed the internal horror of perfectionism, codependency, sexual repression, and eating disorders with Black Swan. Barbara Hershey's character is so perfectly unsettling that it sets all my people-pleasing, abandonment-fearing issues alight every time. Everything about this movie is confining and distorting, which is exactly how it feels inside when you narrow your entire life to a singular pursuit and are governed by impossible rules.

The Others has exactly what I need for a horror movie to have good replay value: just like The Orphanage, it's final reveal is more depressing and unsettling than it is pure scary, which makes it cut deeper, and it recontexualizes the whole rest of the film. The interiors and aesthetics are great.

Possession is easily the most disturbing movie on this list. This one cuts deep in a confusing, unmooring way -- it makes you feel sick in your soul, hopeless, and put off from relationships. Filming it reportedly ruined Sam Neil & Isabelle Adjani's lives for a good while, and you can see why. This film is the psychological reality of divorce in its unabashed form. To really leave behind a life you once committed yourself to, you have to become almost unrecognizable to yourself, and do great violence to both your former self, and the ones you love. This film gets that, and it's painful. It makes you feel disgusting for wanting things or for staying in a place where you're unhappy.

Happy watching!

[physalian]

11 Underexplored settings of post-apocalyptic worlds

Inspired once again by my recent binge of abandoned explorations.

The greatest hits of the sprawling city scapes and farmland that feature in everything from post-alien invasions to zombie takeovers to just worlds gone by in a not-so-distant future tend to be:

Generic office buildings

Churches

Schools

Water parks

Suburbs

Famous monuments

Cruise ships

It’s come to my attention though just how many architectural abnormalities there are, in their own current post-apocalyptic states, that would absolutely befuddle archaeologists centuries from now trying to figure out their purposes.

So whether you want to go hard into “this new world has completely forgotten what came before it” or your very own and unique road trip through desolation, here’s some suggestions for cool and/or practical settings!

1. Disney/Iconic Theme Parks

2000 years from now after X disaster strikes, survivors completely removed from historical context stumble upon…. Disney World. They presume Mickey really was a giant mutant mouse, or a mouse-shaped deity worshiped by the local populace (and I mean… are they wrong?). People who might have never left the local area without planes and feasible transport, or knowledge that land across the ocean even exists, might be astounded by the buildings of Epcot’s World Showcase, or any of Disney’s themed resorts.

Water parks are done to death, but not enough emphasis is put onto how bizarre these places would look without context, even to a younger generation that has no idea what it used to be.

Orlando has a hotel with its own rainforest in a massive atrium, with ponds and boats and boardwalks inside. But, you know, I guess strolling through Chicago or New York City is cooler. It may be unfilmable, but it’s not unwritable.

2. The foundations of unfinished construction projects

The remains of an office building that never was, a veritable modern Stonehenge with how little would survive an apocalypse. Inexplicable areas of land with massive pits for unbuilt parking garages, or sprawling swimming pools and lazy rivers.

Or massive, skeletal towers that would have been the monument to a much larger estate that just lost funding. Buildings still surrounded by scaffolding, only half-complete with their windows.

3. Survivor’s encampment landmarked by a monument/hotel/theme park that was never built

In one of those abandoned videos, a company in China was trying to build a discount Disneyland and all that remains is an unfinished Cinderella Castle with steel shells of the gables… behind a modern shopping mall.

Any structure that would have been deeply out of place either in the country it’s built in, or the newer buildings that surround it, immediately looks more creative than just ‘generic strip mall’ or ‘generic high school’. And it’s also realistic, as projects like this fall through constantly, as a unique piece of your worldbuilding. Or, it did have its run as whatever the strange building was part of, and through bankruptcy and selling the land around it, it ends up being the only structure that remains.

4. Hotels that are made up as if the staff vanished instantaneously

Or, many, many Covid victims. Having your characters scrounge for resources through a hotel with beds still made, coffee cups on the breakfast tables, serving spoons and plates ready to go by the buffet. Halloween, Christmas, or Valentine’s decorations still on display.

The schedules for the final week of business still hanging in the offices, unopened mail, packages for guests still in the mail room, pallets of new soaps and supplies still in the delivery bay from the distribution center, linens still in the industrial dryers. I worked in a hotel scheduled for eventual demolition and the disrepair the interior fell into because, what’s the point of managing mold and bed bugs when it’s all getting gutted anyway, makes it super creepy knowing guests are completely clueless on the other side.

Places that have been completely ransacked and destroyed are creepy, sure, but places that are almost frozen in time despite the decay around them are both eerie, and rather dark. Cruise ships/confined spaces like ships tend to be used more for horror, but these, too, as if they’re frozen in time.

5. Cargo ships/shipping yards

An easy-ish one to film in. Looters breaking open shipping containers, or building entire communities and homes out of those containers either on land, or on the barges and ships. A community that can weigh anchor and move once resources and scavenging dries up, or another violent group moves in on the land.

Or, in the case of a viral apocalypse, a community relatively spared from the violence out on the open ocean.

6. IKEA/Furniture Warehouses and DC’s

Warehouses especially have few entries and fewer windows to secure, but as their contents (except the showroom floor) are in mint condition at the time of the world ending and probably stored in plastic and crates, they’d be relatively spared from the elements as a good base camp.

Furniture is also too heavy to loot in a panic and absconding with a brand new mattress probably wouldn’t be at the top of people’s minds as doomsday approaches.

Your little community each having their own lavish living spaces with whatever eclectic furniture they either liked or could now get their hands on for free would just be cool to read about.

7. Penthouse suites

Climbing those stairs would suck and depending on the build quality, the safety of the structure over time would degrade, but maybe your community has manual cranks for the elevators. There might be one way down, but there’s also only one way up, and you can see invaders and catastrophe coming for miles.

These places tend to be dripping in luxury your characters might otherwise have never experienced and they could either make a base there, or have a grand old time trashing the place up because the rich are dead and gone.

8. Historical forts

They lasted this long, why not a few centuries more? The fort that comes to mind is the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida, right on the beach with a built-in defense wall and a huge courtyard for your community of plucky survivors.

Castles, too, though they’d likely be prime real estate for all manner of interested parties. Aging, famous forts are just never in these types of stories, unless it’s a picture of where the military used to be, now overrun or destroyed.

9. Ski resorts

Similar to the made-up hotels and theme parks, this one comes with presumably multiple buildings, potential use of the slopes and ski transports, isolation via elevation and remoteness from major cities, and the threat of bitter winters and blizzards.

Never been to one myself in winter, but remote locations for a post-apocalypse story tends to just be shorthand for “generic farm or small town,” which isn’t super immersive.

10. Luxury malls

Seen in The Last of US, it gives you a microcosm of so many different environments all slapped together and there’s no limit on what kinds of stores you could include, or all the kiosks, all the mini attractions like trampolines, kiddie parks, massage tables, and even VR flight simulators.

Maybe it has a theater tacked onto it, or a double-story book store, one of those rental spaces dedicated to fancy cars or candy stores. Great for the main setting or even just passing through, especially as they’re already a dying breed you can go ham with. ‘Luxury’ and designer items collecting dust right across from the discount store with everything for under &14.99 could strike a powerful message about social constructs.

