- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
Kiwitober 2022
- Thread starter MerriedxReldnahc
- Start date
Weeb Slinger
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2019
Twitter Meltdown
From the opposite side of the windshield, Stokes watched the panic-stricken pedestrian slide out of view, as they were drawn under the wheels of the self-driving cybertruck. A pair of bumps followed in rapid succession, rocking the vehicle alarmingly from side to side, like a galleon on the high seas. For a few seconds there was a repetitive thump, as if something caught in one of the wheel hubs was lashing the asphalt. Afterwards all that could be heard was the low drone of the electric engine and an FKA Twigs song drifting from the stereo system.
“Once we get the reactive quantum suspension working, you won't feel any of that,” said Musk.
“I make that five people we've killed in less than half an hour,” observed Stokes.
“If the bio harvesters in the tire treads were working, all that blood and gore would be converted into fuel,” said Musk. “I had the algorithm reprogrammed to produce carbon neutral journeys. It helps bump the Tesla ESG score. Also, you know those Super-Chromatic Peril Sensitive Sunglasses from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that turn black when the wearer is in danger? Well, we are developing windshield technology around that concept.”
For the first time in their journey the truck actually paused at a set of red traffic lights.
A frantic pounding on the exterior of the vehicle was accompanied by a muffled woman's voice:
“My scarf! My scarf is caught under your wheel!”
The light changed. As the truck pulled away it seemed to be dragging something along behind it.
“You feel that torque?” said Musk. “I put that in myself.”
“Returning to the subject at hand, you are being forced to purchase Twitter,” said Stokes.
“How can you force somebody to purchase a thing? Like if the CEO of Coca Cola started going round threatening to shoot people if they didn't start buying Coke Zero would anyone do it?”
“You are comparing apples with oranges. Coca Cola is something that has actual value. People like it and want to buy it. Twitter is AIDS in digital form.”
“All I am saying is, if I was ordered to purchase Coca Cola at gunpoint, I would purchase enough cans to produce an Iron Man-style exo-skeleton. Then I would sell the exo-skeleton in limited numbers to the general public.”
“A sound corporate decision,” said Stokes. “None the less we are talking about Twitter.”
“Well here's the thing: What if we are being mis-sold? What is the melting point of Twitter? Has it even been established? Flame wars routinely break out all over the site. Are there fire safety protocols? Is there even a sprinkler system in place?”
“I think that you are confusing an idiom with reality,” counselled Stokes. “Flame wars may generate a certain amount of heat on the servers, but no more than people posting images of cats. And certainly not enough to burn down Twitter.”
Musk pondered the lawyer's words. Slowly he felt his consciousness ebb from the interior of the cybertruck and rematerialise inside the entrance hall of his mind palace. He wandered through the opulent chambers, pausing occasionally to do coke off one of the bedroom floor-mirrors.
A double jolt under the wheels roused him from his meditation.
“Okay, what I am about to say most-definitely falls under attorney-client privilege. Say I go ahead with the purchase and insure the site. How many animated fire emojis would it take to start a blaze that would burn it down to the foundations?”
“You would require 300 per post,” replied Stokes. “The character limit on the site is 280. It's a fire safety measure.”
“Jack Dorsey knew what he was doing,” said Musk, shaking his head ruefully.
Abruptly the cybertruck rounded a corner, striking Miley Cyrus and her bodyguard, Dunnhier as they crossed the road.
“Holy shit! I think we just killed Lindsay Lohan and Jack Nicholson!” said Musk.
From the opposite side of the windshield, Stokes watched the panic-stricken pedestrian slide out of view, as they were drawn under the wheels of the self-driving cybertruck. A pair of bumps followed in rapid succession, rocking the vehicle alarmingly from side to side, like a galleon on the high seas. For a few seconds there was a repetitive thump, as if something caught in one of the wheel hubs was lashing the asphalt. Afterwards all that could be heard was the low drone of the electric engine and an FKA Twigs song drifting from the stereo system.
“Once we get the reactive quantum suspension working, you won't feel any of that,” said Musk.
“I make that five people we've killed in less than half an hour,” observed Stokes.
