Gargoyle Wall, Durham. Photo by Scraff
almost home
Show & Tell
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
ojovivo
One Nice Bug Per Day
RMH
taylor price
Cosmic Funnies
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Origami Around
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n

@theartofmadeline
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oozey mess
Three Goblin Art
Sade Olutola
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@pymspen
Gargoyle Wall, Durham. Photo by Scraff

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Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both.
So symbolic!
RusaĹka - truth lies just beneath the surface by Kamil Jadczak
Sea Fever! My favorite poem in the world, especially as the season ends each year and I get nostalgic. I hope Iâve done it justice. _ other comics /art /ko-fi /patreon
I posted a detail (the right half) of this artwork a while ago, but hereâs the rest of it! This is one of the illustrations I made for a work-in-progress art book which I thought would have been completed long ago⌠but that was then, and this is now. The book progress is still slow and schedules have been postponed yet again â but I do still hope to print it at some point, whenever Iâll have the proper time and energy for it. đą

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Marya Morevna, the warrior princess from a Russian fairy tale The Death of Koschei the Deathless.
Art by me.
[image description: a drawing of a woman in profile with grayish skin and red lips. She is smiling slightly, sharply, and looking out of the corner of her eyes. She is dressed in traditional Russian clothing and headdress. She stands on a battle field. The ground below her is stained with red blood. There are corpses all around her, bloody, dressed in armor, pierced with arrows. The landscape is misty and it appears to be dawn. The battlefield is bare besides a few trees on the horizon]
The World
The king under the Tempest
A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on April 1st!
Finding love as a transgender person
Marianne Oakes has shared an amazing collection of transgender love stories over at GenderGP.Â
Here are a few of them.Â
Marianne wrote:
The myth that trans people struggle to find love is damaging to our future generations, if trans youth or worse still, their parents believe this, then the impact can be loss of hope. My experience is pretty much like all the lovely comments here, letâs stop the myth, xx
More here!
These stories help so much. Not just because of the trans people find love just like everyone else, which is an important message on its own, but because there are some stories of other people who didnât know since they were kids and this is so fucking reassuring!!!
The Comet Book (1587), details, â16th-century treatise on comets, created anonymously (or maybe it was a woman who endured erasure) in Flanders (now northern France)â. Originally named in german Kometenbuch.

