#yes I will be drawing this but I just need it out of my system now so I can sleep peacefully

[ledesaid]

Billy has a fever🌡️

♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-♦-

Well, it's official. He doesn't have much luck today. Well, he hasn't had much luck in recent years. He was barely eleven years old (ten years and seven months) and was delirious, alone, in his small corner of the world.

Billy had been proud of having avoided getting sick until this point because he already knew what would happen next: he would have to turn himself in to social services so they could take him to the hospital and then he would escape again. Complicated. Not many had luck in that last part of the plan; he had friends who, after that, couldn't escape the system again.

The problem was that he barely had enough strength to move an arm, he couldn't get up, much less go out into the streets in search of a police officer or a precinct. This left him with two options: call the League on his communicator or use his chalk to open a portal.

The cold December wind whipped against his window hard enough to drown out his thoughts. But one broke through strongly enough to make him decide.

How was he going to bring one of his colleagues to the little hole he tried to call home?

Well, is the portal.

Billy had an emergency circle that would take him to a beautiful island hidden somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Titan Gaia had entrusted him with that place if he fell ill, and now was the time. He could barely distinguish the symbols the chalk left behind, but he was sure he had written beloved caretaker of green life. What he wasn't sure about was if he had properly delimited the spatial jump.

Maybe that's why he was looking at a redheaded woman before passing out instead of a thirty-foot-tall humanoid mountain.

"Well, this isn't something you see every day... Who are you, kid?"

Billy can't respond, and the next thing he knows is that he wakes up in a warm room, fortunately without windows being battered by intense snow. Very clean, clear walls, drawings of plants on the walls, but it wasn't the hospital.

Then he notices that he was in a bed shaped like a giant bunny, no, it really looked like a giant bunny plush with a mattress in the middle of it. A little madness.

A soft, warm, and fluffy madness.

By this time, Billy notices his fever has disappeared. Yes, his head hurts slightly and he has an IV connected to his arm, but he feels strong enough to patrol for a couple of days.

"How do you feel, little fern?"

Billy: Little fern?

"We've taken care of you like a fern, and Harley wanted to nickname you that until we knew your name."

Billy: Thanks, I'm Billy.

Pamela: Good, I'm Pamela, and soon you'll meet Harley, she's my wife. She's a bit energetic, so I apologize in advance for the noise, but that's how she shows her affection.

Billy doesn't know quite what to do or say. If the portal had failed and brought him in front of this woman, it would be hard to explain how it was possible, and escaping would be a bit complicated until he could call the captain.

A wonder indeed was his situation.

Pamela: Don't think too loudly, Billy, we're not going to turn you over to social services or the police.

Billy: Really? * he said a bit confused * Why?

Pamela: We're not exactly lovers of that side of the law, but we know how to recognize a kid in trouble who needs a hand.

Billy grabbed the soft, fluffy sheets that covered him tightly. It was time.

Billy: Thank you very much, really. If you give me a couple of hours, I'll be gone and you'll never hear from me again. I promise.

The woman raised an eyebrow in disbelief, possibly, Billy wondered if he had said something wrong, but he didn't understand exactly what. Was a couple of hours too much? He could really leave in just twenty minutes.

Billy: But I can leave earlier if...

Pamela: Sorry, kid, but it's too soon for you to get out of bed. You came to me with a 103° fever, delirious...

Before Billy could ask about what he might have said, a door was heard slamming not far from the room where Billy had slept and, a few seconds later, a sing-songy and shrill voice made them look. Blonde with a high ponytail, the one and only Harley Quinn. Billy finally put the pieces together, so that's why the names and appearances seemed familiar. Don't blame him, he didn't associate Pamela with Poison Ivy, maybe because he associated the color with Martians... it was strange. He was so exposed to extraordinary and impossible things that he was indifferent to being excited by mere skin color or an ex-supervillain in front of him.

Harley: I'm glad you're okay, little lost boy.