11. Science museums

Sure you can make some poignant message about priceless artwork being left to rot, or. When I was a kid, I went to a science center with natural disaster simulators like house fires and tornadoes and a whole-ass IMAX theater where I saw Night at the Museum, the only movie I’ve ever seen in a proper IMAX dome.

There was a whole kids section with a ropes course, area for exploring the human body, a NASA-sponsored mock up space module, mock up grocery store, and little exhibits here and there about optical illusions and the physics behind laying on a bed of nails and how it doesn’t kill you. It’s just something unique and fun that your characters can interact with and gives them plenty to play off and give little anecdotes to make them feel more human.

—

Point is, your post-apocalypse doesn’t have to be limited to the usual suspects. We’ve all seen the strip malls and Walmarts and suburban homes and farms. There is no special effects budget or filming restraint in a book and I’d love to read more stories set in unique and descriptive places, or just fresh takes on your standard survival camp that isn’t just “build a wall around a section of neighborhood”.

It’s the apocalypse. All real estate becomes free real estate.

[i-identify-tanks-in-posts]

Okay. So, last night I was scrolling through my news feed and I came across an article with one of the most dogshit takes I've ever had the misery of reading with my own two eyes.

The article in question? From 'The National Interest', "The M60 Patton could never be built today."

So, come with me as we absolutely rip the fuck out of this dogshit article. (Now is your chance to read it.)

So, first, let me say, that I don't dislike the m60. It's a venerable tank, extremely capable for its time, and the fact that it still sees some use more than 60 years after it's creation says a great deal as to its capabilities.

However, I take great issue with some of this article's claims.

First, the idea that the M60 was some revolutionary miracle tank, developed out of the blue, and rushed to the field before it was ready. To be frank, that's a bold-faced lie. The M60 is the result of a long lineage of medium tanks and MBTs, stretching back to the final days of ww2. A fairly common piece of cold-war tank trivia is that the M60 was never formally called the "Patton", it just looked so much like the m48 "Patton", that the tankers never saw fit to call it anything different. (Below is a comparison of the vehicles: from the front, the tanks can be distinguished by the m48s concave frontal armor, while the m60 has a flat wedge.)

M60:

M48:

The m48, itself, was a development of the m46, which was itself an upgrade of the m26 Pershing, the American medium tank used in the last days of the European theater. So, the idea that the m60 was flawed because of its "revolutionary design" not being given time to be tested is, quite frankly, horseshit.

Next up on the chopping block is the claims that the M60 is still in use by nations today. The article states that, throughout the Middle East, you can find nations that use the m60 and its modernization still today, from Egypt to Saudi Arabia. However, you'll notice that none of these nations are exactly military powerhouses, with Egypt not having won a war that wasn't against starving partisan rebels since the British packed up their shit and went home, and Saudi Arabia quickly transferring to the M1, and offloading as many of their Pattons on other nations as quickly as they can manage. And let's be honest, when's the last time you even thought about the Iranian military?

Next, I'm going to directly quote this line, because it's peak comedy. "in 1991, the United States Marine Corps, one of the most innovative branches in the US military, deployed the M60 in battle against Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi Army." Ah, yes, the Marine Corps, famous for it's innovation and openness to change...

The Marines wouldn't know innovation if it grabbed the crayon out of their mouths. They hate change more than H.P. Lovecraft hated penguins and Irish people. So to come out and say that something is amazing because the Marines are still using it instead of a newer thing? It's peak comedy.

Then, the author goes into his highly-political diatribe about how, because the m60 was so "rushed" and "untested", it's head-and-shoulders above any US defense project since, because it still sees some use by tin-pot dictators, outdated militias, and the Marines in Iraq. However, what he fails to mention is that the m60 was the ultimate result of the 2nd generation of MBT technology, building on a lineage of tanks going back to 1945. The idea that the m60 is special in any way other than being the culmination of a generation or armored vehicle technology is ludicrous, and I sincerely hope that not too many are suckered in by this ex-congressional staffer's bullshit.

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Soft Tissue (Kenjaku x Reader)

Contains: Making out with the Brain, afab but body barely described reader, piv sex, fingering, riding, and very little plot.

Hey gamers, I woke up and immediately started writing this. Four hours later and here I am with this brain love fest, hopefully you like it as much as I do! The new episode really lit something inside me that I thought would simmer down at some point. Cross-posted to Ao3 under the same name, shared to twitter at kenjakusbrain, comment or reblog if you also can't stop thinking about the brain or liked the fic.

The sound of your front door opening and closing roused you from the nap you hadn’t intended to take. You had a feeling tonight might be one of the nights Kenjaku would choose to visit you, but you were never entirely sure unless he’d mentioned it directly. Though you were informed enough about his plans in the days leading up to the 31st to know that he would be in Kyoto on the 19th. Kyoto was where he’d requested you stay ever since they’d begun using that pitiful student as an informant. To make sure he didn’t let anything out, since Kenjaku couldn’t be sure that the boy wouldn’t come to his senses and break the vow they’d taken, he’d placed you here to keep a watchful eye.

You had wanted to stay up, hoping you’d be right about Kenjaku stopping by, but you’d been far too exhausted. Near constant surveillance of the student’s hideout and his robot body simultaneously had you relieved when you watched Kenjaku and Mahito approach the building you knew the student to be in. Finished with your part of this mission, you’d accidentally let yourself fall asleep.

Kenjaku barely gave you the chance to greet him before hoisting your body into the air. A shocked sound left your throat as he pressed an excited kiss to your lips. Through your surprise you kissed back, feeling his tongue slip into your mouth to press against your own. The intensity of the kiss surprised you, Kenjaku was a passionate man but it had been years since you’d seen him this riled up after a single preparation mission.

Large hands manipulated your body, Kenjaku keeping you pressed against him while moving you into a standing position. As your feet touched the ground you felt his lips pull away from yours, leaving you trying to catch the breath he stole from your lungs. 

Looking up at him clearly for the first time since this leg of your mission started, you were again shocked to see such manic glee across his features. Kenjaku smiled down at you as if you were a celebratory meal he couldn’t wait to dig into. “Things went that well?” You asked, hoping he’d fill you in before you got too carried away. 

The smile on his face widened, hands squeezing your hips tightly before he leaned back down to kiss you once again. Less pure passion and more of a firm press of his lips against yours. Not that you minded, affection and Kenjaku didn’t always go hand in hand, so you accepted it whenever it was offered.

“They couldn’t have gone better. Watching Mahito evolve so rapidly under pressure is just astounding. And the boy’s use of a simple domain was eye opening, it’s something the newer generation of sorcerers nearly have mastered!” Kenjaku’s voice much more animated than normal as he spoke. His excitement was palpable, you could feel his fingers digging into your hips as he spoke. “It won’t be long now, the 31st is just around the corner.”

While you hadn’t known Kenjaku as long as others like Uraume, you’d been with him for quite some time now. This was the first time his plan had progressed so far. Everything was just falling into place around you, all of his work for the past century blending together, as if it was fated for him to finally succeed. The last time he was this excited, he’d just acquired his current vessel, another important piece to his plan.

“Soon we’ll be able to move past this and onto your main goal,” You said, bringing your hand up to his chest and pushing him back toward the couch he lifted you from. Seeing Kenjaku this worked up had quickly brought you out of whatever tiredness had taken over your body, his energy was magnetic and you couldn’t help but want to celebrate with him.

