#<- i mean implied

[sincerely-nines]

hey look who's back

when jimmy starts acting like a brat they put him in timeout and ignore him in his aquarium and he always looks at everyone through the glass with sad eyes

it's not his fault my mans was just overstimulated and doesn't know how to communicate that

[keferon]

Empurata!Prowl tries to actually communicate for the first time

What if he wants to say something but he can’t. What if he has no voice to speak, no face to emote, no hands to write. What if every attempt to communicate a message is essentially a puzzle of wit and creativity and yet, the first thing he goes through all these troubles for. Is to say “I love you”?

Don’t ask me how did they get in this room. I have no idea. They escaped the battlefield somehow haha

Next->

[cj-the-random-artist]

Is this my best comic ever?? Nope. Do I think I characterized either of these two particularly well in this comic?? Not really. Did I spend an unreasonable amount of time on it to the point that it would be a waste to not post it?? Yes, yes I did.

I really committed to this one, spent a lot of time on those backgrounds and treated myself to ample suffering with the perspective, which is not my strong suit but I am happy with how it ultimately looks. Yay perspective and background practice!!

(Tbh I shouldn't talk like I think this one sucks, I think I've just been staring at it for so long that my brain has decided it's not good and it's actually way better than I think it is, and honestly I am quite happy with it. The artistic process really is something, isn't it?)

The inspiration was basically me reminding... myself... to take breaks sometimes... by drawing for several hour stints during my only little bits of free time. Which totally tracks. Probably. But I've been rolling around in my brain this idea that Lambert is a very uptight people pleaser and anxious workaholic, but Narinder, at least since adjusting himself to the circumstances (which probably took at least a century, maybe two) has discovered the joys of self care, and has made an active effort to chill tf out. This has not made him any less terrifying to the cultists (save for Lambert's closest disciples), nor has it made him friendlier to really anyone but Lambert (and maybe his siblings), but he sure has found some serious peace of mind. That said, I can't place what his motivations are here. Perhaps he is secretly concerned about Lambert's sanity, because he doesn't want them to turn into what he was, or maybe he's just trying to steal away some quality time with his one and only friend, but regardless of the reason, I spent too much time on this for nobody to see it, dang it.

That said. Enjoy this silly little comic that I spent way too much time on, and I hope this silly comic brings you some joy today.

[haunted-pool-noodle]

I couldn't stop laughing at this absolutely terrible joke so now I have to inflict it on you. sorry?

[Image 1 ID: Bolded text that says, "Stripping for edible flour in Tijuana," then in unbolded letters below it, "Please don't make me elaborate." End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: A 4-image comic of Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls. He's floating in front of one of Stan's memory doors, which is labelled as "KEEP OUT." Bill looks at the door and says "OHO, DEEP, DARK, SECRETS? DON'T MIND IF I DO!"

There are then three panels shown, from the perspective of the door looking at Bill. Across the first two, Bill opens the door, eye closed and other hand on his hip. In the last panel, Bill's eye is open, looking deeply unsettled, and he slams the door shut.

Bill turns from the door, staring downwards, haunted by whatever he has seen.

Bill looks back at the door out of the corner of his eye, putting a hand to the top of his angle. He says, "OH GOD, HE AND SIXER REALLY ARE IDENTICAL." End ID.]

[quadrantadvisor]

Imagine if the GIW started gunning for Jason without the Batfam ever meeting Phantom. Like, Bruce has to figure out on his own that the guys in white suits with Lazarus guns are 1. a legitimate government agency, and 2. are perfectly within their rights to hunt Jason like an animal, because 3. there's secret government legislation that says that since Jason's body processes ectaplasm, he's classified as non-sapient and has no legal protections.

Bruce calling up Clark like

Bruce: I am currently in the process of breaking into a government facility in order to dismantle their operations.

Clark: Okay? Do you need... help?

Bruce: Yes.

Clark: Sure, I'll be right there.

Bruce: Not that kind of help. Oracle is sending you the files now. I'd like you and Ms. Lane to make these people wish they were never born.

