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puapka.bsky.social
@puapka.bsky.social
470 followers 270 following 590 posts
Nihlist, therian, anarchist, anti-femboy, misandrist, not a furry, baeddel, anti-civ, autistic, occultist, anti-enlightenment,
anti-communist, post-left

it/its

liberals and amerikkkans DNI
Posts Replies Media Videos
puapka.bsky.social
In a world where it is infinitely alienating that most art is about men, the language most women use to describe that alienation was created by transmisogynist Bechdel.
February 14, 2026 at 11:25 PM
puapka.bsky.social
I'm scared
February 14, 2026 at 2:17 AM
puapka.bsky.social
February 13, 2026 at 8:49 PM
puapka.bsky.social
girl with white hair smiling and blushing, she is from a previously drawn snail comic
February 8, 2026 at 2:31 PM
puapka.bsky.social
go watch beyond the hills
February 7, 2026 at 6:31 PM
puapka.bsky.social
tumblr might actually die die bc of the vibe coding CEO, it is the site where we have the biggest following and I don't trust blueskylibs to not ban us randomly also, we should figure out rss feed and hosting huh
February 7, 2026 at 2:51 PM
puapka.bsky.social
last day of the watercolor sale b4 we leave for the nose operation
February 7, 2026 at 12:59 PM
Reposted
pawusage.bsky.social
finally..!!!
February 7, 2026 at 5:54 AM
Reposted
moresoul.bsky.social
even seagulls mock me
February 6, 2026 at 10:09 PM
Reposted
brielcomics.bsky.social
She's Bigger Than You Remember. 4 pages.

You're a twin. One of you died. What remains?