The smile on his face turned into a smirk as he allowed you to push him back. There had been points in working together that you were stronger than the vessel he inhabited, even if it wasn’t the case with his current form, you still knew just what he wanted in times like this. Before pushing him down onto the couch, you untied the golden fabric at his waist, slipping it off of him and tossing it to the side. While you didn’t dislike his vessel’s robes, they had proved to be inconvenient in the past at times like these.

“Impatient are we? What if I had just come to debrief you on the mission?” Kenjaku teased, using this moment to untie the belt that kept the rest of his robes closed. You took your chance to help him, reaching up and slipping the heavy material off his shoulders, not caring that it had fallen to the ground at your feet. It was something for the two of you to care about later.

The warm skin of his chest now bare under your fingers, you pushed him back again, forcing him down onto the couch. His hands left your hips briefly as you moved in to straddle his strong thighs. Settling on his lap you felt his hands return to your body, kneading the flesh of your ass. A soft moan caught in your throat at the feeling of him handling you roughly. 

Slipping your fingers into his long hair and gripping against his scalp, you pulled roughly, forcing him to look up at you. The smirk on his face was still there but the look in his eyes wasn’t quite as manic as before, dark eyes full of lust now stared up at you.

“I know you, Kenjaku. I know what you want after a job well done,” You whispered, hands flexing in his hair. Leaning down you pressed another open mouthed kiss against his smirking lips. He met your kiss with a soft moan as he let your tongue into his mouth without resistance. 

The kiss quickly turned desperate as he ground his hips against your core, the position leaving you open on top of him. You could feel his thick cock growing in his pants, rubbing against the soft shorts you fell asleep in. The thin barriers adding more friction to his movements, you knew it felt good for the both of you. 

Sucking at his tongue, you pressed your hips down against his, feeling a rush of pleasure fill your body. It had been long enough since the two of you were able to be intimate like this. Slowly you pulled your face back, breaking the passionate kiss for a moment. You were panting slightly, looking down to take in just how much you'd affected him. 

Kenjaku’s lips were flush from all the kisses, mouth slightly open as you watched his tongue trace along his lips. Like he was still trying to taste you. His cheeks were lightly dusted as well, you couldn’t wait to make him even more flushed. 

Your eyes were drawn higher, to his forehead, where you could see the stitches straining to keep shut. All the pressure you applied to his hair had done exactly what you’d hoped for. Kenjaku, the real Kenjaku, was barely visible to you through the stitches, fluid leaking out and beginning to slip down his face. You felt your heart beat faster at the thought of what you were going to do to him.

Not wasting any time, you ran your tongue gently across the seam in his forehead. The juices thick against your tongue as you brought them into your mouth greedily. You could feel his muscles tense under the attention, nails digging into your hips. After swallowing all the leaking fluid, you slipped your tongue against the straining stitches. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the seam, you could hear his breathing become more shallow with each movement you made.

One of his hands left your backside, quickly reaching up to tug at the stitching that kept him from you. Your grip in his hair loosened as you felt him remove the top of his head. It was a sight that you never fully got used to, you had always expected there to be much more blood. He gently moved the top of his vessel’s head further down the couch and out of your way. 

The soft flesh of his brain, the real Kenjaku, was now exposed to you. Fluid leaking down his face again but you were too focused on the delectable tissue before you to bother licking it all clean. Leaning back in, you kissed softly at the brain, allowing your lips to travel around the teeth in the middle. 

Kenjaku moaned at the feeling of your lips grazing his most intimate parts. Every press of your lips or pass of your tongue on his brain sent waves of pleasure throughout his entire body.

As you felt his hand return to your ass, you let your tongue slip into the open mouth at the center of his brain. The teeth nipped lightly at your lip before allowing you in, the kiss much messier than the ones you’d shared with his lips. You could feel his juices making a mess on your cheeks, you could feel an ache growing in your core at the thought of how you were making him feel.

“I can’t wait much longer,” Kenjaku said, voice trembling with pleasure as he spoke. You knew what he meant, you knew you were just as wet as he was in this moment. He slipped a hand between your bodies and teasingly slid his fingers against your pussy through the clothing.

Instead of taking off your shorts or stopping you to undress, you felt him rip the thin material, ruining the shorts and exposing you to him. Kenjaku’s thick fingers quickly dipped into your wet folds, teasingly rubbing against your sensitive clit before he pushed two fingers into your aching hole. 

You moaned into his brain mouth at the feeling, the thick fingers filling you up perfectly. Kenjaku’s teeth nipped at the tip of your tongue as you broke the kiss. You couldn’t help but focus on the feeling of his fingers inside of you, rocking back and forth you felt them crook inside you just right and brush up against that spongy spot that pulled another moan from your body.

Lost in the pleasure Kenjaku was bringing you, you let yourself get lost in his soft tissue. What started as soft licks and kisses to the folds on his brain had devolved into sloppy kisses. Your tongue gently pressing broad, wet strokes across every part you could reach.

Kenjaku’s moans were beginning to sound as desperate as he tried to focus on stretching your pussy. He wanted to draw this out, to tease you on his fingers and make you beg for his cock. That wasn’t going to happen tonight, you forced his hand the moment your tongue slipped in between his stitches. Kenjaku could feel his cock straining against his pants and leaking into the material he needed to bury himself deep inside you the way you buried your tongue into his brain.

You moaned against the teeth on his brain, tongue tracing them and begging for another kiss. Kenjaku’s fingers inside you felt too good, it was distracting you from your goal of making him feel more. 

As quickly as they’d entered you though, Kenjaku pulled his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you to press your hips down onto nothing. You whined at the loss, the mouth finally opening for you and allowing you to kiss your way back inside of him. 

You could feel Kenjaku repositioning himself as he used the hand still on your ass to hold you still. Too lost in the way your tongue felt inside his soft tissue to pay attention to what he was doing.

You felt the thick head of his cock rubbing against your pussy, slipping through your folds to rub against your clit. Moaning into the kiss you could feel his cock quickly become soaked in your juices, sliding through your folds with practiced ease. It seemed like Kenjaku was content to just grind against you and tease you both.

Putting one hand on his shoulder to balance, you reached down in between your bodies. Your hand finding his now soaking wet cock and guiding it back toward your aching hole. Kenjaku let you take the lead again, waiting for you to slip the tip of his cock inside you before moving again. 

As soon as he felt your tight pussy around his cock, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last. You eased yourself down, taking every inch slowly so as to not hurt yourself. The kiss you had been sharing with Kenjaku’s brain paused because of how much you were panting, teeth still nipping at your lips to continue. 

Once you felt Kenjaku bottom out in your pussy, you took a moment to savor the feeling of him inside you. His thick cock stretched you so perfectly, it felt so good. Your mind dizzy at how you could feel him throbbing with want inside of you.

A hand of his pressed against your cheek, pulling you out of your pleasure drunk state for a moment. You looked down at him, his face as flush as you knew yours was and his eyes brimming with tears. You were worried for a second until you remembered just how overwhelming it was for him to have his brain touched this much. Perhaps you had made more of a mess out of him than you realized already.

The hand pulled you down, lips meeting in a messy kiss. You moaned at the feeling, different than kissing his brain mouth, softer and less control. You could taste his brain juice still, it turned you on more to know that he was tasting himself as well.