Clark: [speed-reading the documents] Oh yeah, can do. This is truly disgusting. If the public is half as outraged as I am, we'll get this sorted as fast as the courts can manage.

So Clark Kent acts as a whistle-blower, the Justice League publicly condems the Anti-Ecto Acts as inhumane, the GIW is disbanded, and Batman gets pardoned for all of those crimes that he technically did by assaulting federal agents. And after all that gets sorted, some white haired kid pops up in the Watchtower like "haha thanks for that I really didn't want a war between Earth and the Infinite Realms" and the League are like "wait what"

[bluuscreen]

it’s up to you to guess what they’re playing

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[doesromandoart]

i’ll only listen to my brain because my palm-sized heart has failed me one too many times

[culbi]

tw body horror

come forth and kill me

bow down and worship me

take your time, all we have is eternity

[pluvionpc]

a single mom padmé idea that’s been living in my brain lately

[ note: the clothing inspiration for these designs were taken from bedouin, tuareg, iranian, and saudi arabian references, as well as the original tatooinian designs + padmé’s nieces in the aotc cut scenes. i wanted my version of tatooine to more accurately reflect what desert cultures look like in the real world and just be more practical in general ]

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas

[knightofleo]

Angela Orosco Silent Hill 2

[hypertechnica]

THE LOVE TRIANGLE

ford, fidds, and bill are living in a late 70s/early 80s sci fi psychological horror film that was buried upon release due to its explicit gay themes but quickly became an underground cult hit

numerous associations would decry its depiction of homoeroticism between its principal characters, but nobody could deny the surrealist film had its merit. “it’s like someone concocted an unholy combination between the shining and space odyssey and then died of the instantaneous nuclear fallout. why would anyone make this? are they stupid?” one reviewer said.

more alternates + sketch under the cut

[chocostrwberry]

Luka and Chloe shenanigans!!

[bumblingbabooshka]

People honestly portray Tuvok as far too "rolling his eyes, reluctantly going along with Janeway's silly little shenanigans" - he's literally so serious about being right there with her on every decision she makes. Janeway's like "I'm going to stay behind if the ship blows up" and Tuvok's like "I'm staying with you." Janeway's like "I'm going to deliver every member of the Equinox crew into the jaws of death via an alien revenge massacre" and Tuvok protests a grand total of one time before being fully on the bridge assisting her. He was the only one with her when she made the decision to honor the caretaker's wishes and save the Ocampa, dooming them all. He was willing to get court marshalled in order to fulfill a wish she couldn't grant by her own hand: Get them home [no matter what happens to me] <- wherein 'me' is Tuvok. This was the same wish that spurred him forward when he had to leave her on that planet and everyone left thought him cold for trying to fulfill it without her when in his mind it was akin to a dying wish, the last thing she'd ever express to him: Get them home [no matter what happens to me.] <- wherein 'me' is Janeway. He told Seven that the golden rule to follow is that the captain is "ALWAYS RIGHT" <- (His ACTUAL words) and when Seven asks if the captain should be followed even if someone KNOWS she's wrong he says "Perhaps." This man is perhaps the most ride or die dude in the universe about Janeway. Despite her labeling him her 'moral compass' he is by NO means impartial or unbiased. He'd defend her to his last breath. He canonically makes detailed psychological observations about her and has for years. He accounts for her luck when calculating the success of certain plans. It's implied in 'Twisted' that Janeway typically listens to Tuvok's suggestions and follows them nearly without fail - to the point that he's surprised and obviously irritated when Chakotay doesn't. Despite this they've been inside one another's quarters so infrequently that Tuvok can remember each instance. They call each other "Captain" and "Mr. Tuvok" even though they've known each other for twenty years. There's something wrong with them.

[hfjonewiki]

i'm a big fan of the "test tube builds the ghosts robot bodies to allow them to have corporeal forms and leave the mansion" idea because it solves those problems without completely undoing their deaths and allowing them to retain their narrative weight. however you just KNOW that when test tube explains her idea to the ghostfucker squad pickle's gonna say some dumb shit like "oh like five nights at freddy's" and test tube's just gonna stare at him like