Respect a Woman

Do you like female OCs? We sure do!

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one last thing before bed. I'd give this a funny title but this post is so short and and i wanna keep those titles for other posts. coloring of this post.


I spent a month working on some stupid April Fools project that I thought would be funny. A fanfic reading of "Hear It's Cry", an April Fools creepypasta Zarla make in 2014. I thought'd it be funny but then I aded 90 more lays onto it and it required a lot more effort.

I posted the absolutely atrocious one here. After finishing (what I needed of) it, I felt bad because I'd hate having a joke like that so I made a second one that even though it was still bad (I bought the mic specifically to make this crappy video) so I'm not sure why i made it but one is more tolerable then the other.

This post is messy and unorganized but so are most posts.

Oh and if you don't wanna watch it don't worry haha you can have this picture anyways:

I made it in two minuets for fun and apparently it's terrifying to some of the people i sent it to. If you couldn't tell it's a simplebad edit of this picture Zarla had at the end of hear it's cry.

Alright that is all happy April Fools

How can you only be slightly wanted for murder???

So I colored a comic specifically to make a speedpaint of it.

The editor I use only has a recording time of 45 mineuts. When you get to that number it stops recording and doesn't tell you. It can only speed up footage to 600%. I've been using this softwear for 2 years.

This comic took me a week to color.

Once it had 30 minuets filled up I could only film me coloring 10 minuets at a time. What I ended up having to do is open a new file and record there. Then I had to speed that up. Then I have to move that footage over to the file where I actually had the video on, and surprisingly I could speed it up even more there. It was a lot of work and I needed to wait a long time for all of these steps to finish (drawing, waiting for the footage to render, speed it up, import it to the correct file, and speed it up again). I almost feel like I spent the majority of the time trying to edit in the last bit of the video that nobody is going to get to because the video is 40 minuets long.

anyways spend your time how you like I'd rather you be happy instead of sitting through 40 minuets of a speedpaint you don't wanna watch


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Morbid Humor - Sacrifice

Same as last time. It's funny summaries for sad comics and I liked them and thought I'd post them.

Hunter -

H: Psh, easy. I’ll be right back.

C: If you jump down, you’re not coming back.

H: I totally am, watch me.

H: *dies

Charger -

C: Well lets look at the pros and cons of the situation

:50 pages of cons:

:1 pro:

C: Well the pros outweigh the cons let’s go

Smoker -

Once again being skipped for not being funny. Again if you have ideas say so.

Jockey -

J: I’m going down, down in an earlier round!

J: And sugar, I’m going down singing!

([Song] Also It's probably only funny to be but I ended up laughing when I thought of this idea for a while.)

Morbid Humor - Not Immune

At one point i summarized the Not Immune comics and I thought they were hilarious. So here. It's not fanart but I just posted a bunch so it's fine.



S: Damn with all of that cackling you’d think she was one of those Jockey things



Charger -

C: :halfway through letter the last pencil breaks:



(Smoker's has been skipped it wasn't funny tell me if you guys have ideas)


H: hey guys

H: guys where did you go 


C: Where did she go?

J: Did she wander off again???

S: Into ANOTHER different safe room??? Really???


H: Oh hey there you are

J: Yay we found you!

H: I’m dying

J: Well that’s nice to hear I’ve been dead inside for a long time wanna go watch a movie sometime and find what else we have in common?

Halfway Down the Way

uhhhhh so I joined this community because I have an LJ and I have fanart so even though this page hasn't been updated in like 4 years (there was one post recently that's cool) imma post stuff here because if anybody notices it they might appreciate it.

Zarla already saw this fanart so sadly no new content for her (though i guess it is kinda new even if she already saw it).

does it count as a sketchdump if all of them are colored?

Probably not

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a bad habit on an eternal scale
pluto, charon

Way back in 2014 (about five posts ago on this community) I colored in a sketch that Zarla did of lonesurvivor!Smoker because I needed something to practice on. Fastforward to now... same situation really lol. I got reminded of these characters and revisited, and found that practice thing, and I happen to have just gotten a new tablet I need to practice with and well

lonesurvivor smoker flat

lonesurvivor smoker fire

(I think its easier to practice things like that on a sketch someone else did–it makes it easier to tell what is going wrong with my own lines and colors rather than leaving me to wonder whether I loused up with that or just the pose in general.)

Haven't interacted much with this story in a long time, but damn I still think about it all the time. I was a freshman in highschool when it started and I get to come back to it now as a genuine adult and its just wild how much time has passed. This thing was so formative, haha.

[It's been forever but I hope you all are doing fine. Thanks for the good times–there weren't a lot back then.]

A very quick fic. Wrote it on the phone. An army of survivors are psychopaths and find it hard.
I'm not heading back. So just watch the path.
Christ david, you can't even imagine going home.
Watch the path.
Just Watch the path. Alright.

The rifles shuddered against them as they would match in the blurs of men and woman on their path. The sky would ache grey rain and the snowy mud raised onto boots rising or falling. Each of them were ants and they scurried on two legs and polluted the snow with rags of breath and footprints that could sink knees. Watch them twitch and itch as if hands could stiffen onto rifles and hunt the enemy in the trees.

