@bilal-salah0

Hey so "all men are trash" posts help terfs

I'll explain if one of you want

Watcher's Expenses

I didn't major in accounting: I took three classes and it grinded my brain to a fine powder. However, after graduating with a business admin degree, being a former eager fan of their videos, and from a cursory glance over their socials, there's a lot to consider in their spending behavior that really could start racking up costs. Some of these things we've already noticed, but there are other things I'd like to highlight, and I'll try to break it down into the different categories of accounting expenses (if I get something wrong, let me know. I was more concentrated in marketing 🤷‍♀️). I'm not going to hypothesize numbers either, as that would take out more time than I'm willing to afford-- you can assume how much everything costs. Anyways, here's my attempt at being a layman forensic accountant:

Note: All of this is assuming they're operating above board and not engaging in any illegal practices such as money laundering, tax evasion, not paying rent, etc.

Operating Expenses

Payroll: 25+ staff salaries and insurance

Overhead Expenses

CEO/founder salaries

Office space leasing or rent (In L.A, one of the most expensive cities in the US)

Utilities (water, electricity, heating, sanitation, etc.)

Insurance

Advertising Costs

Telephone & Internet service

Cloud Storage or mainframe

Office equipment (furniture, computers, printers, etc.)

Office supplies (paper, pens, printer ink, etc.)

Marketing costs (Social media marketing on Instagram, Youtube, SEO for search engines, Twitter, etc. Designing merchandise and posters, art, etc. )

Human Resources (not sure how equipped they are)

Accounting fees

Property taxes

Legal fees

Licensing fees

Website maintenance (For Watchertv.com, Watcherstuff.com, & Watcherentertainment.com)

Expenses regarding merchandising (whoever they contract or outsource for that)

Inventory costs

Potentially maintenance of company vehicles

Subsequent gas mileage for road trips

Depreciation (pertains to tangible assets like buildings and equipment)

Amortization (intangible assets such as patents and trademarks)

Overhead Travel and Entertainment Costs (I think one of the biggest culprits, evident in their videos and posts)

The travel expenses (flights, train trips, rental cars, etc. For main team and scouts)

Hotel expenses for 7-8 people at least, or potentially more

Breakfasts, lunches and dinners with the crew (whether that's fully on their dime or not, I don't know; Ryan stated they like to cover that for the most part)

Recreational activities (vacation destinations, amusement parks, sporting activities etc.)

The location fees

Extraneous Overhead costs (not sure exactly where these fall under, but another culprit, evident in videos and posts)

Paying for guest appearances

Expensive filming & recording equipment (Cameras, sound equipment, editing software subscriptions, etc.)

The overelaborate sets for Ghost files, Mystery Files, Puppet History, Podcasts etc. (Set dressing: Vintage memorabilia, antiquated tech, vintage furniture, props, etc.)

Kitchen & Cooking supplies/equipment

Office food supply; expensive food and drink purchases for videos

Novelty items or miscellaneous purchases (ex. Ghost hunting equipment, outfits, toys, etc.)

Non-Operating Expenses

These are those expenses that cannot be linked back to operating revenue. One of the most common examples of non-operating expenses is interest expense. This is because while interest is the cost of borrowing money from a creditor or a bank, they are not generating any operating income. This makes interest payments a part of non-operating expenses.

Financial Expenses

Potential loan payments, borrowing from creditors or lenders, bank loans, etc.

Variable Expenses

Hiring a large amount of freelancers, overtime expenditure, commissions, etc.

PR consultations (Not sure if they had this before the scandal)

Extraordinary Expenses

Expenses incurred outside your company’s regular business activities and during a large one-time event or transactions. For example, selling land, disposal of a significant asset, laying off of your employees, unexpected machine repairing or replacement, etc.

Accrued Expenses

When your business has incurred an expense but not yet paid for it.

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(If there's anything else I'm missing, please feel free to add or correct things)

To a novice or a young entrepreneur, this can be very intimidating if you don't have the education or the support to manage it properly. I know it intimidates the hell out of me and I'm still having to fill in the gaps (again, if I've mislabeled or gotten anything wrong here, please let me know). For the artistic or creative entrepreneur, it can be even harder to reconcile the extent of your creative passions with your ability to operate and scale your business at a sustainable rate. That can lead to irresponsible, selfish, and impulsive decisions that could irreparably harm your brand, which is a whole other beast of its own.