Kenjaku gripped your hips tightly with both hands before lifting you up, letting just the head of his cock stay in your pussy. You sucked at his tongue, wanting desperately for him to fill you back up. He lowered you, stuffing you half full with his cock. It wasn’t enough.

“Kenjaku please, stop teasing,” You begged, though you had been the one doing most of the teasing tonight this was too much for you. 

Without wasting a moment, Kenjaku quickly began bouncing you on his cock, forcing you to take him all the way inside with each powerful thrust. The scream that left your mouth was cut off by his lips on yours. Keeping you quiet as he fucked you, the last thing you needed was to draw any neighbors attention. 

Soon your moans had died down and turned into whimpering mixed in with desperate kisses. The feeling of Kenjaku’s thick cock splitting you in half made your toes curl and eyes roll back. He was perfect for you, hitting every spot and rubbing the most sensitive parts of your tight pussy just right.

As close as he had been, Kenjaku needed more to get him back to that edge. Fucking up into your tight pussy as he manipulated your body to ride him felt amazing, but he wanted to feel as fucked out as you did. Breaking the kiss, Kenjaku’s lips kissed their way down, biting at your neck hard enough to bruise. He could feel your pussy clench around him at the violent act, you loved it almost as much as he did. It wasn’t enough though.

Your pleasured moaning was interrupted by soft, wet folds brushing up against your lips. Kenjaku had positioned the two of you the way you had been before, his brain right in front of you. You didn’t need to be told what to do, long licks at the soft tissue made Kenjaku’s cock throb inside you.

Keeping his pace as steady as he could, Kenjaku felt a rush of intense pleasure overtake him as you lavished his brain with licks and kisses. Not only did it make each thrust feel ten times better, his entire body felt like it was on fire. He hadn’t felt this sensitive in a long time, biting at his own lip to keep some of his needy sounds inside.

The thrusts inside you turned erratic quickly, Kenjaku’s even pace falling apart as you let your tongue past his teeth and into his brain mouth again. The kiss was sloppier than before, his juices and your saliva coating your chin as you got lost in him. Every thrust had you moaning into the mouth, you could barely keep up with it. 

You could feel Kenjaku’s thighs trembling under you, both of you so lost in pleasure that all you wanted to do was push each other over the edge. 

Nails biting into your skin, you could feel Kenjaku’s grip on you getting tighter with each violent thrust of his hips. Fucking up into your pussy blindly, the feeling of Kenjaku so deep inside of your pussy finally pushed you to your limit. You felt yourself let go, pussy squeezing him as if begging him to finish.

The tight heat of you coming all over his cock was more than enough to push Kenjaku over the edge, stuffing you full of his cock before releasing deep inside your pussy. His thrusts slowed enough to allow you a chance to breathe, while he still fucked you both through your shared orgasms.

Your tongue slid out of his brain mouth and teased around the folds, enjoying the taste and soft feel of the tissue. A gasping moan tore from Kenjaku’s throat, it was too much for him. His hands left your hips, leaving his cock buried inside of you just to fly up and pull your lips down to meet his. 

The kiss was languid, both of you came much harder than you expected. When you pulled back from the kiss, you could see his beautiful fucked out face. Brain fluid and your saliva on his flushed cheeks, you were sure you looked just as flushed and sticky.

Reaching over, Kenjaku picked up the top of his head and put it back on. Quickly sewing it back into place as you watched. You never got tired of watching his deft fingers apply the stitching. With his scalp back in place Kenjaku’s hands returned to your ass, lifting you into the air as he stood. His spent cock slipped from you as he carried you into your bedroom. 

“If I’m still here when you wake up, we can talk about what happens next in my plans. For now, let’s rest,” Kenjaku said, kissing your messy cheek as he crossed the threshold of your room.

[jellazticious]

“You can’t rush art”

I think everybody can recall the quote from Toy Story 2. From the most satisfying part of the movie where we see a montage of Woody getting restored by a toy maker. It’s one of my favourites too, I absolutely loved looking at the different procedures used to fix a single toy. The toymaker’s precision and care were found mesmerizing by everyone. As a multi-hatted artist, one that can draw, sculpt, animate, and write, I can say that it’s spot on that there’s so much to do for a single piece of work. HOOO boy, you should see how me and Beefy are organizing Cursed to Charm, there’s so much.

For the upcoming webcomic, we design characters, give each and every one of them their stand-alone story, design different clothes, create the map, draw renders and posters, polish scripts for the episodes, plan to program the comic’s own website, make the backgrounds eventually, etc. To people who aren’t artists or take art for granted, to them, art is stroking a paper using a pen and BAM instant masterpiece. No no, it’s more than that.

Another thing I’d like to say about the comic is that the progress is very slow yet very fruitful because of the time taken. Me and my co-author came up with the idea at late November, which makes the comic four months old now. However, with all that time passed, we have already finalized the list of nine episodes of season one. We have also written seven out of nine summaries from that season before actually writing the dialogue in detail. We have a rough four seasons worth of story progression in the span of four months. Nyeh, excuse the little ramble about CtC, I’m just giving insight of how much should be done for the production of anything which leads us to the next point.

Art production in general.

Movies, animation, shows, video games, books, comics etc etc

All of these are part of art, some people would deny because it isn’t sophisticated like they’re lead to believe art is supposed to be. Art is literally just creation man, can’t get any simpler than that 😩 if you made something, then you made something woohoo! Congratulations you made art, cooking included. It came free with your fucking humanity.

Anyway, just like the webcomic, every single one of these listed also have a set of different procedures that will piece together the final output.

Let’s take Disney movies as a specific example, I want to talk about something real quick.

So one time, I was watching Tarzan with my parents and we stuck around for the end credits. My mom pointed out the animators are divided into sections and there’s so much names on them. There are different teams of animators for each character and these teams are divided in two for the storyboarders and the clean up artists. When the credits rolled a bit more, it showed that the background artists and colorists also have their own sections too. There’s so much people working on different body parts of a movie. I got the habit of reading end credits of every movie I watch, animated or live action, then I would compare the credits of old and new movies. Boy, let me tell you that the work space on old movies are FILLED compared to newer movies. One thing I noticed about Disney movies although, is that the old movies have more sections compared to new ones. The major difference of old Disney and new Disney are the length of the credits and the time gap of the movies. I’m really not trusting the way new movies have way shorter end credits while the publish time of new movies are getting narrower and narrower. Before the 2000s, movies usually come out twice a year and sometimes there’s a two-year hiatus before the next batch of movies are published. Now there’s at least two or three movies that publish yearly while also releasing a bunch of shows in the middle of it. I really don’t understand business talk with the way it sacrifices quality over quantity. Like I get having money is great and all but what’s the use of hoarding it? Especially when there’s so much news of people about to be in poverty and mass layoffs. Why should companies earn money if they’re not going to redistribute it back to the economy at all? This is a little off topic but I want to point it out that people in the 80s used to buy whole houses by being a janitor but nowadays people could barely afford a one room apartment even with three jobs. The Simpsons is an example of this because it was set in the 90s and the family is constantly reminded of how “poor” they are. They even created an episode that talks about the same job that supported people’s fathers will no longer support you nowadays (Poorhouse Rock ep22 s33). It’s fishy and I’m salty about it especially because I hear so much people complaining about how they’re not being given a chance to work. Anywho! Let’s go back to art.

