Dragons!

and other things - I'm twentythree!

[efverse]

idkkkk been trying to think about efverse ditto stuff a little ???

[sometiktoksarevalid]

[asmogorna]

haven't drawn my human ekubo in a while :3c

[katawashishinbeadwork]

[mobietin]

weird al yankovic's dare to be stupid ft. joan harty

[pangur-and-grim]

she rabbit kicked him off the ledge, then smacked him till he fell

[pangur-and-grim]

Pangur after pushing a baby into the abyss

[phantomqueen]

my storytelling final! or, that week i almost went blind cross-hatching!

it’s a couple weeks old at this point, but i’m still proud of it (all that cross-hatching…) even though looking back at it now i can see a ton of flaws or things i just could’ve done better. maybe i’ll redo it one day.

the page colors are kind of wonky because they’re photographs; i didn’t have a scanner big enough for the pages.

hell yeah monster/human friendships

[noaacat]

[Image Descriptions: A five-page, hand-drawn and hand-lettered comic in black and white, drawn in pen, shaded with cross-hatching. Page one:  A character with short, curly hair is asleep, her head only sticking out from a blanket. A speech bubble reads “z z z” At black, wobbly-edged shadow with three eyes is rising up from behind the bed. The shadow comes up even higher, leaning over the character. More eyes on the shadow open up, curving around it; there are fifteen visible, including one that is a bit larger than the others. They are all focused on the character. The view moves closer on the shadow, showing only open eyes on black. There is a speech bubble coming from the largest eye, reading: “I have waited so long… at last… you are mine! And now… I shall feast upon your soul!” Another, smaller speech bubble comes from off the bottom of the panel, reading: “No.” The eyes widen, and the shadow says: “WHAT”. The character replies: “I mean, c’mon.” The character’s eyes are now open and is pulling the blanket down from her shoulder a bit. The character says: “This is what, the third time this week? Give it up already and let me sleep. I’ve got a final tomorrow.” The shadow says: “Bah! Tonight will be your final night on Earth! You give up, foolish mortal, and accept your fate!” The character says, “…Maybe tomorrow.” The shadow says, “…tomorrow.” The character says, “24 hours.” The shadow says, “…Fine.” The character’s hand points down, and she says, “Great. Now get back in your box.” The shadow is smaller again, and retreating into what she is pointing at: a slightly open, small, rectangular box with a curved lid that is resting on the floor. A wider view of the room shows that the character is back asleep in a bed, which is next to a bedside table with two drawers, three books leaning against the side, a lamp and a clock on top. The clock reads “1:47 AM”. The shadow has retreated fully into the box, which is still cracked open, with a few eyes barely visible from inside. A wobbly speech bubble comes from the crack. Rather than text, there are disgruntled black squiggles. Page two:  We see a closer, profile view of the left side of the character’s face. She is wearing black lipstick and a black shirt, and she has a tired line under her eye. Text near her mouth reads: SIGH. Overlapping with the next panel, is a speech bubble, reading: “Hey Beth!” Beth turns, looking over her left shoulder, and says, “Hi, Hazel.” Hazel, the previous speaker, has sleek black hair in an asymmetrical, shaggy cut, the longest bits reaching to her collar. She is wearing what looks like a plaid button-up, and responds to Beth: “What’s you think of that final?” Beth, her hand clenched in a triumphant fist, eyes closed and head tilted back, says: “Piece of cake!” The top of the box is just visible, tucked under her other arm. Beth from the bottom of her curly hair down. Her black shirt is a crop-top. We can see more of the box against her hip now, and it has been secured shut with rope. Hazel, off-panel, asks: “Hey, what’s that thing?” Beth holds the box up in both hands, looking sideways towards Hazel. Hazel is leaning in. She is several inches taller than Beth. Beth says, “My jewelry box. My Grandma gave it to me when I was a kit. It’s probably my favorite thing ever, but last week it got… possessed. By a demon or something.” Hazel asks, “A demon?” Beth says, “I think so. It ate all my necklaces and now it wants my soul, so I’m gonna toss it in the east river. Kinda sucks for my box, though.” Hazel leans into the panel from the left, looking down towards Beth. Hazel says, “Hey, you know what you could do? Rumor has it a witch lives near where I work. Maybe she could help you.” Out of panel, Beth asks, “A witch?” There is a box with only text leading into the next set of panels. It reads, “Yeah, here, I’ll give you the address…” The bottom half of the page is a large illustration with two panels over it. The illustration begins the sequence, with a large sign reading “Rare Books” in stylized letters, over a glass door with a sign hanging from it, reading: “Open!” Beth stands in front of the door. She is wearing shorts, black flats, and has a purse over the shoulder that isn’t carrying the box. She says, “Huh. A bookstore?” Beth comes through the door, looking around. It is dark inside; the walls appear black around the door. From behind Beth, she looks down a long aisle of bookshelves. She says, “Whoa.” Page three: The first section is six panels. Beth is standing in front of a shelf, looking back over her shoulder at someone off panel, who asks: “Need any help?” The speaker, has hair shaved on one side, and shoulder-length as the longest point on the other side. She’s smiling, with her arms folded