SHES SO CUTE WTF 😭 also it’s so weird seeing comments on this back when it came out with people not knowing who the characters are and being unsure about it comparing the art style to k-on. super interesting time capsule sort of stuff! support your local idol groups you never know which ones will become a mega franchise !!
*Sees it already exists after making Home and Wally*
Hmm...
*Sees the Creature Pirate Au (owned by @rainbow-neko-artblog, go check them out) and thinks it's awesome*
Hmm....
*creates the new au anyway with the found inspiration*
So here, Tumblr, here is the main cast in all their glory!
This is only the first art pieces and may change throughout time.
Character Species:
Home: Spaceship
Wally: Unknown
Julie: Flower Monster
Barnaby: Water/Slime Creature
Frank: Pied Piper (only to insects... Yes, this includes Howdy...)
Sally: Star Being
Eddie: Shapeshifter
Poppy: Phoenix
Howdy: Humanoid Caterpillar (should be a butterfly in his age.... weird....)
Y/n: Human
If you have any questions or ideas, please feel free to send them! I do have a rough planned out story for these guys, but mostly, idk what I'm doing- feel free to ask for suggestions as this is still in the beginning phase and not fully up in the air yet.
happy 413 everyone!! 15 years felt like a significant number so i wanted to do push myself to do smthg over the top for this one haha
this comic has had me in a chokehold for over 10 years waow.. still lookin forward to see what comes from the new team! anyway happy anniversary sweethearts <333
at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.