My guess at this point is that their overhead and operation expenses are woefully mismanaged; they've made way too many extraneous purchases, and that they had too much confidence in their audience of formerly 2.93 million to make up for the expenses they failed to cover.

It almost seems as if their internal logic was, "If we make more money, we can keep living the expensive lifestyle that we want and make whatever we want without anyone telling us we can't, and we want to do it NOW, sooner rather than later because we don't want wait and compromise our vision." But as you can see, the reality of fulfilling those ambitions is already compromised by the responsibility of running a business.

And I wrote this in another post here, but I'll state it again: Running a business means you need to be educated on how a business can successfully and efficiently operate. Accounting, marketing, social media marketing, public relations, production, etc; these resources and internet of things is available and at your disposal. If they had invested more time in educating themselves on those aspects and not made this decision based on artistic passion (and/or greed), they would have not gotten the response they got.

Being a graphic designer, I know the creative/passionate side of things but I also got a degree/got educated in business because I wanted to understand how to start a company and run it successfully. If they’re having trouble handling the responsibility of doing that, managing production costs, managing overhead expenses, and especially with compensating their 25+ employees, then they should hire professionals that are sympathetic to their creative interests, but have the education and experience to reign in bad decisions like these.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. What a shitshow this has been.

I truly do not care if it "ruins your immersion". YOU NEED TO TAG UNREALITY PROJECTS. Sure, some people are able to discern that it's not true, but you are still presenting (oftentimes horrific) concepts to a wide audience as truth. presenting the idea of "This creature will hunt you down if it knows that you're think about it" to a child or someone who already struggles with discerning what is reality without properly allowing them to brace themselves is CRUEL. It's the same idea of knocking someone who has mobility issues over without warning just because "well my other friends who don't have mobility issues can just get back up"

hobie: kill yourself

pavitr: WHAT THE HELL BRO WHAT DID I DO

original format from @ha-youwish in this post!

no because the way he’s holding her so gently like he’s worried he might hurt her (because he saw what her body went through when sekhmet was in control) (possibly even afraid to let himself be selfish?) compared to the way Annette pulls him in so tight like she doesn’t want to ever let him go, possibly because she’s sick of losing the people she loves and the trip to the spirit world made her remember just how precious life is for them. Their stories are paralleled in the way they hold each other.. I hate this show.

The way they hold each other is everything 😍

I don't think the "pay artists website is upset about having to pay artists" argument for Watcher is a very good. argument. They had a Patreon, people were literally already paying the artists. Adding another subscription service into an already saturated market full of overpriced subscription services is just. A bad business move. It's career suicide.

Everyone is struggling right now and I understand that that includes everyone at Watcher, but there had to have been a better idea than "lets start our own subscription service"

I seriously wish Ryan, Shane, and Steven the best but this is seriously gonna come back and bite them in the ass.

seeing a lot of comparisons between Dropout TV and Watcher TV. they did not execute their streaming services in the same way. Dropout has a YouTube membership for every series on Dropout TV, meaning you can access their new and exclusive content through YouTube still. this is not the plan with Watcher TV. Dropout's success may have been inspiration like some people are speculating, but saying that Dropout's success equals the success for Watcher TV is wild. Dropout has a Massive cast and connections in improv and comedy scenes due to their years in the scene as College Humor. Dropout specialises in comedy, has a variety of shows that use rotating casts such as Game Changer and Dirty Laundry and more, meaning they create opportunities for other creatives that aren't already a part of Dropout plus are able to create more shows. Watcher's main thing is the duo Ryan and Shane, although they have other notable figures. justifying creating a streaming service means expanding into creating new content and I just don't think that works when you have that small of a cast of people. I love Watcher, I do, but this was not well executed.

From sketch to final product, here’s Emilio! He can harness solar radiation through a totem sewn into his skin! Also the wings are a bonus. :)

I think they’re the same height tbh

Burning from the Inside

Yan! Batfamily x neglected! male! meta! Reader

Chapter one: Enter the Manor

Summary: The first few months of living in the manor and your impressions of the inhabitants. Word Count: 2805 Reading Time: 11:14 (mins:secs) Notes: Uh yeah this was meant to be maybe like 1000 words max. Oopsies 😬. I thought I’d do an honorable mention of @sitepathos and their series Gold to Mold bc while the influence may not be obvious, that story was one of my main influences to finally write the story in my head. Also any OOC behavior can be chalked up to the characters being emotionally inept (Bruce), not fully capable of raising a child that’s not Robin (Bruce again), or deal with their own emotional baggage of not being Robin anymore (dick). Also it’s important to note that I do look through the interactions with my fic and block profiles that only use she/her or say “cis girl”. The idea of being used as a tool for someone else’s gratification makes me uncomfortable and this is my blog, I do what I want. No current release date for the second chapter, it’ll get done when it gets done I guess.. 🤷‍♂️😓 Warnings: written in first person, talks of a young child (11) dealing with depression but the word isn’t used. Aggressive behavior from an adult to a child, and neglect from a parental figure.

