#trying to think of ways i could make money off my art because my mom reaaally wants me to get a job

[thylacid]

and if anyone has any ideas on stuff i could do let me knowww i already have one thing in mind but im just hesitant bc im unsure of if anyone would pay for a ych from me LOL

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren

eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.

thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.

your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.

eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”

you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”

eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”

don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.

but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you

“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.

eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night���i make that shit in two hours!”

it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.

you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.

after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”

with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.

in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?

when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.

with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.

eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”

[astro-rainbow777]

💐🌸 𝓣𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 🧸🌱

♉︎ - Happy Taurus Season Everyone!!! In honor of Taurus season, I am continuing the signs through the houses series. I hope y’all enjoy my findings & this post serves you well. Thanks so much for all of the support! Happy Spring & Upcoming Beltane to the Pagan Community <3

🌸 Taurus in the First House ~ Taurus on the ascendant is the embodiment of peace, calm and pleasure. These natives aren’t the most outgoing but leave such a comfortable and cozy first impression. They don’t say more than needs to be said, however they are unlikely to turn down a conversation. They have a soft and natural beauty about them and strong familial values. They enjoy the finer things, have a clean aesthetic and a “rich” aura. Many of them are shorter or more petitie in size, have a pleasing and smooth voice and kind eyes. However, if you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns! Being on the opposing end of Scorpio, when they cut you off, it is completely. Good luck getting back into their lives because they are a closed book. Why y’all always smell good? Fr tho

🐂 Taurus in the Second House ~ Here the sign is in its ruling house, they do very well in saving their money, are picky about what they eat and indulge in the material pleasures of life. They value loyalty, commitment, stability and security - not to mention their love fashion & the arts. They will tell you they have the most exquisite taste, you would find it very difficult to change their mind. They hold up strong values and morales, what they know to be right and wrong is the truth. This is a very secure personality, they are very comfortable with their bodies, and have a healthy sense of worth and self love. Honestly such a healthy placement - as someone with NO earth in their chart - muhbenaaaace

💰 Taurus in the Third House ~ These natives find security and peace in their childhood homes, where they grew up, the memories of their cousins and siblings. They could be the most stable or the least stable out of their siblings. The way they think, learn and communicate is slow and methodical. They take their time in studying new topics, preferring to stay on the surface of a topic. They may have an artistic and beautiful singing voice, or maybe the way they speak is just very polite and sweet. They were raised with manners and this makes them very charming. They can have a liking for music that moves at a slower pace, classical music, or just a more elegant taste in art.

🥘 Taurus in the Fourth House ~ Their family could be a source of stability and security for them. The mom, mother figure or more feminine role model can be the bread winner in the family, her love language could be gifts, an amazing cook, and give a lot of hugs 🫂 They have stable emotions, it takes a lot to emotionally sway them. It may end up bothering people who try to get an emotional reaction from them because of this. They can be the most grounded one in their family. Their family may view them as realistic, practical and reliable. Family is what gives them sanction from the world.

💝 Taurus in the Fifth House ~ They express them selves in a very material type of way, their flex is their finances. These natives take a lot of pride in what they have...this usually comes from a place of having to work really hard for their things. They love the natural look, minimalist, they like long lasting, high quality, practical fashion. To them that is the best statement to make. They don’t like that trash to treasure look their tastes are refined. They will shower their kids with the finer things and really enjoy providing for them - this will be their love language. They aren’t huge adrenaline junkies and enjoy more grounded, chill hobbies. They definitely don’t mind being alone and love their down time at home…on the couch…snacks…naps…repeat.

🐻 Taurus in the 6th ~ These natives prefer a slow start to their daily routine, and enjoy a slow paced job, with chill yet organized coworkers. The workplace must be something that they don’t hate… because if they hate it and it stresses them out just thinking of going, they won’t work there. Period. They need low maintenance pets as these individuals are very independent in nature. It’s important for their day job to be a place of peace and pleasure for them, and once they are comfortable, it’s gonna be hard to get them to leave. Their job can provide them with sooooo much stability if they have a good one.

🍨 Taurus in the 7th ~ Wining and Dining with your loved ones! Shopping sprees, luxurious and high quality partners. With the ones they love the most, they spoil, eat and they just want to be lazy with them honestly. They want their relationships to be a place of peace for them. It’s important that their partner can support themselves and is stable on their own. It will just cause them stress if they are constantly worrying about having to take care or mommy their partner. It’s possible that they can stay with someone out of fear of the unknown/change, even tho they don’t like them or it’s not working anymore.

🌷 Taurus in the Eighth House ~ Cycles related to self esteem, self worth, and supporting themselves. Honestly, this is a really hard placement to have- they may have times where they stay in ab*sive relationships because they can’t support themselves financially or they are too uncomfortable alone. However, the eighth house is notorious for taking your greatest fear/weakness and turning it into their super power. You just have to get through those lessons and take those leaps of faith to unlock that power and hidden potential! They like to engage in their senses when they’re intimate with their partners and prefer slow love making rather than the raw primal stuff.

🪴 Taurus in the Ninth House ~ These people can be a little fixed in their beliefs, their spiritual beliefs/religion can be a source stability and sanction for them. If they aren’t necessarily spiritual- they could just have a specific philosophy or lifestyle that they stick to. What I admire about these individuals, is they know exactly what they want. When they travel, it has to be somewhere where they know exactly what to expect, somewhere that won’t give them anxiety, and probably a more luxurious staycation type of experience. They could also enjoy a nice nature walk with their loved ones.

👛 Taurus in the Tenth House ~ Every single person I have met with this placement neeeeeed a stable job, they will not leave a job if it provides them with the type of lifestyle they desire. It doesn’t really matter what they are doing for their career as long as it aligns with their values. Their dad/father figure could have been the sole provider and could have made a huge impact on their reputation. This is definitely a daddies money placement 💀 - sorry if that���s triggering for anyone lol. The father figure could be super down to earth and chill, enjoy cooking or just be way too overly indulgent in a negative manifestation.

👒 Taurus in the Eleventh House ~ Is the stay at home friend, doesn’t like to get out of their comfort zone to meet new people. Much likely to want to stay inside and bond with their community in a space that is familiar and inviting to them. Their community could be their sanction and be the most stable part of their lives. They enjoy cooking and creating art for their friends. Anything to bring peace to their homies senses! For their friends, the Taurus eleventh house native’s place is a home away from home. How special 🥹

👄 Taurus in the Twelfth House ~ When it comes to matters of the twelfth house, spirituality, isolation, ect. - these individuals may like to keep things light and on the surface. They are comfortable being alone, in fact they consider it to be comfortable and safe. Their spirituality isn’t something they spend time questioning, and they could be very comfortable with the unknown, they enjoy their own curious nature. They are endearing to their own selves, however sometimes their sense of worth could be confusing. They may have a hard time understanding their own values and morals, preferring to just go with the flow, everyday they are a new person trying on different personalities, hobbies and styles! The possibilities are endless! It’s quite an interesting placement. One more thing….secret indulgences…the silent snacker

Smell ya later!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Should we head back? Asher: Not just yet. I, um, actually want to talk to you about something. Atlas: Okay. Asher: Right. Okay. The thing is, I��ve been thinking about it a lot lately and… Atlas: And?

Asher: And I want us to have kids.  

Atlas: Oh.

Altas: Ash, I don’t— Asher: I know.

Asher: I know we already decided we weren’t going to, and I know I said I was okay with that, and I meant it at the time, I did, but I don’t think I am okay with that anymore, and I know you’re worried, but honestly you’re the most caring and nurturing person I’ve ever met, and I know you’d be such an amazing father, and there’s no way anyone could ever feel unwanted by you, least of all—

Atlas: No. It’s not that.

Asher: What then? Atlas: [sighs] Is this really the right time to be talking about this? Asher: Well, that’s the thing, we don’t really have a lot of time. My eggs… I have exactly one year, three months, and six days to either use them or donate them before they’re destroyed.

Atlas: [let’s out a forceful exhale] So, it’s now or never? Asher: Only if we want biological children. Atlas: Only if we want… shit. SHIT.

Atlas: Ash, we just quit our jobs! It’s going to be hard enough to stretch our savings to last us a year, which is hopefully enough time to finish this game and market it and release it and HOPE it’s successful enough to make money. It’s one thing to take this kind of risk when it’s just the two of us, but to bring a child into it just feels… irresponsible. And we’re already looking into a bigger place, but then we’d need an even bigger place. But it doesn’t even matter because our savings will already be drained between the procedure and a surrogate and doctor’s appointments and furnishing a nursery and baby formula and diapers and a million other things I haven’t even thought of yet.

Asher: I hear you; I do. And we can talk about all of that, but it’s not really worth the stress unless we’re serious. So, can we just put a pin in it for one minute and pretend that money is not an issue? Atlas: I don’t think I can do that. Asher: Try? Please? Just give me sixty seconds and answer one question for me. Atlas: [sighs] Okay.

Asher: Do you want to have kids with me?

Atlas: [nodding] Asher: Yes? Atlas: Yes.

Asher: Oh, thank god!!

Atlas: Can I get back to panicking now? Asher: Not yet. Can’t we just enjoy the rest of our vacation and panic when we get home?

Atlas: No.

Asher: Do you still make anything off that app you made forever ago? Atlas: Hardly. But I could revamp it. And I could probably do some side jobs here and there. Asher: I could sell a bunch of my art on Plopsy. Atlas: That’s a good idea.  

