the perspective is bizarre


I wanted to draw some of my favorite Jojo supporting characters and have them just hang out and have a good time. I’m nowhere near caught up with the manga, so there’s no Hermes or Gyro in here sadly, though I’ll probably start drawing them too once I get there. 

It’s not perfect by any means, but it was a fun challenge and a difficult perspective to work in. I hope you like it!

16: Ningen

This was one cryptid I had not heard of, but my word, I can’t say what this really could be…but i need to read more about arctic cryptids.

Requested by Anonymous, lemme know if you want me to credit you. c:

Pardon the wonky perspective, but here’s my Stand OC, Shoot To Thrill. Yay boredom. 

I should also probably explain it’s powers?

Stand Name: 「Shoot to Thrill」

Stand Ability: [Weapon Hands]

Power - B

Speed - D

Range - C

Durability - C

Precision - A

Potential - B

S2T’s main power (simply called “Shoot”) a sort of “cannon” that can injure both Stands and people at significant range. In reality, it actually fires a sort of bladed, coiled, metallic tentacle at incredibly high speeds, before retracting it equally as quickly. Stands with superhuman perception (Crazy Diamond) can detect this, but cannot grab the superhumanly sharp weapon without serious injury, though they may be able to swat it away with less serious injury.  

Of note is that  S2T is bound to the Stand User; it’s feet and the user’s feet are “locked” together, specifically the soles of their respective feet.

Theoretically, “Shoot” has an unlimited range, relying on the non-euclidean geometry of it’s tentacle blade, but there is a side effect. As the distance that Shoot attack from increases, the recoil felt by the Stand increases. Since S2T and the User are both bound together physically, this can actually topple over (or possibly injure or kill) the user. This effect is not linear, but instead exponential.

As S2T’s “shoot” is actually a bladed tentacle, it can launch at unusual trajectories that are impossible for actual projectiles, such as making a sharp, 90 degree bend in midair. The downside of this is that  after S2T fires, it cannot significantly change it’s trajectory, and the above recoil effect is based on the length of the tentacle used, not the distance of the shot itself.

Due to both the stress on the user, and the immense Stand Power needed, “Shoot” can’t be used in rapid succession. S2T’s “eyes” actually hint at how many times the user can fire “Shoot” without seriously harming themselves merely by using it; but this is only a rough estimation, not an accurate or exact number. This harm is entirely separate from the injury they may receive from the recoil, and appears to be based on some sort of exchange between S2T and it’s User. 

If the User is clever, they can use Shoot in novel ways, such as using it to launch themselves or even arrest an otherwise lethal fall. They can also fire upwards, mostly negating the effect of the recoil (since the stand is bound at the soles of the feet), at the expense of slower and less accurate fire. 

S2T also has a second weapon, initially far less used, but equally as dangerous. It’s whole left arm is a sort of articulated axe or blade. While much slower than “Shoot,” this weapon (called “Thrill”) is comparatively powerful and obscenely sharp. 

Seems to me like this white line is where the fracture may be. It’s possibly that there’s two carrot-shaped pieces on top of each other that the perspective conceals. The curvature in the bone is bizarre, so I’d agree that /something/ is wrong. I’m not a doctor though.

[Above is submitted, in brackets is me, servicedoodle, talking]

[The curve is weird, and part of that is from a previous break. But it has broken along the old curve before so that’s entirely possible. I am of course seeing a doctor ASAP. Thank you for you input!!! And thanks for circling it so I can see it easy :) ]

It’s Such a Beautiful Day

This seemingly silly stick animation is so poignant it is heartbreaking. Don Hertzfeldt (the creator of Rejected Cartoons) tells a fragmented story of a man who has a fatal mental disorder. There are points of harrowing truths and briefly flashed perspective challenging ideas, mixed in with bizarre anecdotes and chaos. Read below for four sections from the script. 