across her chest. She’s wearing a tube top with thin/thick horizontal stripes. Beth, off-panel, asks: “Oh, are you the witch?” She responds. “Nope. I’m Paige. The witch isn’t here right now. But I’m qualified to help!” Beth asks, “Do you do exorcisms?” Paige replies, “Depends. What do you wanna get rid of?” The jewelry box is still wrapped up in rope, but Beth is pulling it open, so we can see the shadow, with six of the eyes visible, looking all different directions. Beth’s nails are dark. She says, “This.” Paige leans in from the left, looking at eye level to the jewelry box. The shadow is pushing out through the ropes. Paige says, “Oh, gross. Demon spirits.” Beth asks, “Spirits? Plural?” Paige says, “Yeah, pieces of different beings congealed together into this horror show. Don’t ask how.” The Demons Spirits has another speech bubble indistinguishable text. Paige says, “You could kill it easily by setting the box on fire.” Beth holds the box closed again, closer to her chest. she asks, “Is there a way to do it without destroying the box? I’m kinda sentimental…” Paige, off-panel, replies, “The witch might be able to do it, but she’s… out of town.” Beth asks, “Do you know when she’ll be back?” Paige replies: “Uh… two weeks?” Beth says, “Two weeks?!” A text box leads us into the next section, reading, “Later…” The corner of the outside of a new building, with two windows visible. From the upper story window, a speech bubble emerges: “Two weeks! …ok. Ok, two weeks. 14 days. I can do this.” Beth sits inside the window, which has two plants on the sill. She is sitting at a table, her feet up on the chair. She’s looking at her laptop, with is just in front of the jewelry box, from which the Demon Spirits are creeping out. The Demon Spirits, about the size of Beth, and looking at her with four visible eyes. Beth is looking at the laptop still.  The Demon Spirits grow slightly larger than Beth, with seven eyes visible, leaning in towards her. Beth, still looking at the screen, says, “Not now.” The Demon Spirits are much larger now, and the visible eyes are wide. They say: “There is no use delaying the inevitable, little mortal. Just give in—“ Beth replies, “After the episode.” The seven eyes of the Demon Spirits refocus on the screen. The Demon Spirits say: “…This is  entertaining.” Beth says, “I know, right?” A small box labels the laptop, reading, “Reality TV…” Page four is divided into three sections, divided by day. A small box labels the first section, labeled “Day 2.” It is four panels. The Demon Spirits, with twelve eyes focused on Beth, loom over Beth, who is sitting at the table, reading her phone, eating from a box of pizza.  There is also a can of soda on the table. The largest of the Demon Spirits’ eyes appears to be a mouth, sharp teeth coming from the edge around the black iris. The Demon Spirits say, “Today! Today, Mortal, your soul is mine! No more stalling, no more hiding, no more—“ Beth asks, “Pizza?” Close on the Demon Spirits, so we see eyes on a black background, as Beth holds up a slice of pizza into the mouth-eye. The other eyes look towards the pizza. The Demon Spirits say, “Glup—!” Beth’s hand retreats, but the Demon Spirit’s mouth-eye is still eating the pizza. They say: “…mmm. This is surprisingly pleasant.” The slice of pizza is half-eaten. From the bottom left, Beth’s hand holds up the can, which the eyes look at. She says, “Here, try soda next.” The Demon Spirits say, “Hmm!” The next section, three panels, is labeled: Day 5. Beth stands in front of a round mirror, holding up two shirts/garments. The Demon Spirits loom behind her. Beth asks, “Blue or green?” The Demon Spirits reply, “It does not matter what you wear, since I will devour your soul shortly.” Beth looks over her shoulder, eye-to-eye with the largest eye of the Demon Spirits. She’s tight-lipped and frowning. The Demon Spirits look down and away from Beth, saying, “…blue.” Beth, holding up one of the shirts and smiling again, says, “That’s what I thought.” The next section is two panels, labeled, “Day 9”. Beth sits on the floor in front of a three-drawer dresser, the top covered with books. She’s on her laptop, which has music notes emitting from it, and wearing a polka-dot tank-top. There are books open on the ground in front of her. To the left of her, on top of a stack of four books, the Demon Spirits are emerging from the jewelry box. Beth says, “Let me guess, you’re here for my soul.” The Demon Spirits reply, “Yes.” The Demon Spirits emerge further, looking down at the laptop too. They ask, “But first… can you play that song again?” Beth, smiling, replies, “Sure.” Page five is divided into three sections. The first section is three panels, labeled “Night 12”. Beth is in bed, eyes closed. The Demon Spirits are just visible in the corner, two eyes on her. The Demon Spirits grow larger, with three eyes on her. Beth says, “Nope. I am not dying tonight. I have a huge paper to turn in tomorrow.” The Demon Spirits reply, “Yes, but…” Now four eyes are visible. The Demon Spirits say, “You forgot to print it out.” Beth’s eyes are wide open. The second section is five panels, labeled “Day 15”. Beth looks around a corner, towards her phone, sitting on a table. A speech bubble with music notes indicates that the phone is ringing. Beth, wearing a v-neck shirt with a sort of face on it (a skull or zombie, perhaps?) picks up the phone. She says, “Hello?” The reply: “Hey, this is Paige from Rare Books. We met like two weeks ago?” Beth says, “Oh yes, I remember.” Paige says, “You told me to call you when the witch came back, and, well, she’s back! So if you still need help with your demon problem…”