“If the bio harvesters in the tire treads were working, all that blood and gore would be converted into fuel,” said Musk. “I had the algorithm reprogrammed to produce carbon neutral journeys. It helps bump the Tesla ESG score. Also, you know those Super-Chromatic Peril Sensitive Sunglasses from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that turn black when the wearer is in danger? Well, we are developing windshield technology around that concept.”
For the first time in their journey the truck actually paused at a set of red traffic lights.
A frantic pounding on the exterior of the vehicle was accompanied by a muffled woman's voice:
“My scarf! My scarf is caught under your wheel!”
The light changed. As the truck pulled away it seemed to be dragging something along behind it.
“You feel that torque?” said Musk. “I put that in myself.”
“Returning to the subject at hand, you are being forced to purchase Twitter,” said Stokes.
“How can you force somebody to purchase a thing? Like if the CEO of Coca Cola started going round threatening to shoot people if they didn't start buying Coke Zero would anyone do it?”
“You are comparing apples with oranges. Coca Cola is something that has actual value. People like it and want to buy it. Twitter is AIDS in digital form.”
“All I am saying is, if I was ordered to purchase Coca Cola at gunpoint, I would purchase enough cans to produce an Iron Man-style exo-skeleton. Then I would sell the exo-skeleton in limited numbers to the general public.”
“A sound corporate decision,” said Stokes. “None the less we are talking about Twitter.”
“Well here's the thing: What if we are being mis-sold? What is the melting point of Twitter? Has it even been established? Flame wars routinely break out all over the site. Are there fire safety protocols? Is there even a sprinkler system in place?”
“I think that you are confusing an idiom with reality,” counselled Stokes. “Flame wars may generate a certain amount of heat on the servers, but no more than people posting images of cats. And certainly not enough to burn down Twitter.”
Musk pondered the lawyer's words. Slowly he felt his consciousness ebb from the interior of the cybertruck and rematerialise inside the entrance hall of his mind palace. He wandered through the opulent chambers, pausing occasionally to do coke off one of the bedroom floor-mirrors.
A double jolt under the wheels roused him from his meditation.
“Okay, what I am about to say most-definitely falls under attorney-client privilege. Say I go ahead with the purchase and insure the site. How many animated fire emojis would it take to start a blaze that would burn it down to the foundations?”
“You would require 300 per post,” replied Stokes. “The character limit on the site is 280. It's a fire safety measure.”
“Jack Dorsey knew what he was doing,” said Musk, shaking his head ruefully.
Abruptly the cybertruck rounded a corner, striking Miley Cyrus and her bodyguard, Dunnhier as they crossed the road.
“Holy shit! I think we just killed Lindsay Lohan and Jack Nicholson!” said Musk.
pursuitsnail
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2021
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2021
Last edited:
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
Day 3 - Twitter Meltdown
A haiku
Site is full of bots
People arguing on there
Are talking to themselves
A haiku
Site is full of bots
People arguing on there
Are talking to themselves
Weeb Slinger
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2019
Hate Meme
The Hacker Known as 4chan took his position in front of the bank ATM.
Songs of Sailors, Settlers and Swaggies by Rob Leereveld played at a sensible volume in his earbuds as he navigated through a series of menu screens.
“Damn they're good, but I'm better,” he muttered under his breath.
His fingers blurred across the keypad, entering the 4-digit pin that had been provided by the bank when he opened the account. After consulting his balance, he withdrew sufficient funds to pay for the modest takeaway that he planned to share with his biologically-female trad wife later that evening, along with the 175% tip that had become customary for over the counter service on Manhattan Island.
Afterwards they would watch a documentary on Netflix about Eskimos (or whatever the in-vogue terminology was for First Nation people who lived in the frozen north).
Later still, they would engage in consensual sex, in the missionary position, for the purpose of procreation. The Hacker Known as 4chan was hoping for a boy but, as his wife had reminded him, the decision on their child's gender would be made without their knowledge by a blue-haired, Kindergarten Sex Education Teacher.
The Hacker Known as 4chan finished his transaction. He politely stepped to one side to allow the next person in the queue access to the machine. Across the street a gang of lunchtime rowdies were making fun of a stockbroker's hat.
“One day a real rain will come and catch those rambunctious young men without an umbrella,” he thought to himself, shaking his head at their youthful exuberance.
