WE ARE NOT FOUND DEAD, WE DO NOT PASS AWAY UNEXPECTEDLY, WE ARE NOT JUST BULLIED. WE ARE ATTACKED AND MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD BY HATEFUL BIGOTS THAT ARE ENABLED BY THE TERRORIST RUN LEGISLATION.
The massacre in Jenin is horrific but just the sight of bodies being left on the street because no ambulances/paramedics can get to them since Israel has been blocking them from reaching areas of the refugee camp…yeah there aren’t any words. Literally what can you even say
we don’t talk about plug!eren, who is the perfect gentleman. The one who holds doors open for you, great manners with your folks, best friends with your younger siblings and cousins, your homegirls love him and just an all around good dude. The one who would drive clear across town in the middle of the night to get your favorite snacks, the one who’d hear you stressing and talking about some bill or expense you have and quietly go take care of it. “I already told you, don’t worry ‘bout that, mama. It’s handled.” Or the one who never exposes you to his lifestyle because it’s the last thing his princess needs to concern herself with. He’s so sweet, kind and loving..one would never guess he wouldn’t hesitate to kill a dude who shorted him on his money or supply. Or that just shortly before coming home to you, he probably beat someone unconscious for trying to set him up on a lick. You wouldn’t know a thing..not when he quietly slides into bed, where you’re lying flat on your stomach, in nothing but a t shirt, bonnet and panties, waiting for him to slide them off while he kisses down your spine. Muttering in your ear to just stay still and let him take care of you. “You awake, mama? I missed you..” In the deepest gruff as he delicately touches your skin, appreciating every inch. And you realize just how much he does when he spreads you open from behind, gripping your asscheeks and planking firmly on top you as he feeds you deep, passionate strokes. Slowly drilling you..with those sweet whimpers underneath him. You didn’t even have to move an inch, all he needs you to do is keep moaning and let him claim that beautiful pussy. That spot opening up so nicely after a couple thrusts. His tattooed hand and gold watch placed at the small of your back to keep you pinned down. “Mmm…just like that, baby. You ain’t gotta do shit..daddy got you.”
and he always will take such good care of his girl.
Narrow Escape! Nightmare and his gang are hot on their trail, oh no!
i originally sketched this out last September for Inktobertale. (for the bones shatter prompt) i felt like finishing it up today. Also playing around with lighting a bit. I have no idea what I’m doing! :)
Ink sans @.comyet
Dream @.joku
US Sans @.p0pcornpr1nce
Content warning for cartoon depictions of gore, violence and body horror.
Full comic page under the cut
Another case of I got lost in the sauce and the visual style on the corpses is very different. Trying to design the invertebrate bones, especially Shamura’s, made me feel like I’m the idiot at the spirit Halloween building the nonsense animal skeletons.
I’m so very close to getting to the part of this where I actually started drawing. This has lowkey turned into a character study on Narinder and Shamura.
The last panel is a nod to when I was having regular panic attacks a few years ago, and the only thing that helped was lying on the floor, the colder and harder the better. At night I would lie in bed and feel like I was drowning in the blankets, until finally I'd move to the bare floor, sometimes with weight on my back, until I eventually fell asleep.
Anyway! Surprisingly this actually came from a very happy and lovely fic in which Boromir has a delightful time; in writing a crowd scene, though, I figured having spent 40+ years training to die in battle, he'd never shake the PTSD. It's okay, Aragorn can spot it coming a mile away. Hard to prep for a crushed windpipe delivered by 250 pounds of war trauma, though. Happy Thursday!