Can I Be Like You

the scene where layton asks future layton what color pen is in his pocket makes no sense to me because why would future layton have lived through this before? that implies that in this narrative layton goes back to the past after saving the world from his future self and becomes that future self anyway which seems? implausible? surely this would be a divergence into an alternate timeline not a closed loop. i know the time travel is fake but this has bothered me for a decade. clive clean your story up babe

this is my fav convo between them istg ?!?

“fuq that shit elope” changed my life

also max saying it’s illegal in oregon?!?

do they hate the gays?!?

Yesterday I had fun while improvising this little comic strip about the meeting of Hershel, Clark and Claire in university.

Spoiler Miracle Mask: I imagined Hershel being really upset and quiete after loosing Randall the summer just before… So at first they don’t really get along and the situation is quite awkward…

I really like the result so I took a little of my time to translate the dialogue !

 I hope you’ll like it :D

Maybe I’ll wrote how they finally got along at the end (or maybe not, I have other shit to do, like being an adult I guess)

The year...... 2025........... I am now......... 25 years old.

World Doctors comic............ too much work...............

BUT GUESS WHAT! I now own a CRT TV with a built in VHS player.

I've put World Doctors on:

My old phone with a slide out keyboard

A Hello Kitty flip phone

A now broken iPod shuffle (the audio from it, at least)

PAPER (discontinued)

AND NOW, COMING SOON TO VHS!!!!!!!!!!

Guys, I'm putting World Doctors on a VHS tape. That's all.

Do you think Bart and Chris remember me? Do you think they'd be proud?

your honor i love them

"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level

Me wrapping up Christmas presents.

Proving Her Wrong

You sit in your chair, arms crossed and scowling, glaring over the lip of the table at the affini sitting across from you. She was resting her chin on a closed fist, watching you intently as you sulked.

Finally, you couldn't contain it any longer. You weren't going to let her walk all over you like that, starsdamnit! "I'm not a seed, Oleria. I appreciate everything you've done to help me, but me needing a Wardship after being rescued from that clanker of a ship doesn't mean-"

"Open." You respond automatically to the word, letting her insert a bite of dinner into your mouth, waiting to continue speaking until after she taps your chin; the signal to let you close and chew.

"Mmm…I…yeah. Um, what was I…? Oh, right- I'm not a seed. Like…yes, maybe I enjoy cuddling and so on, but so does everyone I talk to-"

"All those floret friends you have, you mean? Chloe and Jess and Alice and all them?" She stroked downward on your cheek this time, but your mouth fell open all the same. You knew what it meant by now.

"Mmmmm….fuck, that's tasty. And yeah, they all like cuddling and stuff too! So its fine."

"Sweetie, we talked about this. Mommy doesn't like it when you use language like that in front of her."

"I…s-sorry, Oleria." Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, which is a bit strange. Why would you be embarrassed? She's just helping you out a little, giving you a reminder so you're a model sophont. "But anyway, I do plenty of things that independents do, okay? I play with my friends every single day-"

"When I remind you."

"-And a go to bed at a reasonable hour-"

"Because I gave you a bedtime."

"And I've tried plenty of xenodrugs, something most feralists would never do!" You lean forward, smugly confident.

"…Well on that, I do suppose you have a point. Speaking of which…" She held up her hand out, an injector vine hovering nearby it. Your eyes lock onto the dripping needletip waiting within the gorgeous blooming flower, all thoughts slipping out of your mind as your head finds its way to her palm. Nestling and nuzzling against it as the prick in your neck steals away any traces of resistance for the rest of the evening.

"Theeeere we go. Don't you worry, silly. Mommy knows exactly what you are~"

"Okayyy Mommyyyy…" You giggle. "Yaaaaay."

"All this digital art stuff, you know, it goes way over my head. But my wife, y'see, she has this cousin Lou. Now Lou's a real smart cookie, knows everything from Blender to Clip Studio, but the one thing they won't touch is AI. Says it wastes a whole lot of electricity for something that only looks good at a glance.

See, a computer, it can't think through things like a human can. You or I, when we look at a drawing of an apple, we can compare it to real apples we've seen. If you show us a drawing of some orange thing with spikes coming out every which way, well, we can tell you that sure doesn't look like an apple.

But a computer? All a computer can do is look at pictures of apples. And if you give that computer enough pictures of apples that are a little bit orange, or a little bit bumpy, well. It might just decide that spiky orange thing is an apple too. It takes a whole lot of pictures of apples to get the computer mostly good at guessing when things are apples or not.

Now, that's bad enough when you just want your computer to tell you what it sees. When you want a computer to make an image, though, that's where Lou says you really run into trouble. You put a piece of paper in front of me, give me a pencil, and tell me to draw an apple, it won't win any awards. But it'll be a new drawing. Nobody's ever drawn that exact same drawing the exact same way before.

But if you take your computer that's gotten pretty good at guessing when things are apples, and you tell it "okay, draw me an apple", it can't make a completely new drawing of an apple. Instead, it'll take the pictures you've given it and mash 'em together. Maybe, at the end, you won't be able to tell which pictures it used, but if you ask it for enough drawings of apples, you'll start seeing patterns...

I'm sorry, I'll get out of your hair. I know you have to get back to your painting.

Just one more thing... how many fingers does that man in the corner have?"