I just deleted some drawings of my blog (yeah, like 12 or 13 posts,, im sorry abt that,) But I know what to do abt it, to try to not do it again (but I know I will eventually delete more drawings from my blog as long as i keep noticing things I dont like abt my art)
Even tho I left some of the recent drawings, I notice that theyre not as good as Id like them to be,, but as an artist, I have now th ability of knowing What I dont like about my art, so Here I am with a little list of what to change to keep growing as an artist, but keeping the things I love about my current style:
Draw Backgrounds, dont just stay with the simple grey background youre currently using,, CREATE A SCENE for the character to be in, and remember that the background has to match the style of the character, bc if it doesnt match, it looks UGLY, or WRONG, and that is not ok. You can look at refs for that, it might be difficult to learn, but it will be SO WORTH IT,
Draw DIFFERENT EXPRESSIONS for the lov e of goku,, EXAGERATE!! DRAW UGLY EXPRESSIONS!! MAKE THE DRAWING LOOK AS EXPRESSIVE AS YOU CAN!! you can Always look for tips and tutorials, and references, theres no way you can learn this by yourself, look at your current art, If you havent learnt that by yourself already, it means that you ACTUALLY NEED references,, and thats not bad in any way, theyre necessary and Good.
DRAW DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES,, this one sounds TOO complicated, but it is not impossibleto learn abt it,, Stop drawing just the front view of the character, theres so many other perspectives to draw a character!! theres a lot of possibilities,, dont just stay inside of your comfort zone, thats lazy,,
CHOSE ONE COLOR SCHEME AND STICK WITH IT. dont use ALL of the colors of the fucking rainbow to make one art piece, you should just choose TWO OR THREE base colors and then make all the other colors match with those base colors… Basically, read those color guides Gato showed you 2 years ago, that you actually didnt read. They will help you a LOT.
use R E F E R E N C E S,, and tutorials and tips from artists who know better abt these topics,, and KEEP RECIEVING CRITIQUE from other ppl (i AM recieving critique gracefully, but not really as much as Id like to, but anyways, yeah)
im gonna do research to find tutorials and refs that help ME with these, and im gonna link them in this post, but these are the 5 things I gotta do to feel better abt my art
I TOLD Y'ALL TO STOP ME BUT YA DIDN’T HAVE A FANFIC THEN.
Ha ha I have panic attacks and I imprint on Anxiety too much. I just sat down and wrote this so no editing aka it’s shit.
Anxiety couldn’t figure it out.
He sat there, staring at blank paper, and he couldn’t think of a thing.
For a moment he just sat there, pencil hovering over the paper. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and wrote down three simple words. But when he he looked at it again…wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, this didn’t feel right at all. With a sinking feeling he quickly erased the only progress he had made in two hours.
Something in him told him this wasn’t going anywhere, but anxiety couldn’t react to the thought in any way except tightening his blanket around shoulders that simply refused to warm up.
How did he do it? How did he brainstorm, daydream, create, just…do it?
Frustration, that’s what he should have been feeling. Frustration, anger, even jealously maybe. But all he felt was a dull, sinking feeling that had no name, that he could only liken to hopelessness.
He couldn’t think of anything.
His mind was blank.
He just couldn’t think of anything.
Anxiety could feel the familiar sensation of his heart quickening a bit, but he had no reaction, just staring at those blank lines, knowing his thoughts were just as empty.
No. No, this is ok. Deep breaths.
He repeated it over and over in his head; it’s ok, deep breaths, just take deep breaths, it’s ok, it’s ok. But his own lungs didn’t respond, he couldn’t control them as his breath quickened, quickened, and he couldn’t control it, he couldn’t control his own body.
No, no, don’t do this, the plea was drown by incoherent
thoughts. If he couldn’t think of anything Princey would laugh at him, and then Logan would be disappointed in him, and then Thomas would push him away, and then he would be alone, and then and then and then and then and then at the age of thirty he would be dying and homeless even though it made no sense for an emotion to be homeless.
Anxiety felt his very namesake rising in his chest and he could only stare at the paper as choking sobs escaped against his own will and he couldn’t control it at all. Thoughts just raced so fast, so fast, so fast, he couldn’t even register them until another one slammed down on him.
He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it-
He barely recognized arms around his waist in a soft hug.
It was all quiet except for the sound of Anxiety’s own ragged breathing and sobs. It took all his energy to focus on Morality’s arms around him and the quiet understanding between the two and the attempts to slow his panic to a halt.
Four minutes passed like that. Morality said nothing, just stayed there to reassure Anxiety that there was someone there, someone who was worth trying to get better for. Until finally Anxiety stopped hyperventilating, left exhausted, physically and mentally. His mind was once again blank, but now with simple weariness, and his whole body trembled ever so slightly in a cold sweat.
Then Morality shifted so that be could smile at Anxiety over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. No one else saw.”
A dull feeling of relief swept through Anxiety. He said nothing. Morality just gently took his hand, led him away from the blank papers to the kitchen slowly as to be sure Anxiety wouldn’t falter in his dazed state. His grip was lenient, his smile warm.
There was no judging. No pity. Just an understand and a certain kind of care.
every time there is a new game with beautiful new characters there is always someone who goes “at least my character isn’t a top model” as if they want to be applauded for that because apparently looking like a top model is “bad” or “not realistic”
okay but what is wrong with looking like a top model????
and why do you have such a low opinion of top models? we all suffer from the society we live in and its beauty standards. you think top models don’t? you think they don’t work hard, that they don’t feel pressure? that they don’t have a life and hobbies and people they love and books they like to read and dreams? what, you decided they’re all superficial? do you even know what goes on in their life????
and what is the link between looks and top qualities you might look for in a Pathfinder????
hate to break it to you pal but THERE IS NO RELATED LINK.
beautiful Ryders who look like top models CAN STILL DO THE JOB AND BE AS GOOD AND AMAZING AS AVERAGE LOOKING RYDERS
I mean, by all means, go and make an average looking Ryder and be proud because it’s your Ryder, but don’t do the whole “looking down at beautiful Ryders who look like top models” thing, it makes you look insecure, petty and ignorant
Kylux with Ren loving Hux's freckles? (Doesn't have to be soft kylux lol) thanks :)
“Look at you.”
