#once again i'm drawing a character with no meat on their bones

[hools]

Sorry if this is a weird question, but how do you come up with your drawings? What does through your mind while making them? I find your compositions so gorgeous and intriguing but I can't really figure out how you approach things since everything's very shifty and abstract. It's really gorgeous work, I'm so glad I discovered your art :,)

hey first of all this isnt a weird question at all & i'm really glad you enjoy my art heheheheheehe. there's an incoming large largely unformatted block of text that i hope you dont mind!

Honestly there are a billion things going through my mind at a time while I'm drawing and they all sort of bump into each other and cancel each other out like opposing particles. If you've seen any of my streams i'm usually very fast and iterative in a lot of my process and i rarely ever slow down even past the early parts like thumbnailing and sketching. i kind of let my hands do the talking more, yknow? but even then theyre never talking about a single thing at a time. everything interacts with everything, which is probably why i always end up getting lost and meandering. composition is not independent from color & value and neither are they from texture and perspective. its hard thinking of all of the ways they mesh and react to one another so i spend less of my energy thinking and more of it doing, and then assessing once something interesting comes about it. i guess then i prioritize my Hand Movement Actioning and Eye Vision Seeing over my Brain Neuron Assessing. but even though iterations can come and go quick this kind of informed throwing-against-the-wall isn't really the Fastest. but its fun. and you get to stuff all the unused ideas in your pocket for later.

even though i did say how connected everything is i always seem to start with composition. it kind of affects and informs everything the most at least on an individual piece level. with thumbnails & composition in general i think youre supposed to think huge right. so i Always think huge. push everything as much as you can. start with a crazy angle (not necessarily angle meaning "perspective" but like an angle between two lines) and border your scene within it. take an already steep foreshortening and steepen it further with the transform tool & see what shapes form from the empty & filled space. shrink your subject to only fit 3/4ths of the canvas and build around it to make it work. blow things up (enlargen) and blow things up (remove & obliterate). with composition you have so much room for fuckery if you give yourself the grace to accept the fuckiness.

and i guess this freedom to fuck around and iterate and build and build and build upon comes from how most of the time my initial ideas are very. vague? abstract like you've said. sometimes its Just a song or a song lyric and nothing else (no characters to attach to just the feel and my gut). sometimes its a less than 5 word phrase i felt strongly about throughout the day. in my me-only discord server i have messages in #to-draw channel that just say shit like "something about guitar straps" "thanks for knowing me!" "angel don't look at me" "DITHER QUEEN" (<-been meaning to make something with that). for things that have specific guidelines i spend more time thinking conceptually (the "rare animal" coelacanth drawing being an example) but otherwise it mostly comes out after. again. the first strokes. after you put the meat and bones on the canvas. an artist at a workshop i was at last year when i was in my own head about Needing to have a fleshed tangible Profound concept before being able to start something told me not to underestimate the stories that can be told just by your hands. and i think thats what stuck with me the most.

& one last thing i wanna mention is how despite how much i revel in the chaos of the process ive found how important limits are. i don't like cutting back on everything but i like cutting back on some things. sometimes i cut out backgrounds for solid fills and i love them that much more. sometimes i have little subconscious rules in a piece that i try not to break to keep a little level of consistency. if somethings a big wonderful mess already then i love a limited pallet and i love keeping parts empty and i love being able to breathe a little. yknow. but still go over the top in the other parts you have so much permission to. less is more but have a little more in your art than less. YKNOW?

but yeah thanks again for your kind words and wanting to listen to me talk. i havent been drawing much at all so these arent too fresh on the mind but i think i got a lot of what i wanted to say out. i hope u and others can get things out of this! if i made any sense <3

[terrified-spider]

I'm getting ready for Artfight, and have finished up the references for the characters I'm going to have up.

This guy is my Minecraft skin/character, and the closest thing I have to any kind of fursona. He's up on my profile, alongside Morgan. Any other characters I'll add will likely either be Aust, or one of my Bethesda OCs.

The ID is in the Alt text, and a picture of the original skin is under the cut. Critique is always welcome! (:

[runeterrankhaleesi]

Hello, I am 20 yrs old, 5'3, straight or bisexual idk, female, she/her. I would like to request being shipped with Varus (LoL) please! He is my love and comfort character 🖤💘.

My personality, I'm not one to describe myself well but people often say I'm weird or different and I'm not sure how to take that. It could be because of my conditions I have ( mild tics for one) but idk and don't care anymore. I get called edgy and goth which I'm not exactly a fan of its kinda cringe. I have often been described as unpredictable or random but like I said it's probably one of my conditions. I get called crazy too but it's probably because I am a major Cat Lady and appreciate Nature and wild things.

I tend to spend a lot of time in Nature when I can and am into Vulture Culture. I adore Cats and like to draw Monsters and play video games. I enjoy things associated with Nature and the moon ( almost as beautiful as Varus). I really like meat and the Forest is my home. I am kinda quiet or get really loud. I like to be alone alot and sleep. I also like to take walks and be in the night time as I find it healing. I love things that glow and enjoy cold weather. My favorite color is magenta.

I like the idea of Varus not being able to have full control of his body all the time (not in a sick way) because I can resonate with that. I also feel broken because of the things wrong with me and feel for Varus when he tries to convince himself he's not broken. I lost most of my family and all my friends, my home and people I knew too abandoned me and emphasize with him on this subject. I just want to feel like myself again and miss my old self. I also feel like I might be starved for affection because of the way I was raised and am afraid of physical contact or at least it stresses me out alot and Varus may be too I suspect. I'd really like to cuddle and kiss, being held would be nice too.