Asher: It’s not gonna be enough, though, is it? Atlas: I doubt it. How do we even do this? Where do we start? Asher: I’m not sure. We should talk to my mom when we get back. Atlas: Oh, she’s going to be excited. Asher: Very. I’m kind of excited too. Atlas: Me too. This is going to be one hell of a year.

[artdcnaldson]

Consider: you're a close friend of Tashi's from stanford and you'd drifted apart after the injury. You vaguely recognize Patrick at a bar and decide to go home with him despite not... Really remembering where you knew him from. This becomes a semi regular hookup. Until...

You get pregnant. You try calling him but it's not like he picks up. And you'll be damned if you beg for help from any man, especially Patrick fucking Zweig. So ... Maybe it's a bit spiteful. You could've included that important detail in any of your voicemails.

You have a girl. Victoria. (Ricky for short. Yeah it's corny but hey. You're a single mom. You get the right to feel however you want about the situation.) You try not to be bitter - even when you start seeing news that the three of them are together again and you're... SOL.

There's a kids tennis day camp nearby. Shed seemed interested and it gave you some free time. Ricky's 6 now, just a couple years younger than Lily. You show up to pick her up, all sunglasses and tight ponytail and cool ease when you see a girl with the same eyes as your college best friend clinging to your baby girls hand with two men walking behind a bit awkwardly.

What were you going to say now?

This actually makes me insane like hbngngnggg also changed the daughter’s name one fraction ok i think it makes sense tho

Patrick was getting too attached— 24 years old, in his prime, and he didn’t want to tie himself down to someone. He stopped picking up your calls and fucked his way through the eastern seaboard— far away from you so he could get you out of his mind.

A little over a month after he started ignoring you, he got a text.

hey. can you call me?

And he was mean. He knew it was mean, because he saw the message come in and he felt a fondness. And he wasn’t sure if he missed your pussy, or if he missed you. He knew he longed for conversations with you, the way you’d mindlessly trace whorls over his back and talk about the day, ask about things he liked, his childhood, fond memories, tell him some of your own. It came too easy, the most natural thing he’d felt since Art, since Tashi, so he got out. He stayed out.

who is this lol

You don’t text back. He doesn’t see you again for seven years, but you don’t stop seeing him. Partially, you see him in your daughter, in her personality, in her eyes, in her crooked smile, in her ears. It always struck you as funny, the way genetics picks and chooses things like that.

It wasn’t just her— it was your incessant need to know about him. You kept up with his ranking, watched a few of his matches after Ricky goes to sleep and you have the TV to yourself. It was just like that for a while— his rank would dip, it would rise, but he stayed relatively stagnant.

Until New Rochelle. You watched the match live with Ricky, because she had developed a persistent interest in the sport since she’d learned about it in P.E.. A month prior. After the match, after the insanity of the tie break, when Patrick wins, Ricky asks for you to please put her in lessons.

You start small— a local thing at the YMCA. She takes to it like a duck to water. Fucking genetics, if that was even how it worked. You start working your way up, wind up paying a ridiculous amount of money for a fancy tennis camp just because she loves it so much. You show up a couple minutes late for pick up a few weeks in and Ricky runs up to you with a friend in tow.

“Can Lily go to lunch?”

You crouch down and push your sunglasses atop your head, smiling fondly at your daughter. “I dunno, baby… does Lily want to go to lunch?”

“My dad and Uncle Patrick already said yes,” Lily supplies, gesturing behind her.

And fuck, of fucking course. You stand, sweep invisible dirt off of your legs and look at Patrick Zweig in person for the first time since, what? 2012? He looks good, of fucking course he does. You’d seen him during matches, but normal clothes look good on him. It pisses you off.

“You know you just agreed to Chuck E Cheese, right?” You say in lieu of a greeting, omitting awkward pleasantries with Art and Patrick. Maybe Art at least deserved a hello, congratulations on retirement, on the US Open, but the asshole standing beside him was all you could focus on. “I take Ricky after tennis lessons.”

“You have a kid,” Patrick says, not a question, just a statement of fact. You nod, swallowing down irritation. Your luck was so fucking bad. “And she’s…”

You sigh. “She's turning seven in a few months,” you supply. He swallows, nods, does the math in his head

Chuck E Cheese is hell. You remembered liking it as a kid, having your fifth birthday there and being scared of the animatronics. But they got rid of the animatronics, and made the mascot in question creepy and skinny and all but one skeeball machine is out of order. But you play anyway, leave Art and Patrick at the table as soon as the girls get up.

Patrick finds you, sidles up so close it’s like he has no sense of personal space. “She’s mine?”

You huff in annoyance, flub your roll down the skeeball lane. 0 points. What you want to say is something along the lines of, what the fuck do you think? But you remember where you are, sigh, and try your best to censor yourself. “Yes. Biologically, she's all yours.”

He fucking groans, swears under his breath, paces a bit behind you as you ignore him and keep playing. You toss another skeeball down the lane, then another, and the timer runs out before he speaks again.

“You didn’t think maybe you should tell me anytime in the past seven years?” He finally says, He grabs your arm, his hands warm and big and exactly like you remembered.

“I thought I should,” you reply, as casually as you can as all of the hurt and frustration and resentment rears its ugly head. “But you lost my fucking number within the same week that you ditched the west coast for wherever the fuck you went. I called you— over and over. You were the one that never picked up.”

He huffs in annoyance. “You could’ve left a message. Something. I deserved to know that I had a fucking kid running around.”

Ricky darts by, steals your hard earned skeeball tickets from the machine, and runs off giggling like a maniac. You smile fondly and pocket your game card. You turn to Patrick and let the expression fall back into something cold and stern. “I disagree. And I think it’s best if Ricky doesn’t find out.”

He grabs your arm, pulls you closer. “You fucking named her after me,” he practically growls in your ear. You clench your jaw and look away. “She’s never asked who I am? Never wondered about her dad?”

You pull your arm away and glare. You’re sure you look like two divorced parents trying and failing to play nice for their kids’ sake. It honestly amuses you a bit— you might have laughed about it if you were with anyone else. “One, her name is Veronica, okay? Ricky’s a nickname. Two, yes, of course she wonders. She’s a kid. Kids ask questions. You should know that Uncle Patrick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, an annoyed smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “I’m living with Tashi and Art. Tashi’s coaching me this season.”

You laugh wryly and start to walk back towards the table. “I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, but you want to make bitchy fucking comments, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes and brush past him. “Fuck off, Patrick.”

But you can't deny it. As you sit at the table and watch Patrick get roped into some game hacking scheme by Lily, as Ricky stands to the side and watches with wide, interested eyes, that you feel a twinge of... something.

When Ricky comes back to the table with a large plushie she got from the prize counter and happily says that man helped her win it. When Patrick smiles fondly down at her and steals crusts from Lily's plate. Maybe you don't have to hold him to a seven year grudge. Maybe you could let him back in.

Not for your sake, of course. Clearly that would be a bad idea. A horrible idea.

But for your daughter? Maybe you could just reap the benefits.

[1979semifinalist]

Hi Kelly! Love all your stuff! I was reading Absolute Wonder Woman and thinking back to your run of Black Widow (which is fantastic btw) and I was just wondering, what made you want to write comics? How did you get started?

I have wanted to write since I was little -- some of my earliest memories are around trying to not only write and draw but create physical objects that people could read. And though I loved Archie Comics when I was little (they were my first exposure to comics) -- I didn’t really know or understand there was a whole big world of comics -- they were just these cool books I used to beg my mom for at the grocery store check out line. But when I was a teenager my younger brothers Scott and Dave and I (though Dave was more casual with it) discovered comics and became huge obsessed fans. And it was then that I realized that comics were maybe this perfect merging of the things I loved -- words and pictures. Initially I definitely wanted to write and draw, but I eventually gave up the draw part (not good enough, not willing to devote the time to get better, impatient, blah blah blah). But I was very sure “making comics” was the thing I wanted to do -- comics and making them became my #1 hobby.

When it came time to go away to college I picked a truly baffling choice (don’t ask) and was thinking I’d probably study English and/or Art. English fell apart right away in my first semester (a bland uninspiring teacher who was equally uninspired with me). Art in the second semester was more promising (but I still knew I did not have what it takes to be excellent in that field). In my sophmore year I had been considering a transfer to an art school (SCAD was at the top of my list since they were the only college at that time that had an actual Sequential Art Degree). And some interesting things happened in my second year at college that really showed me that I was on the wrong path and that I should at least give SCAD a try, because maybe THAT would be the right path. So I left school at the end of my sophomore year, moved home, took a year off to work and earn some money for school and a car, and to take some additional classes at the community college that I knew would transfer to SCAD. And then applied and got a (very small) scholarship. And that was it. I loved it there. Whereas I had ached to be home with my family most of the time that I was at my first college, I loved this so much I didn’t even come home over the summer anymore. It was the first time I felt like I was finding my place in the world and maybe would do something interesting.

But I do things slow.

So after I graduated I took a normal day job and just tried to work on my stuff on the side. I did that for years and eventually... like 10 years later (oof).. it started to become something.

I don’t know if you’re trying to break in, or thinking about trying to do something really hard, but in case you are, here are my advice bits:

1. Everyone hates this advice, but it’s the advice everyone gives it because it’s true: To get noticed and get paid to make comics, you first have to make some comics. You have to show people you can do this, that you have something to say, and the only way to do that is to make some comics.