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brb thinking about the immortality of the crab
What do you mean by That's Not A Deer in the mountains near you????
Anyone who spends decent amount of time in Appalachia knows the Not Deer. If youâve gone on the Blue Ridge Parkway at night, youâve probably seen him.Now: keep in mind if you donât live in an area with a lot of deer, deer are freaky bastards on their own. Theyâre really big, extremely agile, move surprisingly quietly, and are extremely durable. Itâs not unheard of for someone to hit a deer and total their car. Once I heard a story of a man who hit a deer on accident and decided to take it home and least get some good meat out of a bad situation. On the drive home the deer woke up and absolutely shredded the inside of this manâs trunk. Theyâre very cute but you definitely donât want to mess with one. Just keep that relationship in the back of your mind. Anyway, the Not Deer is more or less what Iâd call a folk cryptid. Everybody has their story about it. Theyâre all somewhat similar. Youâre in a car at night, in a rural, heavily wooded area, and probably a bit lost. Itâs not wildly uncommon to see a opossum crossing the road, see blips of little animals with your headlights. You see a deer. So you/your friends go âOh! Deer!â and slow down in case it leaps in front of you. Then you see it more clearly. Thereâs just something wrong about it. Thereâs something about its eyes. You feel your stomach get heavy like a rock, the hair on your neck raise. You sense intelligence that you shouldnât. It doesnât move like a deer, it moves like a⌠oh god, what is that thing? Whatever that thing is, itâs not a deer and we need to leave. You hit the gas and get the hell out of there.A group of my friends got lost on the Parkway once and reemerged with a chilling story. They arenât the kind of folks to lie or over exaggerate. Among other freaky stuff that happened, the driver claimed she saw a deer in the road. Then she noticed the deer was on two legs.Â
I have a story about the Not Deer from two summers ago. I lived deep in the Appalachia mountains at the time, unlike the foothills Iâm in now. I was wandering in the woods, probably two thirds of a mile from my house at that point, as one does when they live two miles down a twisting dirt road with the nearest town (and therefore things to do) thirty minutes away, when I heard brush moving. I knew it was probably a harmless animal- a possum, or a deer, maybe a particularly destructive rabbit, and I turned to look.
well. hm. it was a deer in the way that a graveyard is a playground. you can treat it as such, I guess, but it wonât feel the same.
it was about thirty feet away from me, staring. wild deer donât stare at random people to begin with- they just run away. she was breathing hard and making a low rumbling sound. I didnât really know what to do, and I hadnât really thought about the dangers of going near wild animals even if they are âharmlessâ deer, so I went towards her.
I swear to god, this thingâs eyes blanked out and it took a couple jerking steps forward, moving really strangely? and I flinched, because what the hell, and then she ran off to the side while staring at me until she was about fifty feet away. it was deeply unsettling in a way that I canât explain and I know that that thing was not quite a deer.
I sprinted all the way home.
Iâve seen something like this myself. I would say âThe joints went the wrong wayâ but it was more that there might have been more or less joints than youâd expect? The bends were not where the bends go. And the shape of the face was wrong in a way Iâd describe as: You have a friend who only draws wolves. Theyâre really, really, really good at wolves. You want them to draw a deer. They try their best, and neither of you are exactly pleased with the results. There was also an issue of scale - like you gave a deer the proportions of a moose.
Iâve heard âDeerâ comes from âDeorâ which just means âbeastâ or âquadrupedâ so⌠it was definitely a Deor, but 100% not a Deer.Â
I collect spooky stories from other people and a friend once told me about driving back from a âghost huntâ out in SE Oklahoma, seeing what they described as âlike a deerâ that stood in the middle of the road, and refused to move. So when one of them got out to go shoo it away by hand they all realized, about the same time⌠that it was only almost a deer. They described the collective reaction as wildly disproportionate to what they remember having seen - which was just ⌠not quite a deer?
They said there was about fifteen minutes of foot to the floor speeding before they all, right about the same time, felt a change in mood come over them and they began to sob like âlittle scared kidsâ. It was only weeks later that they were like âYou know⌠deer donât look anything like that.â
October 2020 sketches aka âfancy birdman monthâÂ
X
Illustration Advent Day 20
The Mother by Hans Christian Andersen illustrated by Kay Nielsen

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19th Century Church Renovated With 21st Century Technology
Moment Factory, multimedia studio based in Canada, has transformed  Montrealâs Notre-Dame Basilica Church into an immersive installation, complete with sound, lighting, and projections that will teleport the visitors into a whole new world.
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A Woman's Place in the Revolution
I always see countless numbers of posts about the men that fought in the American revolution but it seems like not many people âremember the ladiesâ (Thanks Abigail).
Margret Cochran Corbin, commonly referred to as âCaptain Mollyâ was one of the women on the front line. She was born November 12, 1751 in Pennsylvania. She married her husband, John Corbin (whom she would fight beside) in 1772. When he joined the continental army, she joined right along with him, becoming an aide that would help the men with chore-like tasks when needed. But November 1776, while stationed in Fort Washington, their camp was attacked. Margret quickly joined in the fight, assisting her husband, John, with his cannon. However, he was gravely injured, leaving him dead beside her. Nevertheless, she persisted, taking over his main position and kept firing the cannon. She too was badly injured, but she lived. Even so, he injuries were so graphic that she never fully recovered, leaving one of her arms useless.
She was the first woman to receive a military pension. When she died, she was buried with full military honors at West Point Cemetery.