Navigation

Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 (you are here) | Next Chapter ->

The first week in the manor was actually rather.. nice. The car Alfred had taken you to the manor in was a shiny black, the interior coated in an oil-like black leather that made noise when you moved on it. There’d been a bag of fast food waiting for you in the back seat of the car when Alfred ushered you in. You’d devoured the meal hastily- not out of any sort of food deprivation or malnutrition, but because it never seemed like you could sate your appetite. No matter what, you were always a little hungry, a little more ravenous than the other boys your age. He’d talked sparingly as he drove, rarely talking his eyes off the road. It seemed like he understood. Unlike the cops and the foster families and the social workers, Alfred didn’t say “I’m sorry” or “that must hurt”. He didn’t really say anything about it at all. 

He’d asked you what your favorite color was, what style of decoration you’d want for your room, if you enjoyed your current clothes and style or if you’d rather have something else, and other similar questions. It was slow going, moving your mouth to form answers. Since the house fire, you’d grown to be unlike your past self, retracting into your shell like a snail, and barely speaking unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t seem to mind silence, though. It made a knot in your shoulders, that you never noticed, come loose.

The ride wasn’t very long, or maybe it was, you didn’t pay much attention to the time. It didn’t feel like a long ride. You’d spent the majority of it resting your head on the car door and staring out the window, watching buildings and trees pass by. The squat, brick buildings of mom-and-pop businesses of the town you’d been moved to gradually gave way to towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, although that eventually fell away to a thinned forest and big houses that stood proud among manicured lawns. The houses faded away too, leaving miles of sprawling woods the only thing to look at. Watching the trees pass by was a rather calming experience, your heartbeat slow and steady in your chest. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling that ever-present heat under your skin settle, like a cat laying in the sun. It never left, like a permanent fever, but it could calm down, it could go dormant for the moment. 

The car rolled to a stop and you opened your eyes. A mansion stood alone in the middle of the woods, a driveway leading up to it and ending in a roundabout with a fountain in the middle. The front of the house was framed by well-loved hedges and flower beds which bloomed with brilliant white and red flowers. The house- mansion- itself was a deep red brick, the stone worn by weather, and framed by snow-white columns of marble. It was imposing, looming over the surrounding trees. Alfred stepped out of the car and moved around to the side, opening the door for you.

“Master yn, we have arrived.” He said with that same kind, elegant manner he’d greeted you with, back at the social worker’s office. 

As you climbed out of the car, Alfred moved back to the trunk and opened it, grabbing your singular bag of belongings before closing the trunk. He walked to the pristine marble stairs that led up to the tall mahogany  doors, the gravel crunching under his shiny black shoes. You followed loosely behind him, looking around at the outside of the house. The thought hadn’t quite managed to break through the fog that always seemed to cloud your mind nowadays, but it suddenly dawned on you that this isn’t exactly a normal foster family. You hurried to the door when Alfred held it open for you, stopping only for a moment to glance down at the outdoor mat resting outside the door. It was black with a gold logo printed onto it; the logo looked like a highly stylized W with an E beside it. An unsettled feeling rested in your stomach at the sight of it and you couldn’t quite grasp why. 

Entering the mansion, you were struck with the smell of cleaner and, very faintly, cologne. It smelled like an expensive store, the kind of place you and your mom would walk past on the way to your usual shopping area. The entryway had an open doorway that offered a small glimpse into the rest of the manor. A grand staircase ran down the side of the wall, the room entirely lit by a chandelier hanging from the high vaulted ceiling. Alfred moves past you, closing the door behind you both, and talks while gesturing for you to follow him up the grand staircase.

He’d taken you down a long hall that was lined with closed doors, explaining where everything was located whilst walking.

“Now, Master Bruce’s bedroom is.. further down the hall.”