The woman called david would sythe the legs from her hips through the blue coldness of it. The pair of them cut through the snow as riots of hair lay under the helmet she wore. And below that she wore frowns and below that her face would be loud and grieving.

I know you don't want to go back. I knew since the ash-ford incident. Sherry is never going to see you Dave. She's never going to see you. You can't even imagine it anymore.
Watch the path.
I'm watching the path david. I'm watching it. We've always been watching it.

The speaker had torn grey iron on his scalp. It hung in short strands and a strange stillness was present in them. One hand was left at the strap of his rifle and the other was left at the stem of his service pistol, his fingers splayed Across the hatched surface patiently. And his queer stillness didn't leave his walk for he walked as if following game to kill and his body would be ready to raise itself and smite the game he followed. Compared to david he was taller and older and like others in their battalion he had jawbones and teeth from the infected he killed and placed upon his shoulders or would be hung across the neck of him.

This isn't like the first days David. Or the days when we left for the expedition. It's the damned days. Each day more damned than the last because the ash wasn't wood or paper or petrol.
What was the ash Phil.

Contrary to popular belief she is not weary when the words come from her. There is an energy in her voice when these words would spill from her. her stare would be across her side and tumbled into Phil.
You know the ash was skin and eyes and those other things with Latin names that constitute unarmed uninvolved people.
We did it Phil. We did it and now we've reached the south of that place. That kind of past is receding now Phil, there is less and less of infected in the plains and the world is moving. You're going to forget it. It's receding and drifting away from us.
We're here

All at once each one of the armed people's slowed their pace and let those behind stack into them while the rags of their breath collected and formed heavy rising wisps. The armour to the front and left of the column would Whisper with their engines as they slowed to the town. Hungry for the promise of the town some of them would laugh or weep quietly, while others would not leave that place that holds soldiers and would stand with their anger pointing to it.

The army surges into a town far south of Ashfield, and each soldier would trample spring snow into the black Tarmac. The armour would drift in first with skulls plated on the back of it and their tracked treads churning itself across the road. Their guns are matted into blackness but it shines on the snow and each operator stands from inside the hatch with binoculars on their hips and notches of kills wrote in spitter acid.

Afterwards the horses and after that the infantry. The Amy compresses itself into those spaces as the town swallowed them.


They call you david
Yes. They call me david
Because I killed Goliath
Yes I killed a tank and I'm a Jew so they called me david
Unorthodox name for a woman
That's the other reason they like it
I bet they do. What was your real name

The administrator sits with his face cleaned and open. His eyes were reddened and exposed awkwardly. The stench of suicide and doubt hangs on him.

What is your name ma'am
I took the oath
Ah. You choose to forget your name.
The same as half the army here.
It's for the better isn't it david
Yes , it's for the better isn't it. It's all for the better. I bet we feel better
Is there a problem David
No there is no problem

The administrator's chalky fingers and powdery breath. It would load and collapse feebly with each of the questions that slid off from his check list to the mouth. Paper forms would be bought before her and when she gave the right answers he stamped them with ink and folded them into envelopes stacked into cabinets. afterwards he would place his left hand on his breast as if his heart could leak out between his ribcage. In front of him a thousand soldiers formed a line toward his desk and each of them as fell and fierce as the woman he processed.

Your clear to pass enjoy your stay in grainsville.
You mean cure-town
I mean grainsville sergeant. It's this place's official name.
Alright, alright.
Enjoy your stay ma'am.

She reached the clearing behind the building while birds of vast sizes wheeled above in swathes of screeching. Then above the birds the sky would be a blindness in white and wind and vapour trails. Then above the sky planes flew in a endless ring in heaven.

She would move through the crowd and align herself to Phil. He was toying with the mandibles of a witch, his palm teasing the dried blood from the bleached stretch of bone. It was twisted in twine, with him calling it the lucky one since he killed the witch with a shard through its eye. Long ago he laughs and jokes of this.

Birds are big here David
Because their fat.
Oh yes. Their All fat here
What are you getting at
Their all fat here. I've got something to show you david.

He folds himself upwards into a walk. Briskly he gestures to david and she follows dourly. The lucky one hangs on twine to knock back against the the jacket and beads of teeth form a necklace which slopes forward from the neck.

So if your not going back. If you're not going back you can stay here with the garrison. It rotates every six months. But good work here as a freelancer. More loot. No one telling to not shoot things. We need no telling
You're right, you're right.
Alright we're here

A figure was hunched in snow and arms came out under it to grab handfuls of white. Around the figure five from the army held rifles and clubs and would lift the heavy ends of what they held and bring it down till the figure would weep. The five of them lifts it from the ground and have its arms held high while the rest of it droops and heaves. The figure held breathes lightly while the pain clings to it.
The five beaters
glare at david and Phil while david brings her fist balled, then runs five paces, then brings the fist to what the five held. And the punch was fell enough to bring a choking gasp from the figure so the soldiers laugh.

