I love their cover of 1,200 Balloons, Dalmatians, and Miles.
Supergroup [Explained]
Transcript Under the Cut
[Ponytail, Cueball, Megan, Knit Cap, and Hairy are in line at a theatre box office, the marquee above announcing "Playing Tonight The New Supergroup: 176 Pilots, Seconds of Summer, Non Blondes, Live Crew, gecs, Doors Down, Inch Nails, Republic, Direction, and Seconds to Mars".]
Unfortunately they did not get burgers for Hank, but Connor at least learned a valuable lesson. I guess Nines suffers from Amelia Bedelia Syndrome.
———
Hi guys, this is actually a comic I drew and basically finished 11 months ago. And it’s been just about then since I’ve last really opened my iPad and did any drawing. There’s a ton of half-completed works on there and they’re pretty cute, so I’ll try to post them as I get the motivation. My therapist says posting to this blog will probably improve my mental health and he’s right but >:3c
So yeah! Let’s see what I can toss out this year, wooo!!
The villain appears around the corner at a run, their hair still wet and their coat ridiculously crumpled. The hero raises an eyebrow at them as they practically skid to a halt in front of them.
“Sorry I’m late,” they say between ragged breaths.
“You’re fifteen minutes late,” the hero points out with a pointed check of their watch, “to your own crime.”
“To my crime?” the villain echoes indignantly. “Why would you invite me to my own crime?”
That barely makes sense to the hero. They root through their pocket and shove a tiny piece of paper in the villain’s face.
The villain’s eyes scan over the paper with an increasingly confused frown. “You told me to meet you here, and I have—even though you were, y’know, fifteen minutes late.”
“[Hero],” the villain says slowly. “This isn’t my writing.”
All accusations lining up in the hero’s mind grind to a halt. “Excuse me?”
“This– This isn’t my writing,” they repeat a little more intensely. They rummage through their coat for a moment, slapping a scrap of paper against the hero’s chest. “Did you write that?”
The hero pries the little piece of paper open.
meet me at the back of the bank at 6:30pm. not a fight. - Hero
“I didn’t write that,” the hero says automatically.
“What the hell is going on?” the villain demands. It seems to be aimed more at the air than the hero, but they feel inclined to answer regardless.
“I don’t know,” they say uselessly. “Someone wanted to bring us together. They knew we’d answer each other.”
They gesture with the note for emphasis. “Jesus Christ,” the villain says flatly. “It’s a two-for-one deal. We’re going to die.”
“We’re not going to die, [Villain],” the hero snaps, but the way the villain is glancing over their shoulder is making them want to do the same.
The villain’s face twitches into some kind of horrible acceptance of fate for a moment. They open their mouth, their breath misting in the evening air as they gear up to probably say something stupid, but a voice cuts them off.
“Isn’t this a nice little gathering?” the henchman says brightly. “I’m glad you both came.”
quinton reviews dropping a thoughtful, sensitive, nuanced take on the dan schneider of it all, possibly the first of its kind. spare hand in marriage sir
Katara: Suki, can I talk to you for a second?
Suki: Yeah, what’s up? Lemme guess. You and Aang are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss?
Katara: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.