#inner strips

[startedwellthatsentence]

Personally I want the Ody3 outed to Brooke not because Tristan is jealous of Max but because Max is jealous of Tristan. I want Brooke to clock the Avery jealousy and weirdness and correctly deduce “ah they had a thing” and then in a future episode Tristan has a moment with Avery and Max gets a bit riled up and Brooke again correctly deduces “oh Max reciprocated the Avery thing huh”

And then Tristan has a moment with Viv/Spence/Passenger-of-the-week and Max is also upset about that and Brooke has a lightbulb moment like “OH this is SO much messier than I assumed”.

[lordgeneralsix]

local guy claims intellectual superiority by declaring people who criticise veilguard just haven't played long enough and don't really know what bad writing is. it must be very peaceful to have such an empty head.

[starrbirrd]

I'm going to piss off a lot of people by saying this, but so many of them who side with Rhys saying that he didn't tell Feyre that the baby was going to kill her because "it was too stressful" would have been singing a COMPLETELY different tune if he had given her an abortion without her knowing. Y'all only like HIS choice because the fetus lived.

[chillinaris]

Seniman visual terkenal Inggris-Jepang HANA TAJIMA 🇯🇵 mengenakan pakaian yang terinspirasi oleh bendera Palestina dan Sudan pada jamuan kenegaraan Kaisar dan Permaisuri Jepang yang diadakan di Istana Buckingham.

"Dengan setiap jahitan saya memikirkan apa YANG SAYA WAKILI."

~ Hana Tajima (IG: @hntaj), membuat pernyataan mode di jamuan makan Istana Buckingham

#buckinghampalace #art #Japan #FreePalestine #Jepang #Inggris #GazaGenocide‌ #HanaTajima #Palestine

[deebrisbyfish]

I've really been enjoying introducing NEW members of my, for lack of a better term, Pantheon of Anxieties. Skeezics as my Inner Demon was fun as a cameo from my "Dandy & Co." days, but making these NEW ones all based on me, I'm hoping, makes the IDEA even more clear for the individual inner demons. (And less dependent on an almost non-existent level of nostalgia for an otherwise forgotten webcomic. lol)

And, I mean, a Gut Goblin seemed like a natural inclusion as I DO keep eating like someone whose body hasn't already rebelled against this kind of diet HARD. She's a character that was born out of a random phone conversation with Sabrina and once I doodled her, I KNEW I was going to incorporate her into my Pantheon of Alter egos. lol

[theinwardlight]

[The first Quakers] came upon a faith which cut to the root of the way they saw life, radically reorienting it. They saw that all they did must flow directly from what they experienced as true, and that if it did not, both the knowing and the doing became false. In order to keep the knowledge clear and the doing true, they stripped away anything which seemed to get in the way. They called those things superfluities, and it is this radical process of stripping for clear-seeing which we now term simplicity [...]. The taproot of simplicity is to be found at that point in the life of a Friend when the realization comes that his or her inner and outer lives are connected, that for the inward life to continue to grow, there must be a response from the outward life.

Frances Taber, Quaker

[imams-diary]

In 2008, Olmert believed peace was possible. Today, his map feels like a relic of ‘what could have been.’ Can hope survive endless cycles of conflict? 💔

➡️ Keep reading Here

[noodler1]

As I’ve mentioned, for various reasons I’m reluctant to share with the general public anything from my personal journal. Still, sometimes I write things in it that I get a hunch I’m supposed to share. I’ll post an excerpt from an entry written today:

“…Right at this moment, I’m taking a short break from inking the 183rd installment of my comic strip, RAMEN NOODLES. A man named Steven Pressfield wrote a nonfiction book called THE WAR OF ART. In it, Pressfield reminds readers that resistance to actually sitting down and focusing on one’s craft comes in all forms and will always be there, so anyone who feels called to create art might as well get used to detecting and overriding this resistance. In fact, even my choosing to compose this entry could be viewed as resistance - as a stalling tactic, to be more precise.

Pressfield’s points certainly have their place, and as someone who feels the urge to write and create comic strips, coupled with the often even stronger urge to resist writing and creating comic strips, I don’t take exception to them. Still, I hope to find the PEACE of art, not just the WAR of it. I hope to, increasingly more often, have the grace to be willing to experience the peace of my Shepherd-King while creating comic strips. I don’t want to view my relationship with my craft as primarily tumultuous.

