#guess where i am from
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wonderbias · 1 year ago
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In Spanish (my dialect) is cow of Saint Anthony
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I just learned that the Russian word for “ladybug” translates to “God’s Little Cow”
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spielzeugkaiser · 8 months ago
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I come back for a hot second (and go into hiding pretty much right again) with some redrawn screencaps of what I'm watching currently!! 👀 All I have in me are the sillies-
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meamiki · 6 months ago
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silly comic based on a time i struggled to read live on stream :thumbsup:
context clip compilation below ASDASDFASA
(cw for brief mention of hospitals/strokes)
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ferritins · 5 months ago
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IN A STITCH, IN A PINCH | J. TODD
SUMMARY: you’ve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but you’re not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.
WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.
NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.
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After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.
What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.
You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.
However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.
It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.
Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.
Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.
The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.
Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.
Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.
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You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening — just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add — but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.
You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.
It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.
"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.
You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.
Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."
You look up from Jason's side.
"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but it–"
"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.
"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."
Roy's brows tighten further.
"Jason doesn't do opiates."
"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.
You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.
The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.
When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.
"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."
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Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.
Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.
He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.
Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.
"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."
You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."
As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.
When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.
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Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.
Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment — settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour —and though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.
It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.
Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.
He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.
(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.
He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.
Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.
He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.
It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.
Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.
Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.
Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.
The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your décolletage, the curve of your hip.
He presses his eyes shut tightly.
He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.
God, he wants–
"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.
He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.
"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."
(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.
"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")
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non-un-topo · 5 months ago
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To the next adventure...
Image description and details under cut
I.D.
[A drawing of Nicky, Joe, Quynh, and Andy from The Old Guard. They are all in profile, walking in a straight line facing the sun. They are dressed in medieval clothing and armour, and each carry their own weapons and bags. Nicky has his sword, a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a dagger at his belt and another strapped to his ankle. Joe is holding his sword, a bag, and a coin purse. Quynh's bow is over her back, and her quiver is at her hip. Two daggers are strapped to her belt, one of them matching Nicky's. Andy is holding her axe, two bags, and a dagger. They each have serene expressions and closed eyes, as if they're not in a hurry. In the background, the seasons change from winter to spring, summer, fall. There is an old tree behind them, and its branches change with the seasons.]
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citricacidprince · 6 months ago
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Adventure time au where everything is the same but the only clothes Simon and Marcy could find in the apocalypse came from Spencers
I just think they deserve to have father-daughter bonding/trauma time while looking absolutely ridiculous, is that too much to ask?
Don’t ask why I put so much effort into this, I was in a wild sleep deprived state 💥
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bayetea · 17 days ago
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there are many things about hazel's povs that have an intensely de-racialized vibe to them (read: divorced from the black girl experience) but I think any black person will tell you that the most obvious sign is the complete lack of attention paid to her hair
like firstly:
she's from the 1930s her hair was definitely getting permed and straightened (it was not acceptable to just wear your natural hair out back then. optics + cultural assimilation/you'll be hard pressed to find photos of black american girls with unstraightened hair in that time period unless they're from like..... harlem)
I do believe that marie was straightening it for her For A Time but then she became more neglectful and stopped so hazel had to do it herself. I'm almost positive that hazel wouldn't have even been permitted to set foot in her school building without straightening it because that's just how much of an expectation it was