“Hey Op!”
“It was Pepe – a Turkish frog who the Hacker Known as 4chan had met during the mandatory cultural sensitivity module that counted for 85% of their grade at engineering school.
“Praise be to Kek! I thought it was you,” said Pepe. “What are you doing here, of all places, in down town Manhattan.”
“Drinking-in the theatre of the streets...” replied the Hacker Known as 4chan “...the longest running show in New York City. The equal of any drama that you could see on Broadway.”
“Yes, yes, I should surely lurk moar too, but work intervenes.”
Pepe partly unrolled a giant blueprint against the wall of a nearby building, in the process committing a hate crime against minorities by obscuring a piece of rainbow graffiti calling for the police to be defunded.
“As you can see I am here to check on my latest adjustments to the Manhattan Island network of trams.”
The Hacker Known as 4chan studied the diagram closely. It depicted a section of track. A trolley car approaching was approach a Y-junction. Along one stretch a single figure was bound to the rails. Along the other route there were six individuals in a similar quandary. A person of unspecified gender who was manning the points had been crossed out. The two divergent sections of the track had been extended to form a loop, consigning everyone who was bound to the line to an identical fate.
“Equality in action, my friend!” said Pepe, taking a step back and bumping into a man who was passing behind.
“My friend, you should surely look where you are going,” he said.
At these words, the man paused and turned, fixing the pair with a steely gaze.
“What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch?” he enquired.
Pepe and the Hacker Known as 4chan soon learned that the man was a Navy Seal on shore leave. As the lunchtime crowds swirled around him, he described to his captive audience of two, his early successes in training, where he had easily out-performed his classmates. He was, by his own admission, a highly-effective field operative who had neutralised in excess of 300 middle-eastern terrorists. He had been trained by the military to fight gorillas. As a sniper he was without peer in the United States.
When Pepe guilelessly queried whether the soldier would be able to shoot the Statue of Liberty “right in the dick” from where they were standing, the man became enraged. He took out his phone and began messaging his network of spies. His other hand jangled a set of keys that he claimed unlocked the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps.
“I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands,” he boasted.
The Hacker Known as 4chan did a quick in-the-head calculation.
“Do you realise what this means, Pepe? He could kill you in a different way with his hands every day until the 2nd September, 2024!”
The Navy Seal began to reprimand Pepe for his smart mouth.
“Now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.”
With that he turned and disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear at a crosswalk, and again exiting a pizza joint.
“I think that was the guy who slapped my wife on the ass the other night,” said the Hacker Known as 4chan.
“What do?” asked Pepe.
“I looked down at my feet and said nothing.”
In the distance there was a muffled explosion as a tram collided with a Tesla Cybertruck that had grounded itself on the rails.
The Hacker Known as 4chan took his position in front of the bank ATM.
Songs of Sailors, Settlers and Swaggies by Rob Leereveld played at a sensible volume in his earbuds as he navigated through a series of menu screens.
“Damn they're good, but I'm better,” he muttered under his breath.
His fingers blurred across the keypad, entering the 4-digit pin that had been provided by the bank when he opened the account. After consulting his balance, he withdrew sufficient funds to pay for the modest takeaway that he planned to share with his biologically-female trad wife later that evening, along with the 175% tip that had become customary for over the counter service on Manhattan Island.
Afterwards they would watch a documentary on Netflix about Eskimos (or whatever the in-vogue terminology was for First Nation people who lived in the frozen north).
Later still, they would engage in consensual sex, in the missionary position, for the purpose of procreation. The Hacker Known as 4chan was hoping for a boy but, as his wife had reminded him, the decision on their child's gender would be made without their knowledge by a blue-haired, Kindergarten Sex Education Teacher.
The Hacker Known as 4chan finished his transaction. He politely stepped to one side to allow the next person in the queue access to the machine. Across the street a gang of lunchtime rowdies were making fun of a stockbroker's hat.
“One day a real rain will come and catch those rambunctious young men without an umbrella,” he thought to himself, shaking his head at their youthful exuberance.
“Hey Op!”
“It was Pepe – a Turkish frog who the Hacker Known as 4chan had met during the mandatory cultural sensitivity module that counted for 85% of their grade at engineering school.