That's all I'm willing to share. 💘🖤🏹

I pair you with...

VARUS!

Why? Because...

Varus would never call you weird or different, whether it's because of your mild tics or something else. He feels that being called weird is an insult and Varus would never insult you.

Yes, you're different but not weird. Unique is the right word for it, he enjoys the fact that you're not like everybody else, that no matter what people say, you're still true to yourself.

Varus absolutely sees you as a beautiful person, inside and out. Don't even get him started on how much he adores your eyes and freckles, you're adorable.

He likes that both of you have a lot in common. Like cats, he loves the purring sounds they make whenever he pets them. And he mostly spends his time in nature, just basking in it. He loves the peacefulness he gets everytime he looks up at the moon or the satisfying feeling of grass crunching beneath your boot at your every step. Collecting bones is also a hobby of his or rather, his hosts', they make something out the bones like necklaces or gluing them together to make miniature statues. Cold weather is his favorite weather, he loves that fact that he can curl up in the thickest blankets and not feel hot. The cold also makes him sleep better.

Varus would let you have your alone time, he understands that you need to recharge and you like the peace and quiet. You can come to him whenever you're comfortable enough, you can just tap his shoulder or hug him from behind, he'll know immediately what you mean.

Varus WILL give you all the cuddles and kisses you ask for, he's pretty clingy. Once you hug him, he would never let you go, absolutely not. And he's a patient man, if you're trying to reconnect with old friends or making new ones, he's right there by your side. If you're trying to come out of your shell and trying to be yourself, he'd support you and give you a little push whenever you need it.

💝~Happy Valentines Day!~💝

[cavariously]

[Trying my hand at a fan fiction.

I love to write but I have never done anything like this before, so all feedback would be extremely appreciated (Grammer, Plot, Characters etc.).

I love Tokyo Ghoul so I really hope I don't fuck this up 😅. A big thank you to anyone who reads this ❤️]

Caution: Agressive Swearing, Offensive Language, Graphic Violence.

Notes: Takes place post end of TG:re, Reapers = Marshall version of Doves.

1. Crow - 24

City lights and the rushing motions of the landscape turn the 24th ward into a blinding and blaring circus. Humans. They crawl through this city with the assurance that they will be here tomorrow. They will be here a year from now. They will be here forever. They are the only lifeform with this assurance. All other creatures in this world live with the knowledge that their making it to the next moment is a fifty fifty

It is certainly a miracle that they last, noticing absolutely nothing at all. They don't see the effects that the fumes of their veichles have on the planet that they grip so tightly to. They can't begin to recognise that they are being continually watched and targeted by devices that could wipe them from the face of said Earth in less than zero. They don't even notice the apex predictor observing them from less than a mile above.

Humans simply move from one spot to another, only stopping to cause irrevocable disaster and reduce their surroundings to less than ash, and then move on to the next target. Someone said that humans are Parasites, and although it may be naive to believe this was wholly correct, it would be complete ignorance to dismiss it entirely. Ghouls do not indulge in such ignorance. Parasite is an apt description for a human, from the perspective of a ghoul, that and food.

The figure stands tall, wind rushing rapidly through their tied up hair. They can smell the putrescence of man-kind as they go about their sweaty and arrogant business. They would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. What do humans amount to? They are greedy and bloody bags of meat that fight and hate more than any other being, yet they are allowed to multiply and just be. It could be argued that ghouls are the same as humans in this aspect, but most abide by the one meal a month agreement, even though this arrangement can be hell for some. Unlike humans, who see violence as their God given right, when ghouls fight, it is rarely for anything other than survival. Perhaps this view doesn't take all ghouls into account, but all humans gorge themselves on everything, and fight for any fucking reason they want.

Twenty years ago, a disaster was meant to end this disparity. For the first time ever, ghouls and humans fought together to save the world they shared from the monster that had been designated 'DRAGON'. The defeating of this enemy was meant to end in equality, where ghouls and humans shared the world equally. Scientific leaps had been made. Synthetic meats that ghouls could eat, so they wouldn't have to harm humans. The corpse of Dragon even lead to dramatic advancements in the medical field. Humans were now benefiting from ghoul DNA, as it allowed them to combat most illnesses and increase their lifespan somewhat. After all that ghouls had done for them, weren't humans grateful? No. Ten years, then ghouls were back to being vile creatures to be hunted, and were forced back to living in the sewers. The deaths of so many perfectly good and innocent ghouls, just so that humanity could screw them all over again. What a funny tragedy.

Another figure appeared from the shadows, stepping in line with their comrade. Neither looking at the other, they both silently watched the ferris-wheel turn round and round. A world that they saw as rightfully theirs. They were hungry for it and they would have it. No matter the cost. In fact, the more human casualties... the better.

"Are you ready to go?" the newcomer asked, never taking their attention away from everything below.

"Yeah. Any longer and I might have to eat you."

"Like you could" came the cold, arrogant response.

"Just because you got five inches on me now, doesn't mean I can't still beat your ass Da..."

"Don't fucking call me that. While we're out here you call me Kuma and I call you... Blindfold, or Eyeless. Something like that." Even though his response had been quick and sharp, neither his tone nor his concentration had wavered.

"Eyeless" they conceded.

"Fine, Eyeless it is. Just don't go shouting our real names out in public. You're enough of a liability as it is without giving our fucking identities away."