I’m just spitballing my thoughts here but somehow they’re connecting either way. All I’m trying to say is that for the people who care so much about the quality of art, it’s noticeable that they get downgraded, not just by the look but by the way they’re written.

Example.

Clone High.

Jesus Christ, the new show is a nightmare and an insult to the original Clone High. The difference is clear with this one. The original Clone High was heavy satire of every single high school trope used in shows and movies. Every single character was meant to have one personality and that personality is the butt of the joke. The original did not care about making the characters appealing because the appeal is found in the way they interact, they clash so much and a lot of them are idiots. The writing is funny because the dialogue flows so easily unlike the renewal. The renewed Clone High takes itself too seriously and it tries too hard to be relevant. It’s funny to me that fans can draw the original’s art style more accurately than the animators hired. What’s even more frustrating is that concept art was released from the art head and the concept art looked way better than what they decided on the final designs. Other than the art style that tries to be marketable, the writing is insufferable with the way they try to be “relatable” without understanding why the original jokes were funny to begin with.

Now we’re all familiar with this cheap tactic of using the title of successful franchises to grab clicks and views. It’s every live action Disney film, it happened to Scooby Doo, Marvel shows, FNAF, some Cartoon Network shows, Megamind, and now even Kung Fu Panda. Basically MILKING. It would have been better if the productions TRIED to understand the original’s intentions which they forgot about. They ended up being disappointing at best and soulless at worst. I won’t be explaining much cuz I’ve already reached the minimum word count lmao. I’m just rambling here, I better not see anyone interrogate me in asks or replies. ANYWAY, I’m gonna get to the point real quick.

Back to the quote at the start of the post, people tend to forget that. Art is a skill, not a button people press and it gives you pretty pictures or videos. Art is a job and an effort. While art is subjective and it differs from person to person, one thing for certain is that art that is made ingenuinely will never be better than art that is made because the artist loves art. This is why the Tom & Jerry reboots with the lineless art style even if they had a storyboard artist who understood the cartoon wackiness (which were discarded for a “cleaner” and faster style). This is why it’s so frustrating to see concept art of movies which have more appeal than the final 3d models. This is why FNAF Security Breach was nearly unplayable.

Because they all rushed art.

They rushed in favour of what is marketable, no matter how unappealing it is. Everything could have been better, some final products are good, but all of them could have been better. As good as what were released pre 2010s when production had a passion. You can’t spell heart without art.

I’m just really passionate about art in any form since it’s everything that created me too. I will not be here at this point in time if it weren’t for me learning that there’s so much beauty in the world if you could just squint and appreciate why that’s so. I’m defined by my works and it only hurts and infuriates me that people who have the ability and accessibility to create better art than I do waste it for their personal gain or selfish intentions. Everyone could be a better person because of art just as it did to me. Again, it came to us the moment we’re born, art isn’t just a pretty picture, it’s everything we create out of love, passion, time, and effort.

But really, to the wise words of Chef Saltbaker, “like any good bake, heart and soul is the secret ingredient”

You can’t rush art.

[sundew199]

Random Reiner HCs (sfw)

A/n: a mix of relationship and non-relationship, some are modern day. Again these are just my headcanons, and just for fun :)

Will sing girly pop songs with you in the car, does not care.

Cannot sit on the couch for longer than 5 minutes or he’ll fall asleep and stay asleep for the rest of the day, you better hope and pray y’all don’t have plans

Has a HORRENDOUS farmers tan 💀, looks like he’s still wearing a shirt when he takes his off

Will only play videos games if Gabi and Falco ask him too, other than that he doesn’t play that often, but does like to watch you play your games. It’s like having your own narrator/commentator :)

Sets at least 10 alarms to get up for work in the morning but doesn’t wake up to any of them, you have to wake him up after the nth alarm by practically shoving him off the bed

Garbage disposal, will eat anything you cook without hesitation and don’t even think about buying snacks because they’ll barely last a day

Physical touch is one of his love languages 100%. If you don’t feel like cuddling in bed he’ll still find a way, like making sure his foot is touching yours 😭

He’s Bob the builders long lost brother, you’ll mention wanting a piece of furniture vaguely and he’s already putting together a mental list of the materials he needs to build it for you

Naturally fit, doesn’t need to go to the gym often to maintain his physique

Bisexual. (And I will not be elaborating)

Doesn’t mind doing skincare with you or letting you use him as a makeup canvas you just gotta convince him first,

Ironically isn’t that great with money, not extremely irresponsible but you have to hold onto his wallet or he’ll buy the entire store if he feels like it

Played sports in school, but never got that into them. He was naturally good and coaches loved him but couldn’t find the passion

Old man trapped in a younger body, swears he feels 50 when he’s only in his early twenties

He snores but SWEARS he doesn’t

Lowkey really bad at texting people back, prefers to call. And if he does call, clear your schedule cause it’s not going to be a quick one (you don’t mind hehehe)

He can be sooooooo dramatic if he wants to be. Over little inconveniences mostly he just wants to be babied, baby him >:(

Drives a truck and I mean like a 90s model Chevy pickup that he’s had since high school that he’s fully restored and is insanely proud of. Has not even considered getting a newer truck because he just can’t let go his older one (first big purchase he made, so it’s sentimental, leave him alone)

Very rarely has a filter, and not in that kinda way, he just sometimes says what he thinks out loud and you have to pretend you didn’t hear him and move on 😭

Is so blind to flirting, like total blindness. You had to finally spell it out to him that you LIKED him and not as a friend for him to realize what you were doing. It’s gotten worse since you and him have been together because he still doesn’t realize when other people flirt or throw themselves at him (he can be such a himbo, I love him)

Cat person

Very in tune with his emotions. Wasn’t always like that since he had a rough childhood but after going to therapy after high school he doesn’t conceal his emotions anymore and can be upfront at times

Does NOT play about you. Reiner is a very sweet caring person but the second he notices you’re uncomfortable around a guy/girl a flip switches and he turns into the intimidating beefy dude that no one wants to fuck with. (It’s lowkey so hot)

Worships you, (obviously) by buying flowers at least every week or two so that way they never die. Date nights, weekend trips, the whole nine yards. He loves spending time with you and showing you how much you mean to him

Grew up catholic, doesn’t practice anymore due to the conformity pushed onto him. Isn’t really religious in general but does believe in a high power.

Wants a big family. At least two kids, maybe more if you’re willing. Doesn’t like the idea of his child not having siblings like him and also just loves family orientation in general. Definitely a big family guy. 

Good with kids 😈

If you use any lingo around him like say: girl, girly, pookie, bae, dawg, homie, bro, etc. he will eventually start to use it unironically until he can’t stop. (I may be projecting but it’s funny so idc.)

[slashthrashandcrash]

I've been looking at the slasher x final girl oc's (and I love all of them) I was wondering if you'd give us anymore details about them, their first interactions and basically any thing interesting you'd be willing to tell us?

(I'm obsessing over your characters and knowing what little I do about them is making me mentally ill, especially the stranger, he reminds me of my favorite slasher (Jason) quite a bit)

I'm so glad you're enjoying them!! It's been a while since I've used 'em so it's been fun dusting them off from time to time--

Ashley and the Stranger are meant to be a homage to 80's horror in general, both the classics and the cheesy. The first time they met was during freshmen year at a frat party, although Stranger had seen her around campus a few times prior. She was drunk, but still friendly and wanted to get to know him a bit, even warning him to be careful because frat hazings these days were getting so ridiculous and she'd hate to see him get hurt.