2. And this: Don’t give up until you’ve succeeded. Trite, but also true.

3. And this one is tough but: Finish your project. An 80% finished project is nothing. A 100% finished project is everything. Getting to the finish line is the hardest part, but if you can manage that you’ll be ahead of almost everyone. Which is encouraging... in its way.

If you are indeed trying to do something, whatever it is... good luck, and don’t give up!

[artist-issues]

I was writing out a really long meta analysis piece on the og Beauty and the Beast on how music and lighting were used to tell a story and I tagged you in it because I thought it’d be fun to debate some of that stuff with you but now I can’t find it in my drafts at all! It’s all gone 😭 so I came to your blog to make myself feel better and found your post about Zazu in the Mufasa movie and seeing you draw the characters in the original Disney style really cheered me up. Their animation used to be so beautiful and had so much love in it (your art was gorgeous by the way, it actually looked like a real lion king film!)

Anyway! If it’s not too much on you, I’d like to hear some rambles on Disney, it could be about anything really, but I’ve just gotten some really awful news tonight and I need something to take my mind off it please

Oh I'm so sorry to hear that! I want to be there for you. You're so kind about my art, thank you; I wish I'd seen the post. I’ve had it eat my drafts before like thirty times; recently my phone is doing this fun thing where I can’t type more than two paragraphs without tumblr freezing up, so I’ve lost more that way.

Let’s see…let’s talk about Disney’s Sequels! In these trying times of remakes and prequels, the Direct-to-Vieo Sequels start to look pretty good right about now, don’t they? I think they actually got better as time went on and money went into Disney Toon studios, but I’ll list my top three and explain why!

Lilo and Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch (no I’m not biased leemee alone)

‘The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride

Bambi II

I can explain myself.

Lilo and Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch

This movie is amazing. It repeats the best things about the original Lilo & Stitch (tight focus on character-relationships, character-specific comedy, and a simple story) while still having its own vibe, as if these are the exact same characters you know and love, but they have a recently-new normal.

Stitch isn’t a destructive artificial-brain figuring out how to think outside his programming anymore—now thinking outside his programming is the new-normal, but he still has to learn how life with a family works. Lilo isn’t lonely anymore, but she is still stuck in her own little world, in a way. Nani isn’t struggling to keep her family together anymore, but she is still struggling to keep them all happy. And Jumba and Pleakley get character arcs, which is beautiful.

If you’ve never seen it, I don’t want to spoil it. It is a really good movie. They took this concept, which was originally from Chris Sanders’s early story ideas for the first movie, where Stitch is in danger of death but Lilo’s love revives him. And they made a movie out of that.

It’s great, because Lilo is still working through missing her parents. The movie doesn’t brush that aside, or act like having Stitch fixed everything for her. Instead, she’s become singlemindedly focused on winning the same competition at hula school that her mom did, because she wants to feel a connection with her mom, and because her peers are still treating her like she’s worthless.

The thing is, Lilo gets the confidence to try and win this because of Stitch. She’s downcast and believes that her bullies are right. You get the idea that this is how she would feel if she were still a lonely orphan. But this time, because this is the sequel, Stitch is there.

So he tells her they’ll win the competition together. And in this movie, while Lilo is struggling with getting her sense-of-worth from Stitch, or a hula competition, Stitch is struggling with his sense-of-worth, too. He’s glitching out and his programming is forcing him to act destructive all over again. He’s not sure if he’ll always be bad—he’s wrestling with the possibility that he’ll hurt Lilo and his new family.

And in the meantime, Jumba is trying to solve the problem, but he’s afraid he’ll fail, and lose his worth in the eyes of the family, as well as lose Stitch. And David, in a little side-story, is afraid he’s losing Nani, that she doesn’t value him.

All of which sounds really dark, but it’s really an interesting place to take the characters, and truthfully the whole film is so lighthearted where it needs to be, but not afraid to be earnest and emotional, either. And the point of it is really good. It’s “love is more powerful than death.” It’s powerful enough to overcome questions about self-worth, and it’s powerful enough to overcome the gaping hole that loss and failure and other forms of death leave. It’s gorgeous.

2. The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride

People take issue with this sequel because…I mean, look at it. There are parts of it that are animated really well, and the character designs are good, until you measure it up to the original Lion King, and then it’s just not even the same league. Besides, the writing is very dramatic, sometimes the sound editing for the characters’ dialogue is placed strangely or feels like the pacing is weird…

But I love it, and not just for nostalgia. I love it because it is about a new set of characters (like a sequel usually should be) but the previous set of characters still act in-character.

Not everybody agrees with me. Because Simba seems much less fun-loving, and so uptight and formal, that he doesn’t feel like the same character we knew and loved in the original Lion King, at all.

But it only takes like one second of thought to realize that, as a brand new king who’s uncle murdered his father and emotionally blackmailed him, and was able to do so easily because Simba himself was so self-centered and reckless as a child, and then Simba made big mistakes by running from his responsibility for so long…

…where we find him in this sequel makes total sense.

Of course he’s feeling like he has to overcompensate for abandoning the kingdom and getting fooled by Scar. Should he realize that not everyone is going to betray him, and he is the real King and can rule gently and fairly without being over-controlling? Should he? Yeah. But like. This is Simba. His major character flaw is thinking too much about himself—it used to be thinking he was awesome, then after his dad died it was thinking he was unable to be a good leader and everything was his own fault. Now, everything he ever dreamed about being a King, he dreamed when he was like the lion-equivalent of nine years old. And found out it was all wrong. He’s having to figure this out with only his father, whose very absence is a sore spot, as an example. Of course he’s suddenly obsessed with being just like his dad, and that makes him talk all formal, and pass strict judgement, and say things like “I’m seeking counsel from the Great Kings.”

Of course Simba would be protective of Kiara. Overprotective. Lying and controlling. Because as a child, he and Nala almost died over and over. And the worst of the worst things happened to him, as a cub.

Of course he wants to banish Kovu. It’s not because he’s racist. (What does that even mean?) It’s because he was betrayed and manipulated as a young, naive cub by someone who claimed to love him, then broke his heart and his life. So when a dark lion who literally looks like and claims connection to Scar waltzes in and appears to be manipulating his daughter and stealing her young heart? Yeah, no, it wouldn’t be Simba if he didn’t overreact.

But that’s enough about Simba. I think the movie’s real strength is symbolism and premise.

First off, it continues the symbolism of a reflection in its own unique way. The movie is very on-theme. Its point is “Hate divides us, but love completes us.” (Its not “We Are One,” that’s just Movie-Speak)

Kiara feels incomplete. Divided from a whole other half of who she is. She says so as a cub. She’s not just a princess; she feels like there’s a part of her that wants to be capable and bold and take action. But she can’t be that, she has no outlet for that, because as the Princess, everyone is always over-concerned for her safety and wrapping her in like, wild-animal-bubble-wrap. Then she meets Kovu, and he is capable, and bold, and takes-action—he seems independent. (He’s not, at first, but he has more control over his immediate actions than Kiara seems to.) And he gets her and loves her, and she loves him, despite their flaws, so that is her missing half.

And with him, he doesn’t know how to just enjoy life. He’s been trained his whole life to act out of passe-down hatred; he’s been run through drills, and there’s even a scene where Kiara has to teach him how to play…and then he goes back home to his sister, who clearly also wants to play, but just calls it “fighting.” That’s the world he comes from.

But he meets Kiara, who is all about trying to enjoy life and have fun, and it’s a whole new outlook for him. It’s what he had seeds of before his mother’s hate stamped it out, and Kiara completes it for him. So they really are each others’ other half. And they have that in common. Kiara could be independent and a capable leader, if her father’s hate (which manifests as paranoia and overprotectiveness against danger) weren’t stamping it out. Kovu could have fun and protect good things instead of killing, if his mother’s hate wasn’t stamping it out. Dividing the good parts of them. But then their love for one another overcomes all that and brings them together.

And they do that literally, with the reflections in the water. Simba needed to learn his father lives in him, he’s a part that can’t be separated. Kiara and Kovu needed to learn that love makes them part of one another—that’s the key to no longer being divided.

Just like how, in the end, love forgives—so the Outsiders are able to come back into the Pride. Instead of being divided, the prides literally merge into one, and are completed. Love all that.

If you think of it all as like, “how do we make Simba into a strong King when he has so much baggage to overcome?” And this adventure with his new family teaches him that? Then you can see it’s a really beautiful movie.

And I love, of course, that Mufasa appears to be orchestrating all these events. Like, there’s a Higher Power at work. It’s all good.

Bambi II

This movie has the same vibes as Lilo & Stitch 2, even though it’s a midquel.

I love that Bambi gets his own characterization and character arc in this movie, even though he’s pretty one-dimensional in the classic film. But yet, none of this feels out of character for Bambi. He’s sort of gentle and very young, but you can see glimpses of dreams and ambitions and even strength that show off what he’ll be like as an adult Great Prince of the Forest.

I think the animation is very good, soft and cute. It’s not so much about realistic-cartoon-animal movements, graceful and charming, like the classic was, obviously. This animation is more about emotion and appeal. Which I appreciate, because the story is, like most good Disney sequels, very relationship-based.