Eyeless finally turned to look at their brother. They couldn't help feeling a pang of nostalgia. He had been so small once, constantly hanging onto their shoulders and making paper birds that he place all over their home. Those memories hurt, especially when they remembered what came after. He used to smile so much and now he's a moody little shit. They'd never been like that at fourteen, they thought smugly.

"Fine. Let's go KUMA before I rip your snarky head off." With that final retort, Eyeless turned and stepped off of the roof.

Kuma watched them drop six stories, landing with grace and poise. Why were they always so aggravating? Maybe he was jealous of their natural ability, or perhaps they were just a pain in the ass to be related to. With a sigh and a wandering look to the night sky, he followed suit.

* * *

The Marshalls finished up disposing of the ghoul. Bikakus are a pain in the ass Haruto thought, but it's better than a Ukaku. Haruto loved the fact that he was an intimidating figure. The ghoul had basically shat itself as soon as it had seen his large muscular frame, and cruel bearded face. The black trench coat they wore, that often announced the end for ghouls, probably didn't hurt either. He nudged the face of the corpse with his foot. He reckoned it wouldn't even be worth removing his Kakahou to get a new quinque. Taking into account the short amount of time it had taken him and Kenji to bypass his defences and cut him through the middle, he was a B rated ghoul maximum.

"Right, time we get back" Haruto sighed.

"Mhm" Kenji agreed. He never said much.

"Did you bring the body bag? You never know, you might be able to upgrade that piece of shit you call a quinque." Haruto laughed loudly. He loved taking the piss out of Kenji, especially when he knew his only retort woukd be 'mhm'.

As expected, Kenji responded with a grumbling "Mhm", and moved towards the body.

Haruto, turned to walk away, lighting a cigarette and beginning to inhale deeply. That Kenji was going to marry his sister. What's he gonna say when the priest asks him if he takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife? Mhm. Haruto chuckled to himself. All in all Kenji was a good guy, and one hell of a Marshall. He could use that crappy Ukaku quinque pretty damn well, even if it did come from a C rated ghoul. Kenji also took Haruto's kids to the beach when he and Mrs Haruto wanted a quiet weekend. He might be an ugly fucker with next to no hair, and a face that made you want to split him down the middle, but he was clean and sometimes smelt nice. Yeah, Kenji could marry his sister if he wanted. She could do a hell of a lot worse.

A loud splatter sounded out behind Haruto. He spun on his heels, instincts flaring immediately into action. Where the fuck was Kenji? Where his partner had been attempting to fit the ghoul into the black bag, there was now the cut in half corpse of his future brother in law, fallen to the sides with a blindfolded figure standing in the middle. His entire being twitched in anticipation of this thing making a move to kill him, but all it did was leasurly bend down and scoop something up from the gore beneath. As the creature straightened up, he saw that it was simply sucking on one of Kenji's bloody fingers. To others, this might signify a psychotic animal, but to a seasoned Marshall, this was a confident and calculating killer plain and simple. A powerful one at that. Their clothes were indistinctive; clad in thin black leather and fabric, however, their mask was a completely different story. Almost the entirety of its face was covered. Its mouth had a tight black fabric wrapped over it, with a skeletal smile that would open, revealing the snaking pink tongue underneath. The huge back leather collar surrounding it could be zipped up to hide all but the eyes from the world. Not that the eyes could be seen either. A bone white blindfold shut them off from view. Foreign symbols were drawn in deep black on either side, with the a closed eye taking centre stage. Although it was just a drawing, that closed eye was unearving, as if the lack of sight heightened its ability to see, instead of impeding it.

Now this was a ghoul. Just by its sheer presence Haruto could tell this one was rated A, or more likely >S. Haruto couldn't deny to himself that he was intimidated, but he was a senior Marshall, and always backed himself in a one on one. He looked down at his fallen partner and gulped. First things first, get into this guys head. Haruto scanned the ghoul, looking for weaknesses that he could exploit verbally. If he was lucky, the reaction could lead to him obtaining an edge. He noticed that this ghoul was slight in stature, maybe five foot five all told.

"You wanna end up like this other piece of shit, you fucking dwarf."

This garnered absolutely nothing.

Haruto couldn't take it much longer. This creature continued to lapp at the guts of his dead partner, that were splattered over its fingers. It obviously didn't give a shit what it looked like to others. It reminded him of a cat, publically cleaning its fur and genitals with no concern for the world. It was fucking reveling in its feast, and it made Haruto's blood boil.

"You killed an innocent man. He was gonna have a family and you ripped him apart. You monsters have no fucking souls and you all belong in hell. That's where I'm gonna send you. I'm a fucking senior Marshall you stupid shit. You have no clue how badly you've fucked up."

Again, the ghoul made no sign of changing emotion, continuing to dip its fingers in Kenji and take its time eating. Haruto knew he needed something else to get into its head so he scanned again. 'Shit' he thought, as the ghost of a smile passed over his lips. The majority of its body was covered in black that mostly obscured its shape, however, his keen eyes saw that although its grey hair was tied up, it was probably quite long when undone. At its chest area, although it was probably bound, there was the hint of a slightly tented structure. The hardest one to spot was the hips. Despite them being covered by black leather shorts, those hips were a tad too wide to be a man's.

"Alright you sick fuck. I'M A COMMIN FOR YA!"

With one last drive to uncover more courage, Haruto raised his Kokaku quinque and lept towards the ghoul.

"I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP FOR KENJI... YOU BITCH!"