You must’ve given him a curious look as you both arrived at your new room. Alfred opened the door for you, allowing you to enter in front of him.

“He wishes to give you space during this time.”

Your stomach churned at those words. They were perfectly designed, like what a PR team would tell their talent to say after screwing up massively. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you couldn’t quite meet Alfred’s gaze after hearing that. You looked around the room as Alfred set down your bag on the bed. It was much larger than anywhere you’d lived before, considering both foster homes and your real home. 

Despite the size, though, the room was bare of any decoration. A single twin bed laid under the brightness of the single window in the room, only blinds blocking the sunlight. Along the far right wall stood a sturdy wooden dresser and mirror. The walls were a blank white wallpaper and the floor was the same shiny deep-colored wood as the hallway outside. There was no side table for the bed, no carpet despite how cold the floor would definitely get, no posters or paintings, just the bare necessities. It was the picture of utilitarian. Alfred spoke up, clearing his throat as if he was embarrassed.

“Unfortunately, we were unable to source more furniture before your arrival.” He said with the same elegance as everything else he’d said, despite his expression figuratively shouting how upset he was about what he was saying. 

It intrigued you more than it should’ve. You shrugged and went to the window, pulling down one of the blinds to look outside.

“It’s fine.”

It’s not. You didn’t turn to look back at Alfred as you spoke, nor did you look back when you heard his fancy dress shoes shuffle against the floor. You heard the door creak.

“I’ll let you settle in, sir.”

You heard the door shut behind Alfred as he left. The minute you were alone, you fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

The first few weeks had been rather boring, admittedly. You’d often stay in your room for days at a time, only wandering out to explore the house when you got bored of staring at the ceiling. You’d stroll up and down the halls, discovering the library, the private study that Bruce Wayne used, the various staff quarters, and more guest bedrooms than you thought was possible. None of it really excited you, though. A numbness had invaded your mind and made you into a living ghost, something human in name only. You no longer looked in mirrors and spoke very little, if at all. Not like there were very many people to talk to.

Bruce Wayne was as elusive as rain in the desert. He flitted about the manor, only ever coming home very late at night and leaving in the morning. You didn’t really want to know what he was doing so late in the evening, but you figured you’d find out about it someday. Secrets between you and your mom didn’t last very long, so most family secrets should be the same. 

The very few times you interacted with Bruce Wayne, he seemed distracted or discomforted by your presence, like he was seeing your mother, not you. If you happened to be in the kitchen when he came in, he’d stare at you for a long moment before attempting some sort of small talk. When you didn’t respond, he’d just leave. After the first three days, he avoided you completely. Maybe it was because you were both orphans or maybe there was just something unsettling about you, but Bruce Wayne didn’t want you in his house. Maybe he saw the same in-humanness that the foster families saw. Whatever was wrong with you was palpable, apparently.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t the only person in the manor who avoided you. 

Richard Grayson was, according to google, an orphan Bruce Wayne took in. Grayson didn’t care for your presence either. He was eighteen and seemed to be genuinely disgusted by you. Maybe he saw something too. Or maybe he was just a dick. The first incident with Grayson happened not too long after you moved in. You’d been wandering towards the direction of the kitchen when the front door burst open. He’d stood in the doorway, framed by the light around him, like an action figure in a commercial, all stoic and proud. You stopped to look at him and he looked back, like two animals spooked by the other’s existence. He’d scowled and glared down at you, crossing his arms as he approached. The rude dick left the door open behind him. 

“What are you, another one of Bruce’s new bratty orphans?” His words dripped with anger and annoyance, like you were ruining something just by the virtue of being here. He scoffed before you could even respond and stomped off. 

Luckily for you, though, Grayson didn’t live in the manor. He had his own apartment he’d disappear to for weeks. It was bliss, not having him around constantly. Living with Bruce Wayne already had your blood pressure high and your fuse short, but having someone as outright about their dislike of you- over something that you didn’t even understand- that made your blood boil. You had to physically stop yourself from launching yourself at Grayson every time he looked at you like you were a cockroach. 

But there were redeeming inhabitants in the manor. One of which was Alfred. He never forced you to talk if you didn’t feel like it, which you often didn’t. When you crawled out of your room for food once a day, he’d prepare a meal for you whilst telling you a story. You enjoyed his stories; the stories reminded you of your mother.

“Once, when I was in the SAS,” He’d begin, chopping vegetables into fine little cubes and tossing them into a pan. He’d grab fresh herbs from somewhere and begin chopping those as well.