She stands smiling and the soldiers join here till they stare at what they hold in the centre of them. The figure wears a hoody with bandages across its eyes and Phil drags his hands down it, he feels breasts and brings a knee to her ribs while the laughter empties from his lungs.

A hunter. Oh a hunter. A hunter. A lady hunter. We used to call you lovers. You'd have to get close to them you see. You get close and take their ears with something. Do you want to see. Do you want me to take care of an ear.

Hunter chews on the blood in her mouth. The redness leaks as she finds words to call them. She calls them what they are and they laugh. One of the soldiers holding her brings their head high till it escapes the caged jacket they wore. His face is dour and when he laughs they are more bad impersonations of laughter. The veteran's scars vary from burns to stabs to gauges on the the pink from his neck to the collar. His mouth opens.

Is that what we are. You think that's what we are. We ain't no walking sickness. We are not fuckers. We're death. You can call us that because we killed all the hunters in the fires of Montreal. We found you with bullets and when you scattered we found you with bayonets and when you found us when we were sleeping we found you with our hands. And we took all of you in piles, dead, alive, dying we took you all in piles and laid you out on those streets like rituals. We took the fire to whole buildings and threw all of you in. See that's the joy of it because the soldiers who are masterful can take you alive. And when we did we chanted till the hill rung with your burning and our voices. Can you see it. The red over hills and the rising voices. Sometimes we drank and we would dance like Indians while we took your cooked bones and made vests from them. Some of the men and women would take you in dark places. You'd like that. You'd like us to take you to the dark. Come on.

In a silence that was worse than the laughter David took out her knife and the silent soldiers held hunter like a ritual. I'm a prayer thought david. I'm a prayer and this blood will be the icon of it and death would be the God of all things. And the bones and the ears and the teeth will be what God gives me.

A woman would raise her voice. She's 40 feet from them and held a book to her chest to hide herself behind it.

I'm sorry to bother you but I need to take her off your hands. My goodness what did you do to these soldiers hunter for them to this.

The woman has brown hair and plain dress around her limbs. Her face would be framed around the glasses perched to her face. An ingenue from the old days. Her voice fragments and squeaks. Like a mouse.

I'm with the civil administration.
The civil administration.

The ritual is released and hunter falls from their arms. The knife is lifted and held by David's scabbard. The collective of soldiers look to another then another. They hold the rifles tighter and frown.

Civil administration
Yes civil administration. We've been keeping the peace.
Keeping the peace.
Yeah. Yes that's what we do. Keep the peace.
Keeping the peace.
Yup that's us. Keeping the peace. We all do it ha. We keep the laws up to date on at least a state level. Can't be doing anything illegal. You know.
State. The state. Illegal. Things are illegal again.
Well we're leaving now. Keep up the good work. Ha. Okay. Goodbye now. Bye.

Hunter and mousy take steps from the crowd and only feel stares. The space widens into a distance that lessens the soldiers eyes. The soldiers would stand still and depleted with the hands off rifles and hanging to sides. The human flesh and bones they wore became unexplored landscapes their fingers tried to find a way out of. They mutter the words peace and law and illegal. If there was anything to remember with those words they had forgotten it. Home. Home is the crucial part and its missing. The words are strangers and it stays with them while mousy and hunter pale and stretch across the snow and to their eyes would be eaten by the whiteness.

Hunter and mousy look back and the soldiers are lost.

"Now we have NEW memories! Horrible, horrible memories..."
Juan/Sha smooch
Fic time!  Well....the first four chapters of a fic. But a fic nonetheless.  I meant to finish it all the way before posting, but at this point, I'm afraid if I don't start posting it, it'll be stuck in editing hell forever.

I'm going to do something different here, and post this whole thing straight to my AO3, because this is absolutely already way too long for a single LJ post.  So I"m just going to post the link and the summary here.

ANYWAY, please read, and give me feedback if you'd like! (I would love it if you did. It's the only way I will learn.)

Story: STOMP!
Fandom: L4D, Respect a Woman AU, Cured setting


14399 words and counting
Characters: Juan Rivera, Sha, Jockey, Hunter (so far)
Pairings:Hunter/Smoker, Juan/Sha (future. Maybe.)
Warnings: Swearing, violance, self harm and generally unhealthy behavior...none of this is particularly graphic, I think, but it is worth mentioning.
I make a note on the most worrisome chapter.

One of Juan's music buddies is putting on a performance in the Curetown square, and Juan decides to drag Sha out to watch her. (It was totally for his own good. Totally. Guy needs to get out more.)
Really...when you put a cured witch, who can very easily be forced into a dangerous relapse state by the mere presence of even vaguely threatening survivors, into close proximity with a lot of survivors, who do not feel at all comfortable around said witch...what could possibly go wrong? about everything?

Link to AO3 entry

Still kickin'!
Leon Scott Kennedy

Work was slow yesterday so I decided to draw (and even color!) The Ladies. And Warlock. I have not colored something traditionally in ages. But doggone it I had fun.


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