Billy: Uh... Th-Thanks.

The black-haired boy was being hugged tightly by the blonde woman in one of the sincerest embraces Billy could ever remember.

Pamela: Let him breathe, love, Billy still has the IV...

Harley: Oh, right! Sorry... Is your name Billy? Hi, I'm Harley Quinn. Do you want a big plate of waffles with ice cream, toast, strawberries and cream, and maple syrup?

Maybe it was the residual effects of his fever, the hunger of possibly four days, or the warm hug, but Billy nodded his head in affirmation, feeling that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to avoid crying in front of this warm couple.

[morningsharksworld]

Nerd Out

Hazard x Reader

A/N: I made this as a thank you to @hackeraxe for drawing my silly lil Hazard piercing headcannons, I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I did 👹✨

Summary: You got too excited over a project you’re working on

Your room was a controlled mess—keyboards, cables, and half-finished projects littered every available surface. Your desk was no exception, a graveyard of empty energy drink cans and open coding notebooks. You were hunched over your laptop, headphones slung around your neck, mumbling to yourself about predictive algorithms while the hum of your tower PC filled the room.

Hazard’s unmistakable Scottish brogue cut through your concentration like a knife. "Yer wee lair’s somethin’ else, ye ken?"

You jumped, spinning around in your chair to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like he owned the place.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, half-exasperated and half-mortified. You swore you’d told him not to come over unannounced.

"I knocked" he said with a shrug, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. "Ye just didn’t hear me o’er all that techno wizardry o’ yers." He gestured to the chaos surrounding you. "So… what’s got ye so absorbed ye forgot tae eat lunch, eh?"

You bristled but couldn’t help the sheepish grin tugging at your lips. "I was busy."

"Aye, I can see that, So…" Hazard reached for the nearest circuit board, turning it over in his hands like he had the faintest idea what he was looking at. "Whit’s all this then? Some kinda computer surgery?"

"Hardly" you said, snatching the board from him before he could accidentally fry it with static. “I’m upgrading this bad boy. Needed more RAM, and the GPU was about as outdated as your jokes."

His hand flew to his chest in mock offense. "Oof, right tae the heart! My jokes are timeless, I’ll hae ye know."

"Sure, tough guy" you teased, sliding the panel off the PC case.

Hazard sat by a nearby chair beside you, his sharp amber eyes scanning the array of components like he was trying to make sense of a foreign language. "Alright then, clever clogs, tell me this: whit’s RAM, and why d’ye need more of it? Sounds like somethin’ tae dae wi’ sheep."

You groaned but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. "RAM stands for Random Access Memory. It’s like your computer’s short-term memory. When you’re gaming, it temporarily stores all the data the system needs to access quickly, like loading textures or keeping the game running smoothly. More RAM means it can handle more tasks without slowing down."

Hazard tilted his head, considering. "So it’s like when I try tae remember where I put ma keys. Short-term stuff, aye?"

"Exactly!" you said, a little impressed. "And then there’s the CPU—central processing unit. That’s the brain-brain. It processes everything, from running the game to your random web searches. A faster CPU means better performance overall."

He squinted at the open case. "Alright, so RAM’s short-term memory, CPU’s the brain. Whit’s this GPU thing ye mentioned earlier?"

"The GPU—graphics processing unit—is like an artist. It handles all the visuals, rendering textures, lighting, shadows, and everything else you see on the screen. A good GPU is crucial for gaming, especially if you want high frame rates and sharp graphics."

Hazard gave a low whistle. "So the GPU makes it bonnie, the RAM keeps it runnin’, and the CPU keeps it all from fallin’ apart. Bloody hell, I didnae ken gaming was this complicated."

You laughed, setting the upgraded GPU into place. "It’s not that complicated once you get the hang of it. And when you know what each part does, you can pick the right specs for what you need. Like, if you want to play on ultra settings at 120 frames per second, you’ll need a strong GPU and a good CPU."

