[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]
a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury
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Peach's definition of a surprise may be a little excessive, but she's got the spirit! 🤭💖
One thing I haven't often talked about but which makes this pairing absolutely delightful to me is how the sheer difference in their social status would manifest in the "small" attentions they show one another. Nothing would ever be deemed too grand or too extravagant for the Princess, especially in the early stages of her friendship with Mario, and learning to apply a moderate level of zeal to her endeavors when trying to express her affection would still be an ongoing process even much later! 😅
(Inspired by this ask sent to me by @zootopiathingz. :3)
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alright okay, so this is basically the tentative temp gauge we're going with rn, for the temperature blanket!
there's always the chance that I'll tweak it over the course of the year, but this is the basic idea. also the shade names on there are just for my own memory
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I believed in magic, fairies, and elves. I even talked to my dolls and stuffed animals. My mother had told me that at night after I went to sleep, the toys and dolls would come alive, and would dance and sing while we slept. This really fascinated me. I forced myself to stay awake. I lay in bed for hours, rubbing my eyes to keep them open. I didn’t even dare to breathe out loud because I didn’t want to scare the dolls away. At every noise I started, hoping to see them come alive. But of course, I was bitterly disappointed when they remained lifeless. Looking back at all this, I’m not certain that all that fantasy is good for a child. I wouldn't encourage that much make-believe in one of my children—it would just make reality that much harder to take. - NATALIE WOOD
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◁ || ▷
Atlas: Taryn? Hey!
Atlas: What happened-
Taryn: Please don’t.
Atlas: Can you talk to me?
Taryn: [ strained ] What is there to say that you don’t already know? I keep asking myself why you’re so nice to me all of a sudden. Why would someone like you be around someone like me and it’s such a… Mind-fuck.
Atlas: I swear to you, it isn’t like that-
Taryn: Am I just a one night stand?
Atlas: [ stammers ] N-No!
Taryn: Convincing.
Atlas: I’m sorry it wasn’t a good enough response, I’m just caught off guard. Why would you assume that?
Taryn: Because my questions made sense the minute you walked out of that building and there was lipstick smeared all over your face. Then you gave me this look, something about it made me realize I wasn’t the first and I don’t think I’d be the last.
Atlas: [ flatly ] We didn’t even catch each other's name, that’s how little it meant.
Taryn: [ barely a whisper ] Oh now that’s incredibly fucked up… Was that supposed to make me feel better?
Atlas: Bee-
Taryn: [ voice breaks ] Was it worth it? [ pauses ] Don’t… Answer that. I’m… Gonna go now.
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