It’s about Bambi being cared for by the Great Prince, and how the relationship between a father and son is about more than duty; it’s about nurturing. I just love that. I love how carefully they build up Bambi as feeling distant and unsure of what’s going on in his father’s head, but wanting to please him nevertheless. I love that the Great Prince doesn’t know how, exactly, to care for or relate to Bambi, so he defaults to just telling him how to be dignified and Princely.

I especially love the scenes with Ronno or the Great Prince. I like the fact that those old Disney sequels can take a character that didn’t have a lot of dialogue or screen-time in the original, and build out a whole story around those characters, giving them personality and writing that somehow always feels true to those characters. The Great Prince might not know how to father, but even when he’s insecure he has a kind of put-on calm and reserve. He’s not made a fool-out-of, ever, or bumbling. I love that Ronno, on the other hand, is ridiculous and brutish, just a little-boy bully…but he’s also truly threatening, for Bambi and Faline and their friends.

I think the emotion in this movie hits really well. Because they’re so careful to interweave Bambi’s emotions about losing his mother and wanting to find the same feeling of safety he had with her in his father, with The Great Prince’s emotions about wanting to “do his duty” even if it hurts when he feels he’s not what’s best for Bambi…

Because they build that up believably and spend all their time on that instead of big, epic adventures or larger-than-life tales, the movies turn out really well.

Honorable mentions to Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time, The Little Mermaid: Ariel’s Beginning, Tarzan II, and Lady and the Tramp II: Scamp’s Adventure

I hope your day is better tomorrow, friend.

[pucksalotguys]

Chapter 4

Masterlist to series

Back with chapter 4 ! This chapter is more so about Jacqueline, a bit of her background and reasons as to why she is the way she is. Hopefully this chapter explains some of her actions and why she’s a bit…difficult. Next chapter will be about a certain someone I think you guys have been waiting for ❤️

(Please remember to like, reblog, add tags, comment and leave me some asks to let me know what you think (anon is on for a reason so don’t be shy, I promise I’m nice 🫶)

WC:3K

Jacqueline watched as she left, keeping her eyes on her until she was out of sight. Cecelia was a beautiful girl, so beautiful she wondered how she got stuck in a job like that. It was a job that required frequent travel and weird hours and seemed to be an absolute nightmare to any other person. “You shouldn’t have been so tough on her” Sidney scolded with a frown “She hasn’t even been here a month, it’s only been a week and she’s has a ton to do as the season gets closer Jac, be kind” Typical. Sidney was always in defense of everyone, he saw the best in every single person and while she admired that she also hated it. For once she wished he could see her side of things rather than see her as the bad guy “She’s working with one of the top hockey organizations there is, she should be more than ready to handle it. You’ve said it yourself, whoever comes to work for the organization should come ready to deal with chaos and changes on whim” she explained “Or did she simply get hired because of pretty privilege ?” “What’s that supposed to mean ?” he asked confused 

“Exactly what it sounds like” Jacqueline answered “She’s beautiful so she was hired, not much to explain honey. A girl with a face like hers does not belong in the world of hockey, she looks like she belongs in the catalog modeling the merchandise” “That’s rather low to say” Sidney responded as he met her eyes “How would you like it if that was said about you when you were her age ?” “I had my skills thank you very much” she said back “People talked about my education, my family and my art skills. They didn’t need to speak about my looks” “They talked about how you and I met” Sidney corrected her “And you still haven’t let me forget how much your privacy was invaded during those years, as if I had any control myself. I was a kid myself, barely an adult trying to handle it all and make sure you were okay” “You did” she answered “It was the outsiders that hurt” The truth of the matter was that they did talk about her looks, but not in a positive way. When it first got out that she was dating Sidney the first thing she read about herself was that she was too plain for him. Plain.

The word still made her uncomfortable after all those years. She never thought of herself as exotic or drop dead gorgeous but she never thought she was plain. And though she knew there was nothing wrong with it, she felt deep down in her heart that it was a miracle someone like Sidney wanted someone like her.

 She was 22 years old, still in her last semester of college and suddenly she was the talk of campus no matter where she was. At first it didn’t bother her, she thought it was funny how suddenly girls wanted to be her friend and how guys would ask her questions after games in class, it was when rumors began to spread around how he was cheating on her on the road that she got worried.

When her family got a hold of what the media was saying they immediately told her to break it off with him. Her mother told her that a professional athlete was no match for her and how she deserved someone of status.

Her father did his very best to convince her to end things with him and to go back home to Connecticut after finishing college but she refused. She came from a rather wealthy family, her father was a lawyer and her mother was a stay at home mom. The only positive thing the media ever said about her was how Sidney never had to worry about her taking his money. 

“Mommy I hungry” Roman interrupted her thoughts as he looked at her with a big pout and pointed to another table “I want that !”

“Oh..um, well we stopped by to say hello to daddy not to eat here, you know we don’t eat in places like this you know that sweetheart” she pet his cheek “Jac, come on” Sidney sighed “Let the kids eat here, by the time you go home and cook something up they’ll starve” “I care about the quality of produce and meat that they use” she said as she looked at the menu “I take it they have organic grass fed beef, gluten free buns and dairy free cheese ? If not I’ll settle for the garden salad” She watched as he put his glass of water down and rolled his eyes. She was getting more of those lately and in her mind she just couldn’t understand why. He used to love how much she cared about the quality of what they ate, he used to find it interesting and would often times ask her for her opinion on what to incorporate in his diet “So what did you think of what I sent to the studio ?” Sidney asked her, breaking the tension “Did I do okay ?” Jacqueline gave a small grin and nodded as she ordered their lunch “You got me everything I needed, you didn’t have to do that”

“I wanted to,” he smiled at her “I think the studio is gonna do really well, have you thought of what you wanna do ?” “I wanna teach classes, I was thinking of one class for beginners and then another for children. I’ll expand as I see what goes best as well as selling some of work” “We don’t need money babe” Sidney chuckled “You don’t need to sell your work”

“What if I wanted to” she shrugged He nodded “Okay, well what would you want a painting to go for ?” “Well,” she cleared her throat “I was thinking we could price them anywhere from $5,000-$10,000 dollars and we can auction them at galas and at the team’s charity events. I think they’d sell with ease”

Something told her he didn’t exactly agree but still he simple nodded his head and gave her a grin, a fake one

“If that’s what you want then that’s what we’ll do” Sidney nodded “I’ll have Cecelia on it as soon as I speak with her”

“Since when is she your assistant ?” Jacqueline raised her brow 

“She’s not” he shook his head “You know I don’t need one, but she does have permission from management to help me and others with small tasks and this is one that I know we’ll need help in” “I can just hire an assistant for the studio” she sipped her water “Alright then” Sidney sighed “Why are you upset ?” Jacqueline asked “I simply said I’d hire an assistant to handle whatever I needed done. Cecelia clearly will have her hands full with whatever management has her do” “You don’t need an assistant Jacqueline, you and your two teachers you’ll be sharing a space with can handle it. It’s a small studio and plus, you always were able to handle your old studio on your own” he admitted 

“I know but this time I have children, I’ll need someone to pick the boys up from school to take them back home to Mrs. Molly” she defended “I won’t be able to run classes properly, plus think about how the last time I had a studio how many times hockey fans made a stop just to vandalize, I need security too. I want this to be the best art studio the city has to offer…I need it Sidney” she met his eyes “Please just….just help me, don’t criticize me” There weren’t many times where she was vulnerable, in fact she hated it and thought of it as a weakness but sometimes with him especially, she felt comfortable. He was her husband and even with bad times, she loved him with all her heart. She had been with him for 15 years, her entire adulthood years had been by his side and she would make sure that no matter what, she’d be with him for the rest of her life “I’m sorry” Sidney said softly as he held her hand in his “I’m sorry for everything, whatever you need I’ll make sure you have okay ? And when I’m home from trips I’ll handle the boys” he leaned over and kissed her forehead “Thank you” she smiled as she ate her food and cut up the boys food “After this I’m taking them to the bookstore, they’ve been asking for some new ones so I figured why not” “That’s lovely sweetheart” Sidney responded “I wish I could go but I have some zoom interviews to do and things to sign. You know preseason is just the beginning of the chaos that’s to come,  I’ll be home by dinner though”

“That’s perfect then” she nodded 

The rest of lunch was rather calm, nice even. She watched as the boys happily ate and chatted amongst themselves. Roman and Aaron were 5 years old and her entire world, she knew to Sidney she wasn’t a good enough mother but that was okay because he just didn’t understand her side of things. To him she did too much and singled out Roman because of his spina-bifida, what he didn’t see was that she just wanted him to feel comfortable She knew her way of doing things wasn’t ideal but she was just dedicated, she knew Roman could get better. She knew his condition was just that; a condition. It wasn’t a death sentence and if she had the power, time and money to find ways to make his life easier and better, she was going to do it. To Sidney Aaron could be a bit of a brat at times, she thought so herself as well but deep down she knew he was just frustrated

For a moment Jacqueline simply took in the scene in front of her. The boys giggling and chatting away about cars and dinosaurs with messy faces full of ketchup while Sidney talked along with them, his eyes shining with happiness and love. The same look he used to give her years and years ago. Matter of fact, she couldn’t remember he looked at her like that. In Jacqueline’s heart she knew Sidney loved her, but she wasn’t sure if he was still in love with her “Today so fun mommy” Aaron smiled at her “Can we have more fun days like this ?” She smiled and leaned over to kiss his forehead “Day’s not over yet sweetie, we still have the bookstore to go to remember ?” “I can get my book on cars” Roman smiled