"Ye’ve got a sparkle in yer eye when ye talk aboot this stuff, ye know that?" Hazard’s voice had softened, and when you glanced at him, he was leaning on your desk, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

"I—what?" you stammered, suddenly hyper-aware of how animated you’d gotten.

He tilted his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "I mean it. Ye light up like a Christmas tree. It’s... adorable."

Your face went hot, and you immediately turned back to your pc, pretending to be busy. "It’s not adorable. It’s just... something I’m passionate about."

"Aye, and it’s grand tae see." He crouched beside your chair, resting his chin on one hand as he peered at your work. "But ye’re bloody brilliant, ye know that?" he said, his brogue thick and warm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a crooked grin. "Nae use denyin’ it. I’ve never seen someone so chuffed aboot pcs before, an’ it’s kinda... charmmin’, if I’m honest."

"I, uh..." You felt your face heat up as you fiddled with a stray wire. "I guess I am."

"Dinnae stop now" he said, his voice teasing but gentle. "I’m learnin’ loads here. Plus, I like seein’ ye all excited. It’s... kinda adorable, tae be honest."

Your face went nuclear. "Hazard!" You groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

You peeked at him through your fingers, his teasing grin making it impossible not to smile back.

"Fine" you muttered, turning back to your work. "But if you’re going to stay, you’re not allowed to touch anything."

Hazard laughed, settling himself on the floor next to you. "Deal. Now, keep goin’. Tell me more about this sheep thingy."

Still hiding your face in your hands, you couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto your lips. With a deep breath, you picked up where you left off, explaining the intricacies of the motherboard while Hazard listened intently, his eyes never leaving you.

And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself believe that he wasn’t just fascinated by the gaming specs. Maybe he was fascinated by you.

[lilietsblog]

Ok so first of all there's always going to be BAD ART. Of any art form. Movies feel special because they take so much work, so shouldn't they all come out good because of that? No. That's not how making art and storytelling works.

Well, movies ARE a little bit special. For most/all other forms of art, there's a filter between actually /making/ the thing and /publishing/ the thing. You can draw a picture that doesn't come out right, and you can just put it away in a folder and draw another. You can write a book that you then look at and realize is not up to your standards, and you just don't send it to a publisher or self-publish and nobody needs to know.

Movies? Are way too expensive for that. There's way too much investment from way too many people to just put a movie away without anyone ever knowing it was made. Losses need to be recouped at least partially. It does not, at that point, matter if the movie is good or bad, SOMEONE will hopefully pay to see it.

(Then there's the serially published works that don't have this luxury, and there TV shows have incredibly greater reach and universality than any other serial media. Most works on RoyalRoad, most webcomics etc only get /known/ if they pass the filter of minimal audience engagement. Fanfiction has 0 reach outside of the fandom, short of getting rewritten to have original characters, which puts it into the traditionally published novel category. TV shows are on TV, which means everyone who watches TV has a chance to just stumble on them)

Now I don't know much about filmmaking, maybe I'm off-base with some of this. But I don't think this is a capitalist vs communist problem.

For one, communism as central planning - as you said, committees and government-approved budgets - is an incredibly bad economic system. Like, not morally bad, like bad at being an economy. I can elaborate on that if anyone wants, but tl;dr Do Not Do This. It will not improve art either, for all the reasons noted.

If you want more good movies, proportionally, what you want is a filter that allows bad movies to be made and then /not published/. What would allow this?

a cultural shift towards lower-budget movies. If everyone is more interested in stuff that has theatrical type production with visibly painted cardboard props and dance routines from like ten people as large scale battle choreography, that'll relieve a lot of the financial/organizational pressure, I think;

technological advances! We've already got a whole new short-form video genre on tiktok, including with people who are amazing actors playing multiple roles switching around clothing and angles. Yes, most tiktoks are bad, see again: any and all art, but like my tumblr dash only has the good ones filter to it and I'm quite happy for that;

An economic system where the average person has A LOT more free time and money on their hands. I will refrain from going on a UBI tangent here, but tl;dr the only way to avoid movies needing to recoup losses and therefore going to publication even when they didn't come out good, is to have these losses be genuinely write-off-able. Filmmaking needs to become a plausible hobby, like writing or drawing, something you do without expectation of necessarily making money off it. Communally, meaning a lot of people in the same hobbyist community need to have this ability at the same time in the same place.