ok she comes back from the dead. what's she doing to her hair now bc it's not just gonna be cutesy effortless curls falling over her shoulder no matter what the length is
how does she feel about living in a time period where natural black hair is more accepted (read: more, absolutely not fully)
there are no black people around her At All. in fact she's around a lot of white people on the argo (+nico) so that would probably be giving her some intense feelings of double consciousness (look this term up if you don't know what it means) and that would inform how she feels about her hair
theoretically she ought to be wearing her hair in braids for simplicity's sake but I think it's more likely that she would cling to what she knows (perming/straightening) because it's not easy for a 14 year old girl (PSA hazel is 14.5 in hoo not 13 btw 👍) to go from assimilating to deeply-ingrained white hair beauty standards to just proudly wearing a distinctly black hairstyle all by herself
mind you black women and girls can do whatever they want with their hair and straightening/perming it does not always/have to come from a place of self-hatred or whatever but in this particular case back then straightening one's hair was political And a survival tactic. it was as normal as brushing your teeth. it was enforced through dominant cultural messagings about the Absolute Necessity of conforming to white conventions of beauty. if you don't understand then think of it similarly to how you'd think of 1930s women needing to be perpetually dolled up and modestly dressed in order to be considered "good women" and anyways I'm just saying that this would be a lot to unpack for a 14 year old girl so hazel's probably just continuing to do this impractical thing (straightening her hair all the time) like 60% out of habit and 20% out of shame and 20% she doesn't know what else to do
something something about a missed potential character arc regarding all of this and in general there's so little mind paid to race in hazel's povs which is just ridiculous to me because a black girl from the jim crow era should have at least a few feelings about where she fits into modern society even if that society is camp jupiter. rick demonstrates his capacity to talk about how his characters feel about their race most notably in the kane chronicles so I don't think was too much to ask for. see this quote from an early son of neptune chapter:
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^ like....... hazel's feelings of out-of-place-ness are There in the text and important to take note of when understanding her character (note that she's been there for like a year already and she still feels like she doesn't belong) but the emphasis is always put on her Being from a different time or Being undead and is never put on her out-of-place-ness regarding her race as a black girl from segregation times who is literally so out-of-place in this weird post-racial camp jupiter society. it feels like such an obvious thing to consider so its glaring absence really bugs me when I reread her povs and it bugs me when her hair is never talked about by extension because It Matters
you might be thinking "well she had a lot going on and she's not a superficial person maybe she just didn't care what was going on with her hair" and my response is simply that Black girls don't get to "not care" about their hair it is not the same thing as a white person going to school with bedhead it's not the same thing At All (if you aren't black then chances are you've never actually seen what untouched black hair looks like in the morning), especially when it's been beaten into your head for your entire life that your hair is ugly and you have to "do something to it" for it to be acceptable (and again...... she's from the 1930s so that feeling is magnified like 50x over). remember that perpetually dolled up modest 1930s woman I mentioned previously. picture her time traveling to camp jupiter of all places in 2010 and struggling to drop all of her makeup/hairstyling routines and internalized misogyny and conceptualizations of what women are "supposed" to be. this is the kind of fascinating character exploration that we really missed out on with hazel (and tbh regardless of her race she was never believably written as someone from the 1930s. I don't think rick even really tried to be honest)
you might also be wondering "how was rick supposed to know/attempt to portray any of that" and then my second answer is that If you're going to write a character who is not the same race as you then you should do some research and we have the internet now so research has never been easier 👍 this would be especially important to do if that person is a poc from the jim crow era I think! (he could have at least googled black hair 1930s)
anyways what I choose to believe (this is pure fanfiction) is that during hazel's first year at camp jupiter (remember that she was there for about a year before son started) nico would have helped her figure something out after observing her distress over her hair c: like they both secretly watched youtube videos on black hairstyles circa 2010 and then they got attacked by monsters for using a laptop (neither of them know how to use a laptop but he's trying his best for her) but then after killing them he helped her do her hair as something she likes that is easy to maintain <3 (I could also see reyna doing this because she surely knows a thing or two from her spa days)
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wickjump · 18 days ago
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lvl20 cross is my no.1 enemy btw. if i see him there will be an unspecified lethal weapon in my paws and it will be pointed in his general location
#slightly incomprehensible rant in tags#he was made by a pro which becomes obvious when you look into him At All#utmv#not tagging cross even tho i wanna cause like#neg stuff idk#character neg#i guess??#idk i just wanna be hashtag mindful#cw suggestive#in the tags#ive seen ONE SINGLE FIC where he was done well. ONE. ONE SINGLE FIC.#EVERYYYY OTHER ONE#HAS LIKE. DREAM BEING THE UWU HELPLESS BOY AND CROSS BEING GRR ALPHA MALE WHO PROTECTS HIM/SOME NEAR-RABID ANIMAL WITH A BIG DICK NOW IG??#lvl20 cross..... my ENEMY.....#my beloathed#people who make him into a character i can actually tolerate are god(toby fox)'s bestest angels#i fully believe there are tons of people out there that have done him well but after a while i just skipped over any fics with him in it#lvl20 cross could have been great#because like the horror that could come from when you breach a lvl no monster's body was built to endure#purely because you Killed Everyone In Your World#that could be fucked up cool stuff!!!! but no!!!! all he is worth now is to be led on a leash by dream i guess!!!!!!!!!#not a puritan in any sense of the word i have an 18+ account (which is painfully inactive whoops)#nothing wrong with sexing a character up or warping them towards sex appeal for the sake of 18+ content. i am fine with that#but like. lvl20 is just. blatantly brutalizing cross into big dick energy violent murderer guy who needs to be muzzled by dream#shakes you by the shoulders CROSS ISNT A SADISTIC MURDERER HES JUST EDGY!!!!!!!!!!!! HE FEELS SO MUCH GUILT!!!!!!!! COME ON!!!! HE WOULD NO#LIKE TO KILL PEOPLE PERIOD!!!!
