Redraw Of A Few Assorted Malevlent Doodles I Found Luking Ominously In The Margins Of My Notebooks

Can we just guillotine the bastard already?

Screw it, here's how Martin meets Jon in my Monster au

He’s making tea when he first sees it. An early morning, his mother still asleep and the haze of just past sunrise settling over the world as he pulls the kettle with him to the sink to fill it up. His mind about just as foggy as the air outside, wiping sleep from his eyes before setting his gaze through the window above the sink; and he has to do a double take at the shape that’s standing under a tree behind the fence line.

He turns off the tap.

He can’t make out much of the details from where he’s standing, but that hardly matters in the face of its impossibility. A black shape with almost undefined edges and a shape that could have been human but… wrong, somehow. Fundamentally wrong. Like staring into a shadowed void that made his eyes water when he tried to look closer, a lack of tangibility looking like cracking static or a bug in the very nature of reality, a glitch personified and absolutely covered, head to monstrous toe, in glowing, never once blinking, bright green eyes. Fingering, with impossible clawed fingers and predatory intent, through decaying box of old books and magazines and things from the attic he’d left there with still every intention to throw out.

And then the thing's head turns, snaps its hundreds of eyes all at once to focus on him as he ducks down behind the counter. Eyes wide, unstable as he lowers himself on the floor, back pressed up against the cupboard under the sink and brings a shaking hand to press against his mouth. The heavy weight of a thousand eyes all focused on him in that moment, as his mouth goes bone dry with a thing that stands what feels like right behind him. Just waiting, and watching him, and seeding his dread and just waiting for that one movement, that once excuse to crash through that window and end him before he can even let out a scream.

It takes hours of nothing happening for him to work up the nerve to move again. To pull himself up over the counter enough to peek and see the spot by the tree empty. It doesn’t bring him the relief he thought it would, not with the still constant impression of that thing still watching him, now unseen when before he at least could have had the knowledge of where it was.

It's gone now, he can't see it and oh god that just makes it so, so much worse.

The space under the tree is empty, the yard itself is as lonely as he's come to expect but he can still feel those eyes. And he stands, staring through the kitchen window, trying very hard to find it again with frantic eyes swept over the yard, picking through and focusing on every dark corner and hiding place. Expecting, with some awful dread for it to be very, very close all at once from where it’s hiding, to smash through the window or to appear right behind him, even as the feeling of hundreds and thousands of eyes all focused at once still persists, has him pinned down where he's stood. Waiting for him to make a move, for him to do… something. Something he's not sure of, and that fact alone makes him very afraid. That one wrong movement, one wrong action and it's all over. And he can't see it but oh god, he can feel that it can see him.

And in that moment, all he could think beyond the fear as he backed away from the window slowly, shaking under the feeling of that relentless gaze trained on him and waiting to strike, was that when it did inevitably come, (as by now he was sure it would even as it bided its time) all he could do was just hope it would be quick and painless.

The relentless choking dread whispered a very, very different story.

After a few more hours of thumbing through books and not daring to step back into the kitchen or anywhere near a window, the feeling faded. Slowly, no discernable moment where it all cut off, maybe just enough to not notice him so much… He worked up the nerve enough to move, to push through the door and past that threshold enough to step outside and search for a minute or two, to make sure before he gripped his shoulder bag tighter and started his trek to work.

Never stopping once, tense as all hell, jumping at shadows and trying very hard to resist that urge to look over his shoulder, or to entertain that constant fear and feeling of eyes, watching from just out of sight.

The box of books was gone. At the square of empty pressed grass all he could do was swallow it down, and squeeze the straps of his bag again, and keep walking.

I’m not a classicist, but I suspect one of the reasons so many of the Greek gods are portrayed so unflatteringly was less because they were seen as villains than because they represented their domains.  Of course Zeus sometimes misuses his power, that’s what a king does.  Of course Artemis’s wrath is wild and painful, that’s what nature can be.  Of course Hades snatched away a young girl from her mother’s arms, that’s what death does.  This is one of the reasons callout posts for some gods comparing them negatively to ‘nicer’ gods are kind of missing the point.