He pictures him self having trouble breathing and waking to a room filled with concerned faces. He’d been terrified of dying his entire life. And as much as he tried not to think about it, death was always in the back of his head, around every corner and hovering on each horizon. He’d brushed shoulders with death on a few occasions, but in his careless youth it seemed like an abstraction, almost an impossible thing that could never happen to him. Though, with each passing decade he began to gage the time he probably had left, and by his forties, what he considered his halfway point at best, he had come to know just one thing. 
“You will only get older”
The next thing you know, you are looking back instead of forward. And now, at the climax of all those years of worry, or sleepless nights and denials, Bill finnally finds himself staring death in the face. Surrounded by people he no longer recognizes, and feels no closer attachment to than the thousands of relatives who had come before. And as the sun continues to set, he finally come to realize the dumb irony of how he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life. This stupid, awkward moment of death, that had invaded and distracted so many days with stress and wasted time. If only he could travel back and impart some wisdom on his younger self. If only he could at least tell the younger people in this room. He lifts an arm to speak, but inexplicable says: 
“It smells like dust…and moonlight.”


Bill decided to take a walk in the park to try and get some fresh air. He noticed that someone had written “I LOVE YOU” in the playground sand, and he thought that it was really beautiful. 

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The villain is dead, long live the Queen.

Dedicated to Luisa and Alyssa for helping me with Tabu.

(First entirely digital drawing. That was bizarre. Full of tweaks and perspective what-the-hells, but I really wanted to thank you.)

Three things the signs I know have done
  • Aries: Smoked a cigarette and played with my hair while we listened to your favorite songs / Having random competitions, like who can keep their legs raised the longest or who the best kisser is / Punched and broke a mirror because you hated the way people saw you
  • Taurus: Baked a cake together while we talked about all the things that make us happy to be alive / You argued with people for weeks on end just to defend a friend that you thought was hurt and wronged by them / Calling me in the middle of the night and crying because you felt like you were not worth anything to anyone
  • Gemini: Taking me to a random party and showing off all of your amazing party game skills / Doing your best to cheer your friends up, even though you were also feeling like crumbling down inside / Opening up to me and telling me about all of the things that you never trusted anyone else to handle without hurting you
  • Cancer: Crying about how much you love your friends and how much you wish you knew them earlier / Skipping school to take care of me when you found out I've been sick and alone for days / Having really deep conversations about runes, magic, and meditation over cups of tea
  • Leo: Climbing on top of your car and dancing to your favorite song blasting on the radio / Getting all of your friends to do activities with you, and making sure we all have a good time / Ranting for hours when you felt like you were being replaced by your best friend
  • Virgo: Having long discussions about politics, stars, and whatever else you felt was bigger than us / Watching my favorite movie together, only for you to point out details I've never noticed before / Breaking down from being overwhelmed because you were trying to help too many people with their problems
  • Libra: Gathering your vast variety of friends and introducing us to one another / Riding random buses the entire day to see where we would end up / Always the one to end the fights when your friends were at each other's throats
  • Scorpio: Tried your hardest to cut toxic people from my life, even if it meant burning some of your bridges for me / Talked for an entire day about everything you couldn't tell other people until your throat was sore / You used your friends without them knowing in a complex scheme to get free stuff for them
  • Sagittarius: Taking a walk in the city at 3 am talking about everything and anything that was on your mind / Taking care of your friends after a party, even though you were the one that was partying the hardest / Always having the brightest smile even when everything around you was unbearable
  • Capricorn: Staying with me and ensuring me that everything was going to be ok when I felt like the world was falling apart / Always know what's for the best in the long run, even if it means that you have to cut some ties / Making sure your friends were doing well in school because that was what they needed, despite their protests
  • Aquarius: Sending me letters, souvenirs, and messages from all of the amazing travels you've done / Taking me on a 2 day drive with no destination because you felt like it and wanted to escape / Laughing at something out of nowhere, but never being able to describe what you were laughing at or what made it so funny
  • Pisces: Spending lazy days trying to explain to me how different perspectives make the most ordinary things seem bizarre / Making sure your friends were never suffering as much as you, even if many of them did nothing in return / Having as much fun as your high friends despite being completely sober

