Beautiful big almond eye, realistic and full of expression as she gazes gently at you. Elbowed antennae and delicately segmented legs and body. Gorgeous pearlescent sheen like she is glowing. This ant moisturizes. This ant is round and huggable. This ant is a star. 11/10.
Beautifully detailed, lifelike pose but with an unexpected neck and odd antennae, perhaps scared straight. Her eyes suggest she has seen things. Her expression confirms she has seen too much. She is haunted and I want to know more. 7/10.
Floppy antenna, pointy muppet face, oddly posed legs. What is she? She has no waist. May be she is some kind of bee in disguise? I find her unsettling. 3/10.
This ant has an unexplained, double-jointed thorax, and no evidence of a waist. Her four-footed pose suggests that she a centaur rather than an ant. Centaur ants would be cool. I’m not sure what was intended here. 2/10.
Good first impression, kind of bland in the details. This ant has no particular waist to speak of, floppy rather than elbowed antennae, and an inexpressive face. Her color scheme is soft and hazy. I like the sharp angles of her stylishly sophisticated legs. This ant may not know quite were she is going, but she knows how she is getting there. 6/10.
Were you even trying. 0/10
Gasp! This ant is elegant. This ant has a beautiful tapered thorax, a segmented abdomen, alert, elbowed antennae, and a light-footed pose. This ant’s face suggests curiosity and a desire to explore the world. This ant inspires me. I want to be like her. 10/10
3-legged, waistless centaur-ant with strange, limp antennae and a beak. I don’t know what this is? It kind of reminds me of a Hork-Bajir. 1/10, not an ant.
This ant… makes me sad. All of her legs are broken. The MS Paint art style and gradient abuse convey distress. She has a duck beak. Despite this, her expression suggests perseverance and determined cheerfulness. I want this ant to have a better life. I am rooting for her. 3/10
This ant is a bold and challenging mixture of photorealism and caricature. She is broad and low-built and seems very sturdy. She looks like she would help you move. This ant is a dependable friend. 9/10
A picture of an ant from a children’s book. She is wearing little boots. This ant is wrong in every way, and yet I can’t stay mad at her. 7/10
An interesting, top-down view of an ant; her legs are positioned with slightly jarring symmetry. Nevertheless, her overall impression is that of a graceful, stylized design, like a pictograph. She is suitable for adorning fine garments and jewelry or perhaps gracing the walls of a tiny ant church. I like this minimalist ant. 8/10.
This is a termite. -10/10
why are these all marked as “she”? don’t female ants have wings??? why bother adding the pronoun???
Alates (male and female reproductives) have wings. The queens shed their wings after they mate. The males die. The daughter workers do not have wings. If you see an ant without wings, it’s a she.
And honestly—why bother panicking about things being called “she”? It’s not like I need a reason to gender a bug. I do it all the time. It’s fun. It’s humanizing. They don’t care.
I’m calling this spider she right now. ️ her name is delanie. she’s a lesbian.
Everyone’s like “those Germans have a word for everything” but English has a word for tricking someone into watching the music video for Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up.
Heard some important information on Twitter today, and thought I’d post it here for anyone who may not have heard it. This is actually a thing, devised by human rights organisation called Karma Nirvana.
There’s something so pure about someone who’s excited to be around you. Like yes tell me you want to see me, tell me when exactly you want see me, tell me you want to kiss me, tell me you miss me, tell me you’re looking forward to next time we meet. Vocalize
“I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizens Councillor or the Ku Klux Klanner but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can’t agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by the myth of time; and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.”
He wasn’t wrong. It is, sadly, still true today.
“…who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.” We talk about this in seminary all the time: peace that is won by one side holding its foot on the other side’s throat is not peace. When we pray for peace, we must pray for peace with justice, never at the cost of justice, made by silencing the oppressed.
Fellow white people, don’t just reblog or share mlk jr.’s more palatable “hate cannot drive out hate” type quotes and ignore the fact that he also said challenging things like this. We must hold ourselves accountable. We must not be lukewarm. And there is never a “more convenient season” to act to secure rights for all people – the time is now.
He also had a speech to the APA that openly called out white people for caring more about “riots” and damaged property than the fact that Black people were suffering under institutional violence.
He called out white people regularly for their lack of empathy for Black lives and their continuance to spout respectability at Black people than hold the white policymakers accountable for their racism.
my art style has shifted so much so ive changed how i draw him… again…
a version without the digital glow because i kinda prefer it sldkjf i quite like the brushed gouache look for moving auras, although im gonna figure out a good way to make the static ones with markers too.
One time Reigen called Serizawa in the middle of Serizawa having a panic attack.
It started like this:
Serizawa was alone in his apartment which was not at all unusual but it had started to get messier recently and it occurred to Serizawa all at once that he was doing something his counselor might refer to as relapsing and that terrified him so deeply that his attempts at cleaning were broken by his hands shaking and his eyes watering up and finally he could only sit on the corner of his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and stare at his own mess. He’d ruined it. A perfectly good clean apartment, a clean slate, a new chance, and he’d already let it fall into this after only a few months.
He needed to go to the convenience store but he was all at once unsure if he’d remember how to speak right. It was a strange feeling of not deserving. He didn’t deserve to be around other people or have them see him. What if they saw what he really was?
It was spiraling further and further, time passing without him even fully realizing, when all at once his phone rang.
At first, he was not going to answer it. Certainly not if it was his mother. He couldn’t bear to burden her further. But by chance when he glanced over, he saw that the name blinking across his screen was REIGEN and that was his job.
His job. He needed that. To eat and to be here.
The force of necessity made him answer.
“Serizawaaa,” Reigen drawled, in his casual way. The sound of his voice made Serizawa’s shoulders slacken somewhat. He hadn’t even realized he was so tense. “I’m going to be a bit late to the office today. Can you open up?”
Serizawa’s immediate response was panic–opening the office alone. now.–but again necessity made him swallow that fear. He needed this job. It did more for him than just feed him.
“Yes, I can do that,” he said. He was surprised that his voice came out fine, no shaking or anything. He did remember how to talk.
“Do you still have the key I gave you?” Reigen asked.
“Yeah. I do.” His own key to the office.
Reigen trusted him with that. That place meant a lot to Reigen but he trusted Serizawa with it so easily. The sense of necessity unfurling Serizawa and pulling him to his feet now wasn’t so much about financial security anymore. It was for Reigen. Because Spirits and Such meant a lot to Serizawa too. He wanted to do this, so badly, for Reigen and for this place that had saved him. In a way he couldn’t possibly articulate.
I will get on my clothes and put on my shoes and clean my hair and brush my teeth and eat and drink because someone is counting on me.