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icewindandboringhorror · 29 days ago
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Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~
(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)
#ootd#jfashion#fashion#fantasy fashion#mori kei#....like... adjacent... lol#no idea what style this would be lol.. makes me think of like whimsical vaguely fantasy themed childrens book character#finally posting one of my aforementioned seven million drafts of actual outfits and costumes i have finished and edited#the photos for but just never feel like posting lol..#I need to find one of those people whos like 'omg i am ADDICTED to social media ugh i wish i could get off of it#im just browsing and posting like 60 times a daaaaay!!!' and take a little magical bottle and suck some of the social media#enthusiasim out of them. for moi. In exchange they can have some of my 'literally just never in the mood to post or interact with the#outside world ever' energy. We can balance each other. huzzah and so on#Though I think maybe it's part of the general thing I've heard of like.. I can't remember if it was in reference to adhd or just some sort#of general execcutive functioning issue type of thing - but the idea that things have to be ''just right'' before you do something. like#'oh i need to do this task. but i have to wait until XYZ first' or 'oh i can do this but only if X specific condition is met' or etc#The fact that I even have to be in a Specific Mindset to post. or sometimes will delay posting on social media because like 'oh well#I'm going somewhere tomorrow. somehow this matters. i cannot spend 5 minuts posting TONIGHT. clearly it will interfere#somehow schedule wise with the doctor appointment i have 15 hours from now. yes. yes. i must wait until my appointment is over#tomorrow afternoon. THEN i shall post' or etc. etc. lol. NOT even taking into account the many days#I just genuinely and physically sick and it's not even a mental thing. I just physically dont feel like sitting at the computer lol..#ANYWAY.. trying to get back into it. trying to get a business bank account.. make a proper paypal so i can start selling sculptures again.#selling clothes and sculptures.. posting about such things then of course as one must. etc... chanting to hype up and motivate myself lol#But yes. this is my favorite outfit out of the bunch so I am posting it first I guess.. maybe others later..#Also the purple dress says its from shein. which I've heard is bad fast fashion stuff. but maybe okay since its second hand? I havent#been to the bins since like 2020 or late 2019 even. and I think stuff like shein and temu has only become poular in the past few years#but I bet if I went to the bins now I might would find a good handfull of that stuff. Probably now not much different than what you#find in a walmart or a forever 21 or actual physical stores you can go to though. I hear quality of clothing is down everywhere no matter#where you get it or whatnot. What bountiful joys unfettered capitalism and exploitation bestows upon us (<being sarcastic).#Wearing one of my favorite little vests though. I love the texture of it and the clasps on it
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crazymecjc · 2 months ago
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armand iwtv save me,,,, save me armand iwtv
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lucraven · 1 day ago
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Omg birthday twins
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flickering-nightfall · 1 year ago
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behold. ARM
(continuation of this)
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emry-stars-art · 7 months ago
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I remain as predictable as ever
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malenjoyer · 11 days ago
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Hello! I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I just wanted to tell you about how your style has inspired me so much!! Probably an ask you’ve gotten a lot, but I just have to know; how do you go at line work? It looks so good when you do it. Like, you’ve perfected where to leave gaps, what should be thick and thin, what should be subtle shading, etc. I’m so jealous! Do you have any suggestions on how to improve in this area? I’d love some insight!!
Thank you! That's very unexpected to hear but also kind of nice! :D That's the first time anyone has said that to me.
For line weight, Mark Morales covers it very well here
Aside from using line weight to show light source, you can also use it to emphasize stuff, which is what I like doing. I think it's essentially the same logic though- I just bend the rules often to make it work the way I want it to. Lots of trial and error and fixing stuff.
As for the gaps, I don't really know how to explain it without sounding a little weird. I think it's just something I developed as a habit where areas where you're supposed to connect with thin lines, I just don't finish it. Most of the time I don't finish my lines, because I don't need to. I live and embrace the karma of not connected line art when I color it.
I think my style boils down to How do I draw good with the least amount of work which sounds questionable, but the less I focus on whether each individual line connects or looks good, the more stamina I have for the rest of the drawing.
If you've got this hamster, you're like 60% of the way there.
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Real answer: probably try doing gesture drawings with the least amount of lines possible with 2 minute timer to simulate what happens in my brain when I do line art. you can try to apply the line weight stuff and think okay where would I apply thickness to show shadow or emphasize curves
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dawnthefluffyduck · 3 months ago
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feeling of being watched
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bixels · 1 year ago
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hey um. u sure make a lot of art about lesbians for a man. you're normal about us, right? ;;
What? Yeah, I’m normal about y’all.
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