“Praise be to Kek! I thought it was you,” said Pepe. “What are you doing here, of all places, in down town Manhattan.”
“Drinking-in the theatre of the streets...” replied the Hacker Known as 4chan “...the longest running show in New York City. The equal of any drama that you could see on Broadway.”
“Yes, yes, I should surely lurk moar too, but work intervenes.”
Pepe partly unrolled a giant blueprint against the wall of a nearby building, in the process committing a hate crime against minorities by obscuring a piece of rainbow graffiti calling for the police to be defunded.
“As you can see I am here to check on my latest adjustments to the Manhattan Island network of trams.”
The Hacker Known as 4chan studied the diagram closely. It depicted a section of track. A trolley car approaching was approach a Y-junction. Along one stretch a single figure was bound to the rails. Along the other route there were six individuals in a similar quandary. A person of unspecified gender who was manning the points had been crossed out. The two divergent sections of the track had been extended to form a loop, consigning everyone who was bound to the line to an identical fate.
“Equality in action, my friend!” said Pepe, taking a step back and bumping into a man who was passing behind.
“My friend, you should surely look where you are going,” he said.
At these words, the man paused and turned, fixing the pair with a steely gaze.
“What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch?” he enquired.
Pepe and the Hacker Known as 4chan soon learned that the man was a Navy Seal on shore leave. As the lunchtime crowds swirled around him, he described to his captive audience of two, his early successes in training, where he had easily out-performed his classmates. He was, by his own admission, a highly-effective field operative who had neutralised in excess of 300 middle-eastern terrorists. He had been trained by the military to fight gorillas. As a sniper he was without peer in the United States.
When Pepe guilelessly queried whether the soldier would be able to shoot the Statue of Liberty “right in the dick” from where they were standing, the man became enraged. He took out his phone and began messaging his network of spies. His other hand jangled a set of keys that he claimed unlocked the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps.
“I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands,” he boasted.
The Hacker Known as 4chan did a quick in-the-head calculation.
“Do you realise what this means, Pepe? He could kill you in a different way with his hands every day until the 2nd September, 2024!”
The Navy Seal began to reprimand Pepe for his smart mouth.
“Now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.”
With that he turned and disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear at a crosswalk, and again exiting a pizza joint.
“I think that was the guy who slapped my wife on the ass the other night,” said the Hacker Known as 4chan.
“What do?” asked Pepe.
“I looked down at my feet and said nothing.”
In the distance there was a muffled explosion as a tram collided with a Tesla Cybertruck that had grounded itself on the rails.
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
Day 4 - Hate meme.
I was lazy today, so I traced Uncle Sam.
I was lazy today, so I traced Uncle Sam.
pursuitsnail
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2021
This comes off unintentionally racist, but he's got small eyes that are close together in proportion to his face and his cartoonishly huge man-jaw is his most prominent feature following how amazingly square his head is. I'm not sure it's even possible to do a good, true to life caricature of Fong-Jones that is also kind of flattering (or at least doesn't come off as intentionally insulting).
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2019
4. Hate Meme
I have no artistic talent but I must contribute.
I have no artistic talent but I must contribute.
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2021
Day 4: Hate Meme
I think the way I fucked up the bottom text adds a sort of...je ne sais quoi to the piece
I think the way I fucked up the bottom text adds a sort of...je ne sais quoi to the piece
- Joined
- Mar 24, 2022
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
Day 4 - Hate Memes
A haiku
We don't make bad memes
Nazi faggot racists do
It's hilarious
A haiku
We don't make bad memes
Nazi faggot racists do
It's hilarious
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
Day 5 - Favorite Artcow.
It's none other than classic ol' Chris-Chan.
It's none other than classic ol' Chris-Chan.
Weeb Slinger
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2019
FAVOURITE ARTCOW
Jenffer was a menopausal grandmother who had been born into the body of a non-menopausal grandfather. Sometimes she was also a catgirl. Whether she was a catgirl or a menopausal grandmother, she always had massive tits. To gaze upon her bosom was like looking at a giant sack of tits, although in reality it was just a pair of massive tits in a sweater.
