Watcha Doin'?

so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what

The full picture is even more heart breaking after you open the uncropped version. Just a heads-up, it's rough

Nah let’s post it. Let’s feel it. Don’t look away.

I notice alot of my followers on here skipping these posts just to mess with my lgbt ones, suspiciously the white popular ones.

Heres a not so friendly reminder, as an lgbt metis person, i dont give a single fuck what your blog is themed or if this is too painful for you to look at. Reblog this post. Reblog this post with the sources of the 751 children who were found.

Your compliance and silence as well as the compliance and silence of your ancestors is what allowed these schools to open and kill first nations children. The children of MY people.

Dont follow me if you cant reblog this post or the one with sources to your political blog or your most popular blog. Add trigger warnings if you must but if your political blog is only focused on the harms you personally face like being lgbt then you need to see some bigger pictures and stop being afraid of angering your racist mutural or actually saying some shit about racism. If you can reblog some antifa graphics or add blm to your bio to be a surface level ally, you can reblog some sources on the genocide first nations people faced and still face today.

They were CHILDREN.

They were murdered in cold blood.

I’d like to add this photo I took last night in Victoria of the statue of Captain Cook. Though I myself am not indigenous, I 100% agree that these murderers, kidnappers and rapists shouldn’t have huge statues and plaques that decorate them and say how “great” they were.

Here’s another photo of the legislative assembly from yesterday. Later on there were more items, candles and signs at the memorial, as well as a big poster with 1505 painted on it but I didn’t get a picture

People need to see this. Not just quickly glance at the photos and keep on scrolling. They need to see this.

Reblog this or just stop following me

I had seen the first picture of the church, but not the second.

I went to a “Cancel Canada Day” event and burst into tears - not because I was surprised to learn of the unmarked graves (survivors told us they were there. Our government pushed it aside, and we let them), but because seeing all the people gathered in mourning drove it home: They. Were. Children.

This is my country’s legacy - and it’s not history. The last schools closed during my lifetime. My Father went to school with students who lived at the local residential school, after it was changed to a boarding house (read: holding centre) for indigenous youth who went to local schools.

They were all children, injured, abused, and killed in my country’s attempt to erase them. I want the world to see this and hold the state accountable to *active* reconciliation> I mean we could at least truly adopt UNDRIP in action instead of words for god’s sake.

here you can read an article about a survivor of the church and some of the things he experienced to help put into perspective how awful and just how recent it was

Started sketching some redraws of this ass and then finished it bc,,, I think he’s neat. All OG art by blueycapsules on the twittah ;)

Did I ever tell you guys the story about how my ex-boyfriend nearly became the first person to die in a duel in England in over 100 years whilst duelling my then-boyfriend??

Okay so. In the interest of their privacy I’ll be referring to them by the initials of their first names, so R and B respectively. 

Now, I’m one of those people who has always somehow managed to remain pretty good friends with most of his exes, so after dating for close to two years,  R and I break up, mutually, and remain close. I’m also pretty good at picking them, so when I get together with B a few months later, I’m pleased that neither of them are weird about me still being close friends with R.

Skip to like 7 months later. Me and B move in together, into a tiny, crappy house in probably the most toxic residential area in Europe. We had a view of a used car place from our bedroom window and a view of another used car place from the back bedroom window. There was also the soft, comforting glow of a chemical plant nearby, which I’m pretty sure gave the soil the same PH level as vinegar, but whatever. Rent was cheap, and they let us have our kitten, Renly. 

So we throw this housewarming party. A bunch of friends are there, R included, and everyone is drinking and having a good time.

Now, some background on B; I dated him, which means obviously he had some weird interests. So he’s a history nerd, and part of being a history nerd means he has few really cool 19th century sabres and things. They’re mostly blunt, except for one, which he keeps sharp in case anyone ever breaks in. We were in a rough area, so it was a pretty good idea.

Unfortunately though, they’re all kept together.

So after a few more drinks R and B get talking, and they start to discuss the sabres - only to discover that they both have a background in fencing. They think this is fantastic. 

That’s when they decide to duel. They both grab a sabre, very much convinced they’re blunt, and take to the garden for an impromptu fencing match.

So I’m standing there, the most sober person in the house, watching this happen and thinking maybe it isn’t a great idea. They give it a good go, they’re both pretty good, and everyone is cheering them on. It seems harmless enough, they’re joking about duelling over me.

Suddenly though, R stops abruptly, and says, with deadly calm; ‘Oh, I think you got me there.’

Before B can ask if he’s okay R has lifted up one arm and a huge gush of blood comes pouring out. Like, everywhere. This is like that scene from The Shining. Blood all over him, all over the ground, it’s a mess. B looks like he’s about to pass out, he’s already imagining how badly he’ll do in prison, and everyone else is too stunned to do anything. Turns out B didn’t pick up a blunt sabre afterall.

Then R faints. We get him into a chair and I’m fortunately quick thinking - I get a tea towel and wrap it around his arm to stop the blood as best as I can. I then call for an ambulance.

Obviously they have to send the police as well because ‘someone got stabbed with a sword’ doesn’t fly too well. So the ambulance crew arrives, and a police car arrives. When asked what happened I said ‘They were duelling and he got caught by accident’ the police’s response was a long pause, and then to just laugh and say ‘wear armour next time!’ (Can you tell we have white privilege???) 

So I’m still in a state of shock whilst R is getting wheeled out on a stretcher. Apparently another police car overheard what happened on the radio and was so fascinated that they showed up ‘just to watch’ because it was a slow night. This is a cop car full of really young rookies, it looks like fucking Mumford and Sons just turned up at our house in uniforms. 

