Siren's Art

These were supposed to be serious redesigns but after a certain point i had to accept that i was just drawing whatever outfit i wanted to see them in

(close ups + design notes + me rambling under the cut)

The quality on these is really crunchy and idk why, sorry

You guys do know that Kai becoming a monster is representative of the idea that he’s scared to hurt his friends RIGHT.

YOU GUYS KNOW THAT THERE IS DEEP SYMBOLISM IN BODY HORROR THAT HAS BEEN BUILT FOR GENERATIONS OF FILM AND BOOK HORROR THAT IS BEING IMPLIED RIGHT???

He wouldn't be scared of becoming a serpentine, or a nindroid, or a ghost, or even an oni if it meant he was still himself, just with a different look.

Heck, fusing with his element wouldn't be "that bad" because Nya was Water, was the Ocean, with all it's chaotic extremes, and while she wasn't herself she wasn't hurting anyone.

She wasn't a Monster.

The Centipede on the other hand is Something Else.

Centipedes are opportunistic predators with a voracious appetite, they'll eat anything that moves.

And that includes their own family. Often, a House Centipede's first meal is their own siblings.

That plus all the implications of the Centipede Mural- that becoming a centipede both literally and metaphorically, was not off the table.

And even if he were to remain physically human, that Centipede mentality, that Monstrous mentality of being an uncaring thing driven only by instincts of -kill, eat, kill, eat, kill- rather than a person would be horrifying.

The body horror isn't what he fears, it merely confirms it.

This is also part of why I like the "Seems human, but is actually very Bug" versions of Bug!Kai- Mandibles hidden away in cheeks, chitin sealed in gloves, useless legs running down his sides covered by padding.

He's hiding his bug parts, because he doesn't want to talk about his experiences, his monstrosity, but at the same time letting it out and just showing that he had been affected by what happened would be healthier and allow his family to help him.

But if he shows them what happened to him, what he's turned into, that means accepting that the events of Monstrosity really did affect him, that in his own eyes he's already been a monster for 5 years.

And he doesn't want to be a monster.

He can't be a monster playing at being a human.

Even though, on some level, he already thinks that.

Lloyd: I’m down to cry and eat spiders.

What started off with me scrolling through fanart of Kai turned into me going; "Man Kai would rock a crop-top..... man how many scars can I fit on 1 man's body?"

The first is crop-top Kai obviously with my initial idea of his centipede transformation, but its not how I imagine him anymore, but a lot of it carried into my current design!

Then the 2nd is me trying things out, and as much as I like fanart of him with the green bug thingy guy-- (I deadass forget his name, nor do I truely care) --I much perfer the angst and possibilities with centipede Kai. Though I do enjoy good ol' mind control, I may revisit him later on.

The last and final one is my amazing and totally not scar-riddled Kai! I love the idea that not only does he have the centipede physical attributes, he has the 'mark' of the centipede monster. Like a mark of death, but more so that he is destined to become a monster -- transform into a disgusting creature, repeat the cycle that Rusty swore to end.

Some fun facts about the design!!;

The centipede mark wraps around where his heart is, symbolising not only his physical change, but an emotional one. Kai is never going to be the same as he once was; forever changed by his time in The Land of Monsters.

The centipede mark looks like a tattoo, but it shifts under his skin, giving Kai the feeling of bugs crawling under his skin. One that no matter how often he scratches and claws at, it will never come out. (I have my one of my best friends to thank for that idea!!)

He tried to rip the pincher off his face when they first broke out from under his skin, and when that didnt work he tried burning it off-- except when the scaley-skin of the pincher broke, acid burst out instead of blood. It burnt Kai's face, leaving one side more mangled then the other. Another permant reminder that this is something that is not suppose to be apart of him.

Not *a* centipede, not a half human half centipede person, not a monster.

Just. A pile of centipedes.

He's not centipedes all the time, it just happens from time to time.

Also, his consciousness is a hivemind in his bug form- All of the centipedes are him, even if they tend to move around on their own (Bug instincts/subconscious stuff)

He can also form a slightly more humanoid body out of his centipedes, though legs are hard when your body is made up of squirming bug-adjacent critters, so he only really forms the upper half unless it's around his family (He *really* doesn't want them to know that he's Bugs) and it's a lot easier to just be a pile of centipedes when he's tired.

So yeah.

"I would give anything for this all to be over." "...Even my humanity."

*slightly more unsettling version under cut*

[ID in alt]

So... I heard this guy is bugs?

Bonus:

F u, Eridians your Ninja

Ninjago x Project Hail Mary Au ig??

Not alot of ppl will care about this but idc lol I'm just posting this to post it, I think my fav might be Zane but meh

The designs r subpar but I hope some 1 on Tumblr might like them

But uhhh yeah, Reblogs with tags and likes r rlly appreciated

anyways calming down now here have some of my Kai the Eridian doodles from before his design became what it is now

ft Centipede Kai for funny lol (Dw his feelings weren't hurt cause its kinda true lol)

Kai is my favorite but uh, I have bias so I probably dont count anyways js gonna yap a second bc

FUNFACT Kai specifically is made of dissolvable rock :D

so thats where his scarring is from yippe

another funfact Kai is both the smallest and spikiest of the group lol

I am just a little guy who has developed a fondness for this pairing.