It was not enough for Jenffer to be graced by a pair of massive tits.
“Everything around me must also have massive tits,” she declared
“Jenffer, you have been banned from attending Thanksgiving this year,” said her stepsister. “Last year, you took Tommy's new Tonka truck. When you returned it, it had a massive pair of tits on the front. We had to purchase a very large bra to accommodate them.”
“If you allow me to attend, I promise that I will restrain my compulsion to adorn everything in my line of sight with massive tits,” said Jenffer, sincerely, her voice echoing through the canyon of her unbound cleavage.
“Very well, in that case, you may attend,” replied her stepsister.
At the thanksgiving meal, Tommy's two sisters were arguing over who was the more attractive out of Fredrick Brennan and the Hacker Known as 4chan.
“Fredrick Brennan has deep soulful eyes,” argued Pippa.
“Lotty James says that she saw a photo of the Hacker Known as 4chan's penis, and it was like a column of three penises that had been sewn together to form a penis Voltron,” countered Rachel.
“Girls, it is a matter of public record that both Fredrick Brennan and the Hacker Known as 4chan are exceptional gentlemen as well as being tender and responsive lovers,” said their mother. “Now go and help your father set the table.”
“I am sorry for giving your Tonka truck massive tits last year,” said Jenffer to Tommy.
“It's okay, I guess,” replied Tommy.
“The Thanksgiving Frog originated from the nation of Turkey,” announced Jenffer's stepsister. “It was clubbed to death in an alleyway in Brooklyn yesterday morning. I have shaved off all the chest hair to make it easier to eat.”
She removed the metal cloche from the oval serving dish. As the steam cleared, the assembled guests were greeted by the sight of a roast frog, lying on its back, its slender body almost crushed under the weight of a pair of massive tits.
All eyes turned towards Jenffer.
“I have been framed. No, wait I was hacked,” said Jenffer.
“Jenffer, we all know that it was you who gave the Thanksgiving Frog a pair of massive tits when no-one was looking,” censured her stepsister.
“Okay, I admit it,” wailed Jenffer. “I gave the Thanksgiving Frog a pair of massive tits, but it is only because I am traumatised that my massive tits will never be the most massive tits that ever there were, or ever will be, bigger even than God's massive tits.
“There will always be someone out there who has more massive tits,” counselled Tommy's father, sagely.
In that moment the maid burst into the dining room.
“I just heard on CNN: The Hacker Known as 4chan has passed away from extreme rectal trauma. Fredrick Brennan has also died from suffocation, after driving his wheelchair up the Hacker Known as 4chan's ass.”
“We should all pray for the souls of Fredrick Brennan and the Hacker Known as 4chan,” said Jenffer's stepsister. “Jenffer, I want you to promise, while we all have our eyes closed, that you will not add massive tits to anything or anybody in this house.”
“Meow,” replied Jenffer, who had acquired a pair of cat ears.
“I am going to take your meow as a 'yes,'” said her stepsister.
Jenffer was a menopausal grandmother who had been born into the body of a non-menopausal grandfather. Sometimes she was also a catgirl. Whether she was a catgirl or a menopausal grandmother, she always had massive tits. To gaze upon her bosom was like looking at a giant sack of tits, although in reality it was just a pair of massive tits in a sweater.
It was not enough for Jenffer to be graced by a pair of massive tits.
“Everything around me must also have massive tits,” she declared
“Jenffer, you have been banned from attending Thanksgiving this year,” said her stepsister. “Last year, you took Tommy's new Tonka truck. When you returned it, it had a massive pair of tits on the front. We had to purchase a very large bra to accommodate them.”
“If you allow me to attend, I promise that I will restrain my compulsion to adorn everything in my line of sight with massive tits,” said Jenffer, sincerely, her voice echoing through the canyon of her unbound cleavage.
“Very well, in that case, you may attend,” replied her stepsister.
At the thanksgiving meal, Tommy's two sisters were arguing over who was the more attractive out of Fredrick Brennan and the Hacker Known as 4chan.
“Fredrick Brennan has deep soulful eyes,” argued Pippa.
“Lotty James says that she saw a photo of the Hacker Known as 4chan's penis, and it was like a column of three penises that had been sewn together to form a penis Voltron,” countered Rachel.