During all of this our kitten, Renly, gets out because the doors are all open with people coming and going. 

So it’s 2:00AM, and this is the current situation:

- B is crying because he doesn’t want to go to jail for manslaughter and also he’s worried he killed his friend.

- There’s a bunch of police officers in our kitchen drinking tea and eating our biscuits. 

- Officers Mumford and Sons are in the used car place outside our house trying to lure our 14 week old kitten out from under a car.

- R is nearly unconscious in the back of an ambulance.

- The neighbours, who had previously been dicks to us, are now terrifyingly quiet because they think B is a dangerous man who goes about stabbing people with swords. 

So I get into the ambulance to go to the hospital with R, who is full on delirious at this point from blood-loss and morphine. I was planning to have a fancy dress ‘Game Of Thrones’ themed birthday party that year, and the last thing R says to me before passing out completely is ‘It’s a shame he didn’t get my hand or I could’ve come to your party as Jaime Lannister’.

Anyway he gets to the trauma ward and he’s okay. He lost quite a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. He now has a big scar there.

He came over once he got out of hospital with pizza and we all laughed about it.  We’re still friends.

He and B both tell that story to everyone who’ll listen, and I get to boast that I’m the pretty twink who had two men nearly fight to the death over me.

some more artwork I did yesterday during stream of my X reader AU

I have the hc that there's the three sides of moon (full, cresent, new) that show his mood/temper. He can be conflicted at times lmao

The second doodles is the 'pssp pssp pssp' scene from the third chapter of Solar Lunacy

based on the fic push as far as I can go by anonymous

I’m- I’m gonna go cry IM SORRY THATS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ALCHEMIST-/nm

Hah it’s funny because in my fic Varian gets stabbed in the heart

To be fair, he‘s revived, but it makes me tear up

OMG POOR VARIAN

Would it make you feel better if the person who stabbed him was mind controlled and didn’t have a choice?

no because the entity (?) mind controlling the person wants to hurt varian :(

based on the fic push as far as I can go by anonymous

I’m- I’m gonna go cry IM SORRY THATS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ALCHEMIST-/nm

Hah it’s funny because in my fic Varian gets stabbed in the heart

To be fair, he‘s revived, but it makes me tear up

OMG POOR VARIAN

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he’s in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he’s got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD’S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I’m overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. “Bhurr blur, I’m Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs”. Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he’s sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That’s the worst part. I know he’s just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children’s movie, I know it doesn’t matter, I know I shouldn’t care. But that’s part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world’s array of sinners, and I can’t even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity’s saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It’s EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it’s disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

holy shit you’re not wrong

I’d feel better about this whole rant if Olaf weren’t queer-coded. It might be largely the voice acting – the lisp, the inflection especially – but he’s got massive “harmless gay sidekick” vibes. And if you’re actively critiquing that? Sure, great, go all out. Hate whom you will. Say whatever you want about how “gay” is equated with “harmless silly sidekick used for comic relief, with no serious bearing on the plot, literally inhuman and treated by Serious Human Characters as… well,a sidekick, peripheral to your life and safe to ignore.

But if you’re not engaging critically with that aspect of his character and are just overwhelmed with hatred whenever you see or hear or think about the queer-coded character and his mannerisms make you feel violent, that is a little bit. Uncomfortable. At best.

what on God’s green earth are you talking about

See sometimes I wonder why I’m still on this website, and then posts like this come along. Amazing. 

me reading this post like

oh my god holy fuckign shit okay i had to hunt this post down to say that i had a brief dream about this post and basically someone said “2020 would’ve been better if olaf didn’t exist” and someone reblogged with “olaf (derogatory)” i am losing my MIND

$72.99

Never let this die

IT GOT BETTER SINCE I LAST SAW IT

I don’t think any piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has affected me. It’s called “Can’t Help Myself” and it’s a robot arm that’s programmed to clean up the fluid that’s constantly leaking out of itself, that looked like a never ending flow of blood. It has programmed dance moves to make it appear to have human gestures. And at first, it seemed happy and proud of its job, dancing around when it had visitors. But three years later, it looks tired, hopeless, and like it’s living in a never ending cycle of constantly trying to put itself back together for the entertainment of other people. And when I found out that it had finally stopped working in 2019, essentially dying, I couldn’t help but imagine the relief it must’ve felt and so I’ve been in here crying over a robot arm. 🥺 It was programmed this way, it truly couldn’t help itself. And no one ever helped him, they just watched.

In this work commissioned for the Guggenheim Museum, Sun Yuan & Peng Yu employ an industrial robot, visual-recognition sensors, and software systems to examine our increasingly automated global reality, one in which territories are controlled mechanically and the relationship between people and machines is rapidly changing. Placed behind clear acrylic walls, their robot has one specific duty, to contain a viscous, deep-red liquid within a predetermined area. When the sensors detect that the fluid has strayed too far, the arm frenetically shovels it back into place, leaving smudges on the ground and splashes on the surrounding walls.

Sun Yuan & Peng Yu are known for using dark humor to address contentious topics, and the robot’s endless, repetitive dance presents an absurd, Sisyphean view of contemporary issues surrounding migration and sovereignty. However, the bloodstain-like marks that accumulate around it evoke the violence that results from surveilling and guarding border zones. Such visceral associations call attention to the consequences of authoritarianism guided by certain political agendas that seek to draw more borders between places and cultures and to the increasing use of technology to monitor our environment.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZS4Bpr2BgnE

you forgot the most important part: once the exhibit was unplugged, its name was changed to Couldnt Help Myself.

nothing happened to me, i happened

Even cannibalistic serial killer couples have domestic arguments

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