When things fall apart for Hank, they fall apart spectacularly. Tess stands there with her hands in her pockets. There's a glint in her eyes, one quickly blinked away. (It's regret over--all of it, not pity, but she'll be damned if she lets Hank see her teary-eyed after the day he's had.) "Being a mutant sucks sometimes." The sardonic way she says it might not be tactful, but it is honest.

Yeah. Being a mutant fucking sucks sometimes, and it sucks for some mutants more than others.

After an awkward sort of shuffle and a bit of fidgeting with her pocketed hands, she opens her arms to him, the way she would for her nephew and nieces, or Rodney after his parents died. "C'mere."

"It'll be our secret."

It has been . . . a tiring, day.

First of all, he'd made the cardinal mistake of daring to go to sleep - he'd been without for three days now, and even with his cat-like metabolism, it was starting to affect him. Down had come the camp bed in the lab, KLICK had gone the reinforced feet, and FLUMP had gone Henry McCoy, right onto warm, soft sheets.

He had gotten approximately twenty three minutes of sleep before he had been woken up by Julian Keller and Quentin Quire having what could only be charitably described as a telekinetic slapfight. How, might you ask, had he been woken up by that, considering his lab was soundproofed?

Well, they had decided that their slapfight would go right through Hank's wall, of course.

Through a table of lab cultures and bacteriological experiments that had taken weeks to prepare, had been sitting there for a month being observed every day, twice a day, and now . . . now, the entire thing was going to have to be thrown out, started over again, and all of his current test results scrubbed because the group had been ruined.

Then had come the rest of the morning, and oh had it come for him without mercy. His attempts to get even a middling breakfast were completely stymied by the children having eaten them out of house and home, every single cupboard bare, save for three Hot Pockets that Hank refused to eat, with the distinct air of a man who would rather die than let them burn his mouth to a charcoal crisp.

So, he had elected to go out for food. A simple enough endeavour, one would have thought.

His favourite cafe was closed, so he had had to make do with a newer pop up little thing that sold coffee at too high a price and over-presented their food to make up for the fact that it was simply whelming. It had been - fine, up until he had noticed that the family three tables over kept shifting uncomfortably, their baby crying off and on again, which was just, actual nails on a chalkboard to a man like Hank McCoy.

Cue the server coming along to quietly inform him that he was making the family uncomfortable, that the baby wouldn't stop crying because it kept staring at him and becoming upset, that the mother understood, of course, that this was Dr. Henry McCoy, PhD, M.D, Avenger and X-Man and celebrity, but his eyes, you see, his eyes are just a little too -

So he had been turfed out of the little pop up cafe, resorting to eating his food on a park bench. Fine. Fine, this was the way of things, he would persevere.

The nearby apartment block had promptly exploded into a cacophony of flames, thanks to what was immediately obviously a gas leak. Down had gone the croissants, up had gone Hank, pulling people out through windows and bounding down to put them out of harm's way. He had done a fairly good job of clearing them all out, too, when the main gas supply had ruptured and sent him flying ass over tea kettle, right into a wall, and then -

Whomp.

Out cold.

The very first thought he'd had when he woke up was, well, at least I got the rest I wanted. The second thought was, are they really waking me up with a thrice damned fire hose?!

They were.

Up he had gotten, his fur singed and wet, his expression absolutely thunderous, and the fire chief had just patted him on the back, thanking him for his service before going right back to what he was doing. Hank had stomped back to the park bench, only to find - of course, that his food was gone. Pilfered, it seemed, by the local wildlife.

He had trudged back to the Institute, peeled out of his uniform, and gone to sit by the fireplace in his underwear and a robe, wrapped up tight and doing his best to make sure as little of his body was on show as possible. He didn't like showing skin - or, fur, rather - anymore.

He had made the cardinal mistake of glancing up at the mantelpiece, and staring at the picture of them, the photo portrait that had hung there for years. The Original Five, and Charles, of course. Sat around the Professor, all smiling, all happy. All so very.

Human. Looking.

He found himself, as he always did, staring at that boy.

That smug, insufferable, oh so clever, oh so verbose, oh so stupid boy. The boy that had thought himself a man, and set him down the path to all of this with so little thought, just a whim, just a touch of ego.

He hated that little bastard.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he'd slammed his paw into the photograph, and what had once been Hank McCoy's handsome features was reduced to a scrap of torn paper and glass, his face screwed up into an unrecognisable mess of gloss and fine wood backing.

It was only Tess' words that brought him out of his awful little reverie, and he blinked, looking at her. There was something in his eyes that was very small and very - very fragile, that couldn't quite become tears, even as the glass tinkled off of his knuckles.

". . . Yes. Yes, I . . . suppose it does . . ."

It says a lot about just the kind of day he's had that he doesn't even try and pretend like he doesn't need the hug, and he just, acquiesces. Curls around Tess like he might just fall apart if he doesn't have something, someone to hold on to.

It's a good thing his back is turned, away from the portrait. Tess gets to watch as the scraps of ruined gloss paper that had been Hank's sculpted jawline, his sharp cheeks, his intellectual brow, came away from the rest of the portrait and fell into the fire, where they curled, and melted, and died.

Instead, he has Tess.