PEDRO

I AM OKAY AND WITH MY TEAM

[supersonicart]

Sajan Rai, Illustrations.

A selection of fantastic illustrations from artist Sajan Rai.

Be sure to follow Supersonic Art on Instagram!

[70sscifiart]

Kaiju

[rainbowtrousers]

Little Denís always knew which side was the good side. When the Kaiju fought for supremacy, it was never ever clear to the citizens of City 17 which tremendous beast to root for.

And so, once again, Mayor Peu held up Little Denís’ cabbage patch self, Simba-style, arms outstretched before the vista of dissolving skylines, and asked, “Who you got?”

Little Denís blew a spit bubble and said, “Surprisingly, today— Rocket Turtle.”

And below the balcony the audience roared with applause, and chanted TOR-TU-GA TOR-TU-GA until the cows came home, at which point they decided to snuggle with them instead of white-knuckling it any further.

[screenshotsofdespair]

[rainbowtrousers]

O P E N MY G I F T

(caliban is breathing heavily)

T H I S IS YOUR C H A NCE

(the b&w photographic prints of caliban’s adult son with his guitar the only thing possessing color, gawdy blue, towers over you both)

O H C O M E O N I T S Y O U R L A S T NIGHT

(caliban has fooled you before)

HERE I L L OPEN IT

(caliban opens the present and the room fills with a powerful cotton candy smell, inside is a pup with a tattoo gun)

OKAY?

(from the three images the pup holds up, you pick the ‘green clown that looks like it’s bursting out of your paper thin skin bearing a hunting knife’)

F I N A L L Y WE CAN B E ALIVE

Thanks.

[picsthatmakeyougohmm]

[rainbowtrousers]

“All these animal look cute, but they have murder and fucking in their hearts.”

“Is that what’s in yours?” she quickly replies before I even finish my sentence– all while tugging on her side ponytail.

I took a deep breath. “Murder and fucking?”

She tilted her head down, keeping her eyes locked on mine. I traced my finger along a black and white street on the rug, bounding from lane to lane until it arrived at the Post Office, where her foot still resided. I leaned forward and gave it a poke.

“At the very least, not in that order.”

She retracts her foot and says with sincerity, “You’re a demon.”

Still leaning forward on all fours, I freeze, with my mouth slightly ajar. Without warning, she threw her cozy hoodie arms around me and went for a kiss. Of course, as I was taken unawares, she kissed my front teeth. Our next kiss was a huge improvement on that. As I embraced her around the waist, she rolled onto her back, wrapping her legs around me, and we continued this way, correcting each kiss with the next. Finally, a kiss of perfect union, scientific precision, lips joining with a beginning, middle, and flawless dismount. We stared at each other. Sparkle sparkle sparkle sparkle–the air between us growing warmer. Naturally, we decided to have another. And another. I pulled my head back and looked at her. She was dead serious, almost angry, and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me back in. Her lips were full against mine, pillows, maddeningly soft and sensuous. I could feel the soft outline of her body through her thick hoodie; she felt as if she was going to fall apart at any moment. I laid my body upon hers as I embraced her, tenderly kissing along her neck. She gave me this frustrated look when I glanced up at her, as her legs tightened their grip around me, the soft, stretchy material of her leggings swishing behind my back. My warm hand ventured beneath her hoodie and touched the surprisingly cool skin of her waist– a quick exhale from her at the moment of impact.

[ichise]

[rainbowtrousers]

The skyline is complicated, moody with lights and dimension, sirens and smoke. The moon is simple and full, nearly surreal, like you can peel it off your eyes. Casper’s soft face is also simple and full, leadened by shadows as he creeps to the ledge and peers over. I watch him cringe and turn back to face me, a dark thing interrupting the glow of the city.

Over the whoosh of wind, I speak to his nondescript silhouette, “If you quit now, her memory will never stop hurting you.”

