Deer Season Is Upon Us.

Gold and lapis lazuli earring, Egypt, 19th Dynasty, 1295-1186 BC

from The Metropolitan Museum of Art

You may have seen photos of him before, such as this one from 1886, when he (on the left) was already 50 years old:

It just struck me today that in his lifetime he has lived through the invention of photography itself, as well as moving pictures, television, VHS tapes, DVDs, BluRays and streaming; sound recording, 78rpm shellac records, 8-track tapes, CDs and MP3s; bicycles, cars, motorbikes, zeppelins, airplanes, helicopters, spaceships, satellites, the Moon landing, the Mars rover; the telephone, the internet, the smartphone, lasers, plastics, cellophane, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, refrigerators, electric ovens, microwaves, atomic bombs; the assassinations of Abraham Lincoln and JFK, the American Civil war, the Boer War, WWI and II, Vietnam, 9/11; Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, impressionism, surrealism, Salvador Dali, Andy Warhol, Jazz and Blues and Rock & Roll, Disco, Punk, Hip-Hop and Grunge; Charlie Chaplin, Oscar Wilde, Harry Houdini, Sherlock Holmes, Gandhi, Jack The Ripper, Sigmund Freud, Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid, Communism and the Soviet Union.

None of these things existed before him. Yet he's still alive today, walking around and eating grass.

This is a hilarious concept

Silly idea for a novel: the maintenance guys for ancient temple traps.

They’re a team of travelling engineers and quality assurance experts, who have to stay a step ahead of the assorted adventurers and archaeologists. The job is to make all the puzzles and traps authentic to original design, difficult to solve (but not too difficult. They want a staggered fatality rate so the final traps and puzzles get a chance to shine as well), and to stay ahead of schedule.

They’re all members of the reportedly long lost people who built the ruins. How or why this might be is never addressed. They carry themselves like regular tradesmen, all ‘well there’s you’re problem’ while dangling on a harness over a spike trap to fix the giant swinging axe. They have a water traps guy but he’s sick so the mechanical engineer is filling in. The spring loaded traps are all sticking this year due to humidity. The spinning clockwork puzzles are waiting for a part. The guy who replaces the tiles on collapsing floor traps thinks that’s bullshit. The stone worker who fixes the facades after the repairs has a UST-drenched rivalry with the botanist who arranges the moss and vines over hidden entrances and faded murals. The poison darts guy and the snake handler are siblings trying to fill their dad’s shoes. The final assessor is the grizzled old expert who’s seen it all and everyone respects. He has final say on whether or not the work is up to scratch and they can move onto the next temple. He gets injured/falls into a bottomless pit at the end of act one and they have to do the big job without him. The pressure is on to do him proud.

The archaeologists/adventurers have no clue about any of this. They’re constantly traipsing through the jungles, trying to decode clues, and loudly dying in the background. This is treated like a standard inconvenience.

Occasionally they run into vengeful spirits or surviving priests, who treat them the same way you treat a plumber who is fixing your sink: and tentatively offer them a sandwich and a cup of tea and try not to complain about them wearing work boots in the house.

The cover of Clue, but make it MHA.

(I just really wanted to draw Hawks as Miss Scarlet, ok?)

Dobson would definitely have uh, opinions about I am Not Starfire, the YA graphic novel making news lately, and how men are all "sexist" for not being interested in it. Even though he won't read it himself, as he never reads comics he has "opinions" about, and it looks genuinely BAD.

You know what’s a WAY better idea that’s got popular just off a couple images? Edgar Allen Logan, the wholesome jock son of Raven.

I'm curious. Reblog this if you know how to cook

I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat. 

Métis Miku (Creeku)

Some quick background:

The following comic is about two characters: Zori Kell and Tuath Ara. Zori is a Sith apprentice and Tuath is a Jedi padawan. They met sometime before this story takes place on the desert planet Gaia. Zori saved Tuath from an accident that killed her master, and the duo formed an uneasy alliance to survive the unforgiving desert. They spent two Gaia-months trying to find a way offworld and develop feelings for each other. They share a kiss before returning to their respective lives.

They continued to run into each other. Zori is a member of the Sith cult known as the Devout, headed by Darth Arachne, and Tuath, as a senior padawan, is frequently sent against the cult. Before this comic begins, Tuath is captured by the Devout and put to work in their mines as a slave. Zori, who is fiercely protective of Tuath, will not allow this insult to her and stages a breakout. This brings us to the start of the comic

Over 10 years ago I drew this mother naga with her kid and a bowl of gulab jamun, and I was blown away to see people still reblogging it and saying kind things here. I decided to draw a sequel, the PTA (People That are Anacondas) meeting is over, and she finally gets to have some gulab jamun. c: I really hope this cheers you up some.

whoever came up with the 'crossing fingers behind your back nullifies a promise being made' thing should be given nobel prize for service to the visual artists depicting a character being untruthful or traitorous through shorthand