#art #horror #comics
A black-and-white comic. A young woman sits in the back of an ambulance in the dark, attended by figures. She hunches in her thermal blanket, harried. Distantly, she says, "Which one am I?" The blackness follows her to another time where she makes herself small, leaning against her mother. She says, with a little concerned smile, "I know I'm the one that threw up in the lemonade on our fourteenth birthday." Her mother smiles, her eyes crinkling, her arm around her daughter. The young woman continues, the smile fading, "But down there, as we got hungrier, she got bigger. Like, taller." Concern rises on her mother's face. The young woman's affect flattens, eyelids low, and says, "She started biting chunks out of my back, accidentally." "Oh, mija," says her mother, who, despite holding her daughter in the same way, now looks up at the viewer, afraid. The young woman drones, "She got big enough that she would put my whole head between her teeth. And then one... day, I guess, she clenched her jaw tighter and tighter, and my skull, I could feel, I..." Her mother, shortly, states, "Magdalena." Tears well up in the corner of her eyes while anger tickles her brow. Magdalena now curls up, finally breaking from her helpless mother, her head almost to her knees where her trembling hands clutch each other as she says, "But now I'm alive, and she's, she's, she's--" A large black coffin in a church interrupts the scene. One end of a tape measure is hooked on a corner while Magdalena holds the other end at the opposite corner, shouting, angry, "It's enormous!" Her father, scared, hands out and down, gets in, "Shh, Magita, take a breath." Magdalena's mother curls up her fist, holding something in. Magita commands, "Just look! Just tell me what that number is. Right there." A black-and-white comic. Magdalena and her parents look closely at the tape measure which indicates how long the coffin is. Her dad says, "Honey, I'm not sure it matters. I know you're upset--" Magdalena's mom interjects, "It says 85 inches, Magdalena. You're right, it's pretty big." The tape measure reads just over 228 inches. Magdalena says, "...Dad?" Her dad says, "...Maybe 85 and a half, with the trim." The coffin imposes, dividing, dark, enormous. Later, Magdalena walks past a construction site and spots a toe rising from the ground, covered in lines and dark spots, its nail peeling. She says, "Oh." Four other toes, pocked, scarred, disproportionately thin and several feet long, poke out of the earth. As she walks by, Magdalena says, "Coffin must have burst." A part of a news article reads, "I-435 Corridor Sinkholes: Latest Updates. Interstate highway 435 between Cunningham Ridge and Air Line Junction will remain closed until mid-November, Missouri transport officials report. Patrick McKenna, Missouri Director of Transportation, had this to say: 'We are working to understand the extent of the cavities in the Earth causing these sinkholes. We plan to reopen the...'" The article leads to a large graveyard ringed by trees, where Magdalena shouts, horrified, "Dad! What..." Her word falls into the darkness of an enormous mouth. The top palette sticks thirty feet up out of the ground, creating a broken mound of dirt behind it, the gravestones tilted and fallen. The teeth are perfectly aligned. The mouth is horribly wide. There is another thirty feet where dirt falls into the dark orifice before the lower jaw begins. There the teeth are crowded, pushing each other around on the wet, misshapen gums. Each is almost as tall as Magdalena. There is a large gap between the front teeth where her father is lowering himself into the mouth. Magdalena screams, "Dad!" A black-and-white comic, page 3 of "She's Bigger Than You Remember". Magdalena's dad proceeds with lowering himself into the enormous mouth, while Magdalena sprints towards him. She gets out, "Oh god--Dad, stop--Oh god--" The panel borders become teeth, which close as her dad disappears into the pit. Magdalena screams, "Dad!" Magdalena shouts again. Her hands reach. Finally, the panel opens up and Magdalena finds her dad clinging onto the gums. He shouts, terrified, "Help--" Magdalena shouts back, "Dad! God!" She pulls him up and is scared and angry as she implores, "Why--" Her dad, crawling, sweating, says, "I don't--I'm--" He gets up and stumbles away from Magdalena, who watches, confused, alarmed, as he says, "I don't know--I'm sorry--I don't know--" His hand trembles as it covers his face. Time passes. Magdalena stares, bored, at a laptop screen. Tired, she confronts her parents. Her mom lectures while her dad looks away, silent. A moving van is full of boxes and a mattress. Finally, Magdalena drives the moving van away from the shadowy tarmac, accompanied by marching powerlines, into the flat, empty horizon. Someone says, "Goodbye, Isabel." More time passes. Five panels are superimposed over a graph of global average temperature. In 2025, Magdalena sits on a bare mattress, thinking. The temperature is just under 1.5 Celsius above the preindustrial average (this is real). In 2035, Magdalena sits in a conference room with some coworkers. The temperature is about 1.7 degrees above preindustrial average. In 2045, Magdalena's roots are gray. She kisses someone, her hand on their cheek. The other person's hand is on Magdalena's collarbone and their back is bare. The temperature is +2.1 degrees. In 2055, Magdalena looks in the mirror. Her chin has softened and she has more wrinkles. She's let her hair gray. +2.7 degrees. In 2065, Magdalena sits on the edge of her bed while her partner sleeps. +3.5 degrees. A dotted line noted as "Today" sits at around 2070. A black-and-white comic. A car drives back to the tarmac that Magdalena drove away from 45 years ago. The brush is burnt. There is smoke on the horizon. The sun is setting. The telephone poles lay in disarray, some still standing, some knocked over long ago. Magdalena is driving the car. The upper left part of the windshield is cracked. She stares upwards, frail, horrified. Everything is tilted. Clouds blow over the darkling sky. Piercing them are a series of five dark, gargantuan structures, their bases invisible over the horizon. Four of them extend from over the horizon at a low angle, then bend sharply at a sort of joint, where a softer material is present. The texture otherwise is pocked and lined by forty years of wind. The structures recede up into the sky, skinny and ribbed, and just above the clouds there is another joint. Beyond that second joint is a tapering shape that spreads into a large pad. You realize: these are the remains of a hand. The structures are finger bones, miles long. She reaches, dead, toward the sky. The fifth structure is worse: a distant, gaunt, distended skull, at least ten miles wide. Any remaining flesh has sunken into the long nasal passage and empty left eye socket. The right eye, however, is fully intact. The sclera is far too white. The iris appears smeared, but the pupil is dark and focused. It's staring directly at "Magdalena" in her car, from what must be a hundred miles away. As the car approaches the horizon, toward the living gaze of the dead sister, a voice emanates from the skull. To be clear: it has no muscles left, and the lower jaw is nowhere. The voice remains, to say: "Welcome home, Isabel."
August 17, 2025 at 10:02 PM
Reposted
moresoul.bsky.social
February 6, 2026 at 3:34 AM
puapka.bsky.social
February 6, 2026 at 9:44 PM
puapka.bsky.social
wasteland
February 6, 2026 at 9:34 PM
puapka.bsky.social
oval acrylic painting of a fox girl looking at the stary night, leans abstract
February 6, 2026 at 7:57 PM
puapka.bsky.social
while being plural is mostly a negative experience for us, its nice sometimes to look at art made by another alter and be able to appreciate it as something that feels external to me
February 5, 2026 at 11:43 PM
puapka.bsky.social
fall
February 5, 2026 at 10:52 PM
Reposted
yuribaited.bsky.social
mage daze (play viractal)
daze in an outfit inspired by mage rovia from the video game viractal. she is posing while preparing to cast a spell with her staff while making a determined expression. text reads: "DAZE'S GRAVITY!" "Take that!" a side profile of daze in mage rovia's outfit but with minimal color and lighting. it is carrying a bag this time and clutching a flaming paper in its left hand. text reads, "I'm signing the fuck out of this EVIL CONTRACT <3 yay <3"
February 5, 2026 at 6:33 AM
puapka.bsky.social
figuring out how to draw them was pretty insightful
February 5, 2026 at 6:59 PM
puapka.bsky.social
ummm this outfit didn't even show up in the knockoff series??? just on the card? okay... shameless stuff
that kid from crow cillers webcomic wearing purple dress and a crown sitting on a throne that is way too big, hands close to the face, distraught expression, the character is a furry, watercolor
February 5, 2026 at 5:18 PM
Reposted
moresoul.bsky.social
compartmentalizing my feelings
February 5, 2026 at 4:20 AM
puapka.bsky.social
You know how our ape like ancestors could move their ears but you can't? I can do a little jiggle
February 4, 2026 at 11:40 PM
Reposted
moresoul.bsky.social
hinotori flatline
February 2, 2026 at 5:26 AM
Reposted
icutmyownhairs.bsky.social
we have two surgeries coming up (one this month, one in april) and so we're trying to put together a little money to coast on while we recover.
so, we're going to start selling off our on-paper art, again!
here's the first batch, up on our ko-fi, now! <3
February 4, 2026 at 11:26 PM
puapka.bsky.social
February 4, 2026 at 10:09 PM
puapka.bsky.social
it keeps happening
puapka.bsky.social puapka.bsky.social @puapka.bsky.social · Jan 8
physical media painter with dissociative tendency spilled paint shit on everything, itll happen again too
February 4, 2026 at 9:07 PM