“Look at what?”
Hux lets out an irritated huff and lifts his eyes from his datapad. His cheek is pressed against Ren’s chest, looking almost childish if it wasn’t for his cold eyes. The last time Ren called him adorable Hux threw his razor at him.
“What is it, Ren?” Hux asks, brows raised, impatient for a response.
Ren tightens his arm around Hux, fingers digging in under his ribs. “I’m looking at your shoulders.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
He’s immediately defensive. Almost cutting Ren off before he finishes his sentence. Outside of their dirty talk, Ren isn’t allowed to talk about Hux’s slimmer frame.
“No. I meant your freckles.”
Ren ducks his head, thick lips ghosting against Hux’s shoulder. The freckles are very faint, hidden under the dusty pink blush. It’s youthful. So different from the general he knows.
Hux shifts in his arm, trying to scoot away but Ren holds him close, crushing Hux against him. “Stop it.”
“Ren, let me go.”
“I like them. I wasn’t trying to mock you.”
Hux brings one hand up to pinch Ren’s left nipple. He succeeds in slipping away when Ren jerks. Hux smirks, evading Ren’s embrace as he rolls away from his lover.
Ren likes their games. As small as their are. As frequent as they’re becoming.
“You have freckles on your face too.”
“I do not.”
“You do, baby. They’re so faint. But they’re there.”
Hux wiggles his way back into Ren’s arms. His datapad is between their stomachs, forgotten. “And what about you? And all these?” He pokes a spot on Ren’s rib cage.
“Yours look nicer.”
“If you say so.”
Ren tugs Hux snugly against him, dipping his head for another shoulder kiss.
‘Sitting is essentially a simplified space. Our daily life is in constant movement: lots of things going on, lots of people talking, lots of events taking place. In the middle of that, it’s very difficult to sense that we are in our life. When we simplify the situation, when we take away the externals and remove ourselves from the ringing phone, the television, the people who visit us, the dog who needs a walk, we get a chance - which is absolutely the most valuable thing there is - to face ourselves. Meditation is not about some state, but about the meditator. It’s not about some activity or about fixing something. It’s about ourselves. If we don’t simplify the situation the chance of taking a good look at ourselves is very small - because what we tend to look at isn’t ourselves but everything else. If something goes wrong, what do we look at? We look at what’s going wrong. We’re looking out there all the time, and not at ourselves.’
The tension was thick as Lucy and Natsu stood back to back, their eyes scanning the letters they wrote for each other. It was their wedding day, and they had decided on a first look moment when they had first gotten engaged.
“But it’s bad luck to see a bride in her wedding dress! What if the flowers don’t get there or the doves die or–” Lucy had protested, but Natsu had shushed her.
“Luce,” he said, looking into her eyes, “nothing is gonna go wrong with that day if I have anything to say about it.
A year of preparation later and many dresses and tuxes altered and sewed, the day had finally come. The flowers had gotten there just fine, and the doves were alive and well. The last thing left was for Natsu to see Lucy in her wedding dress.
Tears filled Lucy’s eyes as she read Natsu’s letter. He had always told her that he wasn’t good with words, but these were written like poetry. Lifting a hand to her mouth, sobs escaped her as she scanned the paper.
Natsu was also holding back tears as he read her letter, but he also wanted to comfort his future wife. He knew that they were happy tears, but hearing her cry wasn’t his favorite sound.
“You ready, Lucy?” he asked, still choked up from reading the words she wrote.
“Yeah,” she said, and they began to count down. It was something they had discussed that they would do on the day of their wedding, and they weren’t about to back down now.
“One,” Natsu said.
“Two,” Lucy followed.
“Three,” the two of them said together, and then they turned around.
Immediately, Natsu smiled toothily as he saw his bride. Her dress was strapless and full of lace and sparkles and fell past her feet and had a slight train. Her hair was tied in a stunning fashion and pinned up with many rhinestone pins. Her makeup was light but pretty, and he smiled when she stuck out her ankle and found that her garter was checkered like his scarf.
“So? What do you think?” Lucy giggled, twirling around for him to see. Tears blurred his eyes as he ran to embrace his future.
Lucy yelped when he picked her up and twirled her around before setting her down and grasping her tight.
“Lucy,” he mumbled, kissing her neck lightly, “you’re beautiful.”
Cap reacts sort of badly to a reporter implying Bucky was gay. Phil is a little heartbroken. Clint waits and in private warns Steve to keep that attitude to himself. Steve can react as you see fit.
This fic contains
instances of homophobia, several homophobic slurs, obscenities, and threats of
physical violence. Do not read if any of
this makes you uncomfortable!!!
“What the hell?”
Steve slammed the paper down onto the table. Phil glanced up from his Starkpad, coffee in
hand. They were the only two in the
kitchen. Steve looked upset, upset and
“Is there something wrong?”
“Wrong? Of course
there’s something wrong! This idiot, “
Steve waved his hand at the paper, “is saying that Bucky was a queer, a
fairy! He wasn’t one of those types of people. You just can’t go around saying lies like
that! God, he wasn’t some sort of
pervert.” He glared at the paper as
though he could set it on fire.
Phil calmly set his mug down. “I need to go. There’s a meeting I have to attend.” He gathered his things and left, walking
calmly to the elevator.