“Girls, it is a matter of public record that both Fredrick Brennan and the Hacker Known as 4chan are exceptional gentlemen as well as being tender and responsive lovers,” said their mother. “Now go and help your father set the table.”
“I am sorry for giving your Tonka truck massive tits last year,” said Jenffer to Tommy.
“It's okay, I guess,” replied Tommy.
“The Thanksgiving Frog originated from the nation of Turkey,” announced Jenffer's stepsister. “It was clubbed to death in an alleyway in Brooklyn yesterday morning. I have shaved off all the chest hair to make it easier to eat.”
She removed the metal cloche from the oval serving dish. As the steam cleared, the assembled guests were greeted by the sight of a roast frog, lying on its back, its slender body almost crushed under the weight of a pair of massive tits.
All eyes turned towards Jenffer.
“I have been framed. No, wait I was hacked,” said Jenffer.
“Jenffer, we all know that it was you who gave the Thanksgiving Frog a pair of massive tits when no-one was looking,” censured her stepsister.
“Okay, I admit it,” wailed Jenffer. “I gave the Thanksgiving Frog a pair of massive tits, but it is only because I am traumatised that my massive tits will never be the most massive tits that ever there were, or ever will be, bigger even than God's massive tits.
“There will always be someone out there who has more massive tits,” counselled Tommy's father, sagely.
In that moment the maid burst into the dining room.
“I just heard on CNN: The Hacker Known as 4chan has passed away from extreme rectal trauma. Fredrick Brennan has also died from suffocation, after driving his wheelchair up the Hacker Known as 4chan's ass.”
“We should all pray for the souls of Fredrick Brennan and the Hacker Known as 4chan,” said Jenffer's stepsister. “Jenffer, I want you to promise, while we all have our eyes closed, that you will not add massive tits to anything or anybody in this house.”
“Meow,” replied Jenffer, who had acquired a pair of cat ears.
“I am going to take your meow as a 'yes,'” said her stepsister.
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2021
Day 5: Favorite Artcow
Puppychan has been MIA for the past couple months but she will always be #1 in my heart
Puppychan has been MIA for the past couple months but she will always be #1 in my heart
pursuitsnail
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2021
Like a lot of people my age, Ren and Stimpy holds a special place in my heart.
Then I saw John K's thread on Kiwi Farms.
It's also really weird that I'm putting more effort in Kiwitober garbage that I can never lay claim to having done than he does for NFTs.
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2021
Day 4- Hate Meme
Pictured here is your average internet "sicko"
Pictured here is your average internet "sicko"
Last edited:
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2013
Day 5- Favorite Artcow
Andrew Dobson might actually have been my first lolcow, before Chris-Chan even, and I watched his downfall for the last 14 years. Kinda sad to see him dissapear after all that.
He had an interesting relationship with Inktober where he actually did some nice art the first year he tried, used pen and ink even, and then got super butthurt about the praise he got on the drawings. Every year after that he'd shit on the challenge more and more while still *sort* of doing it. He was one of many calling the focus on traditional media "elitist" as if you can't just like, buy pens and paper at the Dollar Store. Then he got butthurt about the concept of having to draw every day so he started doing his drawings months in advance, which defeats the whole idea of the challenge. His art also got worse every year he did it and since he reached the point where this was mostly the only time he posted art at all, Inktober was testament to how much he declined.
He had an interesting relationship with Inktober where he actually did some nice art the first year he tried, used pen and ink even, and then got super butthurt about the praise he got on the drawings. Every year after that he'd shit on the challenge more and more while still *sort* of doing it. He was one of many calling the focus on traditional media "elitist" as if you can't just like, buy pens and paper at the Dollar Store. Then he got butthurt about the concept of having to draw every day so he started doing his drawings months in advance, which defeats the whole idea of the challenge. His art also got worse every year he did it and since he reached the point where this was mostly the only time he posted art at all, Inktober was testament to how much he declined.
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2021
Day 5- Favorite Artcow
(Tamers12345)
He got a wig for the costume in one of his recent vids so idk
(Tamers12345)
He got a wig for the costume in one of his recent vids so idk
Last edited:
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