By the next day after she sobered up, she completely forgot about the interaction and probably didn't even bother to get his name. The fact that all records of him being a student disappeared shortly afterwards didn't help, it was like he never existed to her after that night. But he never forgot their brief time together, that pretty little cheerleader who was the only one ever concerned for him...

Constantly dying and coming back as a vengeful killer only worsens his insanity with each "sequel", including his warped obsession for her. Each time, he's more hellbent on having Ashley, convinced they're meant to be for no other reason than she was nice to him for like 10 minutes years ago. He doesn't even register her fighting back or stabbing him or setting up traps, he's so blinded by his infatuation despite Ashley having no clue that they've met before.

Francine and Ripper are newer OCs, but they're a lot of fun because my girl is just so great to torment (:< I've braindumped so much about them to Blob--

They met while Francine was working on the scripts for that latest series of a semi-popular true crime podcast about the unsolved slayings of the Northshire Ripper (about 3-4 episodes). She started getting these emails from an anonymous account that was praising her writing and storytelling, so impressed with her level of research and details and how well she wove everything together, especially the observations she made on the murders. It was genuinely her first piece of fanmail, some actual recognition for all the hard work that goes into being a weekly ghostwriter that's often overlooked. She's thankful and beyond appreciative that someone would take the time to send her a thoughtful email, how sweet! (:

And of course, eventually the segment about the Ripper ends and the show moves on to cover another killer or disappearance or solved case, and Francine is back to researching at the whims of the cohosts. Her favorite fan starts emailing her again, asking why she's stopped writing about the Ripper when there's still so much more she could cover, more things she could go in depth on. These new cases are so overdone. The podcast hosts butcher her show notes half the time anyways (she posts the full version on their blog which is the only place she has a shred of credit listed), can't she just write more episodes for the Ripper instead? Please? No?

Well...good news, little lady! You know that serial killer you covered a while back, the one who was never caught, the one who seemingly disappeared after years of bloody terror? Wouldn't ya know it, he's finally come back after a near decade hiatus, creating human art pieces with newfound inspiration! Isn't that great, now there's so much new material Francine can work with to write show updates about him, especially while it's such a hot topic in the media. Now write. What's holding you back? Is this not good enough? Do you need more inspiration of your own? More personal? A demonstrative interview?

Anything to help out his favorite fellow creator~

[catonator]

News for Gamers

So the most notable recent gaming news is that there’s going to be a whole lot less gaming news going forward. Which to most of you is probably a massive win. See, IGN announced that they’ve bought roundabout half of the remaining industry that isn’t IGN, and with online news also dying a slow death due to the approaching new wave of journalism called “absolutely nothing”, I can’t imagine IGN and its newly acquired subsidiaries are long for this world.

Not too long ago, I was studying some magazines for my Alan Wake development history categorization project (please don’t ask), and reading the articles in these magazines led me to a startling realisation: Holy shit! This piece of gaming news media doesn’t make me want to kill myself out of second hand embarrassment!

Many of the magazines of yesteryear typically went with the approach of “spend weeks and sometimes months researching the article, and write as concise a section as you can with the contents”. Every magazine contains at least 2 big several-page spreads of some fledgeling investigative journalist talking to a bunch of basement-dwelling nerd developers and explaining their existence to the virginal minds of the general public.

Contrast this to modern journalism which goes something like:

Pick subject

Write title

???

Publish

Using this handy guide, let’s construct an article for, oh I dunno, let’s say Kotaku.

First we pick a subject. Let’s see… a game that’s coming out in the not too distant future…Let’s go within Super Monkey Ball: Banana Rumble. Now we invent a reason to talk about it. Generally this’d be a twitter post by someone with 2 followers or something. I’ll search for the series and pick the newest tweet.

Perfect. Finally we need an entirely unrelated game series that has way more clout to attach to the title… What else features platforming and a ball form… Oh, wait. I have the perfect candidate! Thus we have our title:

Sonic-like Super Monkey Ball: Banana Rumble rumoured to have a gay protagonist

What? The contents of the article? Who cares! With the invention of this newfangled concept called “social media”, 90% of the users are content with just whining about the imagined contents of the article based on the title alone. The remaining 10% who did actually click on the article for real can be turned away by just covering the site in popups about newsletters, cookies, login prompts and AI chatbots until  they get tired of clicking the X buttons. This way, we can avoid writing anything in the content field, and leave it entirely filled with lorem ipsum.

Somewhere along the way from the 2000s to now, we essentially dropped 99% of the “media” out of newsmedia. News now is basically a really shit title and nothing more. Back in the day, when newscycles were slower, most articles could feature long interviews with the developers, showing more than just shiny screenshots, but also developer intentions, hopes, backgrounds and more.

Newsmedia is the tongues that connects the audience and the developers in the great french kiss of marketing video games. Marketing departments generally hold up the flashiest part of the game up for people to gawk at, but that also tells the audience very little about the game in the end, other than some sparse gameplay details. It was the job of the journalist to bring that information across to the slightly more perceptive core audiences. Now with the backing of media gone, a very crucial part of the game development process is entirely missing.

It’s easier to appreciate things when they’re gone I suppose. But at the same time, since gaming journalism is slowly dying from strangling itself while also blaming everything around it for that, there is a sizable gap in the market for newer, more visceral newshounds. So who knows, maybe someone of the few people reading my blogs could make the next big internet gaming ‘zine? Because I’m pretty sure anyone here capable of stringing more than two sentences together is a more adept writer than anyone at Kotaku right now.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

The cat photo looks like her with Meredith, posted on her IG on Christmas day 2018. But the picture is flipped, in the one she posted Meredith was on the left.

Thinking about the room and hallway in general, they are very modern-looking compared to the midnights room that we transitioned out of, even the door looks newer - but the typewriters are old. And why has she gone from pens to a typewriter? In the background you can hear a ticking clock, typing (I think) and, faintly, a modern-sounding phone. Everything is modern except the typewriters. And they are older than the typewriter from ATW short film which someone identified as being early 60s. Sorry I've gone off at a tangent here but why have such a modern room with old typewriters? Also, it doesn't look like it's an environment that's conducive to creativity. More like a factual/ business-like one.

Yes I think I found it. Weird that it's mirrored thought...

But you know what else jumped out at me? That jumper with the lightning pattern is part of a two piece set, and where have we seen this before? Here:

In the scene in MA where she finally makes her post endorsing a Democratic candidate. Her defiance moment. Certainly an interesting throwback...

RE your observations of the corridor and 'office', it gives me major psych ward vibes, which seems a common theme in a lot of the reactions. Like the end of a movie when a the protagonist wakes up and it was all a dream/hallucination all along. Interesting in the light of her "submitting evidence", are the songs the evidence to show that TS the brand was a hallucination all along? I like this observation from someone on twitter:

The lover house with all her eras was a hallucination and now we're about to enter the cold hard reality...👀

[doshmanziari]

Without a doubt, and by far, the most marginalizing development I've seen within media analysis over the past decade is a shift towards the production of long, flashy videos which tend to require the same for a dialogue to occur. Literally nothing which has been written about Elden Ring, for example, since its release has enjoyed even a fraction of the visibility as a one-hour-and-forty-minutes video by Joseph Smith, or another of similar length by NeverKnowsBest. I don't know when exactly the shift started to happen most obviously -- maybe 2016 or 2017 -- but, today, circumstances are such that pretty much the only way to get real discursive traction on your thoughts about a piece of media is to make a colossus of a video.