As Haruto closed the distance with extreme speed, to less than two meters, the shadow of another figure dropped from the sky, landing directly next to the first. Haruto skidded to a halt, taken aback by the new masked creature. This one was certainly taller, and its face was covered by a red, horned mask. It was only as his attention slipped completely that he realised his final mistake. For the first time, the blindfolded ghoul smiled widely, the skeletal mouth parting to reveal massive bloody teeth.

The next thing Haruto knew was that he was laying down on the ground, face to the sky. His neck was warm and dripping wet. He raised his hands to his throat as the oxygen escaped his body, feeling the deep gash that was releasing his blood. The ghouls started conversing.

"Which one you want?" the first asked the newcomer.

"I don't care. You killed 'em both so you choose" the other responded dispondantly.

"Well, you're the growing boy so you take the ghoul and the first Reaper."

"Damn, well fuck me if you ain't the best big sister" uttered the male ghoul sarcastically, as he casually walked over to Kenji and the dead ghoul. "Why you taking you're mask off you sicko? The guys not even dead yet."

"I like it when they watch me" the female ghoul giggled.

Haruto saw the shadow of something passing over his head. "Ken...Ke..ji" Haruto gasped.

Suddenly, from below him came a the same giggle. "Awww dude, I think these guys were close."

"Eyeless, eat the fucker and let's go" came the voice of the male.

"Hey buddy boy, look at me will you" said the female from his feet.

Haruto craned his neck, scared of what he might see, but thinking 'fuck it' to himself. What's did he have to be afraid of, he's already dead. When he finally focused on the face he was confused. She was chewing on a leg. His leg. When the fuck did she get her dirty hands on that? When she'd finished on his leg, licking the tips of her fingers with delight, she bent down and hovered over him. Eyeless? That's what the other one had called her, but that wasn't true at all. Now that her blindfold was off he could see the entirety of her murderous giddy face.

"You're very funny" she said. "Innocent man. Gonna have a family. Its really fucking funny."

The last thing Haruto would ever see would be a testimony to her names innacuracy. Staring at him excitedly was one grey eye, so remarkably human looking it was weird. The other eye was a pool of darkness... with a violent, blood red pupil that seemed to be trying to force its way out of its black prison. She snapped up the rest of him.

"Sicko..."

End

[theangrypokemaniac]

Since I rant enough about the wizening Ma and Pa received in Sinnoh it's only right to wreak bloody rhetorical vengeance elsewhere:

However harsh it may be, I'm glad Takeshi Shudo isn't alive to witness the hateful desecration of his legacy.

...

In a universe where no one's allowed to age, why are the modern Jessie and James so withered and decrepit?

Dragon Ball has been on for more than three decades. Its stars were permitted to grow up, because the head can cope with the opportunities this offers.

Yet Goku, Krillin, Bulma et al bear a greater similarity to their younger selves than these gurning invertebrates do to Team Rocket, wearing a papery approximation of their skin.

Akira Toriyama is actually concerned about his life's work, still coming up with interesting concepts, brand-new characters, and most importantly, values his audience by keeping to the established canon.

If a Dragon Ball fan reads this, I am so jealous of you.

Consider yourselves fortunate not to have seen the thing you loved the most pulverised and the resulting glutinous mass moulded back into makeshift sloppy cadavers.

Look at the state of that man! That's a good picture these days!

Why have the eyelid lines turned into upside down bags?

And why has she collected her lashes for this particular screen shot?

On eyes with a strangely feline slant...

Has she had a face lift?

Get yer money back on that one, love.

And why has he marks under his eyes and round his flapping gob to add the hint of exhaustion?

And why don't her lips reach the edge of her mouth anymore?

And why must he display Beaver Toof, as if he's only got six pegs left?

Giving it to him but not her implies she's lost the lot, needing to gum objects for a result.

And why do her low-slung ears consist only of lobe?

And why can you see his featureless lugs? Why does his barnet stand outwards in tentacles like he's taken to wearing a floppy Starmie?

What's that's meant to be, purple dreadlocks?

And why is her hairline curved and absolutely straight, like a bad wig, apart from the perfunctory bits to the side, which I guarantee won't alter their position throughout the run?

Hair used to move about, now by law there's a set pattern which cannot change. Stamp that life out immediately.

And what's that flaccid growth between his weary peepers? Is that meant to be fringe?

PFFFT!!!

And why are her digits just as thick and oblong as his?

It ain't fingers. It's trotters.

And why's he got a back to his throat, but she hasn't?

And why are we forced to witness it? You can see all the way to his dangler!

The great gaping pink cave looks like the end of Looney Tunes when Porky Pig pops up and stammers: "That's all folks!"

Remember a lack of Beaver Toof? And triangular mouths?

Remember when Meowth was a cheeky, spirited little cat, not a middle-aged human midget, an emaciated wreck bored of it all?

Remember when it wasn't deemed necessary to expose us to internal organs?

And when James was a handsome, hysterically camp dandy, not a creepy, snot-ridden science dweeb?

And when Jessie was a beautiful, stylish young girl, hot-tempered but loyal, not a sullen, cold, reptilian, Botoxed-to-the-gills gorgon?

Remember when Team Rocket were fun? And attractive?

Remember when they had joy in their hearts in spite of their poverty? And vim? And hope?

Remember them acting with flair and imagination?

Remember when their schemes had variety?

Remember when they had more than a single disguise per era?

Remember when they had many occupations? And were good at them?

Remember when they'd have a go at everything and weren't reduced to flipping condemned meat in a grotty burger van FOR THREE YEARS?!

