“Jason, why point the gun at me?” “Look, I don’t know, you’re a flying superstrengthed powerhouse and you just sexually assaulted me???????”
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“Jason, why point the gun at me?” “Look, I don’t know, you’re a flying superstrengthed powerhouse and you just sexually assaulted me???????”
In Joyce’s moment of mental breakdown-slash-denial of sexual self, she goes to feed the pet she named after the guy she loved but can’t remember. Even in her attempt to escape to something else, to bury the confrontation, she can’t really. […] ↓ Read the rest of this entry…
For the sake of keeping down Anti-Joyce’s sexual assault count for the night, let’s assume Mike’s “no” was just him being a dick, as per usual.
I don’t know why, but I really feel like that truck should be driving left instead of driving right in that first panel? I mean, there are all sorts of rules about that kind of stuff, like left-to-right means progress and right-to-left […] ↓ Read the rest of this entry…
I am not entirely sure “what the fuck (paraphrased)” really counts as enthusiastic, informed consent.
Man, Joyce is doing those two a favor, really. If you meet a gentleman hailing from England Don’t be so impressed; hold on to your heart Just because a guy has a British accent Does not mean he’s witty or […] ↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Huh, is this where anatomy starts slowly dripping into my art? Is this where the life drawing classes I’d been taking started to take hold? Or is Joyce just without a shirt and she’s supposed to be somewhat alluring, and […] ↓ Read the rest of this entry…
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