Although worried and worrying discourse has complemented the unveiling of newer public A.I. technologies, we've already done a perfectly fine job of out-dating other forms of media communication by way of the aforementioned analytic format; just as, of course, earlier methods of industrial production rendered a whole variety of professions or emphases as outmoded. If you don't have the relevant editing tools at your disposal and/or don't want to spend hundreds of hours cropping footage and making it fit with music and your own narration, well -- too bad! And even then, of course, there's no guarantee that your video will reach your desired scale of an audience. I've found dozens of such videos on YT channels with only a few thousand views, if that; and on each channel it's clear that the people finally gave up after the monumental task of assembling these videos had no equivalent payoff.

Personally, I do still believe in the primacy of the text (or the spoken word, with no competing stimuli); in text as the primary form of critical engagement. More than that -- if I'm going to read a non-fiction work, I want the paged book, and not a digital version. Now, this preference is just that: a preference. And it surely is a preference a good number of people share. I find that a paged book lends itself better to my own retention of the material; and I really enjoy making my notes on the book's paper with a pen. But I don't believe that the construction of multimedia behemoths should be a baseline requirement for discourse.

I wonder if we will, in the near future, start to see some resurgence of the valuation of unembellished textual analysis complementing a more general fatigue with Internet-derived overstimulation. I've already run across numerous channels with fairly sizable communities where there is an appreciation for the "simplicity" of the formats: a person in a room just talking to the camera. I think a lot of people like engaging analysis where the only barrier of significance is devising a good script. To be sure, this is a formidable barrier in itself. I find writing long-form pieces to be the most difficult of any of my creative practices (which include drawing, painting, and music composition). But if writing on media were my main passion or goal in life, I'd feel fairly crushed to know that these projects now required me to put in perhaps quadruple the amount of time to make a blip on the radar of engagement.

EDIT: Thinking on this -- I wonder if there's a parallel to be found in the realm of supplementing one's work with excess-entertainment via social media engagement; e.g., daily Instagram videos. "Excess-entertainment" refers to material that's being made not because everyone who's making it wants to make it, but because each person is now beholden to an abstractly instituted algorithm of engagement -- an algorithm reinforced by audiences who, also under algorithmic influence, will wonder what's going on if a week goes by without something from a Content Creator.

Most artists who I've talked to regarding their Instagram videos say they would be only too happy if they never had to do another upload showing them adding paint or linework to a work-in-progress with lo-fi beats. Similarly, I wonder how many people making these mega-videos actually want to make them, and if we're not rather seeing the production of this material under a mutual, and mutually untrue, assumption of necessity, and the demands of a largely imaginary audience; and how long they'll be able to keep the act up, given the certainly enormous time investments they require (while noting that I am sure the more successful people hire others to do most of the editing for them).

[animezinglife]

Gifts of the Sea

Acelia had never expected to be a High Lord's mate.

Genre: Fluff/General/Romance Post-canon, Tarquin x OC one-shot featuring the backstory between Tarquin and Acelia. This is a companion piece to Late Nights in Summer (recommended reading to provide context). Please do not re-post this anywhere. Special thanks to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, @crazy-ache, @teddyhoneybear, and all else who've offered such sweet support of my Elucien fics. I hope you don't mind me trying something new! Gifts of the Sea is now featured in the Summer One-Shots Collection on AO3! Click here to read. A bonus moodboard can be found here.

Acelia hadn’t missed the look in Elain Archeron’s eyes when the female had spoken about her mate. To call it enamored would’ve been an understatement: she’d been practically glowing every time she spoke of Lucien, and neither she nor Cresseida had missed it. 

The more Elain drank, the more amusing she had become.

Neither Acelia nor the princess had had any reservations about returning her to him in her state: Lucien was a good male, and she would’ve known it even if Tarquin had never confided his trust in the male with her. Though she knew her mate didn’t have a perfect track record when it came to trust, he had strong instincts when it came to character.

Any lessons he’d had left to learn where his easy confidence in others had once been concerned, Feyre Archeron had taught him otherwise.

Acelia respected the balance her mate ruled the Summer Court with: he believed in giving trust and chances, yet knew when to be firm and what boundaries needed to be set. He was far from an iron-fist ruler, instead a casual and respected High Lord who wore his youth as plainly as his kindness. 

She loved that about him. 

She might even appreciate it more if not for her own roaring headache. Unlike her new friend, Acelia was accustomed to Summer drinks, but still coming off the rush of her mating ceremony, she’d still had a bit too much.

She rested a hand against her head as Tarquin sat beside her on the chaise and handed her a goblet of water. She took it, swirling its contents and taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air. 

Acelia had never expected to be a High Lord’s mate; had never anticipated she might one day lounge on a palace balcony overlooking the ocean nursing an alcohol-induced headache. She breathed in deeply and took a small sip before downing the goblet’s contents and letting out a relaxed sigh. Silently, Tarquin took it from her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned slightly and kissed his hand, taking in his familiar, comforting scent of salt and citrus.

She had been born in Summer, too: shared many of the same characteristics of the court’s High Fae as her mate and Cresseida did. Though unlike them, she’d been born to a humble family: a fisherman father and a mother who ran their small market shop. She’d begun helping them with both as soon as she’d been old enough, assuming she’d one day sail the seas herself or run the shop alongside her mother.

Being a High Lord’s mate–loving and marrying him–had never been in the picture.

Acelia smirked slightly: her parents still didn’t know what to make of the ordeal either and had no idea what to even do with their new income. They’d opted to stay in their village but visited often, and while they’d insisted they didn’t need a more lavish shop, she was glad they’d at least invested in a newer, sturdier fishing boat, and that her father had even been able to hire some help. Most of all, she was glad they’d finally begun to indulge in vacations and rest.

Tarquin’s voice interrupted her thoughts, his voice as soft as the mist from the sea. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been hit by a storm,” she replied, unable to resist smiling back as his lips curved into a smile. “I’m upright and coherent, at least.”

“I’m surprised you’re drunk at all.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “My cousin didn’t pressure you, did she? I know she enjoys her fun.”

“Not at all.” It had been a running joke between them that despite her small stature, Acelia could hold her drink as well as any male. It often surprised others how well given how rarely she touched alcohol compared to most Fae–drinks in Summer didn’t run cheap, and Acelia had never quite shaken her frugal ways no matter how generous Tarquin was. “I really like them. Elain seems quite different than how you described her sister.” 

Tarquin’s blue eyes softened as he seemed to drift into thought. For a moment, he was quiet. “Feyre was in a difficult situation, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust me or not.”

“That didn’t stop you from trusting her.”

“No.” Tarquin smirked slightly, taking her emptied goblet and setting it aside. “But I’m glad to leave that mess behind us. Even if I’ll always have extra security when she and Rhysand visit. Just in case.”