“You get cars and I get dino’s and we share” Aaron nodded

"That’s so nice of you two to do” Sidney grinned “When I get home later I can read with you guys too”

Jacqueline wondered if she would be included in that activity, after budding heads for so many days they hadn't done the usual bedtime routine. More than anything she wanted routine back in their lives, as boring as they were at least she felt somewhat in control and close to him

“Well I’m heading out” Sidney stood up as he paid the bill and kissed the boys heads “I’ll see you boys later and you” he walked over to kiss her softly “Text me if anything honey, I love you”

With that she cleaned them up a bit and walked over a couple blocks as she pushed them in their double stroller to the bookstore. Once inside she greeted the store owner and made her way to the back of the store to the children's section “Mommy I get down” Roman whined “I hate stroller” “I didn’t bring your walker which means you can hold my hand as you walk” she nodded “I wish you would’ve told me that you wanted to walk, I would've came better prepared” “I get down !” he yelled frustrated as he pushed down a nearby stack of books “Me get down !” “Roman….” she whispered harshly “That’s not how you communicate, use your inside voice” Times like these are when she needed Sidney, he was so much better at calming the boys down whenever emotions were too high compared to her. The more she tried reasoning with Roman, the more he whined until finally he had enough and burst into tears which then caused Aaron to cry as well. The whole bookstore was filled with their crying as people began to turn their heads in their direction. She was in the middle of getting them out when she bumped the strolled into someone’s leg “Oh my god, I am so sorry” Jacqueline apologized overwhelmed “Cecelia ?” *****************************

This was her worst nightmare come true, in front of her was the woman she had just slightly tormented back at the restaurant who she didn’t even know that well “I…I got you right in the shin, are you alright ?” she asked “I’m okay” Cecelia answered with a chuckle “It’s on me, I wasn’t looking where I was going at all, I’m so sorry, everything okay ?” Jacqueline couldn’t help but look her up and down, she hadn’t even noticed back at the restaurant just how tall and gorgeous she truly was. She didn’t consider herself an insecure person but next to Cecelia any woman would feel the way she did “Mrs. Crosby…are you alright ?” Cecelia repeated She couldn’t even answer her before the twins managed to pull on Cecelia’s skirt, embarrassed she turned red and let out a nervous chuckle “No, no I’m not”

“Hey….you boys wanna go to story time ? They’re reading a book about dinosaurs, my friend is handling it and he does the best dino noises. What do you say ?” Cecelia looked down at the twins and then at back at her with a reassuring smile “It’s only an hour long, there’s a cafe here too where you can wait. It’s small but everything is really nice”

Jacqueline wanted to say no but in this moment she was desperate “Okay…” she nodded “Yeah that would be lovely but Roman can’t sit on the carpet…he has….well he’s-”

“There’s a bench in the area” Cecelia responded softly “Is that okay Mrs. Crosby ?” “Perfect” she nodded as she walked with her and settled the boys down in the area “I’ll be over here okay ?” “Kay mommy” they both nodded “We be real nice” She smiled and kissed their heads as she walked back to Cecelia, things were awkward but in his moment she was relieved someone was there to help her….even if it was the woman she had a nagging feeling about

“Cecelia what you did was very kind” Jacqueline said as she sat down “I appreciate you helping, Roman has a condition…it’s called spina bifida and it affects his ability to walk and when he wants to do something and can’t…like walk freely, he gets really frustrated and lashes out. His brother Aaron reacts to that and well you get a tantrum” “Oh Mrs. Crosby that’s fine, they’re children. Still little ones, emotions are very high. You don’t need to thank me at all, I would’ve done that for anyone. Now, would you like a latte ?” she asked “On me” “A medium oat milk latte with a dash of honey would be delightful” Jacqueline nodded “And Cecelia, please call me Jacqueline” “You got it and alright, Jacqueline it is” Cecelia nodded as she stood up to order Now, sure Jacqueline may have come off as a bitch in the moment but if there was one thing she hated, it was being called Mrs.Crosby. Yes she was his wife, but she was so much more. She was her own person who existed before she met him, he wasn’t her identity. Everywhere, especially anything hockey related, she was constantly referred to as Sidney’s wife. 

Everyone wanted to talk about Sidney and ask him questions and take pictures. She knew that to fans she was a bitch who always told them to leave them alone when together or with the children and that was fine. She had boundaries, simple as that. With Cecelia, it was different. There was something about her that she couldn’t quite explain

She looked at her from her seat and then looked down at herself, fixing her posture as she took out a mirror from her purse and looked herself over. She wasn’t ugly by any means, Sidney always told her she was a “classic beauty”, she liked that. Her style was simple yet classy, she stuck to black and neutral tones and typically opted for outfits that were chic yet comfortable. Cecelia on the other hand, she couldn’t help but stare at her and simply observe

Summer was nearing its end but here she was wearing a floral dress and sneakers with her long brown hair clipped back as she talked to the barista. Jacqueline wouldn’t be caught dead in sneakers yet somehow she wished she had some on to look like Cecelia and get the attention she was getting. No one ever looked at her like that, at least not in a while. Here they both were in bookshop cafe and Cecelia held the attention of all the males in the room at the tip of her fingertips

The feeling she was having was unfamiliar territory, it was one of jealousy and she didn’t know why. Suddenly she felt she was being too critical and shook off her negative thoughts as Cecelia walked back her way “Here you are” Cecelia smiled as she handed over her latte “Now, I was hoping we could go over that list you told me about a bit ago” “Oh yes the lounge list” Jacqueline nodded “Let me get my phone out” As she reached inside her purse she couldn’t help but notice Cecelia’s own phone light up with a familiar name…her husbands.

I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please remember to interact and leave feedback. I feel like I’m constantly repeating myself, but please remember that feedback is what keeps writers like me going. This is not Instagram, Twitter or TikTok, pressing on that heart doesn’t mean anything honestly. All that does is add it to your likes. I understand that many of you are new here, so let me be the one to tell you that pressing on that heart when reading a fic does nothing for the writer. What truly helps is reblogging and adding tags and of course leaving asks with questions or feedback. It’s not much nor is it hard to do, it’s simple actually. If you read any fic (mine or whoever else’s) give thoughts !!! It really helps !!

[southparktegreity]

south park ; [main 4+ butters] + s/o who draws !

NOTICE : all characters are aged up to their 19/20's!

CW : mentions of drinking (stans part), otherwise none

stan :

i get the impression stan would be really supportive! i feel like he would help you come up with things creatively

he would definitely ask you to draw like the skeleton hands on his hands

out of all the boys, i think he'd be the most interested in learning how to draw or alternatively learning how to draw specific things

i feel like it might end up being a healthy way to express his emotions, ie through vent art instead of drinking

i also think he'd like to paint more than any other medium, probably oil painting? but he uses the cheap acrylic ones whenever he's making vent art since oil paint is expensive

"hey... thanks again y/n for teaching me how to paint.. - it's really helped me."

kyle :

again, very supportive

though he probably would have minor concerns if you started to consider being an artist as your main job? i think he'd be worried about you making money so he might try and help you start an etsy shop or a redbubble or something so people could support you on something other than commissions :)

if you did that with him he'd definitely help you package and ship things out to your customers

whenever you and him babysit ike, you guys all three play pictionary !!!

they both think you're cheating lol

"isn't this like - cheating?! you're too good at this!"

kenny :

i feel like kenny would also want to learn like stan, specifically because he wants to draw you and karen together with him ! he’d probably wanna give it to you and her as a gift since he can’t afford other things

would definitely want you to draw on him, anywhere you want. i could definitely see him wanting you to make him some tattoo art or smth

karen would also probably want you to teach her how to draw

so you and kenny and karen all sit down together and teach them some simple stuff !!

kenny ends up drawing the life he imagines for you and karen, beautiful house - pretty garden - all the works. and of course, most importantly - you both with him

"well... here's the garden, and here's the house... and if you look inside this window right here... you can find you me and karen."

cartman :

as with everything you do, cartman will probably make fun of you, saying something about your “gay drawings”

we all know he secretly loves watching you draw

i feel like he would really like watching the process of you drawing? like he doesn’t care about what it is, but rather the whole process itself

if you take too long though he’ll start to complain

will probably beg you to draw either ‘the racoon’ fanart OR making him x kyles mom fanart

he'll end up commissioning you if you say no

"um. y/nnn. are your requests open? you see, there's this really neat superhero - you'd love him - that i want you to draw for me. he's VERY kewl.... you should - like.. draw him for me... what do you mean i have to pay you?"

butters :

butters DEFINITELY loves it!

i feel like you both would do art trades, except he'd feel a bit bad since he doesn't have the best skill - so he'd make it up to you by buying you a sketchbook or something

i think he also loves the feeling of being drawn on, and looking down at his hands and stuff to find drawings of hello kitty and him that you made ! he would practically MELT - but he’d probably be too shy to ask you to do it

definitely has gotten grounded for your drawings on him

i also feel like he totally shows off all your drawings to cartman and everyone

"well, heya fellas! look at what my partner drew on me! ain't it pretty? :)"

[richincolor]

Exploring Big Cities Via Novels

Exploring large cities can be a lot of fun, but my feet and knees can’t always take all of the running around. Visiting via novels (or graphic novels) makes it a lot easier. It’s clearly not the same experience, but I do enjoy a little tourism via literature. The last few young adult (or new adult) titles I’ve read take place in London, San Francisco, and New York with nods to quite a few of the local landmarks. I enjoyed each of these in different ways and appreciated seeing the cities through other eyes.

