Belle et la Bête

Can’t believe I forgot to post this one! This was kind of two projects in one. I had to do a book cover for my Sci-Fi and Fantasy Illustration course. In addition I did this as a personal project; a graphic novel retelling of Beauty and the Beast. The script is still a working progress but in the meantime I will update with concept art until it is time to reveal the final piece. :)

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Town Hall and Tribeca are proud to present a special screening of Jean Cocteau’s cinematic classic La Belle et la Bête, featuring a live score by Philip Glass, whose celebrated interpretation will be performed by the Philip Glass Ensemble for one night only on Thursday, April 20th, 2017. Plus, don’t miss a pre-screening conversation with the master himself.

Get your tickets now.

La Belle et la Bête

(if this is your fault you know who you are, i’m using previously established au rules @megan-mayhem and i came up with and no one is allowed to judge me)


Wayne Manor was even more empty than usual, and the emptiness made it feel haunted. Diana found it horribly unsettling.

“Bruce?” she called, and it echoed through the empty halls. She opened the curtains in the front parlor to let the sunshine in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was in Italy.” She’d come as quickly as she could once she’d gotten his message, but he’d sent it in the dead of night.

Something’s happened. It’s not life-threatening, but I’m not myself. I sent everyone away to minimize the incident, but I think you’re the only one who can help. Come alone if you come at all.

“Bruce?” she called again. Perhaps he was downstairs. She listened carefully. There was the distant muffled clicking of a mechanical keyboard, intermittent and slow. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone in this house ever type so slow. Not even Alfred.

Her phone chimed. She checked it. A message from Bruce. In my office. She looked toward the stairs. The clicking had stopped.

Her walk up the stairs was cautious. What could possibly have happened to him?

In the hall, one of the side tables had tipped sideways. Its former contents had been neatly arranged into a stack beside it on the floor.

“… Bruce…?” She peered into his office.

She shrieked, then put her hands over her mouth to try to muffle her shrieking. It lessened to a high-pitched squeal.

“Tiny baby!”

“I am a grown man, Diana.”

He was a black Pomeranian of less than five pounds, standing on his computer desk.

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