The silhouette is still, my eyes drift to that perfectly circular moon. I think, in ancient times, we gazed at the sun and moon and figured, our whole lives, that we were looking at an actual god–mysterious and silent. I can’t imagine the thrill of being able to see your gods, right there, staring back.

“You know,” I say, “There are two reasons why people ever want to go to the moon.”

I feel his eyes on me, I run and leap up onto the ledge with my arm outstretched, fingers wiggling at the cosmic silver disc. I hear Casper inhale sharply and step back, I lower my arms to my sides, “The first kind of person wants to go to the moon for that sweet view. I mean, fuck, is there no better way to drink in this planet? It even looks like it’s on a silver platter. All of humanity, everything you love, right there, you could take a bite out of it.”

“Please, Remy, come down.”

“And then there’s the second type of person. They know it’s the furthest away our species has ever gotten from home. From other people.”

Casper breaths out fog, says quietly, “Toska and Gemütlich.”

[midnightmurdershow]

Ghost in the Shell (1995) Directed by Mamoru Oshii

[rainbowtrousers]

“No one’s gonna love you.”

The walls of the city weren’t imaginary, the inhuman sobs of her next door neighbor were sad and scary, long and wavering.

Her self-defeating thought still bouncing around the caverns of her secret heart, Toledo found a stupid stillness in the dynamism of the city. Everything kept moving so fast, it was like it didn’t move. Everything was stuck in movement, static in change. Nothing was feeling anything. A shitscene. No one was going to love her.

What a relief.

[rainbowtrousers]

hey man, i dont remember if i ever asked you....were you in that toro y moi video?

I yam! My friend Steve Daniels directed and shot it here in Columbia SC 👣👣did a boogie right in there

[catsbeaversandducks]

“No.”

By 魏大葱有木瓜

[rainbowtrousers]

In the beforetime, the universe was an ashtray seated delicately on the edge of the firmament. This resting position of anti-entropic stillness was profound, complete, an inherent state of perfect.

The Kosmic Kitty appeared, from beyond, to paw it from the mobius table, and when it clanked against the hardwood floor of infinity, all of the energy in your body, your eyes, the blood and soul of all that you know, every star, every unknown something across the vast expanse, was released.

“I really don’t see the big deal,” says the Kosmic Kitty’s incomprehensible and emotionless face.

[naruhoe-deactivated20220131]

being held??????? holding someone?????????!!??????? fuck

[superheroesincolor]

Puerto Rico Strong: A Comics Anthology Supporting Puerto Rico Disaster (2018)

Puerto Rico Strong is a comics anthology that explores what it means to be Puerto Rican and the diversity that exists within that concept, from today’s most exciting Puerto Rican comics creators. All profits will go to towards disaster relief and recovery programs to support Puerto Rico.

Despite being a US territory, Puerto Rico is often thought of as a foreign land, if it’s even a thought in the mind of the average American at all. Its people exist in all corners of America; some of them have parents who immigrated from the home island, others are a part of families that have been on the mainland for generations. Then there are those who have come to the states in search of a dream but struggle to integrate into an unfamiliar culture, while there are those who have lived in the United States all of their lives but still have the same struggle because of the color of their skin or their sexual identity. These stories follow individuals from diverse walks of life but are all part of the culture that is Puerto Rico.

Puerto Rico Strong features art and writing by Rosa Colon, Vita Ayala, Naomi Franquiz, Javier Cruz Winnik, Sabrina Cintron, Ronnie Garcia, Fabian Nicieza, Joamette Gil, and many more! 

Get it here  

[Follow SuperheroesInColor faceb / instag / twitter / tumblr / pinterest]

[rainbowtrousers]

When I was on tour with my band fratmouth (plug me in besh fratmouth.bandcamp.com) I suffered from interocular ophthalmoplegia and had to focus very hard to keep both of my eyes straight. Otherwise, I had to wear an eyepatch (lovingly crocheted by my friend Jane) in order for my eyes to not be googly + to play shows/function. By the time I got home, it had healed itself and disappeared as mysteriously as it appeared.