Remember when those in charge didn't despise them, when they got happy endings?

Remember split screens? And face faults? And background tones? And purple streaks down your cheeks?

Remember big, bright open eyes, not shrunken, sagging and empty holes afflicted by glaucoma?

Remember when Jessie had eyelashes?

Remember when Pokémon was an anime?

And when James had a fringe, not a bent swelling like a balloon animal?

And when the artist could be arsed to draw Meowth's Charm properly?

Remember when the voices weren't nails down a blackboard?

When Meowth didn't sound like a wedge of coal grinding beneath an oil-deprived door?

When Jessie's dulcet tones had a wider range that just screechy, and weren't reminiscent of a cacophonous banshee clawing her way from a bog, using her own mug as a shovel?

When James speaking didn't suggest he was at best, suffering sinus difficulties, and at worst, constantly battling to swallow his own sick from looking at her?

Mind you, I'm grateful the 4Kids cast are no longer here. They deserve better, and their presence would only validate the crude bastardisations.

Every time the guttural howls reach my poor ears a chill runs through my system, and reminds me of The Pokémon Company sacking the real dub crew in preference for a job done on the cheap.

Remember speed lines? And Pokéball-throwing animation?

Remember a new motto performance in each installment, not the same stock footage reused again and again?

Remember when it rhymed?

It shows.

Remember remembering it?

Remember when Team Rocket would walk down the street in their uniforms and no one took a blind bit of notice despite the organisation operating there?

And they didn't fanny about in one scabby polyester costume every minute they were travelling, even when NO ONE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE?

Since Unova, whilst confronting Ash and this era's soon-to-be-forgotten companions, you get this exchange:

Moron-Of-The-Week: "Who are Team Rocket?"

Ash: "They're bad guys who steal other people's Pokémon."

EVERY SINGLE BLOODY TIME!!!

WORD-FOR-WORD IDENTICAL!!!

The writers have such deep appreciation for their work they're sending in cut-and-paste scripts.

Remember blasting off when something blew up, not an explosion from nowhere, or giving it the slip with a jet pack, or abduction by a Care Bear?

Remember when the eyebrows matched the hair?

Remember when he wore it long?

Remember blue shock? And sweat drop? And hammerspace? And comedy violence?

Remember her jagged hairline? And it being RED!!!

Remember proper highlights to it, rather than the odd white lump now and again, as if sweating like a pig, or their heads are infested with giant space ticks?

Remember when they were in all the episodes? And were main characters? And on the introduction sequence?

Remember when Jessie and James used to hug? And hold hands?

And bicker as only a couple can, but you knew they'd never cope alone?

Remember when they'd fly into each other's arms under the flimsiest pretext?

Remember when they meant more to one another than just being a pair of unconnected and disembodied wraiths coincidentally walking down the same road?

And they had more than civil interactions?

Remember when she loved him as much as he loved her?

And no one else could ever take his place?

And canon wasn't infected with the ruinous depiction of her as a hard, heartless bitch barely tolerating him until someone 'better' came along, at which point she'd fuck off without a backwards glance?

'Better', as in a scabby, satchel-mouthed, gormless cretin, just to add surly insult to merciless injury.

Never has such a life-long and hardcore defender of the faith flipped into an ardent Rumishipper as I did after that episode, once I'd swept up the fragments of my soul.

Remember when they were sympathetic?

Remember when they showed human warmth?

Remember when they cared about each other?

Remember when they weren't just a jangling, distorted mess of half-recollected traits?

Remember when they weren't really evil?

Remember Rocketshipping? That was a thing once, believe it or not.

Remember when they had a conscience?

Remember when actually wicked characters turned up, and Team Rocket ALWAYS sided with Ash, rather than the nauseating spectacle of suddenly being best buds with the Boss?

Remember when they had contact with the Twerps?

Remember when Team Rocket and the Twerps loved each other in secret and would endanger themselves to save their 'enemies'?

Everything that was once good and winning about them was sucked out, degree by degree, to leave the corpse, hollow and dead, strung up on wires as a grim marionette.

I'm sure most who see this will vehemently disagree, that I'm completely wrong, that THEY like them.

Yes, you like this three, but you don't like Team Rocket. This is not them. You have yours, and I have mine, but let's not pretend they are the same.

Why, if there is no difference, would I be so hostile, when they meant so much too me?

Did you ever wonder where the original fans went, why they all departed en masse? It's not because they 'moved on' or 'matured'.

They didn't leave Pokémon. Pokémon left them.

As the makers rely so heavily on repetition (sorry, nostalgia) they arrogantly expect us to still be here, having blithely welcomed our memories minced and our canon ripped up or ripped off, apparently.

We're intended to put up with watching them lay waste to ťhe series's body, clinging on for when a rotting bone is pulled up now and again and waved at us, before they chuck it aside to continue the dismemberment.

It's been eaten from the inside out, explaining the facial collapse. Behold the beauty on show:

You see what I mean, don't you?

Don't you? No, because otherwise you'd say the same.

How anyone feels able to describe three deformed freaks as 'hot' or 'cute' I will never comprehend.

The uniform collar protrudes like a solid pipe, emphasising the pencil necks.

It gives the impression of wrinkled, leathery tortoises peering out of their shells to secure a tasty lettuce treat.

Is that pretty? No.

Is it so surprising I don't care for my favourites to resemble melted waxwork skeletons of their own dæmonic counterparts?

S&M is a most fitting name, for this is torture.

In the film Death Becomes Her, Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn vie for the attention of Bruce Willis, both taking a serum giving everlasting youth and slimness.