London on My Mind is a rom-com with a bit of family drama and a brush with royalty. Kisses, Codes, and Conspiracies has all that you might expect with the title including a bit of romance along with a few thrilling moments. Roaming leans more coming-of-age as college freshman wander through the streets of New York.

With all three, it was nice to experience the settings along with the characters. When I saw the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco while on a walk last night it definitely made me think of a specific scene in Kisses, Codes, and Conspiracies. I didn’t make it all the way there though since as often happens, my feet were done before the rest of me wanted to give up for the day. I’m thankful for these glimpses of cities from the comfort of my reading chair.

London on My Mind by Clara Alves translated by Nina Perrotta PUSH

Sixteen-year-old Dayana has always dreamed of visiting London — to walk along the Thames, take pictures outside Buckingham Palace, and maybe even get a glimpse of Arthur, Prince of Wales, whose marriage has been all over tabloids. But the trip of her dreams turns into a royal nightmare when her mother passes away. Now, Day must leave Rio de Janeiro to live with her estranged father and his new family in London.

As it turns out, the U.K. isn’t exactly Day’s cup of tea. She struggles to forgive her father for walking out on her and her mom all those years ago; fights with her stepsister constantly; detests her stepmother; and she can’t even see One Direction in concert because they’ve been broken up for ages. All she wants to do is trade the rainy skies of London for the sun and beaches of Rio.

That’s when she runs into the girl of her dreams — literally: The coincidentally named Diana, a witty, funny, redhead who was in the middle of . . . escaping Buckingham Palace? Something isn’t right here, but it makes Diana all the more alluring. As time passes, and the two girls grow closer, Day can’t help but wonder if there is more than a little truth to the rumors surrounding Prince Arthur — and if Diana might be involved somehow. Is it all in her head, or could Day be caught up in a real-life royal scandal?

Kisses, Codes, and Conspiracies by Abigail Hing Wen Feiwel & Friends – Available August 13, 2024 (Thanks to the ALA Convention for the ARC)

Tan Lee finds himself embroiled in an unusual love triangle, all while trying to defuse a heist, unravel a conspiracy, and navigate the most complicated babysitting assignment ever in this YA novel by national bestselling author Abigail Hing Wen.

After a magical kiss at Prom, best friends Tan Lee and Winter Woo agree to cool it off, a plan that goes awry when their parents jointly head off to Hawaii and leave Tan and Winter to babysit Tan’s sister Sana together. If that isn’t complicated enough, Tan’s ex-girlfriend from Shanghai arrives on his doorstep with money stolen from her billionaire father and thugs on her heels.

Tan soon finds himself on the run, trying to out-maneuver international hackers and protect his friends, family and sister – and his own heart.

Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki Drawn & Quarterly

Spring break, 2009. High school best friends Zoe and Dani are now freshman college students, meeting in a place they’ve wanted to visit forever: New York City. Tagging along is Dani’s classmate Fiona, a mercurial art student with an opinion on everything. Together, the three cram in as much of the city as possible, gleefully falling into tourist traps, pondering so-called great works of art, sidestepping creeps, and eating lots and lots of pizza (folded in half, of course). Roaming is a ground-breaking graphic novel from the authors behind New York Times bestseller and Caldecott Honor Book This One Summer.

[dollsonmain]

So, my mom got me a mini diamond painting coaster kit for Christmas (the only thing I got.....) and I'd been avoiding diamond painting because I know me, and I know that I would end up obsessing over sorting and organizing the little, plastic gems instead of doing actual projects with them.

I was considering not even opening the kit just to avoid even tempting myself with it, but also figured I should see if I would get sucked in horribly like I thought or would I be able to handle it.

The biggest problem I foresaw was ending up needing to buy and label storage containers for the gems, and the labels and containers would have to all be the same, and they'd all have to look perfectly aligned, and they'd all have to be. THE. SAME. but it would take me forever to figure out how, exactly, I wanted them just like my pony photos that I keep re-re-renaming and.......

I already had tiny zipper bags meant for beads and stuff, and I was able to find them (almost never can find them when I want them), and decanted each little un-re-closable bag of gems into a zipper bag with a bit of paper that had their number or letter on them, and that's been fine. I managed, so far, to store the gems in a simple way.

Another problem I'd foreseen was wanting all of the nice, fancy tools and stuff that people use to do their paintings.

I've been fine with the exceedingly cheap applicator pen and itty little block of wax.

I let myself overdo it in the hopes that I would lose interest BEFORE wanting to buy a bunch of stuff and I think it's working. I've done 4 out of 6 coasters yesterday and would have done all 6 but I ran out of light.

Not good, though, that I'm tempted to create my own patterns which would require purchasing sturdy paper, spray adhesive or large sheets of double-sided tape, and hunting down the right colors of gems leading to storing and labeling and.......

It's better I don't, even though it might be fun to make my own kits to sell.

I mean, it's just pixel art.

I don't know what I'll be doing with these coasters when they're done. They're still sticky all over because there are areas where there aren't gems (I know there's a setting spray but I don't want to spend money on this), and I figure if they were to get wet or hot the glue would let go and the gems fall off anyway.

-

As an aside, ye olden ADHD has proven to be an absolute bitch while trying to make these little coasters. I could be looking for every little A, for example, and as soon as I had covered the last dot and went to put the unused gems back in their bag am unable to remember which bag they go in or which letter or number I'd just been working on.

I have to make sure I remember to keep that bag separated while I'm working so I don't forget.

[danicalithegirl]

Excerpt from New Kid- Out on Wattpad now:

 By the time we got back to the cabin, the sun was starting to set. Hopper's place had taken on a golden glow, the kind of light that made everything look softer, warmer. Eddie grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, and we settled into our usual spots on the couch in the living room. The TV was on, playing some cheesy horror movie Eddie had picked out, but neither of us was paying much attention.

     "I'm just saying, there's no way that dude outruns a chainsaw in real life," Eddie said, gesturing at the screen with his beer. "Like, physics doesn't work that way."

     I laughed, curling my legs under me. "You're applying logic to a movie about a killer in a clown mask. I think you're missing the point."

    "The point is that it's dumb," he shot back, grinning. "But entertainingly dumb. That's what makes it art."

     "Art?" I snorted. "You have the weirdest definitions of art."

     "Hey, don't knock it. You're talking to a guy who considers D&D campaigns a high form of creative expression."

     I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. It was easy with Eddie—this banter, the way we could fill the room with laughter one moment and fall into comfortable silence the next. For a while, that's all it was: the low hum of the TV, the clink of beer bottles against the coffee table, and the warmth of Eddie's presence beside me.

     But then, as it always seemed to with us, something shifted. It started small—an offhand comment I didn't even think about until I saw the look on his face.

     "You know," I said, half-teasing, "it must be nice, not having to deal with family drama all the time. No awkward dinners, no lectures about your future... just peace and quiet out here."

     Eddie froze, his beer halfway to his lips. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "Yeah, real peaceful. Just me and the echoes."

     I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden edge in his tone. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant—"

     "I know what you meant," he cut me off, setting his bottle down with a little too much force. "But maybe don't act like my life's some kind of utopia just because I don't have a mom breathing down my neck."

       The air between us grew heavy, the lightheartedness from earlier evaporating. "Eddie, I wasn't trying to—"

     "Forget it," he said, standing abruptly. He started pacing, his hands running through his hair in that restless way he always did when he was upset. "You don't get it, Viv. You don't get what it's like to not have anyone. To have to figure out everything on your own because the people who are supposed to care about you either died or bailed."

     I stood too, frustration bubbling up in my chest. "And you think I've had it easy? You think having parents who fight constantly and care more about their divorce settlements than their kid is some kind of privilege?"

     He stopped pacing, turning to face me. "At least they're still around. At least you have a shot at fixing things with them. I don't have that, Viv. I don't have anyone."

      His words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say. The room felt too small, the walls closing in around us as the weight of everything unsaid pressed down. This wasn't the first time we'd clashed, but something about this felt different—deeper, more painful.

      "You think that just because your pain looks different, it's worse?" I asked, my voice trembling. "You think that gives you the right to dismiss what I'm going through? To act like I don't know what it's like to feel alone?"

     "You wouldn't understand proper isolation," he muttered, almost to himself. "You've got it made, Viv. West Lake Hills, decent money, parents only divorced. That's nothing compared to dead moms, dads in jail, and being chased out of town with pitchforks."

     I froze, the beer halfway to my lips. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

     Eddie glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "It means your life isn't as hard as you make it out to be. You've still got a family. I've got nothing."

      I set my beer down, anger bubbling up in my chest. "That's not fair, Eddie. You don't get to decide whose pain is valid."

     "I'm just saying, you've got no idea what it's like to lose everything," he shot back, his voice rising. "To have an entire town hate you so much they'd rather see you dead than breathing."

      "And you think I don't feel alone?" I snapped. "You think watching my parents tear each other apart didn't screw me up? You think having a mom who only cares about appearances and a dad who's barely around doesn't feel like losing everything?"

     Eddie stood abruptly, pacing the porch. "It's not the same, Viv. It'll never be the same."