[80sanime]

Hi, this is a long shot but I figure I'd ask anyway. I have a very faint memory of this anime that aired in the US sometime in the early/mid 90s. All I remember is a guy and a girl are stranded alone on a space station, and the guy leaves to get a giant fish that was floating outside. He grabs it, but didnt have an air supply so he had to hold his breath the entire time. Does this at all ring any bells?

It’s got to be the Space Tuna scene from Macross/Robotech:

[rainbowtrousers]

As my fork plunged into the abundant pink shred of tuna flesh, I heard him audibly sigh.

Looking up, I noticed his eyes lingering on me with an intangible note of disgust hidden somewhere within. He was perfectly framed by the grand fish, disembowled and hanging from a hook in our hallowed lunch hall. It almost looked as if he was inside of the fish, trapped in its stringy guts, the globular meat crater like a halo around his head.

“Do you have a fucking problem?” I say, but I already knew the answer. I always know the answer to any question I ask. That’s the problem. The problem is when you spend Star Date 20+ years alone with someone in a space station, your sentences meld, your thoughts cross-contaminate, you hate them for your weaknesses.

He drops his fork, never once touching his cut, and walks away. He loudly masturbates in his cabin, and all I can do is cry as I devour the succulent space fish. Mayo was out of the question.

[2000sweb]

[rainbowtrousers]

“Why does it feel more real when I’m dreaming than when I’m awake?”

He types into the DOS, and leans back, skreeking swivel chair bending at its joint. A blanket of cold silence, temporal nothing, drifts down upon him in his hidden bedroom.

Then, the cursor relinquishes a character: S

He shoots up, a pain as he pulls his back, ugh, but he focuses as the cursor goes goes, moving past words now, a phrase...

“Show me bobs”

His wiggling fingers freeze.

[supersonicart]

Evangeline Gallagher x INPRNT.

The absolutely wonderful work of artist Evangeline Gallagher is available as fine art prints in her INPRNT Shop!

Be sure to follow INPRNT on Tumblr, too.

[rainbowtrousers]

I have a journalism class its called mass communkcatklns researcb a d k bavr nkg been pagjng agte fjk bks geachkng style jsnf glks, hes vsfh Polgdgjc geachkng

[glittervajayjayy]

[rainbowtrousers]

“Is it true that this house is haunted?” she asks as she peers at me through the graffiti-laden glass. I tell her, “Murmur murmur murmur” and turn my hat backwards, which is when the glitchy wind tears through the simulation. I kiss the glass and she winces, •g•e•t• •a• •l•i•f•e•

The fake ceiling melted and revealed a Coke red sky, a thousand barrels of energy tumble down a hill in my gut and I *SMEKK* slam my head against the window— I am killed instantly.

[stuffmomnevertoldyou]

[sodomymcscurvylegs]

Dolly is a national treasure, TBH.

[rainbowtrousers]

Though Cervantes is only as tall as the mens’ elbows hang, his confidence creates a field around him, expanding him. He lifts his chin and smiles, “But this is so simple, my little biscuit. I am to collect a particular amount of money, not your souls! Why must you attack my friends? This is accounting. No need for the fevered lashings of an animal.”

Bâteaux whispers to me, “I got this.”

“Come on, they could be armed,” I whisper back.

“I won’t lift a finger, trust me.”

However, before she can do anything, we hear someone sniffling. At first, I figure Casper is crying, but his face is dry. It’s not one of us, nor is it the threatening cadre drawing ever closer. A nasal voice begins to whine in some enclosed space, “WAaaahhhaaahhh!”

Then, the lights in the alleyway cool, melting like a liquid light show into a clear cerulean. The men stop and confusedly glance around. Not only are the lights blue, but it seems that everything is–and a plum color creeps into just the shadows, while everything bright becomes a sharper blue. Incredibly disoriented, I see Bâteaux look at her hands and point confused eyes at me, a strange blue face with her usually black pupils now this deep purple.

