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Discussion in 'DeviantART' started by jack, Jun 20, 2014.
interpretation of Aaron Diaz sperm.
I want to commission some smut artist to show Diaz's female characters being raped by frat house dudebros and watch him have a meltdown when he sees it.
Shit, I'll do it. Even give you half off.
I guess this is character growth? Third panel makes me think that she wanted to fuck her mom like her dad did, and that's the sort of development Freud would be proud of.
Why does Miss Popular have such a big text bubble, but so little text?
Did Diaz's self insert's face change from last time? I don't think it was so square.
I like Kim's face in the last panel.
Were those two hanging over a ledge or something this whole time?!?
Was that last panel photoshopped in there? It looks like he's starting to take references now from squirrel girl.
Meh, I enjoyed Beaton's work better than Aaron.
Aaron's strips are just painful to read.
Even if I was a History/Philosophy/Science buff, I'd still find these strips to be bland (I can't believe I liked Kate's shitty comics). Strips like these are what you see in those terrible college papers with the criminal activity/report section being the only good piece in the paper (you see pretentious shit like this or some fuck-awful comic with random access humor).
Comparing the style, it does come glaringly painful. Beaton is a ok with me, probably due to her artwork which I terribly found pleasing in my eyes. Even though her humor mostly fall flat.
Aaron attempt at the guest comic on the other hand... *shudder*
His guest strip is something a wallflower would make to look smarter than his peers, but the strip falls flat on his face when everyone gives him that, "I don't get your shitty sense of humor" look.
I'm kinda surprised he doesn't have his own ED page yet.
He doesn't have a page because he didn't cause any real drama. He's just a narcisistic, boring faggot
He got into a hissy fit with a feminist and a webcomic reviewer calling him out, but yea he's been quiet for the most part out of retarded tweets.
Do you know what his connection with Ashly Burch is? I stumbled upon conflicting stories months ago when they both threw their hat into the GamerGate drama.
I *am* a history/philosophy/science buff, and I find Aaron's comic enraging. It's clear he has only the most superficial understanding of each of the concepts he touches on. He has no in depth understanding of the 1920's-30's beyond art deco, his comprehension of philosophy likely extends no further than the Myth of the Cave (and I bet he couldn't describe it to you), and his familiarity with science is limited to a child-like estimation.
I understand that this is speculative fiction, but we see nothing of the society that inspired the setting aesthetic, we have a perfect set-up for a Hobbsian Leviathan versus Nietchian Superman conflict, and we might as well alt+f4 'science' with 'magic'because they amount to the same thing.
Diaz could have given us 'Dune', instead we get DBZ. Fuck Diaz.
He has a very unhealthy obsession for her and her panties, and Kimi look really close to Ashley or his ex-girlfriend (who was Asian apparently). That's why some people call his Mary Sue Kimiko Burch.
And here I wondered why he couldn't get a girlfriend with his faux-suave demeanor and pseudo-science intelligent.
It's all of the above.
Like PUAs tell lonely men who pay for their sessions: cars and money mean shit if you're a loser. In Aaron's case, not even his SJW-Hispter attitude and pseudo-intellectual bullshit are helping him get celebrity panties or sex in/out of Twitter.
Does he went full SJW after broke up or after rejected by Ash?
Nah, standard male feminist motivation: a dick dry enough to ruin 30 square miles of alligator habitat.
Also, enjoy some try-hard faggot shit.
The Fall of Kimiko RossPart 1: The Rapening~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She inserted the saudering iron into her prosthetic arm with as steady a hand as she could. She wasn't ambidextrous by nature, and she'd had to learn how to do much of the repairs with her left hand. Breath slow and shallow to keep the tremors to a minimum, she touched the iron to the broken circuit.
Kimiko smiled as the circuit hissed and sparked. She could feel a tingle running through the prosthetic; her nervous system's way of processing the sudden flood of sensation. Flexing the arm and all five digits on the hand, she hopped off the worktable, her pert butt smacking the edge. "Not bad for a monomanual primate," she said to nobody as she examined her work. Examination done, she turned back to clear off the worktable. She reached into a drawer beneath the table and pulled out an overlarge sheet of drafting paper. Out from another drawer came a little black book full of notes and measurements. So equipped, Kimiko set pencil to paper to begin the long process of creating her next scientific miracle. Something crashed in the lab. She bolted upright, sending her stool clattering to the floor. There were *no* spills in her lab. Kimiko knew her work could be erratic and haphazard, but everything that wasn't in use got put back right where it belonged. It was a point of pride. Her eyes--one brown, one blue--landed on the lightswitch. She nearly leapt at it, her fingers striking three of the four switches at once. The lab flooded with light, banishing the shadows. Sounds of scuffling and another crash. There could be no doubt, she wasn't alone in the lab. A panel on her prosthetic leg popped open and disgorged a small pistol. It didn't have much stopping power, but it two or three shots would make any intruder think twice. And, she reflected as she raised the pistol in front of her, it would give her time to get to the big guns. So armed and comforted, Kimiko edged away from the central workstation. Out into the greater laboratory. She actually smiled, envisioning the damage she would inflict on whatever interloper was in *her* domain.
The lab was open-plan, meaning it resembled more a warehouse full of equipment than a regular lab. Rows upon rows of equipment and half-finished experiments filled the floor. The air filtration vents that were spaced every five feet or so kept the dust and contaminants to a minimum. The lighting was bright, and Kimiko personally organized everything so that there was never anything in the aisles. So it was child's play to find what had fallen over. A glass sample case lay shattered on the floor, the light-reactive chemical inside spilled out all over the concrete, inching its way to the drain. But next to it was something she didn't recognize. It was certainly not one of her experiments. It was a brown oblong object, with each end tapering to a soft point. With the hand that wasn't holding the gun, she picked the object up. Despite being about as big as her head, it was light, probably hollow. It was made of what felt like leather. She turned it over and saw bright white stitching on one side. Far too thick and the wrong pattern to be functional stitching, it was purely decorative. "What is this?" she asked. "It's a football, ya dumb cunt," said a masculine voice behind her. Surprise flooding her mind, Kimiko whirled around. The very next thing she was aware of was a blinding pain from her cheek. Down she went, the force of the punch spinning her in place. Her legs tried to stay under her, and only half succeeded. She slammed into the concrete floor, her breasts taking the brunt of the punishment, her face on the ground and her ass in the air.