Recently, I happened upon two items on social media that made a great impression on me. The first was a short promotional video of a man with cerebral palsy promoting his series of books about his relationship with Jesus. Unlike how I sometimes entertain preconceived notions of already-prosperous people of faith making sales pitches promoting their ministries and resources, I viewed this man as genuinely humble and at peace with his Creator - not only in spite of, but because of, his condition. The other item I came across recently on social media was another short video, this time of an amazingly advanced and ultra-realistic watercolor artist. The video featured pleasant background classical music as the camera captured her brush meeting her canvas, rudimentary stroke after rudimentary stroke. The video also featured accompanying text - quotes from the artist about her love for exercising her craft. It occurred to me that while viewers look at her finished work and are rightfully stunned by her photo-realistic depictions in watercolor of objects such as empty transparent jars, she, as the artist, knows all too well the imprecision inevitably involved when any human being creates visual art without computer assistance. Therefore, she had to be patient, trusting that the finished work would turn out much greater than the collective sum of her pencil efforts, brush strokes, wiping of excess paint, and corrective measures. And the truth is, for all her work’s photorealism, its source of charm and beauty lies in the telltale signs of its having been done by an imperfect human being, no matter how skilled.”

[drawingeveryutau]

Me thinking to myaelf

"I should redraw the Yakuza Mahjong gif with Ron"

"Yea he'd be shirtless with the fire and everything"

"Why would he be shirtless?"

"Strip Mahjong"

[alarminglybad]

Who let the dogs out?

[wdowed]

🕷️ // character study - canonverse 01.

🌆 — THE WIND WAS HOWLING in Yelena's ears from her current height, perched at the very peak of the New Avengers watchtower. She'd squirrelled herself away the first chance she'd gotten, seeking somewhere isolated, high, to just— breathe.

The city was coming back from the Void's quiet rampage, the streets below somehow so much louder now than they had been in the brink of the chaos. As awful as it was, she almost wished it were silent again. Something ached, in her chest, in her bones. A nagging feeling in the back of her head that she knew all too well but was trying her best to simply ignore.

The urge to flee. To bolt. To go anywhere else but here. She'd wanted this, hadn't she? A front-facing role, a place to belong. But all too suddenly it felt all too real, so at odds with who and what she was. The adrenaline high of it had felt so good at first, had made her feel alive. She'd wanted connection, hungered for it like a dog seeking a gentle hand. But gaining a place and people meant you were susceptible to loss and Yelena wasn't entirely sure she could survive it. Losing someone again.

Natasha was an ever present wound under her skin, raw and inflamed, an ache that never left. Yelena knew that if she just went back downstairs and quietly stood next to one of the others, let the presence of them ground her back into reality, they wouldn't say a word. They'd likely let her. And maybe that was the scariest part of all. There was an understanding there, between them all. They looked at her, just as she had come to look back at them, as if they truly saw her. They weren't just passing acquaintances now, they were people. Her people. Her merry little band of losers strays.

What had she gotten herself into?

For a while there, in the midst of it all, she thought she'd be okay. That all that pain and loneliness would dissipate like the shadows on the street. But that simply wasn't how the world, and reality, worked. She wanted to drink. But at the same time, she didn't. She wanted to seek a comforting face, but also run as if they'd never known her to begin with.

Yelena let out a shuddered exhale, leant forward towards her knees and pressed the heels of her palms to her temples, digging in just enough to feel the pressure of her own hands. “ Okay, ” she breathed, the word lost on the intensity of the wind. Up here, the rain was sharp enough to feel like glass on her skin, keeping her tethered to the foundation of her body. “ Okay. ” She said again, a little more resolute this time.

She'd go find one of the others, let their presence remind her why she chose this. She'd let these roots.. burrow, tentatively, even if it hurt for now. Because it all had to be worth something, right? Surely she.. deserved this, even if only a little?

She straightened her back and rolled her shoulders, working the ache out of her bones. With practiced ease, she dragged herself up to her feet, toes barely an inch from the building's edge. Yelena took one last look down at the street below before turning on her heels and making her way back inside.

[supervisormeero]

Sometimes I think about how wild the workplace gossip at the ISB must be just, like, in general? Because sure, they’re ISB, but they’re human. You know they’re gossiping.

You know those immaculate white-gray halls have heard their fair share about who’s done what for whom to earn which promotion, and who’s having an affair, and who Partagaz’s favorites are even though they really don’t deserve it but I do and here’s why, and who goes out for drinks a little too frequently after work, and who has a stim pill problem. They’re being Imperial-uptight about it and everyone pretends it’s not happening because it’s not professional, but they are gossiping. You can’t sit around a table of people with whom you’re in direct, cutthroat competition every single day, suspicion boiling in every cold gaze, and not.

[randythecat]

[deebrisbyfish]

In my life, I've found that my inner demons are like Doomsday in Superman. Once you kill them ONE way, they come back immune to that particular technique. As such, these things tend to multiply. Sometimes, I can just distract myself until they get bored and go away. Sometimes that works better than trying to fight it especially if they are cropping up because of hormones or some chronic, non-causal thing. But when they are there because something has me eating my own brain... this technique rarely works for any length of time.

[wheelchairtetris]

missed a call from my neurologist's office ten minutes before they closed for an appointment i really need. and my left caster fork is like, perma fucked. i am so upset.

[allgremlinyaps]

hashtag Justice For Susie btw