The catch is it confers immortality, but not invulnerability, so when pushed down the stairs Meryl survives but is dead, her neck broken, thus she's zipped up in the morgue fridge.

When Goldie is shot with a canon she too rises, internal organs blown out.

The rest of the adventure involves the pair losing the war against time, patching up and painting over peeling grey skin, holding onto loose limbs as their bodies fall apart.

This obviously is the case here. The trio lapped the potion up at the close of Sinnoh, experienced a fatal accident and are now steadily crumbling to mush before us.

According to grave-diggers the head always goes first, so there you are then.

I have a suspicion that Giovanni lured all three to his crypt, experimenting on them to engineer his ultimate super soldier, which explains their flat, plastic appearance. Those since Unova began are the cyborgs, the real ones locked in his cellar.

You may notice I have about the lowest opinion possible of the current writing team, as they deserve.

Why should I have any respect for vindictive halfwits like this, who hate Team Rocket so much they're going out of their way to distort and uglify them, expressing the resentment in celluloid?

Jessie, James and Meowth lost their only defender in Takeshi Shudo. From that point they descended from loveable, hapless tragic figures to self-parodies (Hoenn) whiney, irritating divs dumping one another at every interval (Sinnoh), robotic, amoral scum (Unova and Kalos) and now physically repulsive minor additions (Alola and Galar). Is that trajectory all accidental?

It not that it's a new 'style' (for want of a better word), as were that the case, this hideousness would apply to the entire cast, but it's only done to Team Rocket. How could that be unless motivated by malice?

Given the sub thesps are obliged to prostrate themselves in the dust, begging fans to make their appreciation known, it smacks of desperation.

They wouldn't need to ask that were the trio treated as an integral component. They must sense the objections and are thus drumming up support to avoid the dole queue.

Are those in charge so resentful of their presence it manifests in mutilating them, keen to do anything that may alienate the fanbase, so at the first sign of a dip in popularity they can leap upon it as the perfect excuse to write Team Rocket out?

Why be surprised? These are imbeciles who reject their own canon at the close of every generation, so why care about someone else's?

If people have to harangue the writers with grovelling praise of their retcons, rehashes and all-round twatting about, butter 'em up sufficiently, with the implied threat of deserting the franchise should Team Rocket be ejected, taking their purses too, all so the smug, avaricious berks deign to put the trio in the next generation, that proves they don't want them, so how can what they write for their characters be objectively of any worth?

Team Rocket would've departed by now, were there not a palpable worry their absence might ring the death knell of the whole thing, turning off the financial tap, which is what matters.

Therefore they are retained, grudgingly, and only so long as the clamour continues at its current decibel level. If that drops it's over, and don't expect a romantic resolution. Why should pleasing you be a concern when you're to leave with them?

Ask yourself: how much of your devotion is based on what they are right now, and how much is from who they used to be?

How long can they live off past glories?

The offences done in Unova and Kalos were bad enough, but remarkably Game Freak found further depths to plumb, therefore it can only get worse.

I have of course retained the loveliest for last:

Be still, my beating heart.

No, really, be still. Stop infact. 

Planet of the Apes.

[whumping-every-day]

Hey Sarah! Congrats on getting your card! I'm sorry you've been having a few rough days of writing. Writer's block stinks big time. Could I possibly request mercy killing from your card? If you have time and want to. I'm picturing the whimper maybe doing it to "free" a friend of the Whumpee that has also been captured? Thank you so much for all the effort you put into your stories. Please don't pressure yourself about them. We love them whenever you publish then. It should be fun for you!

Baby, buddy, my friend... thank you so much for your kind words. Also, you may regret asking me this. Because I saw this request, and immediately decided on doing the worst thing ever.

Have an Au of my vampire series, where Callum does not find and rescue Ash in time. Instead, Ash remains with the hunters who originally captured him. Callum happens to stop by years later to visit a friend. 

Content Warnings: Major character death!!! (non-canonical, but still) mouth/face/eye/finger gore, blood, broken/shattered bones, aftermath of torture, injuries, dehumanizing language, muzzles, put on display, tortured literally out of his mind, brief vomit, mercy killing. 

Tagging the vampire gang: @pepperonyscience @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump @what-huh-imconfused  @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @vickytokio @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whump-em @umniyah-s

-- 

The creature twitches and shudders as it falls to the packed earth. The crowd of onlookers is thinner, now, as dusk starts to fall. A few of the townspeople linger, though, and the hunters just stand around and watch as they deal a flurry of kicks and insults to the quivering lump of flesh on the ground. 

That’s all it is, anymore. A lump of flesh. The muzzle is a part of its face, and its eye sockets are empty behind bleeding eyelids. 

There’s the rattling of strained, laboured breathing, but there is no other sound. Not even when one of the larger assailants sets his foot on the vampire’s chest and shoves. Something cracks as the creature’s torso caves in. 

“Alright, alright. ‘m afraid you will have to come back tomorrow, boys.” One of the hunters scoops up the chain attached to the creature’s collar. “Don’t worry, it’s not going anywhere.” 

One of the men laughs, wiping his boot off on the grass as if he’s touched something filthy. “Yeah, I should hope so. That thing’s practically our mascot now.” 

It takes some time, but the remaining villagers slowly start to disperse as the hunters drag the still-juddering corpse inside. It’s breathing, technically, but it’s still a corpse. There’s nothing about it that looks human anymore, not its face or its body. Its skin is still smoking, and the stench of burning meat still permeates the courtyard. Night falls, and the courtyard is empty, and the creature lies in a cage made of iron and floats on a sea of nothingness and agony. 