It’s bizarre that I live in a town on the other side of the world, in a country where no one knows the name Ladies’ Code, so far away I was sleeping while RiSe drew air to her lungs for the last time. It’s bizarre that, this morning, while working out, still unaware of RiSe’s passing, that “Pretty Pretty” came on shuffle, and motivated me to press harder on the elliptical pedals. It’s bizarre, how after EunB’s passing, I was talking to someone I know about the tragedy, and about RiSe, and one of my roommates, who was also in the room, and who doesn’t follow K-Pop, asked “Wait, what?” It’s bizarre that the news to him must have been little more than a tidbit, shrouded in the fog of personal distance. It’s bizarre how two people in the same room can be worlds away from the same event. It’s bizarre that people die all the time, and most of us don’t care, don’t even know. It’s bizarre that thousands of people, possibly more, have perished in the intervening hours since RiSe died. It’s bizarre that I’m not mourning them too. It’s bizarre that there are people in this world who are still living, trying to cope with death that will never be publicized, will never be mourned by millions of people around the world. It’s bizarre that having lost a close friend of mine earlier this year, who was like a sister to me growing up, also at a very young age, just 18, I had a hard time crying until the funeral. It’s bizarre that, on the other hand, I’m crying easily for people I never knew. It’s bizarre that I don’t find anything wrong with that. It’s bizarre how music has the power to close distances greater than time and space. It’s bizarre that nothing more than coordinated blips of sound, vibrating in our eardrums, can lift a mood, change a life. It’s bizarre that Kwon Ri-se and Go Eun-bi walked this earth for little more than two decades - a lifetime to some, a grain of time to others - and they impacted so many people. It’s bizarre how hard they must have worked for their dream while I lazed, wasting time so precious that it had the audacity to stretch and linger, while EunB and RiSe would have fought for even a second longer. It’s bizarre that it takes a tragedy like this to put things into perspective. It’s bizarre that words are never enough, and that they’ve all been said before. It’s bizarre that I’m going to go on about my day now, like nothing happened. It’s bizarre that RiSe and EunB’s families, friends, and the other members of Ladies’ Code most likely can’t even will the power to move, let alone continue on with their daily activities. It’s bizarre that time will never make anything better, but we keep going on anyway. It’s bizarre that, in a thousand, in a hundred thousand, in a million years from now this will all be long forgotten as if it had never happened, as if it had never mattered. And yet it did, and it does.  

So bizarre. 

Father’s Day is complicated for some, but not for me

I never knew how complicated father’s day was to many people until I started using social media. I suppose I was living in a cocoon where having a loving, attentive, supportive and nurturing father was the norm. Fatherhood wasn’t this thing where undue praise was given for doing the most mundane things, i.e. getting beside yourself after seeing a picture of a father doing chores with his child, combing their child’s hair, changing diapers, taking care of his child in general or literally just being present. You know, everyday father shit. How low is this bar for some people where combing your kid’s hair and wiping your kid’s ass is tantamount for a father of the year award?

This adulation was sort of bizarre to me because from my perspective, this is what most fathers did. It was presented like this was exemplary and that seeing a caring father was like seeing a unicorn, and this presentation is relegated to Black fathers primarily. No one flips out or loses their shit over a white man playing ball with his kid or changing a diaper, but you can get instagram famous if you are a Black father doing everyday things fathers do with their children.

The adulation comes from a good place, but if we step back and examine the situation, it’s really a backhanded compliment. When the narrative people imbibe for years without fail is a narrative of deadbeat and absent fathers, this becomes the reality with which you view Black fatherhood. So much so that a Black father taking pictures on the internet with his own child will make him a celebrity. 