“¿Aye, cabrones, que esta pasando? ¡Que mierda!” a blue and purple Cervantes exclaims, examining the sleeves of his bullfighter jacket.

Bursting from the dumpster, a short man with a viking hat and a large clock around his neck.

“It’s Flavor,” I utter in disbelief.

“Yeeeeaah booiieee!!!” he yells, with tears in his eyes. The lights, our flesh, the walls, flash through a bright orange, yellow, and then he sniffs again, and it returns to blue. Then, at the end of the alley, a white figure brings hand to mouth and issues an ear-splitting whistle.

I squint. A mind-splitting visage: it’s a young Dolly Parton, sporting the skin-tight threads of a cowgirl goddess, pearlescent from head to toe, with floral embellishments of gold along the sleeves of her jacket, a spotless cowboy hat, shiny rose gold boots, and whiteblonde locks that frame a red lipstick smile. The palette everything else was submerged in didn’t affect her. She shined. We all turn to watch her, as she briskly walks down the alley, as if it were a catwalk. Flavor Flav hypes her up from the dumpster, crying and shouting, stabbing his fist into the sky, clock bouncing on his chest.

“Here she comes! Ladies and gennles, the rightful heir to Entropy, Miss Thing Herself, Entropy II!”

As she approaches Cervantes and his group, she doesn’t slow. They quickly clear out of her way and she walks directly up to us. She flashes a famous dimpled smile and lets roll a sweet southern drawl, candied like the Great Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee, “Excuse me. Casper?”

She puts her hand on her cowboy hat and peeks around Bâteaux’s frame to see a terrified bluepurple Casper.

“Hi there, sweetheart. You have something that belongs to me. And I hate to say it, but the only way I can get it back is if I kill you with my bare hands.”

My heart races as I shove Casper backwards into Baby and stand square with Dolly. Her beauty is undeniable, and my emotions get jumbled up for a second, until Bâteaux puts a hand on Dolly’s shoulder and says, “I love you, Ms. Parton, but that’s a no.”

“Oh hell,” Dolly sighs as she bends over and pulls a small pearl pistol from her boot, “This might work too.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck is thiiis?!” Cervantes shouts, pulling a purple gun from his jacket and pointing it at Dolly. Flavor sees the standoff and yelps, scrambles out of the dumpster and runs away, full speed. Soon the colors return to a normalcy, and Dolly shakes her head, turning to aim her pistol right back at Cervantes.

“Nunya, chief. Why don’t you boys scurry off just like my lily-livered lothario down that-a-way?” and she waves her gun down the alley.

I turn to Casper, “Listen, you have to think about Cynthia dumping you. Vividly. No matter how much it hurts. You gotta dreg it up. Now.”

Casper nods and closes his eyes.

I look around. Nothing happens.

“Nunya? Nunya business? You are saying?” Cervantes swaggers forward, reclaiming his confidence, “Excuse, Señorita Vaquerita, pero this is exactly my business. I don’t know about the boy, but that woman there is mine.”

Still, Casper has no effect. Cervantes and Dolly eat into each other with just their stares, guns raised. I grab Casper, “I need you to describe it to me. Out loud.”

[sunbathe]

[niemacreamm-deactivated20190203]

On our travel list @ardnale

[rainbowtrousers]

“I... um, I wanna say some gay shit.”

I see the triple dots of hell, the three headed hound of agonizing anticipation, encased in a silver egg, bouncing, indicating, he types, I wait.

Then, after a small lifetime, “Loel aint me but please express”

My eyes are drawn up into the fog choking Eiffel’s chicken, familiar sparks of crimson and black swarm my guts, a carousel of sex flashes in my mind, No, No, too forward, I wiggle his message up and down under my thumb, formulating a response that doesn’t encroach, but pleases, expresses.

“Oh id

Love to just sit smoke weed and write songs with you”

Hello again dots. Boop boop boop. Until, they disappear. SEEN. Oh shit. Oh fuck.