One of my biggest supporters and best friend passed away recently. My Grammy. My Grandpa has been gone almost 10 years now. So, in real life, whenever a blue butterfly showed up it was Grandpa coming to check on Grammy. Now, she's a butterfly going to be with him.
Painted my favorite cartoon characters from when I was a kid as part of an Instagram live paint jam with my friend and comic Artist Michael Chuah. We both did our own versions. It was fun.
"I don't want to be here. I want to go back." *Her hands pressed against the glass tank. Her eyes searched his eyes, a silent plead. But the prince just smiled, not a charming pleasant one. It was one with dark intent. "You will never leave. This is your home. So enjoy the attention as you get it."
What do I have to so to make people fucking listen to me?! (c) Smart people problems.
I'm almost done first page of my comic, but got distracter by this my meme in my head.
Part 2 is coming, tomorrow. I had this one sitting in my procreate for a while. When I drew the picture I wasn't sure where I was going with it. But after letting it sit for over a month I finally figured it out. I have a second template to go with this one, and it will be posted tomorrow.
Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic.
After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001
"I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day."
The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket.
"But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit."
"…"
“Who am I?"
The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands.
"Love!"
His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it.
"To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"