This is a double-edged sword because the reason for that celebration is that the celebrants think a Black man who is a caring father is a rarity. It’s an exception and not the rule to them. If they thought it was the rule, they wouldn’t fawn over them like this.

This also manifests in the blatant disregard and wholesale denigration of fathers and fatherhood in general, as if being a father and fatherhood is irrelevant. Let’s face it, many people flat out do not respect fatherhood and they think this mindset is normal. They think it is normal to insult fathers and fatherhood in general. It’s something to mock, deride and insult. It’s something to disregard in their estimation. Being irresponsible and a deadbeat is something relegated to just fathers. People will say things like “Shout out to all the mothers on father’s day” and they say this with all the sincerity and conviction in the world, as if there isn’t a mother’s day in existence for mothers. Even on a day carved out to recognize fathers and fatherhood, people still find a way to remove fatherhood from the equation. Funny that. Pray tell, what is father’s day without fathers then? It’s a day without meaning that’s what.

Of course, none of this is a dismissal of the pain and anger that some people have towards their bad, uncaring and absent fathers. Their anger and pain is real. However, they should recognize that their predicament is not universal. In fact, most people are not in that predicament. Your issues with your father are your issues, and not ours. It is unfortunate, but it does not give you the right to bogart a narrative and be dismissive of people who do in fact have wonderful relationships with their fathers. Tell your story, but don’t take away the joy from people who want to honor their fathers. Don’t get angry with people who do not have dysfunctional relationships with their fathers. Don’t be that person on facebook responding to father’s day posts with “Shout out to all the mothers on father’s day”.

Around these parts, we honor, venerate and respect fathers and fatherhood. I wouldn’t be who I am without my father. My uncles are great men and fathers. One of the saddest days in my life was when one of my uncles (my mom’s older brother) died in Lagos. I had fond memories of him. He was such a gregarious, friendly and funny person. He used to teach me about circuit boards and electricity. Plus he always came with snacks! He was like that with his own children, and by extension, as a nephew I was like his child as well. Much the same way I view my nieces and nephews as my children by extension.

My sisters are married to wonderful men who are all fathers. My female cousins are married to wonderful men who are all fathers. Most of my male friends are fathers. In fact, I am the exception to the rule by not being a married father. Hopefully, my day will come soon. I eventually want to be married, have children and raise a family. When my day comes, I want my children to honor and respect me, and I will give them all the reasons to do that by just being an upstanding man, like all the men that came before me. I will not fail them because every man I’ve been fortunate enough to see is not a failure. In fatherhood and in life.

I honor and respect these men because of the path they created and the examples they set for me. If I could be half the man my father is, then I know that I have already succeeded.

I recognize that not everyone is fortunate enough to have had the experiences that I have, but these are my experiences and they are my reality. I won’t promulgate the narrative of worthless fathers or the irrelevancy of fatherhood because that is a horrendous lie and nothing could be further from the truth for me.

Fatherhood is just as important as motherhood. They are two sides of the same coin. The failure and refusal by some to recognize this does not mean that it’s not true. Being belligerent about it won’t make it more true and most sensible people recognize and understand this. Talking about how worthless fathers are because you had a worthless, deadbeat dad doesn’t make the statement true. You’re only talking about your father and not fatherhood, and trying to make your deadbeat dad synonymous with fatherhood is foolhardy. Being extra vocal about it changes nothing. You can yell that 1 plus 1 equals 8 at the top of your lungs, but it doesn’t make it correct or true. You’re just someone yelling. We feel for you that you can’t add, but that’s all we can do. We can only pity you. However, the pity we have for you doesn’t mean we’re going to abandon arithmetic because you can’t add. No.

To my father and all the fathers I know, thank you. You are appreciated and most of all, you are deeply loved.

Happy Father’s Day.

