cracking up over "tepid bepis"

for real tho, he can go fuck himself. hope he never sleeps again

pinned in a trap w/ a scaly bullseye pattern on its crown. A sword appeared in my hand and I sheathed it in a slotted pillar behind the snake. A triumphant jingle played, the pillar rotated, and I was awarded my prize: a purple (rare) box containing a white cat figurine w/ a witch hat and broom

winding stretch of highway without guardrails that became more like the back of a snake the further I drove. when close to the end, having nearly fallen to my death several times, a voice announced “Will you slay the snake or return the sword?”

at the end of the road, the colossal snake’s head was

I ordered a pumpkin khachapuri and one Bob Esponge blind box, but the woman said “oh, I also have Witch Cat boxes, there’s just no Night ones left”

I said sure, I’ll take that instead (I don’t really care about SpongeBob)

now in order to claim the blind box I had to drive my car down a long,

i have a real soft spot for stories about very old, wistful characters who struggle to relate to the mortals in their lives. not a lot "happens" in this quiet, soft scifi tale, but the creators' genuine *love* for Emanon is so painfully evident in the dialog and beautiful art that i found it moving

EMANON by Shinji Kajio & Kenji Tsuruta

in 1967 Japan, a young scifi buff meets a beautiful "hippie" woman on an overnight ferry who claims to have memories spanning eons to the very beginnings of life on Earth. Tho brief, their meeting will remain a cherished memory in each of their lives

30 years before THE SUBSTANCE, Kyoko Okazaki told a story about the grotesquerie that is performing woman-ness in a way that is at once more cruel to, and more sympathetic of its main character who fully understands that she is doomed and why, but can't escape the machine she was fed to in her youth

HELTER SKELTER by Kyoko Okazaki

Japan's hottest it-girl, paranoid that her star is fading, turns to an experimental procedure to keep her young and beautiful. but the horrific side effects pale in comparison to her obsession w/ fame and the hangers-on who enable her self-destructive lifestyle

the comic is the Demeter: each tome carrying a piece of the Vampire, buried in the pages uniquely suitable for transport into the reader's hands. and every new chapter releases a miasma of mystery, sensuality, frustration, and horror. like his victims, i know i should turn away, but am under a spell

i really relate to your opening paragraphs. maybe not quite the same thing, but i find it very difficult to grieve for myself or the Real World even in the darkest of times. taking in tragic stories, and sitting with characters working thru their own problems somehow gives me permission to mourn

RIP for real 😭