     "You're right," I said, my voice shaking. "It's not the same. But that doesn't mean you get to throw my life in my face like it's some cakewalk. You don't get to belittle what I've been through just because you've had it worse."

     "I'm not belittling it," he argued. "I'm just... God, I'm just trying to make you understand."

     "Well, you suck at it," I shot back, standing now too. "All you're doing is pushing me away."

      "Maybe that's for the best," he said bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "Better to push you away than to watch you leave like everyone else."

     The words hit like a punch to the gut. "Is that what you think? That I'm just going to leave?"

     "Eventually, yeah," he said, his voice cracking. "Because that's what people do, Viv. They leave."

     "Not me," I said, stepping closer. "I'm not going anywhere, Eddie."

     He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a moment, the anger between us hung in the air like a storm about to break. Then, before I could say anything else, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine.

     The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as if he was trying to erase the argument, the hurt, everything. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands tangling in his hair as we stumbled inside, our movements clumsy but determined.

     We barely made it to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. When we finally fell onto the bed, Eddie hesitated for just a moment, his hands hovering over the scars on his chest. I reached out, my fingers brushing over the jagged lines.

     The scars were everywhere, crisscrossing his torso like a map of pain. Some were faded, pale against his skin, while others were newer, pink and still slightly raised. When my fingers brushed one near his ribs, he flinched ever so slightly, and I froze.

     "Eddie..." I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Do they still hurt?"

     His gaze softened, the fire from earlier replaced with something raw and vulnerable. "Not as much as they used to," he admitted. "Some of them are still a little sore, but it's fine. I'm fine."

     I hesitated, my fingers hovering over another scar near his collarbone. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I should've noticed before."

     He caught my hand, holding it against his chest. "Hey, don't do that. Don't apologize. This isn't on you."

     "But you've been carrying this... all of this... and I've been so caught up in my own shit," I said, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

     "Viv," he said firmly, pulling me closer. "You being here? That's enough. You're enough."

     I nodded, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate. My hands moved over his scars, careful and gentle, as if trying to ease the pain they carried.

     And then we were lost in each other. The anger, the hurt, the fear—it all melted away, leaving only us. Eddie was all intensity, his touch urgent but never rough, and I matched him, needing to feel as close to him as possible. He traced every inch of me, his hands memorizing, his lips lingering wherever they landed. He moved with a mix of care and hunger, like he couldn't get enough, like he was terrified this moment might slip through his fingers.

     His scars shifted under my palms as we moved together, and I stayed mindful, adjusting my touch when he flinched but never pulling away. When he groaned my name, it was raw and unfiltered, and I felt the weight of his trust in that single sound.

     Afterward, we lay tangled together, our breathing still uneven. His arm draped over me as my head rested on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a while, neither of us spoke, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable.

     "I got those scars from the Upside Down," he said finally, his voice breaking the quiet. "The bats... they didn't just bite. They tore. I thought I was going to die down there."

     I tightened my hold on him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "But you didn't. You're here. You survived."

     "Yeah," he said, his voice thick. "I survived. But sometimes, it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes, it feels like I left a piece of myself there."

     I propped myself up on my elbow, looking down at him. "Eddie, you're not there anymore. You're here. With me. And every part of you that matters is still here."

     He cupped my face with his hand, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "How do you do that?"

     "Do what?"

     "Make me feel like I'm worth something," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like I'm more than the shit I've been through."

     "Because you are," I said simply. "You're Eddie Munson. You're alive. And you're mine."

     For the first time in a long time, he smiled—a real, genuine smile—and pulled me down into another kiss. And in that moment, I knew: no matter what else happened, we'd find a way to be okay.

      He rolled us over then, his body pressing into mine as the kiss deepened, becoming something slower, more deliberate. There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of us, unraveling each other piece by piece. Eddie's hands slid along my sides, his touch warm and grounding, as if he was memorizing every curve and edge of me.

     "I don't ever want to stop," he murmured against my lips, his voice low and rough.

     "Then don't," I whispered, my fingers threading through his hair.

     He took his time, his movements careful but certain. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a promise, as if he was trying to tell me all the things he couldn't put into words. His lips found the hollow of my throat, his hands brushing over my skin with a tenderness that made my chest ache. It wasn't just physical—it was everything. The way he looked at me, the way he held me, as if I was something fragile and precious all at once.

     And when he whispered my name, it wasn't just a sound. It was a declaration, a confession, a prayer.

     Afterward, we stayed close, our limbs tangled together under the soft glow of the lamp beside the bed. Eddie's fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm, his other hand resting lightly on my hip. For the first time in what felt like forever, he seemed at peace.

     "I mean it," he said quietly, breaking the silence. "You make me feel like I can actually breathe again."

     I turned my head to look at him, my hand brushing the hair from his face. "That's because you can, Eddie. You don't have to carry all of this alone anymore."

     He nodded, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "It's just... hard, you know? Letting people in. Letting you in. But I don't want to shut you out. Not anymore."

     "You're not shutting me out," I said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. Together."

     For the rest of the night, we stayed like that—holding each other, whispering truths into the dark, and letting the world outside fade away. For the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, the past didn't have to define everything that came next.

After that initial night, things between us shifted. We were like magnets, drawn to each other with an intensity I hadn't expected. It wasn't just the stolen glances or quiet touches. It was the kind of thing where every moment felt charged, like electricity hummed between us, even when we were doing something as simple as sitting next to each other.

     We found ourselves in hidden corners—his cabin, the back of the van, and sometimes even in the quiet of my room when mom was out. Every time, it felt new. Even though we knew each other better with every passing day, there was still this sense of discovery, as if we were still figuring out how our worlds fit together. His touch was always a little urgent, like he couldn't get enough of me, and I felt the same pull every time our eyes met.

     The backseat of Clark was the most ridiculous place to find ourselves, but it felt like we could have been anywhere. The cramped space, the cold air, the laughter that followed every awkward bump of the road—it all made it seem like we were on some kind of adventure together. And maybe we were. The world outside seemed far away when it was just us, wrapped up in each other in the only way we knew how.

     I didn't even need to speak sometimes. A touch of his hand, a look from him, and the world would shrink down to just us. And somehow, even though we were still learning about each other, it felt like we'd known each other forever.

     There was something about the way Eddie kissed me—like he couldn't get enough of me either. Each time felt a little more desperate, a little more urgent, as if he was trying to tell me something he couldn't put into words. And maybe he didn't need to. We were both too caught up in the moment, in the chemistry that was so strong it could've burned us up if we weren't careful.

     We found moments in between the chaos of life. When I climbed into the van after school, his eyes lighting up when he saw me, like I was the best part of his day. And I'd give him that look, the one that said I needed him, and he'd give me this soft, knowing smile before pulling me into his arms, taking a deep breath like he had been waiting for that all day.

     There were nights when we'd get lost in music, the kind of quiet moments when the world outside felt too loud, and we just needed to shut it out. Sometimes, we'd sit on the worn couch in the cabin, a single lamp casting a soft light over us. He'd strum on his guitar, humming melodies that somehow seemed to fit everything I was feeling. I'd lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his body sink into mine.

     One night, we were lying on the floor of the cabin, surrounded by tangled blankets. I'd rested my head on his chest, my fingers tracing the tattoos on his arm, each one telling a story, each one a part of him I hadn't yet understood but was eager to learn. Eddie wasn't a big talker about his past, but when we were together like this, I felt like I was unraveling a mystery in the most beautiful way.

      "You know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I never thought I'd meet someone who could just... be here. With me. Without all the bullshit. Without the distractions."

     I smiled softly, looking up at him. "I don't need anything but this," I said, pressing my lips to his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat beneath my skin. And it was true. As much as I wanted to understand him, there was something about the way we existed together, in silence sometimes, that felt more real than anything.

     There were other nights when we'd take the long way back from a show or just a random drive, the stars stretching above us, and the hum of the van's engine as our soundtrack. He'd reach over, brushing his hand against mine, his fingers tracing over mine in a rhythm I started to recognize as his. We didn't need to say much—sometimes just the shared understanding between us made the drive feel endless, like the night was ours to own.

     One day, when I was with him in the cabin, we spent hours talking about our futures, not in any specific way, but more in the sense of what we both wanted out of life. Eddie had always been guarded, but there was something about the way we connected that made him open up more. I shared my fears about not being good enough for my mom, about the pressure I felt to always do more, to be more. Eddie listened, his hand in mine, squeezing gently when I got to the hard parts.

     "I get it," he said quietly, his eyes locking with mine, "You don't have to prove anything to anyone but yourself. You're enough."

     And in that moment, with him looking at me like that, I believed it. He made me feel like I wasn't broken, like I wasn't the mess I often thought I was. He saw me for who I was, and that was enough.

[argentumcor]

A flare-up of Arkham Trilogy fandom has been triggered, and so I spent entirely too much money on the Arkham Knight Genesis comic. Art is nice, writing is pretty good. I'm not a comic person, and find most comics to have ugly art these days, but this one (and Soulfinder from Iconic Comics) impressed me.

I always liked this version of Jason coming back best since I heard of the character. A plot device like a Lazarus Pit needs to be kept to a minimum because otherwise it just breaks everything and the Arkham version where the Pits are nearly exhausted and restricted to the Ra's plots is the best way to approach them. Jason being crazy because of torture and not mystical woo-woo side effects offers more interesting directions to go in to me, problems that can't be easily solved because they are choices he made while at least somewhat in possession of his faculties.