-- 

“Didn’t you say you have a vampire here?” Callum takes a long draw out of his tankard, drumming his fingers on the wood of the bar. He doesn’t know the hunter in front of him that well, but well enough that not stopping by when he’s in town would be rude. Derik is short and rotund, thick and broad. 

“Aww, yeah, man.” Derik is considerably deeper into his bottle than Callum is. “ ‘s hardly a vampire now, though. It’s a money-maker. Who’da ever thought people would pay to stand around ‘n watch us break it? It don’t even respond, anymore. ‘s boring.” The man slurs, glaring pensively into his bottle. 

Callum hides his grimace fairly well, but his next swig of beer tastes bitter on his tongue. He’s done awful things to these creatures, of course, but he tries to keep it quick. A bolt to the chest, or a clean decapitation with a silver blade. But then, he’s never been short on funds, so maybe he shouldn’t talk. “Hey. If it puts food on the table...” 

Derik snorts. “Barely. ‘sides, tha’s not the point. It deserves it.” 

“Ah.” Callum takes another drink. “So you guys caught it, and just... kept it?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Derik’s cheeks are flushed, and he looked about ready to pass out. But his eyes brighten suddenly, and he leans forward, nearly unbalancing on the stool. “You wanna see?” 

“Do I want to-” Callum breaks off. He doesn’t understand why the question fills him with a nameless sort of dread. He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to know. And yet, that terrible dread is translating into sick curiosity. “I’ll take a peek.” 

“Yeeaaahh, that’s my man,” Derik crows. He slings a careless arm around Callum’s shoulders, and his breath stinks like booze. 

Callum is starting to regret coming here at all. 

--

“This is your vampire?” The words fall from his lips as horrified, and for a split second, for just a moment, it feels like it’s happened before. But everything is different, this time; everything is worse. 

They’ve disassembled the creature, piece by piece. Callum mistakes the dark lump for a shadow at first, but then the shadow moves. Callum’s hand falls to his knife automatically - but the figure is keening, quiet and raw. It sounds like a child sobbing, or a wounded, dying animal. It sends shivers down Callum’s spine. 

“Oh, yeah. It don’t do much no more...” Derik stumbles over to it, and he’s not steady on his feet, but he’s aware enough to spit down on it. The flesh of its lower face is burned away. Callum can see its cheekbones, and that it’s missing its teeth. Not just its fangs. All of its teeth. 

Callum gags a little and takes a step back, feeling horror roil in his gut. “What is wrong with you people?” 

Derik is busy fumbling with his pants, like he’s going to take a piss right on the creature’s broken body. He pauses at the words though, brow creasing. “Wha’s wrong with you?” He counters. “ ‘s a vampire. I can do.. wh-ever I want.” 

Callum can’t catch his breath, suddenly. The smell in the little stone room is rancid; filth and piss and rot, and the sour, overlaying stench of terror. The vampire is missing fingers, and the ones that remain are bent and crushed. Callum feels very cold, suddenly, and then very warm. 

His fingers shake as he grips his knife and draws it. He is driven by cold horror as he moves, his mind not even catching up with his body. 

Derik is too drunk to see him coming. Callum knocks him over the head with the hilt, and the man drops like a stone. Callum has to stifle the urge to keep hitting him. 

The vampire does not seem to be conscious of his presence... or of anything at all, really. Callum walks over to it, and the longer he stares, the more he feels the alcohol twisting and turning in his gut. 

It’s only when he sees the creature’s severed tendons, and the way the bottoms of its feet have been mangled, that he turns and vomits all over the floor. 

“Oh my god,” he mutters, wiping the back of his mouth. This goes far beyond overkill. This is - this is something else. This is the deepest expression of human evil he’s ever come across. Callum has never been religious, but this is an abhorrence.

There’s a stake in his hand as he crouches beside the trembling lump of skin and bone. Its head jerks in his direction, and the keening gets a little louder. 

He can’t heal it. Callum has tested the limits of a vampire’s body himself, but he’s never seen torture like this. He’d have to drain three people or over to even think of fixing it, and even then... Callum looks at the way its empty eyelids flutter, the way the exposed, caved bones in its chest rattle and wheeze. No. Healing it would not be a kindness. 

The hunter draws in an unsteady breath and grips the stake. It will be easy from here; a quick plunge, not even a moving target. But he can’t help but reach out, just once, as if something else is guiding his hand. As if allowing this creature’s last moments of contact to be violent is too much.

There’s no patch of the creature’s flesh that is not maimed in some way. Callum settles a hand as gently as he can over its empty eyes, and his jaw clenches at the way it shudders and twitches. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, even as he readies the stake. “You can rest now.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to talk to it. It can’t understand him. Callum squeezes his eyes shut just for a moment, as if hoping to purge the gory image from his mind. But it’s still there for him when he looks again, and the creature is limp under his hand, finally fallen silent. It’s waiting, he realizes. Callum’s hands shake with fury, but he squeezes the stake harder and grits his teeth. “I give you mercy.” 

It’s a harsh motion, quick and decisive, and the creature turns to dust beneath his fingers. Callum is left gripping the worn wooden steak with angry tears in his eyes. Everything about this is wrong. Everything. 

He’s sick at heart as he stands, and as he goes back to the bar and pays his tab, and as he finds his way out to the stables and saddles his horse. There are monsters in their world, Callum knows this. But he will never again forget that the worst monster is and always has been humanity. 