“There were two new recruits.” He focused on what he was doing as you rested your head on your palm and stood leaning on the dinner table. “And they thought they were just the sneakiest men in the platoon.”

Once the herbs were diced, he’d add them to the sizzling pan, and stir the concoction. The action sent a flurry of floral scents in the air, filling the kitchen with an inviting aroma. 

Alfred continued whilst stirring the contents of the pan. “So the rest of us had dared them; said ‘if you’re really that good at sneaking around, then sneak up to one of the rabbits on base and put a ribbon on it.’”

“And by god, they did.” Alfred chuckled to himself as he turned off the burner and continued to stir, reaching over to the spice rack and picking out multiple bottles and sprinkling the contents into the pan. “They snuck out of the barracks that night and went out into the woods without any of us knowing.”

He gestured for you to sit at the bar and grabbed a plate from a cabinet, snatching a fork from an adjacent drawer. “By the time we all woke up and began our own duties, there were about twelve rabbits running around the base with little ribbon bow ties tied around their necks!”

Laughing softly to himself, Alfred scooped out the cooked vegetable stir-fry onto the plate and brought it over to you along with the fork. He’d sat with you as you ate, talking about other stories from his time in the SAS and his time working for Martha and Thomas Wayne. His genuine kindness made it almost worth it to be living in the manor.

The other inhabitant who didn't mind you being in the manor- and even seemed to like you being around- was Jason Todd. You’d met him while wandering around the manor like you often did. You’d just found the library for the first time when he popped up out of nowhere, appearing from behind a plush seat like a character from a horror movie. He’d bounded over to you like an excited puppy and began speaking a mile a minute. At first he’d put on this hyper-masculine deep voice that didn’t match his face or his age at all.

“Hey! Who are you?” He’d looked down his nose at you and you quickly realized that he, despite already being the same height as you, had stood on his tiptoes specifically so he could look down his nose at you. 

Fixing him with the same blank stare you’d used on everyone, you answered simply. That numbness you’d grown accustomed to made it hard to put energy into your voice. “(Y/N).”

He blinked once, then twice, and then the facade broke. His voice softened into what you assumed was its normal state and he slowly lowered himself to his usual height. Tilting this way and that, he examined you with an almost-suspicious expression. 

“Oh.” He suddenly light up with recognition. “You must be the other kid B took in. I’m Jason.” He pointed to himself with a prideful smile. “How come I haven’t seen you around?” The question was innocently curious, only prying on accident. 

You stared blankly, no response leaving your lips as you stood still. He tilted his head and frowned, shrugging as he looked away, feigning disinterest.

“Strong and silent type, huh?” He nodded to himself as he said the words, still looking at some random book on the bookshelf. “I can work with that.”

And he did.

Jason’s friendship was unlike your relationship with Alfred. In the fogginess of apathy- depression, you realized- he cut through the clouds like a lighthouse. He’d follow you around when you left your room, finding you every time like he had a compass implanted in his head or something, and it exclusively led to you. You’d be just wandering, sometimes taking paths you already walked before, sometimes carving completely new wear patterns in the carpet, and he’d sidle right up next to you and begin talking.

Just like Alfred, he did the talking for the two of you, but he was different. Jason would pause occasionally after cracking a joke, glancing at you to see if you laughed, smiling if he saw you reacted at all. It was like he understood you in a way Alfred didn’t, like he’d been in your shoes before. Sometimes while walking through the halls of the manor, he’d take your hand and lead you to some unspecified place. Occasionally it was the library, but most of the time it was places you’d never gone before, like the rooftop, the garden, and the theater room. 

Eventually, you learned through his one-sided conversations that Jason was only two years older than you at 13, and that he’d lived in crime alley. You didn’t really know where that was, but it sounded like a rough place to live. After a few months of being Jason’s unofficial sidekick, you began talking again. He never made a big deal out of it, but you could see his eyes light up when he finally got a response, even if they were one-worded at best. He’d cracked the hardened shell of emptiness that formed around your heart. The constant rejection by Wayne and Grayson didn’t help, neither did the gentle approach from Alfred, if you were being honest, but Jason had cracked it. He’d pulled you out of a ship you didn’t know had already sunk. And the first embers of happiness began to spark up again once more, even if it was faint. For the first time in a really long time, you had a friend.

And you had all the time in the world to get to know each other better.