Man, I thought the backstory I cooked up for Arkham's Jason was dark but the canon one is darker. I had it where he never knew his dad and his mom was an addict who OD'd when he was young, but in the comic both parents are meth addicts who tried to sell him to the mob to pay their debts, which didn't work because that's nuts even in Gotham, and so abused him until he was thirteen, when Jason sold them out to the mob and watched them get killed in exchange for getting a small bit of turf where he was left alone to do small time crime.

I always liked the version of him meeting Batman by trying and semi-succeeding at stealing the wheels off the Batmobile, but the Arkham version where he saves Batman's life during a tussle with the Joker is a better fit for this universe.

There's conflict between the game City Stories version of how he got caught and the comic one. The game one is much darker, from what drove Jason after Joker (horrible murder and mutilation of children at a school in the game vs. pride I think in the comic) to the actual getting caught (Jason's hubris and sense of righteousness making him very stupid in the game vs. purely a trap the Joker laid in the comic). The game lore version of events is better, though harder to depict I think in the pages the comic had for various reasons.

One thing stands out about Arkham Jason: everyone in his life had given up on him from the moment he was born...except Bruce and the family. Bruce met him for only a few minutes at most and saw that Jason could be more than just another doomed rat in the dirty alleys of the city, wanted in some way to be more (Arkham Knight Jason disputes this in narration but it's clear from what happened that's the case). But a lifetime of being given up on doesn't just vanish in a year-ish of being really valued- and Joker brilliantly weaponized it against Jason and in doing so against Batman.

The comic is from Jason's bitter angry broken pre-Arkham Knight POV but there are hints that the darkness hasn't consumed him. I think Dick naming Tim as his brother in a fight hurt him- because I think they would have had that bond before Jason was taken and 'Tim as my replacement' is a big thing for Jason. He's ruthless, yes, and apathetic to the world around him but he sees that Bruce has a memorial to him in the Batcave and it triggers really intense emotions- anger because that's almost all he has anymore and then something else he can't and refuses to even try to process.

That's why, I think, Bruce extending a hand to Jason at the end of the boss fight destroyed the Arkham Knight. I also think that getting Gotham to evacuate civilians was Jason's idea. There's no logic to it from Scarecrow's POV; more people in the city would mean more fear to, uh, imbibe. It's not that Jason is worried about collateral damage, exactly, it's that he isn't totally gone. You can see that in the game audio logs. I wish we would have gotten an encounter with him and Dick, either as the Knight or as Red Hood. I think the rivalry there with Tim is built in as a matter of history and personality but with Dick there's a brotherhood that got broken through no fault of their own.

The Red Hood smart-assery is also present in the narration in the comic. I think it was there with the Arkham Knight, too, here and there, but he's on the furious hunt in most of what you hear from him so there isn't a lot of room for it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for accepting money/gifts from my mom?

(🦭🐟 to help find later)

Ok bear with me here because this is a serious question w/ some context even though the question doesn't seem bad.

My (19NB) mom (54F) is not a very good parent. Things were not great when I was a kid, to say the least. It's complicated to get into so I'm gonna glaze over most of it and say I plan to go low/no contact when I'm older and can afford to support myself on my own. For now I'm amicable since I need help while getting through college. This has been my plan for a WHILE but I've started to feel a little guilty?

My biggest issue with my mom is the way that she treats/treated my siblings. Sometimes she gets on my nerves but I know I have the privilege of being the youngest (and the favorite) therefore my parents don't pull the same kind of bullshit with me. For example one of my siblings had family therapy with her, and she would frequently not show up and leave them to do the exercises with the other families in the group session that they didn't know. She also complained about their suicide attempt. She talks down to my oldest sister because she couldn't pursue the medical career my parents wanted because she couldn't deal with the cadavers, and since she spent her whole education trying to reach their standards she's been lost trying to figure out what she wants for herself, and my parents keep harping on her for not having a career plan and being "useless". This is only the tip of the iceberg, and it's plenty enough for me to feel justified in my decision to eventually go no contact. I am not asking if AITA for cutting her off, that is not where the guilt is.

It's always been the case that instead of directly saying she was wrong my mom would spend a lot of money on us and buy gifts (usually stuff she likes and not what we like, but I figured out I could leverage her guilt to buy specific things bc free stuff ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ even if I don't forgive her). I think this is because she didn't have much money growing up so now she's a shopaholic now that she has the money to do so (both my parents are in the medical field so they are far from poor. abt upper middle class). She also keeps defending our uncle despite us bringing up how he's creepy and pervy and makes us uncomfortable, and she has some... interesting political takes (like defending the price of insulin being so high???)

My mom I think has been trying to be better but she still never apologizes for any of her actions and is guilt trippy by saying stuff abt how we all think shes a bad mom that caused all her kids to be depressed and suicidal. So its not enough of an improvement for me to forgive her, but I do notice that she walks away from situations sometimes rather than blow her fuse, and she's more tolerant of my ADHD and queerness than she used to be. And she's been trying to be more supportive of me and my decision to pursue an art career. I do believe that people can get better and change themselves, I just think in the case of my mom it's too little too late (and she hasn't improved her relationship with my siblings as much). I've also been polite and friendly since I'm still living with her.

So like, this combined with me accepting her gifts makes me think I'm leading her on? Like she thinks that she's salvaging a relationship with one of her kids and that I'll stay. And I feel a little bad about that. Like if it was JUST the gifts I would feel no guilt bc if she thinks she can bribe her way into our good graces without changing her behavior than shes gonna be down money and still have no kids. But shes trying to improve, albeit slowly and not when we needed her, but better nonetheless. So it feels less "this is the least she could do given the trauma" and more "i feel like i'm taking advantage of her".

One of my siblings refuses to accept her money on principle (they've already moved out) and it makes me think I should probably do the same, but also i dont know if I can since I don't have a job yet and I'm still in school, so maybe just refuse the gifts thing? But neither of my siblings seem to have an issue with my relationship with her, so maybe I shouldn't feel bad? She's treating me better so I feel I have less justification for using her wealth for my own benefit, even if I still don't forgive her for how she treated my siblings.

Basically, AITA for still accepting guilt money/gifts from my shitty mom despite planning on cutting her off later on?

What are these acronyms?

[saraannsworld]

For my whole life I have moved furniture. Every time something felt off I would re-arrange my room, my apartment and then my house. Sometimes it would be once a month, sometime multiple times in a week. People would joke with me about it. say things like “ oh no Sara is moving it around again” in a joking tone. I hated it. I knew why I did it. I did it because something felt wrong. I hoped that moving everything around would make my space feel better, but that never worked.

I have been doing this my whole life and for the first time. Being 40 in a few months. I finally see there is no pint in moving around my furniture. I am finally tired. I am ready to rest, to heal. To move into the person I am, not the person I wished I would be. I have been trying to be this image of what I think people want me to be, and not what I am. Stepping into those shoes came into my life in a really hard way, but I think the only way it would have happened.

We had been sitting on my neighbors front porch as we did so often. About the time the alcohol took over our body’s is when we started talking about me, jobs and possibilities. All I know is that I had had enough of trying to be. What I thought my family expected of me, tired of holding feelings in that it all came out. The last thing I remember being said was me yelling at my Mom that she never supported me and her yelling back how had she not supported me. It all ended with my son coming out and yelling “Stop, just stop”

I have not drank anything since then, I know I have to deal with my emotions and, experiences before I can drink again. Or maybe I never will again. What I do know is that one word can change everything. One word can have a different meaning to everyone in the same room. In this moment to my son “support” was me and his grandmother not fighting. To me it was feeling “supported” emotionally and, not feeling ecnored in my experience and what I wanted to do next. To my Mom it was that she had supported me with money and a place to live. She had been there for me as much as she could. Listened and supported.

In this moment I could see that I was really yelling at myself. I needed to support myself. Acknowledge my feelings and my experience. Step into my experience. Give it the room to breathe, and grow as much as possible. I needed to live my truth, walk away from these images I have created. My Mom had just been doing what she felt was the way she could be there for me. My son just wanted everyone to get along. Not argue and the trauma of this moment stop. The reality I excepted in this moment, is that the only way for anyone in my family to understand what I had been through was for them to have the same horrible things happen to them. I would never wish that on anyone. So I excepted that I will never be fully understood by my family. Since then I have done a lot of morning for my past self and past believes.

The truth that I had known for years, had been trying so hard to accept. That I was not becoming that person I was going to become that freshman year in high school. My high school years did things to me that no one understood. No one knew about, if they did they were brought into my lie of nothing happening. I stayed in that body, that place until I finally could not hold onto it any longer. I was able to heal some of my trauma while being in that space. I had never truly let go of it until now.

Now I am living with me. A woman who has been through trauma after trauma. A person who has not just survived but who is now flourishing. A woman who is raising a son on her own, that knows it is ok to except family support. A woman who understands life, emotions and healing in more ways then ever imagined. I woman who is going to change peoples life by helping them be seen through her art, her writing, her talking of the trauma experience. A person who will show them you can acknowledge the good, the bad, the ugly to see the strength and beauty in your life, your experience.

For so long I have this feeling of there is so much more for me out there. I am suppose to be doing so much more, reaching out into the world so much more. So that is starting here. Here at my desk, in my blogs, in my art, in my breath, in every step I take into my true self.

I now can feel the true me coming out. My furniture has not moved for months. My heart is finally finding feeling at home.