It’s just one night in the course of his life, but Callum isn’t ever able to forget what he saw. And when he gets home and goes to collapse onto his cot, for some reason, the lab feels emptier than it ever has before. 

[empanadadooblez]

hey do you have any tips on drawing bodies in general? Your art is incredible and I like the way you draw muscles on girls to show off their badassery. I'm having a hard time figuring out anatomy and poses. You gave off a really good long explanation on how to draw certain characters. So if you could, would you be able to show a process on how you draw bodies.

awww, hello sweet anon, I can give you a general list, but if you’re looking for something with pictures and examples, you are welcome to shoot me another ask and I can most definitely do that for you. 

Also p.s, if you’re guys ever want to ask a question, it’s a little easier for me to answer when you phrase it to something specific, it lets me focus on the details cause I can’t name everything all at once sometimes. 

please tell me to elaborate on these certain subjects if you want, I’d really like to help you guys and give you tips, these are some that I’ve picked up on along the way anatomically, but remember that you can take realistic anatomy and stylize it however you choose, it all depends on your style!

but here we go:

ears start at the top of your eyes and end at the bottom of your nose

wrists end at the crotch

space between the eyes is approximately one eye

pectorals connect up to the deltoids

the nape of your neck arcs slightly, it’s not flat!

sternocleidomastoids connect to the centers of your clavicles

neck is about the same width as the head

arm is composed in a chain link pattern 

try using a tilted diamond/square shape as a base for hands

So these are good places to start experimenting, once I realized a lot of these, my art improved so much more. There’s a LOT more that I’m sure I’m missing, but again if you’d like me to elaborate on any of those little bullet points, just let me know.

What I can tell you is that you shouldn’t be afraid to just DO YOU.

Some artists can draw super realistically, but chose to go with a stylized version that they like better. Again, it’s all about what you want.

I, for one, EXAGGERATE A WHOLE FUCKING LOT.

While maybe it’s possible, it’s not every day you see the height and size differences I show between the characters that I draw in real life. I looooove body and facial differences between characters and it frustrates me when I watch shows where everyone seems to have the same body size/type ugh 

For example, working with Aged Up BNHA, I base their bodies off their quirks, enough said.

Kirishima is a shield, his quirk is one that can be used for offence AND defense, it revolves around BRUTE STRENGTH so of course I’m going to make him big and beefy.

Bakugou’s explosions provide him with the brute strength, he doesn’t need to have bulging muscles because his explosions are what give him force, he propels himself with them. Bakugou needs to be compact with firm joints, strong legs that help him land and broad shoulders to take his blasts. And self indulgence talking here, but I’m not gonna ignore his canonically tiny waist omg

Sero’s quirk doesn’t give him the luxury of physical enhancement, he built his body up himself. Like Bakugou he needs those strong, thick ass legs to land AND jump when he uses his tape like spiderman omg. Sero’s definitely got a runner’s body, he’s trim and tall, but not lanky in the least, he’s all lean muscle as opposed to Kiri’s weighty build.

Mina is a dancer, just recently did we witness that, bless her soul I love her. But given that, LEGS and hips. Mina’s quirk, like Sero’s, doesn’t give her physical enhancements. Her acid might be able to be shot out of her hand, but I think she needs to be able to pitch very well too, so that girl’s got some fucking arms on her. 

Kaminari is about the same as Bakugou. He can still do damage at a distance so he doesn’t need the brute strength the way Kirishima does. He’s one of the smaller of the boys, slim but not scrawny. He definitely needs to be fit (as do all heroes) and I think he’d be FAST and once he’s able to get a better handle on his quirk, be able to use that to his advantage the way Bakugou does.

Outside the Bakusquad, I’d like to mention my Momo! Some one wrote an entire thing about this that inspired me, but long story short. Momo is a girl with a quirk that requires BODY MASS in order to function. Her fat cells are what are manipulated into the matter she uses to create objects. She NEEDS body mass, she needs meat on her bones that aren’t just her boobs for fan service. She creates WEAPONS and my girl can and will be strong enough to wield a medieval saber if she wanted to. Along with fat, she’d have muscle, strong enough to benchpress a fully grown man

And finally Izuku! Like Kirishima, Izuku’s quirk is one that needs brute strength as well, his body needs to be able to hold up to the strength of his own quirk, this is All Might’s quirk we’re talking about here people omg. Baby needs to be broad and well compacted, maybe not to the extent of All Might’s body, but again, he still needs his mass to throw his quirk around and be able to take 

I’m sorry!!!! I don’t think you were expecting me to talk about this, but this literally is my PROCESS. The body type you choose for your own character and others that you are working with tell a story in their own right. Anatomy can give you clues on personality, the way you depict and present a character as well.

At the end of the day I’m working with Heroes, they need to be strong and their quirks are able to find home in their bodies. I’m not afraid to put muscle of these beautiful girls or throw some curves on the boys. It’s okay to completely go off course from the canon standard

And sweet anon, I thank you so much for the compliment, but I’m still learning myself. I can try and help you, so please just let me know anytime and I’ll try and work up a tutorial of sorts for you guys

Learn from the artists around you as well, study their work and try and put two and two together, because oh my god I had the discovery of a lifetime when I started piecing together some of my own favorite artist’s anatomy just this year!

Also, just a suggestion, but I wouldn’t mind recording myself draw certain body types for y’all if you want!

Thank you to those who read the whole way through, I hope this answers some of your question omg I went off on a tangent there 💦

- Panda ❤