Shoving the pain aside, Kimiko rolled to her left and swung her gun up. She spotted a blurry shape moving toward her. On reflex, she squeezed the trigger. A bolt of intensely focussed light, a bluish-purple in color, lanced out of the pistol with the sound of a thunderclap. But the bolt went wide, missing the man completely. She tried to readjust her aim, but he was already in her face, one meaty hand on her wrist, keeping the pistol pointed away. Kimiko realized what he was doing, and felt a surge of confidence. That was her prosthetic arm he was holding. With a swift jerk, she pulled free from his hand and swung her pistol at him again. The man swore, just narrowly avoiding getting the gun stuck in his face. He grabbed her arm again, this time holding on with both hands. He shifted so that now he was pressing his whole body weight against Kimiko's prosthetic arm. For her part, Kimiko began wriggling away from him, kicking wildly at him as she did so. "Fuck!" he swore again. His face, covered in dark beard stubble, was contorted with exercion. "Someone grab her legs!" Two more men appeared out of the darkness. One, a fat man in some kind of sports-type shirt like what the athelets wore, grabbed her ankles. Kimiko wrenched her artificial leg out of his grip and kicked. The fat man jumped back, hands out and up as if surrendering. She had just brought her leg back to kick again, when a third man appeared. He was big, covered in muscles, and looked angry. She tried to direct the kick at him, but he just stepped to one side, letting it miss him. She didn't get another shot. Without a word, he reared back a fist and landed it just below her breasts. Pain filled her world. Air whooshed out of her lungs with a strangled moan. She went limp, then curled into a ball. Her lungs wouldn't inflate; each time they tried, another bolt of pain shot threw her body. The men wasted no time. They grabbed her wrists and yanked her up. Her natural arm nearly came out of its socket. Through the pain, she tried feebly to fight them off, but it was no use. Even her prosthetic wasn't strong enough, not once they wrenched it around behind her back. The fat one pulled some kind of black cable from a nearby bag. The other two wrapped it around her wrists and then bound her arms together. They dropped her to the floor. Unable to catch herself, she landed hard. Her skull bounced off the concrete and her vision swam for a moment. "Shit," said the fat one. "Hell of a fighter, ain't she?" "You weren't the one playing patty-cake with her robot arm," said the one with beard stubble. The fat one got in the other man's face for that. "Dammit Tim! I was gonna help! But she about took my nuts off with her foot!" "That's enough," barked the muscled one. He was looking at Kimiko, his eyes roving all over her, lingering on her breasts and butt. That made her sick to her stomach. But what made her afraid, what set her lizard brain screaming in panic, was his expression. He looked more annoyed than anything. Kimiko was reminded of dissecting frogs when she was a child. Curiousity and appraisal, but strictly business. *********** Can post more when not lazy.
What in the fuck is wrong with her leg. Like damn son. Does this not bother you in the slightest? I don't care if it's just a sketch.
I feel like having noodles now
He could have at least put a little white line so that it didn't look like her legs were merged together. What is going on with her cape? Why is her helmet so off-center? Why is her left arm so huge? Where is her hair going? What even happened to the lower half of her left leg?
This is dreadful.
One of the more important drawing tips I ever got was "Sketch =/= shitty doodle". Sketch is supposed to contain enough graphic info for the next stage to go smoothly. This, however, is a post-it-note grade doodle that would need to be sketched anew just to get the pose right.
Aaron might be getting a steadly flow of monies, but it only made him more lazy and self-important.
The more I look at this picture the worse it gets. I'm glad I noticed only her legs initially because her fucking arm is atrocious and drives me up the damn wall.
"Man that character development on the last page sure was a thing that happened. Now on with the plot!"
This feels like whiplash. Pretty much the whole comic's been kind of dramatic, with some humor sprinkled in here and there. But now this whole page is inconsistently humorous, and it's really tripping me up. Why does she keep saying "jump" when manages to throw her triple-amputee self around? How did she get at the fruit without knocking the stand down? Is the lady holding up her own speech bubble? The man looks so incredibly different from how he first appeared. What happened to Kim's wheelchair? Where did the second stool at the bottom of the page come from? Why did it take so lung for Kim's lungs to start acting up, and not during that long-winded monologue?
What is happening anymore in this comic?
I know amputee / cripple can walk around and get stuff on their own. But this page is just ridiculous.
Even Nick Vujicic, the guy who has no limbs, doesn't walk around on his stomach. And he has no qualm being escorted on a wheelchair either.
Aaron as usual goes for "empowerment" bullshit.
Laziness and not caring is what.
It really seems like Diaz just wants to get the plot rushed through or over with in this page.
"Oh yeah, uh, this is our hideout, let's throw a mention of the deal with Melchoir in one or two sentences, blah blah, I'll solve Dark Science in two weeks despite little explanation of it to the reader..."
Not to mention the faces keep subtly warping, especially Kimiko's.
It'll be cute if he was doodling this in his college notebook for his own personal entertainment, but fer chrissakes he's got a Patreon. More quality, not less.
Diaz is fapping to his waifu flopping around on the ground. It's standard amputee-fetishist shit. They get off on the idea of the girl not being able to do anything.