A quick TLDR summary of potential words to use instead of “Tribe”:

- nation

- people/peoples

- community

- chiefdom

- kingroup

- village

- kingdom

- civilisation

- mob (used specifically by and for First Nations Australians)

Where to use each will come down to context

for example “chiefdom” or “kingdom” might be better used communicating the specific social/political structure of certain peoples, while words like “community” or “village” might be better employed by members of the community as a casual referential term (I.e. “we better get back, the rest of the village might be wondering where we are”)

Of course, (from me at least not necessarily OP) take this as a grain of salt as I am neither a linguist nor someone who has any real experience as part of a chiefdom, Kin Group or Mob.

My contributions are specifically based on what little I have picked up from First Nations friends of mine, and may not be representative of how all First Nations people feel about such terms. It is important to understand that while there may be similarities in social structures, different peoples (especially in Africa which had a vast variety of different cultures, physical and social/political infrastructure, and traditions).

So often people of colour are lumped together as all having lived in the same cookie cutter stereotype of what a white imperialist interpretation of a primitive society. This blatantly ignore the vast and incredibly unique and beautiful complexity of different cultures all over the world that are so much more interesting, in favour of not having to think about them at all or god forbid entertain the idea that there may be alternate ways of living than the one we are used to.

my first reading in my African history class this year is about why using “tribe” to refer to ethnic groups stems from a racist desire to make African conflicts sound primitive or stemming from a desire to pretend that these are just ancient conflicts that have always existed. great article and I also feel like I’m vicariously experiencing the bullshittery that this author has been subjected to from people they’ve tried to talk to about this. like the article remains extremely professional but you can just hear in the tone that they’re talking through gritted teeth, you can practically see the customer service smile

[ID: a screenshot from a section of the article titled “But why not use ‘tribe’? Answers to common arguments.” Under the bullet point for the argument “Africans talk about themselves in terms of tribes” is written, “Commonly when Africans learn English they are taught that tribe is the term that English-speakers will recognize. But what underlying meaning in their own languages are Africans translating when they say tribe? Take the word isizwe in Zulu. In English, writers often refer to the Zulu tribe, whereas in Zulu the word for the Zulu as a group would be isizwe. Often Zulu-speakers will use the English word tribe because that’s what they think English speakers expect, or what they were taught in school. Yet Zulu linguists say that a better translation of isizwe is nation or people.” /end ID] 

translation: “ ‘Oh ho ho but some Africans themselves say tribe!’ You dipshit. You fucking donkey. When someone has a word that means “nation” or “people” in their own language but then when they learn English YOU TELL THEM IT TRANSLATES TO “TRIBE” then THAT WILL BE THE WORD THEY USE. Maybe if you LISTENED TO THE LINGUISTS OF THAT GROUP you’d have more accurate information. Asshole.”

each point is repeated over and over with like five different examples because you just know there are dipshits out there who will keep arguing.

to the anonymous author of this article for the Africa Policy Information Center I hope you have a good day every day and experience fewer people being assholes about this, your patience is actually legendary

Recently got possessed by the Spiderverse Hyperfixation, so drew this quick piece so I could have a break from assignments

Me: I know I’ve got other fandoms I need to write for but I’ve relapsed briefly into writing another Voltron fic for fun

My friend: just answer me one question… how fucked is Lance?

Me, remembering what I’ve written:… oh god... I’m a monster

Never in my life have I found a post that actually makes me feel okay with being aro and not loving people the conventional way.

What is Love (An Arospec’s Perspective)

(This is a Really Long One, so full comic is under the cut)

Keep reading

Because sometimes you just wanna draw an Oni teen in modern clothes.png (~2020 when digital art was new for me)

Currently poking my brain with a stick and hoping a plot idea for one of my fics falls put

LIFEHACK TO GET ARTISTS TO DRAW FOR YOU

Find their commissions page and give them money