this is how you ally

Happy Hanukkah, everyone, from these two jerks! I’m posting this a little early this year. Line art by the amazing Ro Stein & Ted Brandt, and colour art by @deecunniffe.

I want to point out what a technical achievement this story is on the art side. There’s a real joy to creating a whole story in eight panels, but this? This is some magic. We introduce four new characters. In panel 5, SIX PEOPLE are talking. SIX. In the world of comics, that’s almost un-doable.

Yet Ro and Ted arranged everything so the conversations flow and are sensibly grouped, all the “acting” is fantastic, and then Dee laid on top these beautiful, almost fairytale colours – look at the subtle work, the blush in Henry’s cheeks, Frank’s five o-clock shadow, the shine of the wine bottle’s glass surface, the light texturing in the backgrounds… and of course the snow! This is some first-class illustration work on an incredibly hard script. (I fear Ro and Ted always get me at my worst – my very formalist script for them in the 24 Panels anthology was no cakewalk either. (The problem is, they’re just so damn good at it… check out their work on the Image comic Crowded!)

As always, if you like what we do in Hells Kitchen Movie Club, consider donating a little to a veteran’s charity.

(I also have a thriller novel I’m crowdfunding, please check it out, we are more than halfway there. The book is all written…)

Previously in Hell: cover image // 01 // 02 // 03 // Xmas // 04 // 05 // 06 // 07 // Hanukkah // That time the Punisher’s creator gave us a thumbs-up // twitter // insta

theglowbun:

So, if you’re like me and work in a place with public bathrooms, you most likely have seen this shit before. Some racist fuck graffiti’d up your bathroom with nazi bullshit with a permanent marker.

Tired of this bullshit? Me too, so I’m gonna show you how to get rid of it nice and quick!

The tools you need: A cleaner appropriate for the surface, the appropriate tool to to wipe said surfaces, and the crucial piece: A dry erase marker.

It’s embarrassingly easy to get rid of and is gonna make those nazi fucks upset that we don’t tolerate their bullshit.

Just grab your marker…

…and draw over it

then you spray it with your cleaner and then… wipe

ta-fucking-da

now you too can use your new-found hack to get rid of sharpie graffiti

remember kids: fuck fascists, fuck nazis and racists, and fuck white supremacy

digitaldiscipline:

luzialowe:

briarin:

ilovepeppers:

When will banksy

When will anonymous

always reblog, this is fucking activism folks

if you don’t have access to poorly-secured and un-backed-up debt records, you can help do this via legitimate means by donating to rollingjubilee.org – they buy debt (the way debt collectors do, for steeply discounted prices – like $20 to buy $500 in outstanding debt owed by someone) and just… forgive it, so it doesn’t need to be paid by the person on whom it’s a burden.

rsfcommonplace:

thebaconsandwichofregret:

disgruntledinametallicatshirt:

you know what actually pisses me off? when I finally start to feel a smidge of confidence in my writing ability and then some JERK POSTS A SINGLE LINE FROM A TERRY PRATCHETT NOVEL AND IT’S BETTER THAN ANYTHING I WILL EVER WRITE NO MATTER HOW MANY MILLENNIA I SPEND TRYING!

Terry was a professional writer from the age of 17. He worked as a journalist which meant that he had to learn to research, write and edit his own work very quickly or else he’d lose his job.

He was 23 when his first novel was published. After six years of writing professionally every single day. The Carpet People was a lovely novel, from a lovely writer, but almost all of Terry’s iconic truth bomb lines come from Discworld.

The Colour of Magic, the first ever Discworld novel was published in 1983. Terry was 35 years old. He had been writing professionally for 18 years. His career was old enough to vote, get married and drink. We now know that at 35 he was, tragically, over half way through his life. And do you know what us devoted, adoring Discworld fans say about The Colour of Magic? “Don’t start with Colour of Magic.”

It is the only reading order rule we ever give people. Because it’s not that great. Don’t get me wrong, very good book, although I’ll be honest I’ve never been able to finish it, but it’s nowhere near his later stuff. Compare it to Guards Guards, The Fifth Elephant, the utterly iconic Nightwatch and it pales in comparison because even after nearly 20 years of writing, half a lifetime of loving books and storytelling Terry was still learning.