“I’d question your judgment if you didn’t.” Acelia’s heart fluttered as his smirk turned to a smile: her favorite one of his, all softness and a subtle shyness she would almost call boyish. She felt their bond flowing through them like a current, pulling them to each other in a way that she imagined would be futile to resist. She had never imagined the Mother, the Cauldron, or whatever forces determined such fates would gift her such a thing: mating bonds were the sort of romantic fantasies she’d read about in books as a child or sung about in old sailors’ shanties. 

Such things certainly were not the fates of daughters of a village fisherman; of the keeper of a small, run-down shop. 

And yet she’d sensed it when the High Lord had visited their village; had spoken with every fisherman, every blacksmith, every sailor, and every shopkeeper. She had seen the way her mother had clutched her chest when Tarquin had spoken to her, as if aware of the same, unexplainable force Acelia had been feeling.

At the time, she’d assumed she’d merely been overwhelmed in the presence of a High Lord. 

But Tarquin had looked back as he’d been leaving the shop, his brow furrowed and eyes searching for an answer neither of them yet knew.

He had written to her. Their conversations had lengthened through letters, though there had only been so much a High Lord could say through such means. Acelia had found herself spilling aspects of herself she’d never shared with anyone: of her love of the sea, of the old myths and legends that filled her mind and heart as a child, and of her hopes to one day see Adriata with her own eyes. Somehow, she swore she could feel his quiet, shaking laugh when she'd shared the time a pirate had tried to rob her family's shop, and in her panic, she'd hit him over the head with a bucket and knocked him out cold.

To her surprise, Tarquin had shared with her, too: had spoken to her of his love of the sea at night when all was quiet; of the myths and legends that had scared him as a boy, and of his deepest fears that he might never be worthy of the role he’d found himself in. When he had visited their village again, she’d had the sneaking suspicion he’d had an ulterior motive despite his routine of speaking with every villager.

His eyes had lingered on her a bit too long, and that afternoon she had found herself sailing out with the High Lord of Summer in her father’s old, weathered fishing boat. He had been remarkably easy to talk to; his smile warm and his eyes making her heart race in ways it never had.

Acelia still had never expected the letter to come inviting her to visit the city, or how he phrased it so carefully.

I do not ask this of you as a high lord.

I hope we may always speak as friends.

She had arrived in Adriata only weeks later to a whirlwind: a flurry of introductions by a mutually excited and suspicious Cresseida, a humble if not somewhat comical introduction of Varian, whose hair had been partially singed off in what had only been described to her as, "an incident with the Illyrian bastards."

And all the while, Acelia had fallen in love with the city; its people. The people of Adriata, a peculiar mix of Fae and human refugees still lingering from the war with Hybern, lived vastly different lives than what she’d ever known. Yet there was a warmth to them, and a compassion and caring she’d both seen and felt in Tarquin that had begun to draw her to him.

In ways she hadn’t been sure would qualify as friendly.

She still hadn’t known what to call it the first time he’d kissed her. That had been during her third visit after a full year of communication through letters and Tarquin’s visits. She was sure she was beginning to love him–he was the sort of male who proved easy to love. Though Acelia had thought she’d loved males before: a young apprentice from her village when she’d been the tender age of forty, and another a sailor from the islands that dotted Summer’s seas.

It hadn’t been until she’d unceremoniously fallen into the water off the strange, standing board with sails that Tarquin and Varian had been trying to teach her to use that she’d understood. Tarquin had dived off his own board after her, his strong arms circling her waist as they’d drifted together beneath the surface. Acelia had taken in his beautiful features: his dark skin, white hair that flowed around him, and the eyes that seemed to see more of her than she’d ever known possible.

She wasn’t even sure which of them had closed the distance: only that his kiss had awakened something in them both that had lay dormant from the moment they’d met. Her eyes had snapped open to find him watching her in every bit as much shock, and when they’d finally resurfaced and felt the sun and salty air on them again, Acelia had understood.

Mates.

The word echoed in her mind even now as Tarquin took her hand in his, leaning her in and placing a kiss against her white braids. She took in the hands that held each other: the shell, pearl, and sapphire ring that glimmered on her finger and folded her body against his, taking in his scent and the sound of his heartbeat. He held her close, his steady breathing as soothing and familiar to her as the waves below.

It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been in the village or here with him now: he was her gift, and she was home.

[magicwithclass]

Yawgmoth's Bargain

Yawgmoth's Bargain is banned in commander and legacy. This would be a completely different conversation if this card was legal in those formats. The card is absurdly powerful, but is it good enough to banned alongside the power nine? Is yawgmoth's bargain as good as a mox or a black lotus? Most people would argue that while Yawgmoth's Bargain is an extremely broken card it is not quite in the same tier as many other cards banned in legacy or commander. I should note that while there are many cards on the reserved list that are banned, very few are banned because they are simply too good to be played. Some reserved list cards are banned because they reference ante while other cards have issues in tournament play. For instance, dexterity cards and cards that trigger a subgame are banned because they cause headaches and confusion in official tournaments. Yawgmoth's Bargain does not have this issue so why can't you play it? Surely, newer cards like dockside extortionist or jeska's will are just as powerful so why does the bargain sit on the banned list while my goblin makes me 20 treasures? Undoubtedly, yawgmoth's bargain is potent. One card for one life has always been an exchange that I would pay all day everyday. Yet many cards offer that rate. Necropotence is not banned in commander and even the new necrodominance offers a similar effect for modern. Both of those cards only cost 3 mana while Yawgmoth's bargain costs double that! Six mana is a huge investment and a player really needs to be able to cast the bargain early. You can not drop this on turn six and then just pass, even with a fresh grip of cards. However, this card has always benefited from combos and synergy. You can bury the opponents in card advantage but you are more likely to combo out using this reserved list card to find your combos. Getting access to the cards immediately is a major upside and should not be underestimated. The one life payment is negligible but ensures you can not just draw your entire deck without another combo piece. Otherwise, you could just play this, draw your deck, and cast thassa's oracle. Speaking of the oracle, is yawgmoth's bargain really stronger than the demonic consultation/oracle combo? I do think that yawgmoth's bargain has a legitimate chance of getting unbanned one day. The game has evolved since the card first landed on the ban list. The card would still see a tremendous amount of play but I do not see it warping formats. Black decks might run it as a generic staple draw spell but how much better is it than phrexian arena if you are using it purely as a draw engine. Even as a combo piece, this card is 6 mana. The skipping your draw step is also not really a drawback when you can draw at anytime for one life. In fact, the card gets around nekusar and sheoldred. Currently, the card is around ten dollars in price. That is actually quite a lot for a card that can not be played in most formats. There has always been speculation surrounding this card, though, as everyone always believes this card is about to get unbanned. The card was over 5 dollars even in 2017, so this card was not bulk even before the reserved list buyouts of 2018 and 2021. Even so, the card was below 2 bucks before 2017. Of course, the card has been banned long before significant price data was calculated. In 2021, the card did go to almost fifty dollars but a banned card just can not keep that price tag. What are you playing it in? Albeit, some reserved list cards have a high price due to scarcity and not playability but I can still put those cards in decks even if they are not very good. Today, you can get the card for about 10 dollars. I have a few copies that I got in 2015 for very little and I will hold those cards until the day the card finally is liberated off of the banned list. On that day, the price of this card will rocket to the moon. I should also note that this card is one of the few reserved list cards with a foil version. The foil version is about 150 dollars which is a big discrepancy between foil and nonfoil.