This was a thing I actually paid for

So if you were around my blog this last couple of years you probably caught a whiff of my driving exam woes. Long story short, driving and everything related to it is fraught with bullshit in Brazil. Everything is taxed and overpriced and bureaucratized and most importantly catastrophized to hell and back; getting a permit is a goddamn investment, and it’s fraught as fuck. (You actually have a time limit to get everything done from the moment you pay your first overpriced request. I didn’t pass during the allotted time. I have no intentions of trying again for the foreseeable future because fuck that shit.)

One of these overpriced things is the driving school of your choice. You can’t just learn from your high school, that would have been too simple. You absolutely have to fill into a special government-approved school and attend every single one of the 45 hours of driving theory. They actually take your fingerprints to make sure you were present. This is such bullshit, my own teacher often taught the basics-of-first-aid during basics-of-mechanics hour. If that was the one hour you were assigned by the computer to learn how your car’s entrails are supposed to work, well, fuck you.

These schools often print their own class material. So did mine. Have I mentioned how these schools are overpriced as fuck? Like, they must be earning a goddamn motherfucking fuckton of money every year? Well, I have no idea where that money is applied, but it’s certainly not on their teaching material.

I imagine the person in charge of this sent an email to their nephewcontractor mentioning that they were expecting their students to be mostly 16-19, but the nephewcontractor misread it as 6-9.

Nevermind that 80% of the illustrations were completely pointless filler, nevermind that the assets belong to obviously different collections. This dude is absolutely going to build the dumbest possible scenes out of all these free resources he just googled!

I actually once spent an entire class cackling at my manual. Just. Bursting into uncontrollable laughter every other minute.

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Miranda Lorikeet is a true 90s kid. Born during the rise of the computer, the internet and the Tamagotchi, her art style divulges simplicity, colour and, in many ways, contemplation. We had a chat to this Sydney artist on her MS paint-tastic work below:

Describe your art style in five words.
Childish, simple, contemplative, familiar but surreal.

Who are your main influences?
Guy Billout is my biggest influence, I take a lot of inspiration from his themes and style. John Welsey for his colour palette and bizarre perspective. Ken price for his use of shapes and outline. Magritte, Dali, Miro and the rest of the 1920s surrealist movement. I also just discovered Mœbiu/Jean Giraud’s work, I really like comic book style cartoons lately. I like when drawings tell a story or convey an idea. Funny, clever, well-thought-out art that makes you question what it’s about. Drawings that make you smirk like you’re part of an in-joke.

What mediums do you predominantly use in your works?
I only use MS Paint.

Warm colours or cool colours?
Warm. I am in love with orange and red.

Is there a main concept/focus that your works revolve around? If so, what is it/are they?
Yeah, I’m trying to be more consistent with my themes. Most of my drawings are about two naked girls in this beautiful, chaotic, pastel universe. I like to draw natural landscapes like ice bergs, mountains, islands, wherever the water meets the land. The drawings I make are meant to be like dreams that aren’t quite nightmares. The feeling you get when you see something beautiful but something about it isn’t quite right.

If I could swap lives for a day with someone, it would be… (it can be anyone, artist related or otherwise)
Marie Antoinette, pre-beheading. Just for the fantasy. I want to be a queen and eat cake and drink champagne for breakfast, wear lots of blush and lace, run around all day with a little spaniel dog and parasol.

Any advice for prospective artists?
Make art that you would be proud to hang in your own living room.

Any last words?
Don’t keep basil in the fridge, it will wilt and absorb the smells of the food around it.

You can check out her work on her Tumblr here. Furthermore, you can take a look at her Instagram and her Society6 shop.

- Angel Nikijuluw

how i love you

▻ skysolo fanmix, can mostly be taken from luke’s perspective :+)

trying to be cool // phoenix , this charming man // the smiths , bizarre love triangle // new order , stylo // gorillaz , REALiTi ( demo ) // grimes , you hid ( yours truly ) // toro y moi , long, long, long // the beatles , face to face // daft punk