Beth looks around the corner, back towards where the Demon Spirits are focused on something off screen. They appear to somehow be holding a game controller. Beth says, “Well…” Beth says, “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it covered.” Beth returns to next to the Demon Spirits, holding her own controller. The Demon Spirits ask, “Who was that?” Beth replies, “Wrong Number.” The final section is three panels. Beth is in bed. The blanket is off her shoulder. The Demon Spirits, rather small, look at her. In the next panel, the Demon Spirits, ten eyes wide, loom over her. The Demon Spirits grow a shadowy arm to pull the blanket up over her shoulder as they look at her, eyes gentler. Text at the bottom reads, “THE END.” ]

[crabussy]

my 34 year old mountain bike is named webs, so I spent an afternoon glamming her up with reflective silver thread and shiny star stickers. I’m thrilled with how the spiderwebs on the wheels turned out! ⋆˚꩜｡✮ ݁˖

[vintagewildlife]

"I can't believe humans would hunt the thylacine to extinction, humans are fundamentally evil" Hey, did you know that extinction was long thought to be impossible, and within 50 years of humans realizing that extinction via overhunting was a possibility it practically stopped happening? Did you know that humans are so desperate to prevent more losses that they're funneling millions of collective hours and billions of euros into helping other species? Hours and euros that could be spent on humans, and species on whom humanity's own survival does not depend? Did you know that due to an accidental introduction of rats, the Lord Howe Island stick insect population was brought down to 24 individuals and now there are tens of thousands of them?