He was a man with a wonderful natural talent, yes. But more importantly he worked and worked and worked to be a better writer. He was writing up until days before he died. He spent 49 years learning and growing as a writer, taking so much joy in storytelling that not even Alzheimer’s could steal it from him. He wouldn’t want that joy stolen from you too.

Terry was a wonderful, kind, compassionate, genius of a writer. And all of this was in spite of many many people telling him he wasn’t good enough. At the age of five his headmaster told him that he would never amount to anything. He died a knight of the realm and one of the most beloved writers ever to have lived in a country with a vast and rich literary tradition. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him that he wasn’t good enough. And he wouldn’t want you to think you aren’t good enough. He especially wouldn’t want to be the reason why you think you aren’t good enough.

You’re not Terry Pratchett.

You are you.

And Terry would love that.

I only ever had a chance to talk to Terry Pratchett once, and that was in an autograph line. I’d bought a copy of The Carpet People, which was his very first book, and he looked at it with a faint air of concern.  “You realise that I wrote that when I was very young,” he said, in warning.

“Yes,” I said.  “But I like seeing how authors grow.”

He brightened and reached for his pen.  “That’s all right then,” he said, and signed.

quicksilver-rain:

quicksilver-rain:

quicksilver-rain:

One of the contractors at work drove past my shack on a forklift yesterday, stopped, backed up to my window and said, “hey, do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

My knee jerk response when asked this, even if it’s by a companionable dude old enough to be my dad, is to go, “uh, nah-” and then ramble uncomfortably until someone stops me-

-which is what I started to do, only to be cut off by Contractor saying, in an embarrassed rush, “some of the guys were asking me because you and I talk sometimes, but I didn’t want them to hit on you at work, so I told them that you Worship the Devil and would Hex them if they tried. I’m sorry.”

Which leaves me wheezing helplessly, trying to get my shit together, because this is honestly one of the nicest, most hysterical things I’ve ever heard someone say to me.

Oblivious to this, Contractor then follows up with, “and they were like ‘forreal??’ so I was like, ‘yeah, she’s probably a sadist, too, you can tell by her jewelry. She’ll stab you or something.’”

And tbh I can’t even come up with anything witty to say in response, so all I manage to choke out is, “pleASE LET THEM CONTINUE TO THINK THAT, I’M BEGGING YOU.”

And Contractor just smiles and is like, “Okay! I just wanted to let you know!” before driving off with his forklift.

Like?? Thank god for Contractor tbh. He’s an angel among men, and I hope the rest of his life is filled with prosperity and happiness and like, that he finds $20 on the ground every week for the rest of his life.

Update: Every time Contractor sees me, he does a little Devil Horns gesture at me and its adorable.

Update the Second: I saw Contractor while doing my tour and he told me that the guy that asked if I was single was around, and that if I saw him, I should just make complicated hand gestures at him while I walk by to scare him off.

This guy’s a fuckin gem.

bezoarcureforpoison:

strawberryinstantoatmeal:

my dad owns a small business and today he found out that one of his male employees was sexually harassing a female coworker and sending her dick pics and shit and so my dad fired him and then immediately left work to drive to this guy’s other job and told his boss there and got him fired from two jobs in the span of like an hour lmao

Good dad. Good boss.

alexisthenedd:

alexisthenedd:

alexisthenedd:

alexisthenedd:

This white boy came over a month ago and asked why my pillow was shiny. I told him it was satin, because I need a satin case to maintain my natural hairstyle overnight.

This past weekend I stayed over at his house after a party because it was too late to go back to Manhattan, and when I got in bed I noticed that one of his pillowcases was satin.

I asked him why a white, nearly bald man needed a satin pillowcase and he said he bought it for me, in case I needed to sleep over sometime. He didn’t want me to ruin my hair on cotton.

I kissed the ever-loving shit out of him.

That’s how you show a brown girl you care.

Update: he’s my boyfriend. our 1 year anniversary is coming up next month.

New Update: We had our two year anniversary on August 9th.

We also have moved in together.

As we went through his stuff for the move, we found the last of those pillowcases he bought for me in 2015.

I sleep on it every night.

THREE YEARS AS OF LAST THURSDAY

drakkn:

drakkn:

theres a guy in my asian art hist. class who is visually the epitome of a redneck stereotype except hes an art history major and is very clearly passiomate about it

imagine a bowlegged white guy with a beard wearing flannel, a belt buckle, and cowboy boots talk about the intricacies of a hindu temple in sri lanka. this is the future liberals want