(No, the USSR was not this. Everyone involved was a professional that the state was paying to make movies. The state could afford to discard some movies that were being made, yes, but you don't want "the state" to be the decider any more than you want "the corporation" to be the decider. The creatives involved need to be in charge, and that means doing something about budget concerns, as said above)

Yes, you will always need someone to organize production and such. There are people, I know for a fact, who would gladly do that as a hobby /if/ that were logistically possible in their lives. See amateur theatre, a very real thing that is not particularly far from filmmaking.

The key is not "making better movies". The key is "making movies in a way where you can afford to then discard them if you don't like them".

I've been trying to get a good overview of communist art, and it's difficult, partly because of the language barrier, but also partly because I think what I want isn't the art itself, it's a comparison of how the landscape of art-making shifts.

Movie-making, in particular, is a massive undertaking that requires a fair amount of time and money if you want to do it right. You need someone to write it, someone to direct it, someone to act in it, a cinematographer, some lighting, sound and music ... under a communist model, none of this would actually change. You would still need to acquire the personnel and make sure they were housed and fed. You would still need sets to be built and artists to devote their time and energy.

So one of the common criticisms of capitalism is that it produces Bad Art, that everyone is just trying to make a buck and they don't care about the product unless it finds consumers who will pay out cash. Everything is geared for the lowest common denominator. This gets worse as you involve more and more capital.

But I've always wondered: is this not also true under communism?

I don't mean in practice, that question is simple, all you have to do is read up on the film production processes from a number of different communist and formerly communist countries, whose source materials are often not accessible in English, mired in propaganda and disputes, and cover many decades. Easy peasy. I did what I think is a surface skim, but the common threads were that film studios were state-owned, scripts were approved by party officials, there were regular reviews during production, and a final review before release. You usually have to promote socialist values, or at least not criticize the current regime, and you have reviews for "ideological content". In spite of all this, some good movies got made, some bad movies got made, and some movies were banned for lack of ideological conformity or "frivolity". There are different eras to filmmaking in every country, times when the industry was thriving and times that it crashed to the ground in spectacular fashion as the government involved itself. A lot depended on who was in power and what the then-current ideology was. I think it's tempting to say that the widely agreed upon "great films" got made in spite of having ideological overview, but it's hard for me to evaluate that claim, and if someone said "the great American films were made in spite of capitalism" I think that also would be a difficult claim to evaluate, even though I've actually seen a pretty substantial amount of the canon and speak the language most often used in analysis of production processes.

No, what I mean is that in theory there's someone that has to be running the numbers. The film studio is state-run, sure, everyone is in state housing or whatever, they're getting food somehow ... but someone, somewhere, is authorizing all this. You don't make a film without a plan, so those plans have to be submitted to someone, or a committee, and that committee has to decide which films will get made and which will remain a dream. And if they're doing that, then they're either trying to make the film that they think benefits the country the most, or they're applying their own taste and judgment, but probably both.

And if you're under some kind of model where no one runs the numbers, where film-making is entirely volunteer work, then you still have problems, because you need this large volunteer organization, and you need to bring them in on your vision, and if they can just walk away, you need to maintain that energy and vision through the whole process.

I guess what I'm saying is that yes, capitalism presents problems when it comes to this specific artform, but I feel like as soon as you're out from under the yoke of the dollar, you're immediately under some other yoke. And I do wish that when people saw a bad film and said "the problem is capitalism" they would take a moment to consider that maybe there is always necessarily going to be oversight and compromise, just because of the nature of the enterprise.