This bug. This bug that, to most humans, is utterly useless, relatively gross, and completely foreign. Humans saved it because humans do not want to cause another extinction ever again if they can avoid it.

[kingcatnine]

kitten fever is worse than baby fever because a kitten is way easier to obtain than a baby so it's more dangerous

[rickybabyboy]

you cant obtain me. tiger stance

[autistichalsin]

Periodic rent-lowering-gunshots:

Fiction is not reality.

You can enjoy things in fiction that would be awful in the real world. Like playing a murderhobo in a game! In the real world, being or supporting a murderer-thief would be pretty damn awful, while in the game it's just good fun. Same with anything else you choose to do with the pixels on the screen, like kinks that don't affect anyone real, so they're okay in fiction, but would be pretty damn bad in real life.

No one else is responsible for your online experience. They are required not to harass you, but they are not and never will be obligated to not post about ships, kinks, or tropes you dislike just to avoid you seeing them. It's up to you to blacklist words or phrases, block tags, or even block users as needed to avoid seeing content that upsets you.

No one can force you to read anything against your consent. Any content you don't like seeing can be instantly avoided by closing out of the offending post/fic.

You are not owed an online experience free of discomfort.

Nothing that happens in your imagination can ever make you a bad person. Words you write or read about fictional characters will never make you a bad person.

The claim that media consumption influences real-life behavior is intellectually dishonest and serves only to excuse the behavior of real offenders.

Fiction is a safe way to explore horrifying or confusing concepts. Therapists agree that fiction, even (or especially) about taboo topics is a good coping mechanism, especially, but not exclusively, for trauma survivors. Fiction is to adults what play therapy is to children. This doesn't stop being true if the work in question is of a sexual nature.

Sex isn't an inherently worse or better motivation than anything else. A work written to create feelings of arousal isn't dirty, shameful, or in any way less pure than works written to entertain, provoke moral questions, or for other reasons. And worth noting is that multiple purposes can exist in the same story, especially fanfiction.

You aren't entitled to an explanation for why someone reads, writes, or otherwise enjoys certain works, kinks, tropes, ships, etc.

[lotussart]

NO MORE GODS

[porcelain-dollbones]

snakes really make you appreciate how gross mammals really are. squamates are very dry and clean

[porcelain-dollbones]

a bird is a kind of reptile that has learned to be yucky.

[deaddovearchives]

I think a fandom becomes more interesting when people are allowed to explore uncomfortable ideas instead of pretending they don't exist

[thebeautyofblackneutrality]

saw a twitter post about how a non-binary person was bothered by people sayin’ “they is” instead of “they are” and it’s definitely a reason why i created this blog and the blacknbculture blog. no matter how pro-black or anti-racism a white nigga will be they will always find some way to criticize “ghetto”, “trashy”, or “lazy” ways of speakin’ and bein’.

i cannot speak my dialect around white without havin’ to assimilate unless i want people to mock me or just laugh at everything i say, even if i’m actually mad. other times, i just feel like i come off as rude to white people. in english i see examples of my native dialect be used as a “incorrect examples” of Real English. the reason i write in my dialect is so i don’t lose it bein’ surrounded by so many white people who only tolerate me as long as i throw my culture away. usin’ “is” instead of “are” in African American English (AAE) is the most common feature in the dialect i’d argue it’s part of what make it so distinct, along with the accent as well. i will not be fooled by white people bothered by grammar, cause 99% it’s racism they probably don’t even know of.

so, i will be sayin’ “they is”, actually. and i’ll say it proudly.

[undertheinfluencex1]

The most underrated act of kindness is letting people be. Let them mispronounce a word, talk too much about a show they love, or get excited about something you don't understand. Everyone got something that lights them up. let them shine, even if it's not your thing

[undertheinfluencex1]

The most underrated act of kindness is letting people be. Let them mispronounce a word, talk too much about a show they love, or get excited about something you don't understand. Everyone got something that lights them up. let them shine, even if it's not your thing