This does not apply nearly so much to other forms of art, like those that can be done by a single person sitting in a room all alone.

[obsob]

one small step for. kitties

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[weightless-feathers]

Well I was thinking that it was kind unfair that Selly had no especial equipment of her own, or at least something similar to other Robot-Trains, soooooooo:

Selly's especial equipment: unlike the rest of her friends, she doesn't need to add an "extra layer" when she's using her powers. Instead, she modifies her hands by concentrating a lot of energy in her fingertips. The metal literally melts and reshapes into claws, that now are sharp and hot enough to cut through basically anything.

In a later actualization, she is also able to send and receive signals through these claws, this is especially useful when changing the properties of certain machines she has made or... to mentally control other trains! When she buries her claws into an engine, and activates the "yellow mode" she will connect "them" to her own engine, and the two will function as just one train. The other train is still conscious and able to communicate with her, but ultimately she's the one in control.

She uses the latter mostly during expeditions that require certain actions to be done with precision, for example setting up weather sensors on dangerous places.

Cons:

The claws take a "lot of time" to be ready to use, at least in comparison to the rest of the special equipment.

They can be tricky to control since she has to deactivate most of the sensors in her hands before melting them down.

She has to get her hands replaced each time she uses her ability for them to have normal functions again.

Pros:

After they are set they actually are the least energy-consuming special equipment.

They come in really handy for her day to day work.

When she is connected to another train, she can make their shared energy last a lot longer than usual, optimizing most of their general functions.

[morninkim]

Lois and her boysss

[neon-tigre95]

Mc-sketchy

[fr-thecollectors]

it's one thing to not like a dragon's design

it's one thing to be triggered or squicked by aspects of a design

it's one thing to redesign a dragon or adjust things so you do like it

it's uh. Very Much Another to "rework" one of the few fat dragons we've got to make it super skinny. 😑

(and before anyone tries to shove the "well you're not in light blah blah blah" bullshit down my throat i've been seeing in the forums and even on here. i don't like my own flight's ancient. i was disappointed when auras were released, but i shrugged, moved on, and hoped the next release would be more my taste)

[silent-lily]

I... don't have a good explanation for this. Only that a person asked "okay but what if Shadow as Doomguy" and then I brainrotted HARD. And didn't want to draw only Shadow so... yeah.

("Why Sonic as Isaac and not Tails?" - because I think Tails would fit more as Gordon Freeman if we're talking about "futuristic protags in really unfortunate situations") (your usual friendly reminder that Tornado is Sonic's plane so he should know a thing or two about mechanics!)

[numbuh424]

I don't know if anyone else will appreciate this but if there are any other Death Note fans out there who also enjoy the TV show Taskmaster I am making a DN on Taskmaster AU so self-indulgent and I am pleading that you make yourselves known to me cause I can't be alone in this

[vizziefizzie]

Silver warmup :)

[philcoulsonismyhero]

I've accidentally gotten Way too invested in some characters I've been playing with for a 'one of my beloved early 2000s crime dramas but this time people are actually queer' type story, so here, have some middle-aged gays

George is a detective, Tim is a forensic pathologist, they're an established couple because I don't really write romance but I do enjoy a bit of domesticity, and any resemblance you may notice to other characters that I've drawn a lot is probably entirely deliberate, this is an exercise in self-indulgence

[yellllowstar]

slowly I'm recovering the beauty of discovery

(creature by half•alive)

(textless + timelapse below cut)

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

UHM. UH. More messy rushed doodle collection from today. I will not confess to anything my mouth is sealed shut. Most of it is mindless fun; nothing to do with brainstorming storylines or being worried about staying canonical to how his character is typically presented. Head empty no thoughts since I desperately needed a break from animating again

…but yes to answer your question I’m a bit deranged about him please keep scrolling

[kellystar321]

.